Monthly Archives: June 2010

Remember Jamie Bulger?

  

 

 

He’s the little two year old who was lured away from a shopping mall and tortured, murdered and left on a railway track by two 10-year-old boys in England in 1993.

 

After reading E&Is post about a 16-year-old wanting to divorce her parents I remember reading about Jon Venables last week. Jon is one of the boys who killed Jamie. He was arrested on countless charges of child pornography this month and people are of course baying for his blood and wanting his new ID to be revealed so they can know who he is.

E&I asked what you have to do as a parent for your child to want to divorce you.

I want to know what you have to do to a child (and I’m now thinking of my own 2-and-a-half-year-old son) to make him do what Jon and Robert Thompson did? Bloody hell it’s depressingly sad and overwhelming.

I’m not the greatest, most structured, blah blah mom around but I seriously hope to not do whatever it is their parents did! Oh god, it’s too awful.

Rotting lungs and hospital visits

Two days before my birthday I went to a Boo gig with a friend. I behaved like a singleton, shots and fags galore. I knew I’d pay but I had no idea how dearly. Was felled by a lung infection the next week. Took me a week to get to Doc because I thought I could self-medicate. A week of cortisone, antibiotics and some nasty nasal spray later I was still not well and endured three nights of hell before I had an attack similar to what asthmatics have and had to get to a hospital in a hurry. I was ECGed and pricked and prodded and tested and X-rayed. They know what it is not – pnuemonia, collapsed lung and all the other pulmonary delights but don’t know what it is. My inner nerd says it’s the four fags I had at the gig and also all the secondary smoke I inhaled.

I’m on my second course of antibiotics and after having the third tablet I can already feel the difference. They’ve thrown these hectic antibiotics at the rotting lungs and want to see me in a week’s time to see if they can see anything else they missed this time around.

I don’t know how asthmatics do it. My close encounter left me very shaken and scared.

Lie to me, Baby

You know how all the parenting books tell you about the good milestones your child will/should reach? Where are the ‘bad’ milestones… like lying and manipulating? ๐Ÿ™‚

My sweet son did his first fib/manipulative thing the other day. I asked him to pack away his toys and he started off rather listlessly. Within seconds his arm had developed a debilitating ‘owie’. I asked if he could do anything with his arm and he said no. What does he do next? Pick up one of his cars and start racing it on the floor. I then ask him if his arm is still ‘owie’ and he says ja. So I ask if it’s owie when he plays with his car and he says no. I then ask if it’s owie if he has to pack away and the little sh&t says ja.

Wish I had some warning on this from the books so I could be prepared. Was so not prepared for this.

Jozi MOB live feed!

Am still in bed and dying to be part of the MOB, so I had a brainwave…was wondering if anyone has a laptop with a webcam… then we could skype and I could be there… Oh well. I’m just so curious to see what you guys look like and be part of your conversation! Have fun you guys!

Oh dear, Mama! Where are your clothes?

This is what was said to me with a scrunched-up face and traces of something resembling distaste.

I got out of the shower this morning and was doing the I-dunno-what-to-wear dawdle in front of my cupboard when my towel fell off. The Beast was circling and when he spotted me said those hurtful words in quite a calm voice.

Nothing like your 2,5-year old son telling you to cover up. What a wonderful start to the morning. I of course wanted to point out that most of the damage to my body was caused by his 4,3 kg body and 1,5 kg of placenta and 2 kg of milk-filled breasts, but as soon as he said it he bolted out of the room in search of something more aesthetically pleasing to look at, I suppose! Little traitor.

The best advice I received while pregnant…

was the V-NECK pants!

Wow — just told a pregnant fairy here at work about the V-neck pants.  Thanks to my friend Marlene, I could wear all my normal pants and just do the V-neck thing.

Most of you probably know the V-neck thing but for those of you who don’t…

1. Unbutton your pants.

2. Take a standard issue elastic band from your office drawer or a colleague’s if you don’t have any in your drawer.

3. Make a loop through the buttonhole and hook the band over the button. Your zip can stay open — obviously with a longish top over it and no one need know that your zip’s open! Except maybe the paramedics who will have to examine you should anything happen to you. LOL! And keep a nice stash of elastic bands for when the tummy has a growth spurt – they tend to pop every now and then.

What’s been your best advice?

How big and supportive is your child’s village?

I’ve always heard this ancient African proverb It takes a village to raise a child being bandied about. But until this weekend it never really meant anything to me. I thought it was beautiful and very appropriate but that’s where it ended.

DH and I were navel-gazing this weekend and one of the questions we couldn’t answer was why our families never just popped in or called to say we’re fetching Thomas for a few hours or drop Thomas for a few hours and you guys get some shut-eye or whatever.

I recall coming to after my C-section (I had to be put under because my anaesthetic was wearing off) and catching a glimpse of my husband sitting in the nursery with Thomas tucked under his T-shirt and looking so frail and vulnerable – it was as if he was a little boy protecting his even littler brother. Broke my already mushy heart. Don’t want to even think of where he was in his head… Wife in recovery (the last of me he saw was a very dead looking me) and baby son frantically clinging to his chest and trying to find a full nipple. (shame) I’ve found myself wondering… where was our village then? Why wasn’t MIL there for her eldest son? Why wasn’t my Dad there to see if everything’s ok like he usually does. Why did they all just wait for the call that Thomas was there and made their way to the hospital after the call?

We came to the following conclusion: Both DH and I have younger siblings who are needy, not mature, who made big mistakes in life so far, etc, etc. We (as the eldest) were always relied upon to be sorted, mature, instinctively know right from wrong and never NEED our parents as they’re too busy with the younger wayward ones. Another one of those societal pressure things… I’m really starting to hate this Society and it’s pressures. Society says you’re supposed to know from the point of conception exactly what to do and when to do it and if you don’t then you suck and you might as well give your child up for adoption or sell it to a sweatshop in China.

As a result we’ve been trying SO hard to be everything we think and are guided to be by societal pressure and our parents that we gave off this SUPER SORTED, SUPER UNNEEDY and SUPER STAYAWAY vibe. No wonder we’ve been buckling and just about managing to still know each other. Thomas has been the centre of our universe and we almost lost ourselves and each other along the way but no more, we tell you.

It’s time for Lord Muck’s village to step in and help. I made a plea on FB yesterday and I already have three babysitters lined up whom we love and trust and who’s prepared to take care of the beast in his own habitat!

I really want to give Society a kick up the … Did any of you fall for Society’s not-so-funny joke or are you all sorted with the village thing?