That is how I'm feeling.  Just blah.  I was planning on this long post but nah...don't feel like it any more.

I have just finished reading a fellow South African blogger's book.  So Close by Tertia Albertyn.  It's all about her journey from socialite to going through nine IVF treatments before reaching her non-stoppable dream of becoming a mother.  What an inspiration she is.  She was willing to do anything to become a mom.  She faced pain, heartache, alienating friends and family, all to realize her dream of becoming a mother.  Why should being a mom be a dream?  Isn't it just a given.? Shouldn't we all just be able to be moms?  Just like that?

Tertia realized that sometimes it doesn't just happen.  That other people mostly don't understand what you are going through when you are battling with infertility.  That is where this book is such a great help.  My word did it ever open my eyes.  It gave me a glimpse of what she and other infertile couples have to do through.  I couldn't possibly say that I actually know what she went through.  I couldn't' even begin to imagine.  Through her writing though, I could feel her pain.  Her raw emotion. 

I cried all day long.  So much so that I had to put the book down.  I couldn't control the sobs anymore and couldn't see the words anymore.  I have two acquaintances who have gone through IVF's.  I now for the first time have an inkling of an idea of what they have been through.

Tertia & Marco.  You guys are such an inspiration.  Your relentless want for a child is admirable.  Keeping on when others might have given up.  Tertia, pulling yourself up time and time again, to keep on fighting for your dream.  It's just amazing.  Luke, Hannah and Ben knows how much they are loved.  I know that Ben felt your love when you held him so tight, yet so gently.  What a brave little fighter, very much like his mother.

Adam and Kate - you guys are so much wanted.  So much loved.  What your parents went through to have you, is proof of how much they wanted you.  I know that you are all and more than they ever wanted. 

I know the book is not yet available in other countries. I will be more than willing to ship a copy of to you if you want to read her book though.  Just let me know.

Tertia, thank you for writing this book.  For allowing people like me to have a better understanding of what infertile couples go through.

Here's something I have a problem with.  Flicking the switch from being "mom" to being a sexual woman.  I'm specifically not saying wife as being wife includes quite a bit of mothering anyway.

Here's the scenario.  We are driving back from a place 2 hours away.  I have three tired boys.  Three crying boys.  Three boys draining every ounce of patients and energy I have.  Three boys who need me to be patient, keep them entertained and be willing to tell them how many 7de Lane before we get home (7de Laan is a local soapy.  The boys love it.  Watch it almost every night.  And it is 30 minutes long. We use that as a frame of reference)  So by the time we get home, I have told them a zillion times, that it is x-amount of 7de Lane.  Home doesn't come soon enough and I'm sure it took more 7de Lane than I said.  I start dinner, while feeding Zander and making the boys milo to drink.  Tommie is on the porch, smoking.  He comes in, touches my butt and makes suggestive moves. I'm like - WHAT THE F*ck.  Rather channel your energy towards helping out dammit!!!

I think us women (and hey, I might be totally wrong since I have a totally warped idea of sexuality) are mothers or nurturers first.  That is our main personality.  We need to switch it off before we can be a sensual woman.  Where as a man is firstly a sexual being.  He actually needs to switch that part of himself "off" to be a dad.

There in lies my problem.  When I am busy dressing my baby and bending over to pick up the cream that has fallen off the dresses yet again, I do not feel sexual, do not think of sex.  To him though...yeah, that's definitely a sign!?

No wonder relationships go through such a tough time once there are kids involved.  Women grow into a new person.  Learn new sides of their personality. 

Men just stay the same. 

Last night, he brings me coffee, sits on the bed while I nurse Zander, gives me all his attention and it reminds me....reminds me of something but I just can't put my finger on it.  Then he asks me "One of my friends are racing tomorrow night.  It's starts at 19h30.  Can I go?"  .... then it hits me. He used to ask me like this before.  Before we fixed our marriage.  Built a marriage that no-one thought was possible.  Even though I know that this is just one night.  That he is going to support his friend.  That it's not like going out to a bar and getting drunk, it still hit a cord.  I resented him for asking me if he could go.  Why should I be the one to make that decision for him.  I would have resented him more if he didn't ask me though.

So he has gone out tonight.  I would have loved to go out.  Just me.  Instead, I'm home with three adorable boys.  Safe with our alarm system activated.  Zander practising his ability to pick things up.  Jay painting with a computer program.  Quintus playing PlayStation.  All of us calm.  Happy.  Do I really want to be out?  Do I really want to be away from them.  I doubt it.  They are so much fun.

• Like Jason teaching me about how old I am.  He wanted to play shop this morning.  So I take the items he was buying and add it up on my till.  He told me that is not right and started scanning the items lol
• Zander is teaching me to be a better patient.  My little guy has an eye infection, ear infection and upper respiratory tract infection.  Yet, he is still smiling.  Still enjoying his brothers' "where's the baby" games.
• Child humor - Quintus commenting on a guy in the car next to us.  "That guy is old...look he has lines"  (Sounds better in Afrikaans:  Daardie oom is oud!  Kyk, hy het strepe!)
• Jason was all dressed up in denim today.  He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and commented to himself "I look like a real person" 

I get a text message on my cellphone this morning.  "We would like to thank you for using the South African Postal Service for collecting your credit card"  This had me laughing so much I battled to drive.  Why?  Well firstly you should remember what a HUGE battle it was for us to get the card in the first place.  Then, just a week later Tommie forgot the card in a restaurant and we got it back from them looking like this:    hahhahaha all that trouble and he STILL doesn't have a credit card!

I read an article in one of our parenting magazines.  It got me thinking.  What do the little people think of our world.  (some of this is taken directly from the article - ok! most of it!)

The only way they have to communicate is by crying.  That must be so frustrating.  Especially since it's not very effective.  So when they cry, we will pick them up, we hug them, we turn them upside down, sniff their nappy, put a jersey on, or take it off, give a dummy, offer a bottle/breast.  All this while the child only wants to tell us how he feels about social injustice, or something.

It also can't be much fun to have someone else decide everything for you.  When you eat, when you sleep, what you have to wear.  Basically they are treated as though their views are irrelevant.

Learning how to talk must be darn difficult.  Especially if they think all animals are called "gently",  any electronic equipment "don't touch" and mostly everything else is called "no".

You have got to wonder what they really think of you.  I'm pretty sure "Mama" translated into baby language is something like 'Food Source'.  "Dada" would be something like 'Hairy No-Milk Breasts Who Fetches Things'.

They must also think that adults are really stupid.  Every time we read a story to them, we are asking the same questions.  - where's the doggy?  What's this?  - yes it's a tomaaaaato.  Sometimes they must think:  If I have to show her one more time where the doggie is, I'm going to throw up!  Why doesn't she just write it down if she can't remember?

Oh how I wish I knew what they were thinking.