Day 07* → Someone who has made your life worth living.

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here.

The Band.

The Band who walked just behind me when we hiked all those years ago so that as we went up the hills he could subtly lift my backpack and make it easier for me but without me or anyone else realising he was doing it.

The Band who can never remember the words, rhythm or tune of any song, but gives improvising a good go.

The Band who wrote me poems and songs to win my heart.

The Band who, at the height of a fever, once told me he felt like a boiled baboon.

The Band who sees the potential in everybody and will give anyone a chance.

The Band who is my fiercest competition when it comes to any game. But as team mates we're unbeatable.

The Band who is so dam cute with children.

The Band who is my best friend.

The Band whose dance moves are less Patrick Swaze and more Wall-E malfunctioning.

The Band whose gran gave him one of those very gold very croc pleather catalogue watches for his birthday and so he wore it all weekend over his jersey using any excuse possible to draw attention to his bling.

The Band who will always challenge me beyond my comfort zone and inspire me to expect more of myself.

The Band who cried on his knees after Sophia was born.

The Band who comes up with fascinating ways to entertain and sooth Tandi - from the laughing song, to the mobile throne, to the flying suit, to the sleep train.

The Band who I want to grow old with, playing fierce backgammon tournaments on a porch somewhere by the sea.

Day 06* → Something you hope you never have to do.

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here.

Oh come on man. How about some nice light and fluffy post topics. sheesh.

I've already done the most horrific thing I can imagine - I have collected my daughter's ashes from the crematorium.

If I had to cast the scene in the movie, it would have been much as it was: a bleak, overcast, windy day. Crematorium on the outskirts of George. It was, in a word, bleak. Grey. A grey, bleak day.

I hope and pray I never ever have to do that again.

Day 05* → Something you hope to do in your life

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here.

I want to write a book. Yes, yes, I know. Not particularly original. But it's a long time dream of mine. A book that's written beautifully, wittily, inspiringly. A book that leaves readers touched. Changed.

Day 04* → Something you have to forgive someone for.

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here.

I've become quite a sensitive soul. I'm easily hurt these days when it comes to all things children and pregnancy. So sensitive, in fact, that I even get offended on behalf of others... for example when people curl their lips at the thought of the imposition of having children I want to strangle them because I know of the heartache of my friends fighting the infertility war.

Anyway, if I'm harbouring unforgiveness, it's generally around that general topic. Ussually I get over things with time. And so what comes to mind is something which happened this weekend. It was a telephone conversation with a family member who was speaking about a photo of Tandia.

Her: I showed it to my friends and I was telling them that, you know, she may not be a beautiful baby, but she is very cute.
Me: WHAT???? excuse me. Are you saying my child is not beautiful??
Her: umm well I think I'm saying it wrong. She doesn't look like your typical baby. She looks wise. Like she understands everything going on around her.
Me: Yes, I can agree with that, but seriously? You don't think she's beautiful???

I thought I'd be over it by the next morning. I wasn't. I woke up FUMING.

WHO SAYS THAT? Now let's all be honest for a sec here. There are some butt ugly babies out there. No doubt about that. But you NEVER actually SAY IT. ESPECIALLY not to the baby's mom. And in any case, Tandia is sure as hell not one of them. I have strangers coming to tell me that she is one of the most beautiful babies they've ever seen.

Why does this upset me so much? Well it's some healthy mama bear defensiveness coming out. And that's fine and even feels good. But it's also to do with 2 other, more sensitive things. It's to do with my previous post, for one thing. I can't quite put into words exactly how it relates, but you can figure it out for yourself, I'm sure. And it's also to do with the fact that I've never felt pretty. I've always felt mildly insecure about my looks. Some of that, perhaps, is inherited and it's not something that I want to pass on to Tandia. I want her to have a very good self image. We constantly tell her how much we love her. How beautiful she is. How precious she is. From the start I want her to have confidence in these things. There are far too many women walking around feeling bad about themselves for no good reason. I don't want that for my little girl.

Anyway, there is now tension between this person and myself. We haven't really spoken since. All it takes is "I'm sorry, that was not a nice thing to say". But I don't really think that's going to happen. Forgiveness is my duty, but a simple apology would make it a helluva lot easier!

Day 03* → Something you have to forgive yourself for.

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here.

Ugh. This is the one I've been dreading. At least it's near the start of this meme so I can get it over with.

The thing I "have to" forgive myself for, and probably (or even definitely) never will, is not checking up on the lack of movement in those last days of my pregnancy with Sophia. You all know the story by now. Pain on the Friday night... then days of things being different. I dismissed it as her having dropped and therefore less movement which is what the books tell you. But there was a gnawing feeling and I ignored it. I didn't want to be an imposition. Stupid stupid vein me.

The day we arrived in Plett we took a drive to see where the hospital was, just in case I went into labour. I remember peering through that window and thinking "maybe I should just find someone to do a quick ultrasound for peace of mind" but I squashed the thought. That would be pricey and paranoid and besides, the first trimester is the risky one, there's no real need. Stupid stupid naive me.

Could I have saved her? No. I don't believe for a second that I could have. We were foretold of her death a week before. Placental abruption can be very quick. I believe that my little girl died on that Friday night. 28 August. Only hours after my last doctor's appointment. And so, if I couldn't have saved her, what's the point of the regret? I guess it's about dignity. It's about the bruising and hurt her little body had endured by the time she was born. I will perhaps never talk about it in detail, but my beautiful, precious daughter was marked by death. Each extra day taking its toll. And so, if I could do things differently I would have gone to the hospital that Friday night (it wasn't even a consideration!!! didn't occur to me AT ALL!) and birthed her then. She would still have looked as she should have. Perfect. My angel baby. I know there are reasons, there are pros. If I'd done that, she'd not have been born in Plett. I wouldn't have had the incredible support and brilliant (all things considered) experience that I did, in a hospital all to myself. It would have been a lot harder on ME. Perhaps I wouldn't have as much peace as I do if the experience hadn't been what it was. But for her... if I hadn't taken so long...if I had listened to my gut... she'd have the dignity of being born whole.

In Heaven though she is whole and beautiful and happy and it's only there that I'll finally be able to forgive myself for this.

Day 02* → Something you love about yourself

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here

Can I change it to what I love about my life? that's easy... but no, that is not the topic.

What an arb topic. Seriously.

Fine then. I love my nose :) I do - I think it suits me :)haha. What else? I love my cheesy sense of humour and the groans it results in from those around me. At least I think I'm funny - even if no one else does!

I love that I love to read and write.

I love my maternal instincts and I love myself as a mom, if that makes sense. I think, despite never having changed a single nappy before Tandia's arrival and having no experience of babies, that I'm a natural. I feel at home with her and have done from day one. I love that sense of confidence in myself as her mom.

I also love the perspective I have gained from Sophia - the way she has changed me and grown me and matured me. The empathy I now have. The way trivial issies are seen for what they are.

I keep wanting to refer to some "we's" - to the things I love about The Band & I as a couple, but alas that is off topic. As it is I was probably only meant to say one thing and I'm digressing big time as I always do.

The End

Day 01* → Something you hate about yourself

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here.

Ok, I know that it's a bit of a trend to hate this or that about oneself - especially as a woman - but I don't hate a part of myself nor do I hate the sum of the collective parts (ok, fine, I just wanted to say "sum of the collected parts" - I'm cool like that!)I think that what immediately comes to mind under such a title is physical attributes. Am I supposed to list all my physical flaws here? Or does it refer to something deeper - lifelong regrets, personality uglies.

No, I can't say that I'm kept up at night dreaming of plastic surgery or bashing my head on the wall for stupid things said and done. But of course I can recognise where there is room for improvement and of course I have regrets.

So now that I've toned down the topic to "Places where there is room for improvement in you" I'll try address the topic.

On the shallow side I'm obviously carrying the weight of two pregnancies in quick succession and the changed body shape as a result. There are angry little lines where there never were before. I suddenly have chunky arms, a mean little caesar scar and so on. I'm working on improving what I can though - I meet with my personal torturer, er, I mean trainer thrice a week and hopefully that which can be improved will be. The scars and marks I mind less so. They are reminders. Badges of grief and badges of honour. Being able to carry a child must certainly be one of our greatest gifts and privileges and these marks are reminders of that - I'm grateful for them. Ha! Just reread that last sentence. Dam I'm cheesy. But it is true!

In terms of personality improvements... well I need to learn to think before I speak and to consider the feelings of others. I can say that it is pretty much never my express intention to hurt people, but I can do this inadvertantly (if not hurt them, then make them feel silly) by joking or teasing with the best intentions but without considering that people have different levels of tolerance, of sensitivity and simply that everyone is going through their own battles and we will never know someone's context completely. And so I want to learn to consider others in all that I say, but not to become paralysed by that - I like teasing people and joking with them (in a respectful way) because (done right) it brings people out of their shell, it pulls a few laughs and in a way it makes people feel special.

I'm told by The Band that I'm not good at apologising. I'm not sure if I agree with that actually... I think I'm good at apologising for the bigger things, but for smaller things, not so much. A hypothetical example (in reality we gave up refilling the fridge water months ago):

Me: SHMOO! You didn't fill up the fridge water again!
Him: Actually you were the last one to use it...
Me: No I wasn't...
Him: Yes - remember you had a glass with breakfast?
Me: Oh.... mumble mumble mumble
Him: (haughty tone) I accept your apology!
Me: (stubborn tone) I didn't apologise (sulks).

Where do you see room for improvement in your life?

A cure to bloggers block

Most of the Twitterverse and the Blogosphere (wow I'm a geek!!) are busy with this meme and I thought it would be a good cure to my writer's block and also probably just a healthy exercise in introspection (which I've been avoiding for the past month!)

The idea is that over 30 days you stick to a list of blog topics. Topics designed to get you thinking about who you are and where you're at. A bit of stocktaking, if you will. Before I even start, let me say that this may or may not happen within 30 calendar days. I am unlikely to crank up the laptop on a Sunday, but you never know.

Here it is:
Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself
Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living.
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you badly.
Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

Life with Tandi

Tandia (pronounced "tun-dee-uh" for those who still aren't sure) is an unusual name and it still does not yet just roll off the tongue - not that it doesn't suit her. It suits her perfectly and I love it, but truth be told I don't use it often. Most often she's my shnugglepuff, Little Miss Stinkleton or Snortleby (her very hungry cry is peppered with unladylike snorts which have The Band and I in hysterics!)


Life with Tandia is precious. It's an incredible thing when others are vying for her attention and yet her eyes follow mine alone. The gratitude and love and "chosenness" I feel in those moments - as if the star quarterback has asked ME to the prom :)


We are realising more and more that we've got an easy baby as babies go. As soon as I stopped waking her for feeds (around 3 weeks) she began sleeping for 6 hour stretches at night. She sleeps easily and without fuss. She's little, but is growing faster than her predicted growth curve, so no problems there. She's healthy and strong and has her dad and I wrapped around her tiny little pinky.

When she smiles we can't help but smile back - even if it's 4:30 and she's supposed to be sleeping.

It's amazing what we'll do for a smile. I guess any parents among you will know exactly what i mean. Those first few smiles - Well The Band and I were harmonising nasal "hallo, halloooo, halloooooooo" (in true Wielie Waalie kouse vorm). Our voices go higher and higher and our actions grow larger and larger.



She's THREE MONTHS ALREADY. Can you believe that? which means about 100 baths. And yet I adore bathing her. It doesn't get tired. It's still a privilege. A treat. A dream come true. A prayer granted. I adore this little girl and savour her. I am trying to take it all in. Trying to imprint special moments and memories on my heart.



And spoilt! Me and her both. WOW we have been blessed. So many luxuries have been given as gifts. One friend did a photoshoot for us free (see these), another did 5 week infant massage course for us. LOVED THAT! Another friend of mine is doing personal training with me, also free. Crazy how blessed we are. People are STILL arriving with gifts, 3 months down the line.

Celebrating Sophia

The Band and I spent Sophia's birthday weekend in Hermanus which was great. We went out for a quiet dinner and each got to spend some time alone by the sea. That evening we opened a special bottle of wine which we'd bought in Plett just days before Everything Happened. When we bought it back then we had planned to celebrate her birth with it. It was a quiet, peaceful time away, but the contrast to what a 1 year old's birthday should have been were glaring.

On the Sunday we invited local family and one or two close friends around and had birthday cake and champagne. I think this will become an annual tradition.

I guess one may have expected a princess cake or something, but this is what I felt would have epitomised Sophia.



In my mind's eye she's being pushed on a tree swing or she's playing in a tree house. She's adventurous and playful and laughs a lot. She loves being outdoors. And so the tree.

It was a good time. Good to have people speak of her. If only a little bit and even if rather awkwardly. Her name was spoken and that meant something.

Ke nako. It is time.

to blog again.

I've long been out of blogging action. Not because I've had nothing to say. Not because I've had no time. It's more just been that I've not wanted to spend my last few weeks of maternity leave glued to a computer - plenty of time for that when work starts again NEXT WEEK. (le sigh!)

And so, two updates up ahead... Sophia's birthday (more than a month later!) and life with Tandia. Coming up!

Celebrating life

I have lost my writing mojo for now. I still need to write about Sophia's birthday party and post some pics of that but I just don't have the energy right now. Don't be worried, I am fine, promise. Just feeling very "surface"... I don't want to say superficial - it's not that. It's more that for right now I am simply living day to day.

A few pics from our newborn shoot a few weeks ago....

You, me and the deep blue sea

I'm sitting on the rocks, huge waves smashing and sea mist cooling my face and my feet. Do you remember the last time we did this? At the Wild Coast last April. Such a beautiful day - just me and you and a random friendly dog that decided to join us on our walk.

I loved that day. I sat there knowing that next time I sat on the rocks you'd be sitting right beside me. I so wish that were true.

Today my experience is tainted. The sea is the same, but these rocks are different. I can see awful insects & weird creatures scuttling in the shadows. They're hideous and quick and I feel unsafe and exposed.

But the sea! The sea is glorious! Majestic! Awesome! Powerful! Strong! Cool, fresh, aquamarine and fluffy, foamy, blinding white. The sea is beauty.

The creatures on the rocks creep closer. I want to leave, to escape them. But in leaving them I leave the sea and the sea is you and the rocks are me.

Instead

Another long day of labour and then finally there you were. Even after 2 days I felt unready. They handed you to me. You were beautiful and still and ours.

Today should be about balloons and cake, presents and your little-girl-giggles. About a dress with bows and streaks of icing on your face. About flings chips and little friends and countless photos and proud parents.
About you - in all your childish wonder and unbridled joy.

Instead it is quiet.

Happy birthday my precious girl. I wish we were celebrating it together.
Sophia, your mommy loves you with all her heart.

2 September

I woke up early - maybe 5:30. Not sure but it was dark still. I hopped to the bathroom, flipped the light and looked down. Bright red blood gushing out of me.

I called Stef and told him. "bright red is bad, the book said so."

He called our antenatal teacher. She told him to get me to the hospital.

Still firmly in denial I argued that I should eat first (???) but he was havibg none of it.

On the way there I put on an adrenaline pumping song - dance, dance by fall out boy. I was still weirdly chipper.

Went to the plett mediclinic through to the maternity ward. The sisters were too nice. They were stalling. I started to feel nervous. The midwife arrived. She was far too nice. Trying to find baby's heartbeat but nothing. From that first attempt i think i knew. Then she thought she may have.

My mouth was bone dry. No water for me in case they had to do a Caesar.

The obgyn arrived. Hooked up the sonar. Politely, almost educationally as if I was a student there to learn she pointed and said "this is where we would expect to see the heartbeat but you can see there is no movement".

The doctors version of "your baby is dead. Your life will never ever be the same."

A million thoughts go through your head in that moment - for one the absolute bittersweetness of having what I already knew confirmed: I was carrying a little girl - as I knew I was -I had dreamt of her so often. The feeling of "naturally this would happen. It was all too good to be true. The bubble was bound to burst", the feeling of "thank God for Stef. Thank God I have him in my life and we will go through this together".

I wanted to tell my dad. I think he was the only person I actually told - after that day the whole world seemed to know.

"Dad, they say my baby's dead."

I can't remember what he said except that they'd leave EL straight away and be in plett asap.

The doctor urged me to have a Caesar. I didn't want to. I really didn't want to. She agreed to try the induction but as soon as she felt any risk she'd do a Caesar.

The midwife understood and was determined to help me go natural. In retrospect it was as if they were unintentionally playing good cop bad cop and giving me something to focus on and work towards.

I remember the midwife hugging me and telling me "don't worry - I won't leave you. I'm not going anywhere." I remember thinking how futile that was and yet appreciating that that was the one thing this woman could do for me in this darkest hour and being deeply touched.

They started with the induction drips and the midwife used every other natural method she could think of from massaging reflexology points on my ankles to giving me natural medicines.

Once my folks arrived my dad walked me up and down the hospital hallway late into that night, steering my drip a we walked.

I'm not sure if they drugged me but in spite of the contractions I slept that night.

de ja vu

A friend visited this morning. While she was here some flowers were delivered. From my parents. Saying they are thinking of us this week. With those flowers came the end of the illusion that I'm fine and this is just another week. With those flowers the return (with a vengeance) of the old familiar nausea. With those flowers a time warp back to one year ago.

I sucked it up and pretended to listen to my friend. Relieved when she left at last.

A year ago we went through to Knysna for lunch, to a place called Cornuttis. It is gorgeous. Right by the Knysna Heads. I remember some older people chatting to us, asking if this was our first. We smiled naively, innocently, proudly.

I remember being anxious for the pregnancy to be over. I was missing my baby - since she had "dropped" on the Friday night she hardly moved at all, and when she did it was totally different. Very slow and soft. Or so I thought.

For some reason I don't have bad memories of Plett, as in I don't dread going to Plett - even though that's where we were that week. But Knysna. I think of the place and I feel ill. There was just an under current in that day of such dread and doom.

WOW I was in such denial. Idiot. Oblivious. I wonder if I will ever forgive myself for not realising, or admitting. Probably not.

A painful night one year on

Throughout last night I kept waking in pain. My stomach felt like I'd been punched. It felt bruised and really sore. No other symptoms, just that. This morning, when it was more or less at its worst, I realised that a year ago today, on 28 August, it was the beginning of the end.

My last day of work before starting my maternity leave. It was obviously quite a busy day, but I remember a meeting with our PR agency. I was hauling them over the coals about non-delivery and trying to be very firm, but all the while wanting to smile because Sophia was kicking and dancing like crazy and you could see it from the outside. In retrospect I wonder now if she wasn't perhaps already in distress.

I left work a little early and fetched The Band for my doctor's appointment. The doc had tried to cancel, but I'd insisted on keeping the appointment because we were due to leave the next day for a week in Plett. He was rushed and running late. He measured my circumference, felt my belly, and was done. I wonder now, if he may have picked something up with a scan. They say he probably wouldn't have, but who knows? Spots on the placenta, raised fetal heartbeat. Those things would have shown.

Back to the car which had broken down outside the doctor's rooms (which are at the hospital). The Band eventually had to call a mechanic to come tow the car. It kills me that we were Right There. If there had been some kind of sign or warning we were right at the hospital for ages, but there wasnt.

It was a busy evening. Waiting at the mechanics for a while, then off to show face at a farewell. Not sure, but I think I started to feel quite tired there. Then we went to the mall. Whenever we go on holiday we each buy a book and a cd. In the CD shop I suddenly was overcome by this overwhelming feeling of emptiness and sadness. It was so strange. My lower back started to ache. I went to sit a while. The sadness had no logic and so I put on a happy face, but it was there. A horrible feeling.
I wonder at that now. Was it premonition? Had she already died and my body knew it?

Home, bed. Ow. Back ache. So sore. Like period pain in my back but bad. At about 4am I lay in the bath for ages, just topping up the hot water inbetween. I checked my pregnancy book and it said that back ache was one of the early signs of labour - baba could arrive within the next week or two! On that happy note I was quite positive about it. Mildly excited even. Little did I know that somewhere during that night Sophia had died.

By the next morning the pain had eased to tolerable. The Band helped me pack, hot water bottle was positioned on my back and we left for Plett. By the time we arrived at Beacon Isle the pain had gone.

I wonder now, at this time, whether the pain in my stomach, which believe me is very real, is coincidence or somehow psychological.

I am now bracing myself for the days of reliving that are ahead.

the inevitable topic

The Band and I went for dinner the other night. Casual chatting. Something about a little boy. Then a conversation something along the lines of:
Me: Hopefully the next one is a little boy and then the factory can close.
Him: What? you can't just say that!
Me: well...
Him: We always said 3 kids.
Me: yes, and we've had two!
Him: Yes, but you know what I mean.
Both: let's not talk about this right now

But it upset me. Quite a lot. In retrospect, he's right. It's not something you just say without a decent discussion. I'm not even sure if I mean it or not. But what got me so shaken was two-fold: the thought of going through the terror of another pregnancy, let alone another two, and the realisation that he actually really doesn't know how hard it was for me.

Pregnancy was HARD. TERRIFYING. Worth it? obviously. That goes without saying. And always and forever it is not something I take for granted. I am grateful.

But I am also tired. 2 long pregnancies. A year and a half (more actually) of watching what I eat, drink, do. My body has been through a lot. It is stretched and reshaped. The fear... wow. The nightmares. Months and months made up of moments of sheer sickening terror. I can't tell you how different I feel without the constant fear companion. I have joy too and grief of course, but that nasty, suffocating fear is gone and I don't welcome it back!

In reality, in time, perhaps I'd consider another two pregnancies. But I think I need The Band to realise how much this has cost me. How I held my breath throughout. In real life I put on a brave face, I guess, and I'm sure it's my fault he doesn't really know. I've seen that with family as well - my mom for example - I really think a lot of them think I'm all fixed up now, because I'm not forthcoming with where I'm at (not in real life at least) and if they don't ask, I don't say.

I would definitely be open to one more. Not for me - I feel like Sophia in heaven and Tandia here are enough right now, though that could well change - but for her. I want her to have siblings and family. I want her to have nieces and nephews some day. I want her to have companion(s) when we go on family holidays. All that.

But two?

Two would mean me having FOUR pregnancies. That is A LOT on any woman. Then add to it that they will be high risk pregnancies, that I will be scared. It's big.

I think it's also just far too soon to even contemplate. I am still too worn out from the past year and a half. I think that I need time.

Happy Birthday Noon!

Noon

91 years old today and no doubt, if you were here, you'd STILL look longingly at big trees and state "that would be a good tree for climbing".

So here we are. Your birthday again.

A bit of an update from my side. Of course there's big news since I last wrote...
Your great granddaughter was born a month ago. She is SO SO precious. Of course I am going to be biased but she really is a gorgeous thing....
exhibit A:

Such a sweet temperament too. She was 4 weeks early and so the books predicted we'd have a few extra battles and her development would be a little delayed, but we've had none of that. She is an absolute pleasure.

Of course Stef is convinced she is a genius. I bet you'd agree. You two are shameless in your bias towards those you love. Love that that about you.

Ah Noon, I wish you were here. I wish you could see her. Actually, I wish I could see you seeing her. Everytime my mom sees her (at this stage via Skype - you'd be amazed by skype!) she melts. My mom is no softy so it's special to see. You would melt Noon. BIG TIME! There would be plenty of tears and you'd assure me that they are happy tears.

I can't tell you how it comforts me to know that you're with Sophia. I bet you wish you could see me seeing her.

Shoh... what a situation we find ourselves in. You there, me here. You with Sophia, me with Tandia. One day Noon, some day, we are going to have such a reunion, the four of us. Can't tell you how I long for that.

Meantime, give my girl a big big love from me...there are no words... and Phoebs too!
Love you.

Pick me! Pick me!

In case you missed the MASSIVE button on the right hand side, I'd appreciate it if you took a sec to click it and nominate me for the 2010 South African Blog Awards.

I've never really looked into this stuff (hell, I only figured out how to set up Google Reader a couple of days ago - after 4 years of blogging) but what the hell?

If you like my blog please click and nominate it - I guess I'd fit into the "personal blog" category or possibly the "parenting" one.

Ok enough self promotion. I'm starting to feel like a pimp.