finley

Handsomes

amanda — Thu, 18 Sep 2008 09:33:43 +0200

This was taken at the beginning of the year at Boulders beach in Simonstown. Just came across it now while doing some spring cleaning.

Buddha bubbles

amanda — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 14:21:54 +0200

"We should not complain about impermanence, because without impermanence, nothing is possible" - Thich Nhat Hanh

Picture taken by Finley

It was Saturday morning and we had just finished eating our fruit salad when Finley's eye caught the bottle of bubbles on the shelf. He's become really good at blowing bubbles and holding the bottle by himself, dip and blow.

Dip. Dip. Blow.

He has also developed this high-pitched three-note melody that goes something like "aaahuhaah" when the bubble he is blowing pops before it leaves the bubble wand. The cuteness of that sound never gets old.

This is the shape of that sound.

This Saturday though, he was becoming increasingly troubled by those bubbles that did make it off the wand to float gracefully in the air, sunlight shimmering off their soapy skins, only to pop and sadly disappear as if they were never there.

I started talking to him about Buddha's ideas on impermanence and how we can appreciate the beauty of the bubbles without getting too attached to them. I think he stopped listening after I said Buddha and seemingly my deep life lesson fell on deaf ears. Instead, he went over to the bookshelf and pointed up at our own Buddha who has regrettably become somewhat of a bookend (only temporary I promise). "Booda Booda!" he cried in excitement. I went over to fetch it for him and he proceeded to happily blow bubbles with Buddha, and then happily pop the bubbles with Buddha as well. For the rest of the day, Finley and Buddha played together, ate together and drank together. I love being reminded, when trying to 'teach' Finley something, or impart some wisdom, that really, he is the one who is constantly teaching me.

Its been a long week

amanda — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 16:30:07 +0200

I said to myself that the next time I blogged I would finish Fin's birth story, since, let's be honest, it is dragging on a bit. But I'm too tired. My body is tired, my head is tired, the folds of my brain are tired. Too tired to try and access memories from 21 months ago anyway. And the reason I'm so tired is because Finley has been sick since last Monday. For those of you who aren't parents yet, having a sick child is hard work, even when it is just a common cold with a touch of respiratory tract infection, some vomit and diarrhea thrown in for good measure.

Or maybe you are a parent, but you're the type of parent who takes things in their stride, much like Brad, and doesn't sweat the small stuff, then you know that kids get sick, their bodies try and fight it either by themselves or with a little help, they get better and are stronger because of it. Now I know all of this in my head, but there's something about having a feverish child in the middle of the night that sends me into a panic. I think I'm getting better at it, but my mind can't help but to race through old baby books and baby websites I devoured from beginning to end when I was a new mother, trying to remember what the symptoms for meningitis are.

For me the hard work starts in the mental anguish of knowing this little person is in pain and feeling sick and doesn't really understand what's happening and can't articulate it to you yet. Then it travels down to the physical strain of carrying 13.5 kgs around because he just wants to be close to you so he can feel a little better. Then sleep-deprivation becomes an extension of myself, which I carry around as I do load after load of vomitty laundry and its hard to see the wood from the trees. And then the whole family gets sick and you wonder who is going to take care of who.

And then it lifts, because you find a wonderful homeopath in Plumstead who treats your child with love and respect and as a person not just a patient. Someone who is interested in his emotional state, his personality, his temperament. But I guess that is homeopathy in general. And when you get the remedy right it always amazes me how quickly it works. Within a day Finley was already so much better and everyday since then has been easier than the last.

The rain continues in this wet, wet city and the allure of spring feels just out of my grasp. I can only hope that this is the last of the wetness and the sickness for a while.

The beginning: Finley's birth story, part 4

amanda — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 14:13:02 +0200

So back to the birth story...

30 November 2006, 7.30am
We phoned Liza a little bit later in the morning to keep her in the loop with the progress. Contractions were still irregular so she told us to come through to Ballito for a check-up. I remember Nadine being worried about us driving all the way out there since things can progress quite quickly. But I told her that contractions were still quite irregular and that active labour hadn't started – I was still in phase 1.

The car ride was awful. Before that, when the contractions came, I was at least mobile and could find a comfortable position, but in the car, stuck to the seat, turning, braking, bumps in the road – certainly made me feel a lot worse.

I remember getting into an argument with Brad about whether we should fill up petrol first or go and see Liza first. I was so uncomfortable with the contractions in the car, I just wanted to get to Liza for her to tell me that everything would be okay. But we ended up filling petrol first! Who knows, if we didn't fill up petrol we might not have made it to Liza in the first place. And a labouring woman on the side of the road was definitely not what we wanted.

She examined me and I was about 2cm dilated. I had kinda hoped for more! One of those scenes where you think you still have so far to go and then you find out you're actually almost there. No such luck, I'm afraid! She wanted me to see Dr McLynn (our backup gynae) to do a CTG to get a bassline reading for how Fin was dealing with the contractions. We went home first to get things ready – we hadn't even set up the pool yet! We were only expecting his arrival in 2 weeks time after all.

I don't really remember was happened in those next few hours. We went to Brad's mom's house to get some extra towels, Brad set up the pool and I think I helped get the room ready. Hester had put out some lovely fruit for me to snack on, which helped keep my energy levels up. Luckily Andy my cousin, was there as well and helped us get everything ready.

We went to McLynn's (oh no, another car ride) and I thought a CTG was a 5 minute procedure. Instead, I needed to be hooked up to the machine for 45 minutes - lying on my back dealing with what felt like intense contractions. When the doctor came in to examine the results, I remember him saying something like 'Well you aren't even in real labour yet (active labour) and you are only 3cm dilated!'. Not real labour?! So these contractions are supposed to be mild??!! Time was not on our side since my waters had broken at 1am, we had a 24 hour window before the risk of infection arose. And with the way things were progressing, I wasn't dilating quick enough and it didn't look like we would be having a natural home water birth. He said that things could still change, but that I also needed to prepare myself since the chance of having a caesarian section was quite high.

I was devastated.

The beginning: Finley's birth story, part 3

amanda — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 13:41:52 +0200

Liza welcomed us into the apartment. It was a rental she used for meeting clients in Durban since her practice was in Ballito. We sat down and she offered us some tea. Before it was cool enough to drink, I knew that she would be the one to assist us in our home birth.

When she talked to us it felt like she was trying to get to know us, not just take down our medical history. And when she asked me how I was feeling, she didn't just mean physically. She wanted to know how the pregnancy was effecting our relationship and how we were both handling it. I came armed with my lists of questions (as you do when interviewing prospective caregivers) and didn't even need to pull them out. She put me at ease about all the things I was worried about. And it was so refreshing to speak to someone who felt the same way that we did - that birth was a natural and normal process and not something that needed to be controlled in a hospital environment.

I was so relaxed during the examination, and so impressed by her thoroughness. Not only did she do the usual height, weight, pee on a stick, blood pressure check, etc, but she checked my alignment to see what my posture was like, she palpated my belly and could tell me which way he was lying. I was so impressed at this ancient skill that could derive all this information like how many weeks pregnant I was, how big he was, all without any ultrasound technology, just by touch, incredible.

My weightless shoulders sang with joy at the relief of finding Liza and knowing that our plan for a home birth in Durban was going ahead. She had given us a list of what we needed for the birth, I was going to be back in Durban around 35 weeks and we made an appointment to meet with her then.

The beginning: Finley's birth story, part 2

amanda — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 15:27:59 +0200

Part 2

So before I carry on with the birth story, here is a bit of background information for those of you who don't already know.

We were living in Grahamstown and had spent a few months trying to find a midwife who was willing to do a home birth. My sister-in-law had a home birth with my niece earlier that year and that definitely planted the seed in my mind. After doing extensive research into the subject including reading Frederick Leboyer's views on what birth (in a hospital environment) is actually like for the baby, I had my heart set on a home water birth. Unfortunately, finding a midwife/doctor in the Eastern Cape who was willing to do a home birth with a first-time mom was impossible. The next best option would be to find an active birthing unit or birth centre. If I recall correctly, the closest thing we could find was in a hospital in PE (1.5 hr drive away from Grahamstown) which had a water birth facility but after speaking to various nurses and midwives they all told me that it was hardly used because the doctors discouraged the patients from using them since they (ob/gyns) weren't very experienced in delivering babies in/through water.

So back to square one. My mom had a friend who had 2 home births in Durban and had put me in touch with the midwife who had assisted her in delivery. Brad and I are both from Durban and both our families still live there. My parents were still living in the same house that I was brought home from the hospital to, that I grew up in, and even if I couldn't have a home birth in my own home in Grahamstown, this was the next best thing. Of course I had to make sure that they were all okay with the whole home birth idea and had to accept that although they were supportive, they had their concerns. I tried to pass on as much information as I could that helped them to realise that birthing your baby at home was the most common, natural way to give birth in the whole world. It also helped that my sister-in-law had a home birth earlier that same year, so they had already accepted that this was a safe and responsible option.

We had planned a trip to Durban in August for my cousin's (the same one who is now pregnant) wedding (I was about 6 months pregnant) and I had made an appointment to see the midwife while we were there. I remember that first visit so clearly. It was a windy day and we were meeting her at an apartment near the beach front. We had borrowed Brad's dad's Pajero and I remember negotiating the big step down onto the pavement with my big belly, trying not to let my skirt blow up over my head. I was nervous and excited as we pressed the button on the elevator door and rode up 9 floors to meet her.

The beginning: Finley's birth story, part 1

amanda — Fri, 04 Jul 2008 13:47:31 +0200

Two of my closest friends and my cousin are all pregnant. They vary from 13 weeks to 28 weeks to 40 weeks and are all in Joburg, which makes me a little sad because I would love to have seen them during this magical time in their lives. It's also made me the teeniest bit envious and enormously broody. Brad insists that if I remember my pregnancy correctly I would never want to be pregnant again. And he does have a point. I've quickly forgotten about the nausea and tiredness of the first trimester and the frequent peeing and sore back of the second trimester. And that uncomfortable beached whale feeling of carrying a full term baby is certainly not the first thing that comes to mind when I fantasize about being pregnant. Its all the romantic stuff of seeing that little heart beat for the first time, and feeling the baby's movement growing from light butterfly tickles to all-out Tekken style kick-punch combos that makes me so nostalgic. And in all this nostalgia, I've been thinking a lot about his birth and I've only just now realised that I have never published Fin's birth story before, so here goes.

Part 1

The baby shower was on Saturday and in the end it all went off really well. Hannah, Mo, Ali and Pippa drove down for the weekend and after the shower we all went up to Ballito to spend the night at Pippa's family's flat. The next morning we went for a swim. The water was 'fresh' and I only managed a quick dip in the ocean. The clouds arrived on the scene and even with all Mo's willing and intentions they remained, stubbornly, in front of the warm sun. We then went for breakfast at Gareth and Bonnie's new B&B. I was at the start of my 38th week and as we left and said goodbye little did we know that only a few days later the little Bean would be born.

29 November 2006, Wednesday
By Wednesday night I was feeling quite tired and crampy and the Braxton hicks contractions were coming every six minutes or so. I didn't think anything of it, after all, we were two weeks away from our due date and the contractions weren't getting any more intense or frequent so I just went to bed early.

30 November 2006, 1:00am Thursday morning
I woke up needing to pee. By now, very used to this middle of the night disturbance, I levered my ginormous body out of bed, waddled down the passage and then a minute later, waddled back to bed. Ten minutes later I needed the loo again. Still, at this point, there were no alarm bells ringing in my head and everything seemed perfectly normal. Five minutes later, the same urge, only this time on my way back to our room, I heard/felt a little pop and then a trickle of water run down my legs. I was confused at first ('Has my incontinence become this bad??'), but when the trickled persisted, I immediately woke Brad up with “I think my water's just broken”.

I stood in the bath while Brad sat on the toilet next to me ringing Liza our midwife. We told her what was happening, that the contractions were still very irregular and she advised that I have some chamomile tea and try and get some rest. Yeah, right. You are in labour and you are going to see this precious baby that you have nutured and loved for the last 9 months for the first time and get to hold him and smell him. This life changing event, the moment you have been waiting for has now begun. Now try and get some sleep! Well, in the end I think I managed a couple hours before waking up again.

Brad couldn't resist and smsed his family to let them know what was happening. I didn't want to wake up Hester and Harold (my parents) since they would worry needlessly and them getting a good night's sleep would help me more later in the day anyway.

I remember Hester coming through from her room in the morning and I called to her. She popped her head in our room to ask if we wanted tea and I told her I was in labour and that my water had broken. She couldn't believe how calm I was! She told me that when she was in labour she was alone in a hospital room, terrified, trying to read through a book on how to handle being in labour but she just kept reading the same line over and over again. Harold wasn't even allowed to be in the room with her! In contrast I had my family all around me, I was at home, I felt safe and loved and I just remember feeling so excited.

Part 2 to follow soon...

Its Amaymay!

amanda — Thu, 19 Jun 2008 14:10:06 +0200

I've been meaning to write down these words for such a long time. I'm forced to keep repeating them in my mind so that I don't forget them, but its time to free up some mental resources and put pen to paper (fingers to keyboard, you know what i mean)!

Dear Finley

There are so many everyday things that I love about you at this age that I don't want to forget. When we were in Grahamstown the other weekend, Dylan passed you the placemat and asked you if you still liked woven things. Your dad and I had completely forgot how much you were fascinated by anything woven when you were a baby. Maybe you were 6 months old or so, (possibly older) and you used to scratch at whatever woven thing you were holding, exploring with your fingers and be captivated in that moment. So that event prompted me to make a list of the things I don't want to forget about the you that you are now.

When you sleep on your back, you lie with your hands under your head, elbows sticking out. Just like your great-grandpa Jimmy Ping (so says nana H). I like the idea of being able to see your heritage and ancestry not only by the way you look but by the things you do.

I love watching you dip things. Whether its a rusk into my cup of tea or a piece of bread into a bowl of soup. its the sweetest thing - the way your little tongue licks whatever you've just dipped.

I love how busy you seem to be. Off on your own mission, enjoying spending time alone, well with baba or george for company. I like how you sometimes go into your room and fetch a book and sit on your bed paging through it. It makes me smile to know that you love reading and that you see your room as part of your space, a haven, a place to retreat to.

I love all your new words that you are starting to say. Like the other day your dad taught you how to say Its Amazing! and when you say Amaymay! you say it with the same expression as he does.

I love that you still spend time sleeping in our bed. We both love waking up with you in the middle and in those early morning moments we look at you in amazement, this growing boy lying peacefully between us. We still ooh and aah over your cuteness, how you now roll over and cuddle us, taking turns at throwing an arm over your dad or nuzzling your head onto my pillow.

I love how you name all the veggies in our vegetable garden and water them as part of your being-outside-rituals, all by yourself without any prompting. I love that you have a sense of responsibility about looking after these plants, that you are gentle with them, and delicately pluck the basil leaves while I am getting ready to make pesto. I love how shopping at Fruit&Veg City excites you in the same way it does me. I love how you exclaim at the size of the butternuts or rip at the packaging of the broccoli, like it is a sweet, delicious treat.

I love how interested you are in cooking and baking and being with me in the kitchen. You love to see what's in the pot and love sprinkling in various herbs and spices. I'm forced to curb your enthusiasm otherwise we would have the total contents of the spice rack in every meal. I love that despite your willfulness you let me guide you about which flavours compliment each other and which don't.

Most of all, I love watching you become the person you are. You can be strong and fierce when you need to but also so kind and empathetic. Your sense of humour has blossomed in the last 6 months. You make us laugh until we cry and we feel so blessed that you are sharing this life with us. Finley, You are Amaymay!

Rainy days and Mondays

amanda — Mon, 12 May 2008 14:54:48 +0200

Winter in Cape Town has arrived and although it may not be especially cold yet, it certainly is very rainy and windy. Fin and I have been exploring this new wet weather and even though he isn't into wearing his Wellington boots, he loves being bundled up, especially in his hat and scarf.

We've also been singing lots of weather-appropriate songs like the usual classics "Its Raining, Its Pouring", "Raindrops keep falling on my head", "Singing in the rain" and "Insy Wincy Spider". Finley and I get bored of just singing children's songs so we've added some lesser known favourites like "Bring on the Rain" by High Society and "Rainy Days and Mondays" by the Carpenters to our repertoire. I love how he sways his body from side to side and sings along (mostly his own words) in his falsetto voice. He's always keen on learning a new tune so let us know what your favourite wet weather song is in a comment below.

Unlike the Carpenters, Rainy Days and Mondays rarely get me down. Here's why:

Since the house we are renting went on the market we've been having a show house most Sunday afternoons. I thought it would be very inconvenient but it just means we mostly make an effort to get out the house and do something and come Monday morning, we wake up and start the week in a clean house.
I've started yoga at Sundara down the road in Harfield Village. 2 hours every Monday evening just for myself - bliss!
So far food on rainy days have been all about big pots of soup and homemade bread. (Our favourite variation is basil, sundried tomatoes and parmesan)
We have a tumble dryer which has proven to be invaluable in the last few days.
Mondays are becoming craft days at the Whijo household. Finley is getting more interested in working with a variety of materials like wool and beads and sticks and stones. I will post some pics a bit later.

So I rather like this cosy winter, but then again, I don't have to get up in the cold and dark and brace the elements on the commute to a job outside the home. One of the perks of my job is that I get to sleep in until the sky lightens under a warm feather duvet, snuggling up next to the cutest boy with the sweetest morning breath thats whispers against my skin (no Darb, I'm talking about Fin). I get a cup of Earl Grey next to my bed and a wakeup kiss on my forehead (yes now im talking about you) and I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

The power of saying no

amanda — Fri, 18 Apr 2008 12:42:17 +0200

Most people only learning about the power of saying no much later in their lives, usually when they get tired of being or doing things for other people at the expense of themselves. Our son doesn't have that problem. And neither does Scarlett, his girlfriend. It seems to be a quality that you possess around 17 months where "No!" becomes the most favoured response to any and all questions. Here's a typical extract from our daily conversations:

Me: "Finley do you want some cheese?" (to which the answer used to always be yes)
Fin: "Tseez? No, no no! (shaking head wildly)"

Me: "Finley do you want some titty?" (to which the answer used to always be yes)
Fin: "No, no, no!"

Brad: "Fin can I have a hug?"
Fin: Shakes head, smiling.

Brad: "Finley can I eat your tummy?"
Fin: "No, no, no!"(shrieking with laughter)

When we're in the shops
Me: "Fin shall we buy some bananas?"
Fin: "No narnas" (shakes head twice)

Me: "Shall we buy some mangoes?"
Fin: Shakes head twice.

Me: "Shall we buy some raisins?"
Fin: "Aynin?" (Nods wildly)