This and That

I am on my own again, with Richard out of the country again.

People laugh at me when they ask where he is and the best I can manage is 'Somewhere in Italy...'. But honestly it's hard to keep up! We chat on Google chat, so I don't need to know every detail of what, where, who, how etc. I think he barely know where he is himself half the time. It's a case of fly in do the work/ training/ conference/ summit/ whatever and leave again. The location is pretty incidental most of the time, and there is certainly no research and recreational planning around it.

So I spent the whole of last week's evening reading up on doula training, and watch birth videos on YouTube. Yes, I am strange like that. I love watching them!

I added links to birth videos and gorgeous newborn photos and even to a virtual labour tool on my Birth Buddies doula site. Check it out if you are interested.

Then on Friday we were invited to a pot-luck dinner and camp-fire with the scouts after cubs. The boys and I went along and it was so much fun! Griffin got right into the thick of things. It is going to be hard to keep him on the sidelines for another 2 years. He wants to be a cub NOW. It was funny to sing all those same songs we sang so many years ago. Songs like Kumbaya (groan, I hate that one!) and 'Oh you can't get to heaven, oh you can't get to heaven in Quinn's bra, cos Quinn's bra, don't stretch s far' etc etc. The kids LOVE the songs and react with such glee and with enthusiastic actions and loud bellowing singing. The scouters really get into it and are very animated and enthusiastic. It's nice that this still happens. I manages to be wholesome but still jolly good fun, and is a nice alternative to hanging out at the 'mall' and skate-parks etc and getting up to no good. I have also noticed that all the activities in cubs are about being active, healthy, creative and thinking and problem solving, yet they are presented as FUN and GAMES. It's really good and teaches so many life skills. After Quinn joined we started telling other friends and there are about 6-8 other boys from our extended circle of friends who have also joined, so I think we have resurrected the troop ;)

On Saturday morning I was up bright and early and set of for Somerset West for the first day of my Doula course. It was a great day, despite me having some reservations about this course and in particular the woman who runs it. My impression is that she is trying to be really controlling and restrictive of the whole doula community in Cape Town. So we'll see how that turns out. I am still undecided as to whether I want to certify through her, even though she makes out like her course is the only valid certification, because it isn't. The risk of not certifying through her though is that I will be outside her circle of influence, and I do think she is quite influential. If I do certify through her and adhere to her code of conduct and 'scope of practice' I will have a lot of restrictions placed on me in terms of what I can and can't say and do, what I have to wear, what I have to charge etc etc. Plus I will have to wear a regulation pinafore which advertises a large corporate baby-product company, and I don't want to be advertising and mentally imprinting corporate logos into poor labouring women. It's like MacDonald's advertising at schools and in newborn nurseries. Basically brain-washing and subliminal messaging. I am very uncomfortable about that.

As a result I have enrolled in an international course too. I have been posting on some international discussion boards and mentioned my concerns and experiences with the local people (including being told to take my website down!). I started looking into the Childbirth International Doula courses, which look fabulous - but not with our exchange rate, as they are all in US Dollars.

A wonderful woman from Birth Arts contacted me and offered me a free registration on their Doula course. I just need to pay the printing and postage fees for the course materials. It's a saving of $400USD! Wow, I am so flattered and grateful. Apparently the course material is already in the mail! :) So whether or not I complete the local course, I will get an International Certification under my belt, and the local lady can say what she wants that will mean something.

Anyway despite that rant, and a few pointed comments been made at the course like NOT being able to be called a doula before you have trained and certified through them and waiting to be told how to set up a practise at the end of the course etc (which I am almost certain were references to issues they have with me and my being pro-active and knowing the industry) it really was an enjoyable day.

A lady came in to give the section on the Anatomy & Physiology of Birth, and it turned out it was my antenatal teacher from when I was pregnant with Quinn 7+ years ago. She remembered me too. :)

We got a file full of notes and we asked to take a book from the reading list to go through and I am already half-way through the notes and 1/3 of the way through the book. I have also ordered several more books through Kalahari.net so I am eagerly waiting for them to arrive, as well as my US course notes.

I will do both courses in parallel for now, as many of the requirements are the same including:
- Reading several doula, birth, pregnancy and parenting books from reading lists. It's a fairly contained subject so the same names pop up everywhere.
- Attending a labour themed antenatal class
- Attending a breastfeeding clinic
- Observing 2 births (not participating)
- Supporting a woman through at least 2 births, and in various situations (such as township Obstetric Unit, State Hospital, Private Hospital, Home birth, Water birth etc)

I have 2 pregnant friends at the moment and both have said they are willing to be Guinea Pigs for me. YAY. I have also emailed my midwife to see if she'll help me to get all my practical requirements fulfilled.

Exciting!

The rest of the week-end was about taking the kids to see Barnyard. Richard was right it is VERY FREAKY that the male cows have udders! It seems other people are also bothered by this... "The most striking thing about the reviews of this movie is that all the cows have udders, including the males. Every single review whether by a critic or just your average John Q. Moviefone seems to be possessed by the urge to point out their extensive knowledge of bovine anatomy and remind the reader that male cattle do not, in fact, have udders."

Then on Sunday I hit the gym - it's been a while. Then I pottered around at home, cleaned the pool, planted a plant and had a friend (a preggy one) over for tea etc. Last night I watched In Her Shoes, it was the first time I watched TV since Richard left last Tuesday. And that was the whole week-end.

Quinn the good and the bad and ugly

My clever boy. I have become a Parlotones groupie. So I bought their CD for Richard for Valentines Day. I LOVE it. I have now nabbed it to play it in my car. Yesterday we were driving and I put it on. Quinn didn't know I had it, or that it was on. After a few songs Quinn said, 'There's a lot of Parlotones songs on today'.

But THEN he says to me, 'Hey you have a beard' pointing to his lip and meaning moustache. He then clarified that he meant moustache. So I replied, 'Yes everyone has one, we all have hair over our lips...'. So he says, 'Yes but yours is black!'

Oh my word, I guess it's time for a bleaching?

Balance

What do you get for eating spinach, carrots, potatoes, butternut, leeks, onions & mushrooms at my house?

Pudding!

We had a vegetarian dinner tonight:
Butternut soup (with butternut, carrots, potatoe & leeks, and dhania to flavour) and a vegetable mix our nanny makes with what we have (today it was spinach, potatoes, carrots, mushrooms and onions.)

My kids love it and so do I, and well after such a 'good meal' with so many veggies we needed something a bit more wicked.
The boys had full cream vanilla ice-cream with Milo, Strawberry Nesquik, chocolate chips & sprinkles. For me ice-cream, milo, chocolate chips and brandy cherries. Bliss!

TMI

So this is one of those TMI* posts.

Warning - if you are squeamish, especially about things relating to female anatomy, just leave now. I am not taking responsibility for upsetting sensitive readers.

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So yesterday I had an appointment with my gynae. Why? Well firstly, as a 30-something woman you are supposed to go see your gynae about once a year** for a general check up and pap smear. Also I have a Mirena, which is a fabulous little device which not only offers near on 100% contraception, but also reduces or even removes your periods for up to 5 years. \o/ It's a wonderful invention that has made my life so much better. I love it. No cramping, bloating, moodiness, and all the other crap that goes with a monthly cycle.

So why am I telling you any of this? Well it seems that some people (read men) think there's something exciting and even erotic about a gynaecologist visit. It seems to be a fantasy of kinds.

Let me describe yesterday's visit to dispel any misconceptions (no pun intended) you may have, and then you can decide just how fun and exciting it must be.

Firstly, I must say that I really like and respect my gynae. He is a small Ghandi-like Moslem man (yes I KNOW Ghandi himself wasn't Moslem). He is respectful, considerate, courteous and just a sweet and kind man. He takes his time to get to know you and listen to anything you have to say, and is happy to answer any questions you may have. He makes a point to tell you exactly what he is doing and makes sure you are comfortable throughout. In fact if it wasn't for all of that I don't think I would be able to cope with the anti-joy that is a visit to the gynae. Especially not yesterday's visit...

So let's see, after the routine weight and blood pressure checks (no surprises there), and then general breast and abdominal examination (again no surprises), it was time to get to the more serious stuff .... (cue ominous music here)

I then had to de-robe completely and hop up on the lovely 'bed', complete with stirrups.... then lying back, legs splayed in the air and with everything on complete display to this sweet man who I have just spent 30-minutes having a polite conversation with. - Fun right? Surely he should at least have to buy me a drink first? (oh wait he is Moslem, so he doesn't drink. ) ;)

Then out came the dreaded SPECULUM....

Really why these things can't be made out of something softer and more comfortable I do not know?? It is 2007 after all! I feel like Jack the Ripper's next victim when this thing comes out.

So this cold hard, sterile stainless steel vice-grip gets inserted, and cranked open, with a few requests to 'cough please'. OK not too bad, I can breathe deeply and zone out, I do yoga, I have given birth... This is easy.

The pap smear is over in a jiffy. Hell there's nothing to that, it's just a swab of the cervix....

Then it was time to remove my old Mirena - using loooong scissor-like forceps. I was warned that it might have become embedded inside me, and may not be very easy or pleasant to remove. Thrilling. Of course I was expecting the worst, so I was pleasantly surprised when it came out with relative ease.

So far so good. But the fun was just beginning. The best was still to come. Read on. Before a Mirena can be inserted your cervix needs to be clamped, so that it stays still and so that the uterus stays in place. This is to make the insertion easier for the doctor, as the cervix and uterus are shy and private and try to get away when pursued, but more importantly it is done so that your uterus is not perforated as the Mirena is inserted. Didn't I say how much fun this is? Like a beach holiday on a tropical island!

So there I am legs in the air, cervix clamped, me breathing slowly and trying to pretend I am not really there - but assuring the good doctor I am just fine thanks (i.e. just get it over with dammit!). Ok, so now that the clamping is done it is time to measure my cervix and uterus. Why? Well so that the doc knows how far to insert the Mirena to get it in place and, you guessed it, to not perforate me in the process. The little measuring trick is done with what I can only guess is a copper rod - because that is what it looks like. So this lovely copper rod goes in and pokes around. Now note that a cervix really likes to be closed. That's its job to be closed and unless a baby is on it's way out, stay closed it normally does. So it doesn't like having a copper rod trying to make it be open. It's sore and damned uncomfortable! This goes on for some time, because apparently 'There's something blocking it'. Yay! That's just what you want to hear in that situation. After several failed attempts at this, the poor doc says, 'Um I am going to have to improvise something here'. Again yay, that's sounds great. I love improv!

So he leaps up and grabs the ultrasound machine, gels my stomach up and gets to work with the ultrasound machine. So now we have one hand driving the ultrasound, and one had driving the copper rod. Oh and don't forget the speculum and clamp, those are still faithfully helping too.

After trying for a bit, Doc decides he really needs 2 hands after all - so I have to drive the ultra sound! So there I am doing a half-crunch and holding the ultrasound transmitter in place and trying to stay dead still, while simultaneously trying to relaaax and not clench (now is not the time for those kegels) as he gets the measurement sorted out, while doing his best not to pierce right through me. 'Ommmmm'.

Finally he decides he has it figured out, so now we just have to get the new Mirena in. Again he gets the ultrasound image lined up and I take over and, and then in he goes. I am still stoically telling him I am 'fine' every few minutes. The Mirena manages to go in, and springs open once inside, causing some wonderful contractions. Then it's time to put a pair of looong scissors inside me to cut the strings. Hard to describe the fear of knowing there are SCISSORS in there!

But that's not all folks. No, he then really needs to make sure it is in place, and the normal ultrasound does not give a clear enough picture. So he has to do an internal ultrasound. Think that sounds like fun? Well lets imagine for a minute that you think having a rock-hard ultrasound wand inserted while you are cramping, and after all of the above, would be fun. Let me tell you it's not. Especially not the part where it gets ground around to try to 'find' your ovaries. Finally everything gets seen, and found to be in place, and working as expected. Whew.

And voila, easy as that a new Mirena!

It seems I behaved appropriately, as I was told afterwards that I am 'really brave'. So a noddy badge for me please.

If you have actually managed to read this I hope you can appreciate how seriously NOT FUN going to the gynaecologist is. It is something we do because we have to, not because we want to, or because we derive any pleasure what so ever from it.

* Too much information.
** I go about every second year - do you blame me?

Cubs

Quinn joined Cubs a few weeks ago, and is thoroughly enjoying it.

He is yet to be invigilated, but already knows the Cub Law, Cub Promise and the salute. So he'll be well ready when it happens.

He has already learned about purifying water various ways, has made water bombs, roasted marshmallows, played broken telephone and used tin-can & string 'phones' and played various ball games etc.

Last night they were trying out for swimming badges. Quinn was keen to try. They had to:
- Swim 5 lengths of the pool.
- Swim another 5 lengths of the pool in a different stroke - he swam (mostly under water) breast stroke.
- Tread water for at least a minute.
- Float on back for at least a minute.
- Dive in from the side of the pool.
- 'Duck Dive' - stand in the pool and dive straight down to your feet (as if to fetch a coin that sunk).
- Dive in with shorts and t-shirt on and tread water in the centre of the pool and remove clothing.

Snorkel Swimming *

Treading water

Floating

Swimming lengths

He managed to do all of this, and so he'll be getting a badge. :) Yay!

Next time he'll try for the 'Aquanaught' badge which involves more diving and snorkel work and 20 lengths, plus 10 in clothes.

*Note: I realised I was making the poor child swim with a snorkel and only eye goggles. I forgot you need full goggles which cover your nose to be able to use a snorkel properly and not not inhale water through your nose! The situation has been rectified and Quinn now has a proper snorkel with an appropriate mask. This will make that 'Aquanaught' badge a hell of a lot easier! LOL.

Quinn's Athletics Day

Friday was Quinn's annual school inter-house Athletics Day.

Like last year I managed to sneak out of work for long enough to attend to watch.

He was placed with the Under 7s - so with mostly Grade 1s. (The school is good about putting kids in their correct age group for competing physically, and I think that is fair. So of his class most are in the Under 8s, Quinn is Under 7 and there are 2 boys in the Under 9 category).

he came about 4th last, but ran well and tried hard. He is still a bit more concerned with what's going on around him than trying to win though, so he is not hugely competitive.

Here are some photos of the day. Waiting for his race...
Lined up and ready to go...
And away they go...
Sprinting to the finish...
All over.

My Valentines

This is my Valentine's Loot.
A card from Quinn, and a chocolate and rose from the department manager of our floor at work(yes all the ladies got them) ;)

I gave my team each a slab of chocolate with the little teddy card shown, it says 'At least iLAB loves you'. Haha..

'I'm just going to the loo quickly'

When you have to visit a public toilet, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place.

Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the cubicle doors. Every cubicle is occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the cubicle.

You get in to find the door won't lock. It doesn't matter.

The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mum, no doubt) is handy, but empty.

You would hang your bag on the door hook, if there were one, but there isn't - so you carefully but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mum would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance."

In this position your ageing, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake.

You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser.

In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to lean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It is still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes open your cubicle door because the lock doesn't work. The door hits your bag, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your bag topple backward against the tank of the toilet.

"Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet, of course.

You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try.

You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you’re certain; her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get."

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose that somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.

At that point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat.

You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the taps with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women, still waiting. You are no longer able to smile politely to them.

A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."

As you exit, you spot your husband, who has long since entered, used and left the men's loo.

Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your bag hanging around your neck?"

______

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public rest-room (rest??? you've got to be joking!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long.

It also answers their other commonly asked question about why women go to the rest-room in pairs. It's so the other girl can hold the door, hang onto your bag and hand you Kleenex under the door!