Deeply embarrassed and shamed …

So bookclub has had a few issues for me for a bit.  Small stuff really, but it has been niggling at me.  I felt I would feel better addressing the issues and resolving them, because they were niggling me.

Good plan.

Not a good plan when you feel a bit emotional, and have had about 3 glasses too many, and then decide to address something that really should be a one-on-one problem solving exercise, and decide instead to do it in front of the entire group.

I am mortified that I am such a total douche-bag!

There I sat and I vented and emotionally vomited in front of 7 rather startled looking people.

I really would love to say that I carried it off with aplomb and made my point succinctly – but unfortunately the opposite is true.

I totally offended anyone who breathed.

I went off like a deranged lunatic, and I managed to alienate everyone in the room – and at the time I had no idea what the hell I was doing, but felt, at the time, that I knew exactly what I was doing – and quite vindicated in my stand point (at the time).

However retrospect is a wonder in itself – and when I had time to calm “the f&ck down” – as I like to say – I was able to look back and realize the absolute devastation I had caused and more importantly  “what the hell was I thinking”.

What a total f*ck up – total.

So Thursday morning had me feeling so embarrassed and shamed – not ashamed, but SHAMED.   I was mortified that I had sat and felt that what I was saying was correct and appropriate, and justified. 

My brain, and my mouth, and my logic had disengaged totally, and I am so embarrassed.



So there we are – I have managed in one foul swoop to become a total tosser (listen I always was, but I managed to sort of keep it mildly under wraps until now). 

Yesterday I felt more terrible that I have in a very long time.

I know the thing we would tell our kids is “go and apologise, and say you are sorry, and there is nothing more you can do …”

Hmm, good advise.

I have apologized for my outburst, but it is a bit like it has been said and it can’t be unsaid, so I sort of slink away very embarrassed.

Today I feel a little bit better – not absolutely better  – but at least I do not feel so ill as I did yesterday.  

Do you realize that you can actually feel violently physical ill from embarrassment and shame? I managed to feel that way the whole of yesterday – I was shaking and had a few crying jags just for fun!

Then I went to lie on my bed, not to sleep, but to close my eyes in the hope I might be swallowed up by the earth …. unfortunately it did not happen, no matter how hard you wish it – and I opened my eyes and it was still me staring back at me.

I still feel crap, and horrible, and embarrassed and shamed.

I f&cked up on a monumental scale, and that it can’t be undone –but there it is.

On the other side of rather unfortunate week I have also managed to:

  1. Lose my wedding ring – and I cannot locate it, and I am actually very upset and worried and upset.
  2. I mentioned before that I am attending a 7 week intensive work shop/group work – and for 2 hours a week I get to cry and unpack some stuff that I have been resisting for a long time with a group of similar minded girls.
  3. Watching the “La Viva V.ulv.a” DVD had a profound effect on me.  It has made me question how I view myself, why I view myself as I do – and as importantly what messages I am passing on to my daughters.  I feel that there has been this mental shift ….and it has left me feeling very uncomfortable and at the same time forcing me to relook at myself….which is not keeping me in my happy (and ignorant) space.
  4. I have realized – rather uncomfortably – that I have got exceedingly judgmental person and am really hating that quality about myself.  At the same time am a bit stuck as to how to make me “less judgmental.”
  5. I was wondering if I could find a support group for Alcoholics Anonymous (who still drink) who specialize in Verbal Diarrhea with a minor in Shame and Embarrassment.  I am looking for that sort of support group, so if you can recommend anything, please let me know.
  6. I feel emotionally exhausted and just drained at the moment – and I do not know what I need to remedy me.
  7. And I am still a total douche bag!

Hot in the city, hot in the city tonight, tonight

Last night reminded me again that I had won the BEST Parenting BLOG and not the prize for BEST PARENTING Blog.

We went over to our mates Joyce and Leon for a braai last night, and met up with Lorna and Peter as well.

Cape Town is experiencing what can only be described as a heat wave at the moment.  If you do not have an air conditioner and access to a fridge with cold beer and a pool, then life right now is not dissimilar from Hades for you.  It is absolutely scorching.

Last night when we arrived at our friends home, at 6pm the temperature was 34 degrees.

At about 10pm I walked into the pool fully clothed and the temperature was easily 30 degrees then.  It was not hot as much as it was f*kn cooking!

Georgia has slept in her costume for two nights running!

Anyway back to my bad parenting moment.

Great evening, great food, great wine, possibly slightly too much wine.

But it was fine as Kennith had an ear infection and was on antibiotics so he was limiting his alcohol intake, and automatically made him the responsible parent and designated driver.

Kennith had also packed two bottles of wine for me – for one evening out!  I felt it was slightly excessive, but I also did not want to disappoint him.  Two bottles in one evening out is a challenge.  It is not impossible, but it is a challenge.

Any the who.  Great dinner, great wine, then when it was all over we went home.

Kids were exhausted with the heat and they had been swimming a lot, so they asked to sleep in the lounge.

Considering the couches still had their bedding on them from the night before, it seemed a sensible solution to just agree to let them sleep in the tv room again!

Our standards have really slipped during this school holiday.  I am not sure when the last time my kids had a bath – and Georgia is wearing a plait in her hair that I did on the weekend (today is Thursday!) – so that sort of comments on how personal hygiene has sort of got lost along the way.

Any the way, kids in bed, Isabelle into her cot.  She went to bed with just a nappy on as it was too hot to even consider putting anything else on her.

She fell asleep, or so I thought.  I stumbled to bed, put on my Ackermans nightshirt and fell into a I-ate-too-much-chicken-and-have-definitely-not-drunk-too-much-wine pile.

I fell asleep for what felt like five minutes and then I heard Isabelle screaming like she was being strangled.  I fell out of bed, picked myself off the floor, sort of fell over myself getting to her room, and burst into her room.

Arrived, and she was very upset (not because I had arrived you understand, she was upset and then I arrived – sorry I still feel a bit drunk clearly).

I proceeded to sit with her and rock her for what felt like an hour.  When her eyelids became heavy and I felt her breathing sort of slow (or my eyelids got heavy and my breathing started to slow). I placed her back into her cot and headed back to my bed.

Repeated the same procedure of falling into bed in a heap.  Only to be woken before I had actually slipped into rapid eye movement, by more screaming from Isabelle.

At this point I decided I was going to do the parenting-with-tough-love and would leave her to scream it out.  Eventually she will get tired and go to sleep.

I was desperate to sleep, so the room would stop spinning!  I lay there and tried to doze, but the screaming – she was screaming a loud, I was screaming on the inside – just would not stop.

I slammed my feet onto the floor as I heaved my mass out of bed.  Not only was I really tired, but now I was getting annoyed.

I march to Isabelle’s room to give her a firm talking to.  I flick on the passage light, open her door with just that too much force (so as to make an impression that I am clearly not happy), I enter her room wearing a very disapproving look on my face!

Only to find that she has caught her fat chubby leg between the bars of her cot and is screaming like a banshee!

I felt worse than dog sh*t left in the sun too long!  I freed her chubby little leg, rolled her on her side and patted her a bit until she dosed off, castigating myself for being such a bad person as I had let her scream while she was in distress!

Of course she proceeded to scream as soon as I got back to bed.  Of course now I jumped up like a Jack in a Box and did at least another four visits to her room.

Even when she stopped screaming and eventually fell asleep, the scream was still ricocheting in my head so much so, that I thought she was still screaming (even when I checked on her and found her sleeping three more times!)

I woke up before 6am this morning, feeling like death, and then because I could still “hear the screaming” I went to check on her again – and of course she was sleeping spread out like a Snow Angel in her cot, quietly sleeping as babies do.

I am now serving my penance. I really ate-too-much-chicken and have a pounding head-ache.  I am sleep deprived. And to show me that karma is a bitch, my right contact lens has got lost behind my eyeball, so it is like the itchy-and-scratchy show in my right eye-ball with reduced vision!


(I have also just sniffed a bunch of my hair, that smells faintly like urine, so clearly at some point Isabelle also wee’d on me, which now appears to be in my hair!)

What are the signs of a drinking problem…

There you are happily drinking your wine on a Friday night.  You pour the last glass, so you throw the box into the kitchen bin.

Yes, I do realise how trailer-park that sounds.

I am not going to start defending myself because I drink wine from a box, as really there is no defense other than it stores nicely and decants easily.

Kennith also bought the box for me, so it is very special and dear to my heart. Combined with the fact that I also have rather low standard when it comes to wine.

So I just finished the glass … as you do … it always come as a surprise as you reach for your glass, throw it back and realise it is empty … it is always a shock to me.

I thought to myself … I wonder if there is a new bottle in the fridge …then I thought, I did not actually squeeze the bag out … I just assumed it was empty and tossed it.

Parked my dignity.

Walked down to the kitchen.

Retrieved the box from bin.

Cut open cardboard, took out silver bag, gave it a good squeeze and for all my effort got about 12ml of wine and a “poof” of air… it really is a sad day over in my neck of the woods.

Sidebar:  I did google alcohol abusers versus alcoholics earlier this week.  I got really excited when I realised that I do not really match the traits of an alcohol abuser.  But then a bit depressed when I realised I matched a few too many of the traits of an alcoholic …. yikes …. still does not solve my box problem though ….

Armpits, tits and wine ….

I went along to book club last night.  I used to adore book club.  But in the last year or so, I have got a bit less enamored with it.  I still enjoy it, but I keep thinking do I really?

One of the reasons is that the group is just too big.  At the moment there are nine girls – there were eleven  not so long ago.  Nine girls is not really a group it is  more of a gaggle.

Every single girl in the group is unique and great, and of course you do not actually want to cull anyone.  But at the same time nine girls is just a bit chaotic when one puts them in a room, gives them wine and tells them to catch up.

What usually happens is that the group splits into two or three smaller conversations and the evening feels bitty and disjointed.   Even when we try to speak together about one thing, it really is all a bit loud and frantic.  Not in a too-much-wine-sort-of-fun way, more in everyone-is-trying-to-say-their-piece-and-you-actually-can-not-hear-everyone sort of way.

It is frantic, and actually makes me feel a bit stressed.  Which is probably not the ideal outcome when one thinks about drinks, great dinner, books and your friends – but that is how I have been feeling.

Last night there were only five of us at book club – I could not have been more excited!!

We sat down for dinner and it was brilliant.  We could listen to one person speaking and all get involved in one conversation.  The result is that everyone got to say something and we all got to have a laugh at the same thing.  It was one of the funniest most fun evenings I have had at bookclub in ages.

Laura had made the most divine dinner – something about chicken, lemon and capers and it was lick-the-plate-frek’n-good.  When the dinner conversation started to wind down, someone flashed their arm pit to show how free of hair it was.  I had not planned on dinner and a floor show, but one learns to adapt.

Unfortunately my under arms look reminiscent of what would find at a zoo, hanging off a branch. I went a bit quiet at the hope that the conversation would embark on a different direction.

What proceeded was arm pit showing, and discussions regarding body hair and methods to get rid of hair.  As usual Alice insisted that I go for a Brazilian – I am not sure what that girl’s obsession is with my arse being hair-free, but I have a name of someone who can do it for me ….

Once that was over and we had gorged on dessert, we moved to the lounge area to “do books.”

At some point someone commented that Claire’s breasts are looking really good.  Girls talk like this, it is very strange, but girls do.

Claire wasted no time in lifting up her shirt to show us her fabulous bra – Claire is a specialist underwear designer/buyer/finder person or something of the sort, so tits and bootie are her thing.

It was a lovely bra, and it really did make her appear to be exceedingly well-stacked.  We all had Claire’s-bra-envy.

Claire being a kind hearted soul, then took off her bra – as you do at bookclub.  Sue tried on Claire’s bra and came to show what it did for her girls.

Listen, I am not sure how your bookclub goes, but this is how we roll.  Sue showed us how the bra improved her profile and there was much pointing and rubbing.

Then Laura decided she would also try on Claire’s bra. At no point did this seem like a bizarre set of events, it just all seemed to be quite the norm.

We eventually “did books” – almost as an after  thought.  We ate our body weight in tumbles and winegums and then everyone did the two kiss cheek thing and we went home.

You know, I may not remember the books, but I do remember the funniest evening.  Laughing until tears rolled down my cheeks, and the power of a well fitted bra.

Great evening …

Take a breath ….

Funny what a difference a few days with a total break from reality, and a few bottles of wine can make to your countenance?

The entire weekend was just a complete waste of oxygen.

It has been a very long time since I functioned whilst being totally removed from myself.  I could not have been more absent/removed/vacant/not present this weekend if I tried.

It is a bit like an out of body experience.  You can see you are in a room interacting – or not, whilst you are existing in the corner of the room, far removed from anyone/anything except this dullness around you.  Strange?  Yes.  True? Yes.

Fortunately it is not something I have to go through as much as I used to.  When my depression was at it’s worst, I would have weeks in this state, so I am thankful that I only got a few days of it now – and it really has not occurred in what feels like an age.

Kennith gives me the space when he sees I need it.  He tries not to ask too much of me when he knows I can’t do more than I am doing.  He goes a long way to just quietly helping me through these times..

I met with some friends for pizza and wine on Tuesday night – not too much pizza, possibly too much wine, and it really was a fun evening.  The conversation ranged from spousal abuse, growths on partners’ bodies, to sex and everything in between.  It was a relaxing evening and nice to have people speaking incoherently about so many funny things – the dinner was punctuated by loud guffaws of laughter – just what the doctor ordered!

I also had the fortunate opportunity to chat to someone this week who I really do feel a “soul connection” with.   I have known her for some time, but we have not seen each other for quite a bit.

We spoke about adoption, and the various urges that exist in our souls that we cannot always quantify or qualify.  For me it was great to just speak to someone who just got what I was saying, and did not look at me with that slightly raised eyebrow of confusion.

I am not sure if she was getting me, but after two bottles of wine suddenly it does appear like the whole world is just getting you.  But seriously, it was great to connect with her after so much time.

Last night I went along and met some moms from the Moomie forum.

We have been chatting on that forum for about 6 -8 months.  Before that we were chatting on the Pampers forum, and all seemed to migrate together to the better managed Moomie forum.

It is very strange seeing people you have been friends/adversaries on a forum, then there you are sitting across from them at a dinner table.  Having a relationship outside of the protection of your monitor and keyboard.

I would imagine that a Russian brides meeting her husband at the airport for the first time has similar issues.

Initially I thought it would be weird and awkward, but it really wasn’t.  The only part that was a bit strange was that you are so familiar with them in a cyber room, but sitting across from the table, one sometimes forgets who the person is without the benefit of their avatar to view.

It was a really relaxing evening – like dinner with old friends.  The girls are all so interesting and really unique – it did not feel forced, and conversation flowed easily.

Now that I am a tad more calm – I have realized that none of my ‘wants’ have faded into the morning light of fluorescent overhead lighting and in the even harsher light of reason and logic.

I feel a bit more comfortable that I know what I want/need.  It is okay to be me who wants/needs these things even in the face of opposition, fierce reasoning, pie charts and logical argument.

It is enough for me to just feel strongly that this is what I need, even if maybe they do not make sense to others.  Sometimes you cannot always explain what drives you to do what you do … sometimes it is just the want.

I also appreciate that Kennith and I are in this family together.

I need to respect his opinion and his feelings on the issues that are going to impact on our family – as a group and as individuals.  I can’t say that I will just quietly abandon what I want because he does not agree, and right now I do not really have a chart of the way forward.

However for now, I will take a breath and see where things go.

I am not sure where my path with adoption/fourth child issues/surrogacy will take me, or whether I will progress on any of those paths, or whether it will just go no where.  For today I am willing to exhale and try a modicum of patience and see what happens ….

Girl’s night out …..

Last night was a girl’s night out with pizza and too much wine.

I am not sure if everyone else had too much wine, but I definitely did.

This morning I am feeling a little tired and bleary eyed.  However I always act like I am all zesty the day after a night out – my blood shot eyes may tell another tale.

I was not the designated driver – thank goodness, I was barely competent to be the designated walker.

Got home, and Kennith was in checking on Isabelle.

I had put her into bed a bit earlier that usual, as she was a bit gringy and very irritable.  I put it down to her long day, and maybe being out of sorts as she may not have slept as much as she is used to.  She did not seem to be ill when I left, but she just did not look right.

When I saw Kennith with her – it clearly was a bit more than her being gringy.  She had a raging 41 degree temperature, and was sobbing as only a sick baby can, in the dark of the late night.

I have never seen a child that hot before.  Her skin was fire-hot to the touch.  Her skin was so red it looked like it was sun burnt – her cheeks were flushed scarlet against her pale face.

Talk about being dead sober in 5 seconds.

We sprung into action.  Gave her a Ponstan suppository, and ran a cool/warm bath for her.  I needed to get in to the bath as well, as she was looking very bleak and I could not let her sit there all sad by herself.  Misery loving company and all – and I also felt a bit guilty that she was ill, while I was out playing drink-wine!

A cool bath after a night out is not the best way to end a night out … but any the ho, such is our lot in life.

Isabelle sat in the bath and played a bit.  I gave her some water with a touch of Oros to encourage her to drink more water and just let her splash around a bit – I was still amazed that a child could actually feel that hot to the touch.  (we have one of those inside-the-ear-take-your-temperature-thingies which are pretty accurate)

Got her out of the bath, dressed her in light jammies, and she came to sit with us on the bed.

Her temperature had dropped under 40 – phew, at least we did not have to go to the ER, as I think both Kennith and I had anticipated when we took stock of where this night was going.  Kennith thought he saw a convulsion, but it was probably her shaking from the cold against her skin.

Isabelle started to look much better, and her temperature had dropped to just over 38 degrees – Ponstan and bath combination had obviously worked.  I am a big fan of suppositories for babies – they just work, and then you are not standing there fighting with a spoon of sticky medicine and a non-willing baby.

When her temperature seemed to settle, and her colour looked less alarming, we put her into her cot – and Kennith set his alarm to wake up in another 4 hours to give her some more Ponstan.    Have I mentioned what a good egg Kennith is?

Poor munchkin!  Left her sleeping this morning when I went to work.

Tonight the moomie moms are doing a get together sans kids – I am not sure I will be able to ingest more wine this evening … however I have a plan that includes a Steers burger and chips for lunch … and then facing some wine for dinner might not be so scarey.

Face your fears and all ….

Of wine and toilet bowls …

So last night I went out for dinner with my mate Judith and Sue B – we get together about once a month for a chat and a laugh.

It seemed Judith had other plans, and it turned into a surprise almost-bride party with friends and too much alcohol.

I was dressed in the traditional veil and horns, the garter belt, and the customary learner bride sign – it’s what all the nearly-brides are wearing this season.

I also had a wand and a large ring with a flashing light on it – which has definitely become my favourite piece of bling – I think I might have promised to wear it on the 17th!!  I had a large while butterfly (not real) stuck on my head that was reminiscent of a scene from Alfred Hitchcock’s birds, but might also be joining my favourite accessory pile soon.

Wine was ordered for me, we had shooters – which Alice struggled to get into her mouth.  Shooters can sometimes be difficult for pretty girls.  Instead she opted to pour it randomly on her face and neck and hope that some was absorbed through osmosis.

I had some wine, followed by some wine, and then some more wine, you know how this all goes, and I was feeling great.

The girls were funny, the conversation took a few twists and turns and it was all quite jolly.

Alice was trying to convince me that a brazillian wax is just the sort of surprise Kennith would enjoy – really!  I thought.  He would enjoy knowing I lay spread eagled on a bed while a woman named Vera poured wax on me and then pulled it off really quickly to take the hair outta my bum crack?

How about he have the brazillian first, and then once he stops crying he can let me know how it goes and whether he would recommend it to for me.

Sue S then explained that she has committed to a brazillian but only got half way, then had to tell the wax lady to stop as it was too sore, so went home and just shaved the other side – I thought that was brilliant.

Alice insists I should have my bush waxed in the shape of a pink heart!

I really do not know why Alice is so fixated on my hairy nether regions.  I wonder if when Kennith is out with his friends they talk about grooming their twig and berries?

It really was a fun evening …. until well, it wasn’t.

I can’t quite recall the chain of events, but it ends with me, in the bathroom, literally hugging the toilet and well camping out there for the rest of the night.  I had friends taking turns rubbing my back and holding my hair – what good mates I have.

But I just could not stop retching – I do not recall drinking that much – bear in mind my body is a fine tuned wine-drinking machine.  I can look at least two bottles of wine in the eye without seeing double, so I have no idea what happened.

So as not to miss out on the action everyone then moved to the bathroom and stood around making conversation while I retched and cried in between – such good times.  What I was crying about I do not recall, it might be because I was on my hands and knees retching in a public place .. that could have been it.   There is little to beat the likes of a stylish soon-to-be-bride!

Someone was taking group photos, which I thought would make great mementos of the evening. Eventually they managed to frog march me to the car and drive me home.

I will confess to having to puke some more on the drive home  – so if you pass something on the N1 that looks vaguely unsanitary and has now splashed up on the side of your car, let me take this as an opportunity to sincerely apologise .

Eventually I got home and Kennith was waiting – bless his cotton socks.  He helped me get my jammies on, poured me a large cold glass of Oros, and made me a hot water bottle.

He is such a good egg, and I have such good mates for taking care of me as they did!

Bits and pieces of the rather insane conversations keep coming back to me, I seem to recall arrangements being made about going to a sokkie-jol after the wedding?   I might even have suggested it, oh heavens!

Drinking and Decision Making ……

We have friends who like to hike and attempt to be/get fit.

Usually these plans are concocted at about 11pm after copious amounts of wine. Suddenly everyone has a plan of how we are going to get fit and what adventure we are going to attempt next, and starts brain storming wild ideas that involve lycra and sweat.

Good sense (and experience in these matters) tell me that when I wake up the next morning, we really did not mean what we said the night before. We are quite happy to spend our days lying around and mimicing a sloth.

Recently while tucking into a particular delicious bottle of Haute Cabriére Chardonnay Pinot Noir, Joyce says: “We really need to get fit this year….”

To the chorus of “Yes, yes, yes, we must…” slurp of wine, spill a little on the table, throw some Caribbean Onion & Balsamic Vinegar Lay chips into your mouth.

“Yes, yes, we must, we must.” Lots of head nodding – even some wild gesturing was added.

Joyce says: “I have an idea – let’s do a hike.”

“Yes, yes, we must, it will be so cool..” more wine slurping, a little less spillage, a few Chuckles in mouth – some get in the mouth, some miss and roll across the table.

“Yes, we must do something about this getting fit thing.” Cheering all around.

Joyce says: “I think we should do the Whale Trail!”

“The Whale Trail – what a fabulous idea – I hear it is really pretty.” A little more wine, chips are finished, trying to dig the last Chuckles out of the red bag.

Joyce says: “We can even slack pack!”

“Slack pack!! That is my way of hiking, excellent I will have someone to carry my wine, that sounds fabulous.” Chuckles are finished.  Trying to suss out how much wine I can get out of the bottle before I need to impose on my host to offer me another bottle of this nectar of the gods.

Joyce says – a little too enthusiastically:  “ I am going to find out – who is in if we can go – come on who is in?”

Everyone is excited, and saying yes – people are putting their hands up and congratulating each other for being so keen.  There is more pouring of wine, another bottle is brought and it is all happy fellows.

Next morning we receive an email from Joyce. She has actually found out about the Whale Trail and now appears to be on a first name basis with Luleka from the Cape Nature Office.

Joyce then proceeds to book, and heckles us – mercilessly – to pay and then it just starts to get all surreal.

I put it out of my mind – a bit like the Soccer World Cup, you know it is happening, but really it is so far away that you don’t really take stock of it.

Last time (circumstances were similar) they organized the-hike-of-death affectionately called the Otter Trail. I managed to fall pregnant on the eve of departure.  I am sure it was my body’s natural defense mechanism to get out of poo’ing in a long drop. So I managed to get out of that one, and pleaded pregnancy. Listen there are few times one can play that card, and I felt that this was the time.

Unfortunately this time, I am all out of ideas – I even took a pregnancy test last Sunday, just in case – hike starts Saturday!!

The one about Rachel and Dutch Courage ….

Yesterday I saw a forum posting that was asking for assistance at an Orphanage in Hermanus – they had a set of twins who were 8 months and a tiny baby that they needed assistance with for either fostering or adoption.  I nearly wept, who am I kidding, I really did have a little cry at work hiding behind my monitor (I also just got a new monitor that is one of those large flat big screen numbers, so it allows me to duck down and not be seen – handy that.)

One of the side effects of having your own children, is that you become this emotional vessel that can be tapped in to by all other children.  You can happily watch a man been mowed down by a bus and feel very little, but when you see a child hurt or abandoned, your urge is to go over there and pick that baby up and just smother them in love and care.

We had dinner with friend last night and our one friend Rachel is one of those Godsend-good-people.  She is sweet and lovely, and generous of spirit, and she makes the best baked goods as gifts.  She is also a nurse – and her last job was working at an organization that deals with HIV-POSITIVE babies and children.  Many are abandoned, or do not have parents so the organization she worked for cares for these children and does all sorts of other things i.e medical care, counseling etc.

I was telling her about this forum post I saw, and I wanted to know what was involved in being able to adopt – I didn’t understand the process, and if anyone knew she would.  Rachel explained the process, and really it comes down to a social worker who is so overloaded with cases, that they often are not able to work effectively.  One of their roles is to research and check that the baby/child does not have any living relatives and then they start with the adoption process with the prospective parents.

Unfortunately being overloaded and having limited resources means that they can’t always do it.  Rachel said that sometimes the prospective parents do the “detective work” and then present it to the case worker to speed up the process, which makes sense.  Of course this does make it sad to think that there are these kids sitting in limbo because the “investigation” is taking a long time.

Kennith felt I was being way-way-way too interested in adopting anyone or anything, and gave me a few loud glances to ensure that I understood that he was not so keen on adding more off-spring to our already cramped car.

While we got home, I had a bit of dutch courage (probably brought on by the two or more bottles of Chenin Blanc) and was able to say what had been ticking on in my head for some time. I knew it was there, but thought if I told Kennith, he would be so vehemently against it that I would feel this conflict – because I was not sure what I wanted, but I did not want him to stand and tell me that I could not have it.  I wanted to feel that I could explore this until I was sure what I wanted.

What I said, was that I feel that I am not finished with children.  I do realize that I can’t cope with the three I have, I realize that I may soon be institutionalized, and I realize I often want to run away.  But something in my heart tells me that there is a possibility that I might want a fourth child! 

I can’t really fathom where this is coming from, or what is driving this.  I have had many soul-searching wanderings in my head regarding this topic.  It is just this urge, this little push that I feel inside me. 

I am also about to be 38, so if I am planning on having a fourth I do not have much time – if I haven’t already shot over the time allowed.  But at the same time I am not one hundred percent sure that I want to go through a pregnancy, and risk the stress, anxiety and the risk that at my “advanced age” maybe my eggs are a little old to work properly. I may decide to have a child join us through an adoption process.  I just don’t know.

Before I get the “how crazy are you” comments – I do know how insane this sounds.  I can stand and argue with you, why it is probably not the best idea I have had.  I can help you list the reasons of why it is a really really bad idea. 

But on the other hand .. there is this little tap-tap-tapping inside me, and right now I am just going to sit and listen to it and see where we go.