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First birthday party alternative: The birthday play date
Now while I love my fat cheeked child very, very much, I did not have the energy to plan an elaborate first birthday party for him. I mean, as I’ve asked before: Is a first birthday party really necessary? Yes. The answer is yes. Any kind of party is necessary, in my books, because: PARTY. But while I do love me some cake, I did not want to have your typical party for Jo for a number of reasons. Enter: The birthday play date. Combining the festivities of a party with the chilledness of a play date was the exact way we wanted to celebrate Jo’s first birthday. Here’s how it all went down:
The invite
I messaged a few close mommy friends (whose kiddies are 1 year old and under) and asked the pair to join Jo and I for his birthday play date. It honestly didn’t make sense to invite older kids since I wanted Jo to have fun with little ones his age. A 3-year old and a 12-month old plays differently, if you know what I mean. Anyways, I told the moms to expect a morning of chilling out and having fun with their little ones. Aint nobody got time for make up and heels.
The decor
What decor? Hahaha. Kidding. Remember I said that Jo went for a first birthday cake smash? Well, we converted a room in our home into a play room and used the cake smash pics to decorate it. We filled the room with toys and gadgets that would be suitable for kids his age. You’ll spot the Baby Womb World baby crawler in one of these pics (it’s gorgeous, I’m sharing more about it next week!) and the An African Salad Busy Box – that one was a huge hit. Although there were couches for the moms, I wasn’t too perturbed about the adult seating area because I figured we won’t be doing much polite-sitting with a bunch of 12 month olds crawling and todding around.
The entertainment
I was also so blessed to receive some amazing kiddies gifts from Christian Art Media, which I could pass on to the mommy’s. These include chalk board Bibles and nifty colour-in cards. The moms pretty much entertained each other. We shared birth stories, talked about poo nappies and compared teething woes. It was the best time! We also discussed the amazing 936 Pennies book by Eryn Lynum. In this book, Eryn talks about intentional parenting and how to prioritise your time, in order to maximise the 936 weeks you have with your kid (from birth to 18 years old)! I’m going to tell you more about this in June and do a giveaway. It really is a remarkable book!
While I’m on the topic of entertainment, one of my play date party ideas was to get the mommy’s to interact with their little ones. I must admit, I had planned a few mommy/baby games and activities, but we just never got around to it. Honestly, I think we all really needed some adult time and to feel as if we’re all completely sane. I mean, you can’t understand how much weight a “me too!” holds, when you feel like you’re losing your mind.
The food
I ordered a yummo platter for the moms, some coffee and juice (did I say coffee? because COFFEE) and one of my besties, Bianca, made delicious cup cakes. For the kiddies, I had some fruit out. I mean, since they are still so little, loading them with refined sugars is probably not a good idea. I also made small party packs with yoghurt, teething biscuits, a marshmellow fish (okay just one sweetie, shame) and soft chippies.
The end result
Priceless! The amount of car seat snoozing selfies I received, from moms who were so thankful to get a break, indicated just how much of a good time the little ones had. Jo also had so much fun and I was glad that we got to celebrate his first birthday exactly how we needed to. -
What my kids are playing with: Fisher Price
When it comes to keeping our smallest (and arguably, our cutest) child busy, we’re willing to pull out all the stops. I mean, the kid is inquisitive for days! He usually guns for TV remote controls or a cellphone when we’re not looking. Thankfully, Fisher Price has sent him two of their latest gadgets to try out (big brother Kyle says thank you for that… the remote is no longer being held hostage) and it was so cute to see baby Jo inspect each toy in true Sherlock Holmes style.
Fisher-Price baby’s first activity book
With big sister constantly pretend-reading her own story books, baby Jo was pretty pleased with himself when he got to turn the pages of his own book. The Fisher-Price baby’s first activity book features a variety of different colorful textured fabrics and elements, to stimulate his sensory, cognitive and motor skills. It has a squeaker, crinkly page, peek-a-boo, plastic rings, a rubber teether attached and Jo’s fave – a round mirror. This boy is too clever! He is also a biter. Seriously though, and he only bites me! And now, he also bites his activity book. Winning at life.
Fisher-Price Chime Bell Rattle
Another fave is this Fisher-Price chime bell rattle, that features colorful textured fabrics and elements to stimulate his senses. Well, for starters, it looks pretty cool! I mean, I would totally brag on the play ground if I had this baby. Also, I love the design and that the plastic rings encourages him to work on those motor skills. I’m totally sold on the fact that it can attach to his stroller or baby carrier. I’m tired of looking for toys on the floor of our car you guys. The fact that it’s a rattle impresses him so much, that he bashes it against objects, just to hear it make a noise. Yes, sometimes the object is me. Again, winning at life.
Jokes aside, when it comes to choosing toys for my little one, I always check for SAFETY first! And, let’s be honest guys, it’s worth it to spend that extra few rands for the guarantee that your kid will be safe. Play is the way children learn best. Hands-on play is what Fisher-Price is best known for. With your kid’s development in mind, they develop and design baby gear and toys that will help you give your child the best possible start.You can check out the latest in toys and baby gear on the Fisher Price South Africa website.
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My hair is breaking off
My hair is breaking off, you guys! What the heck does this evens mean?! I honestly don’t even notice these things, because my hair goes up in a bun at home, and I pretty much finger brush it en route to work. I’m very low maintenance like that (because of my many, many children). But alarm bells went off when people kept asking me if I had gone for a hair cut (which I didn’t btw). I decided to do my own inspection and noticed that sections of my hair are definitely shorter than the rest. (If you’re following me on Instagram, I’m sure my hair rants in my Instastories must have had you rolling your eyes) Anyways, panic ensued and I almost went to the emergency room. Kidding! But I did I chat to a few experts and did my research on hair breakage. It’s a matter of “process of elimination” for me now. I need to figure out what is causing my mane to become brittle. Here’s what I found:
Lay off the heat
You guys, I’m a brown person. And like most brown people, I grew up heat styling my hair. I think the introduction to my best friend, the flat iron, may have taken my relationship with heat styling to the next level. Heat styling is obviously not natural and it does damage your hair and makes it weaker and more susceptible to breakage. I only flat iron my hair once a week but I don’t use a heat protector before doing so. I know, right? I could totally give myself a stern talking to right about now.Chemicals
Overprocessed hair is not healthy hair. I mean, even your simple boxed hair dyes contain chemicals and solutions that strip your hair of its natural protection. And, for those who don’t know, guys I’m greyer than the most ashiest elbows in the world. I pretty much dye my hair, at home, every six weeks to avoid looking like a Golden Girl. The chemicals in boxed dyes are not brilliant for your hair. Apparently I am meant to apply a salon-grade treatment to my hair every now and then to make it feel loved and special. I obviously don’t do that (many kids, little time, remember?). Could this be my hairs passive aggressive way of telling me that it wants to be loved?
Basics
You guys, I am so shocked to learn that sleeping on a cotton pillowcase could be damaging my hair! Say what?! Cotton creates friction between the fabric, and the hair. Satin or silk pillowcases are apparently way more gentle on the hair. Did you know that even towel drying is a bad thing? Tying your hair in a towel can lead to breakage and tangling. I read that you need to swop your towel for an old, soft T-shirt instead, which is more absorbent and less abbrasive. Go figure. And duh, combing versus brushing your wet hair is way more smarter.Thirsty hair
Yes, you read it, my hair is probably just thirsty. Dry hair is more prone to breakage. Make sure you’re using the correct shampoo and conditioner, friends! I mean, I generally grab whatever is on the shelf (and cheaper, let’s be honest Maggie) but in order to ensure that your hair receives ample moisture, you need to make sure the product you use contains ingredients that help to hydrate your locks. Also, did you know that the more you wash your hair, the more you’re stripping it of natural oils?! So yes… that.All in all, my hair is breaking off. Excuse me while I freak out.
I’m considering going for a super dramatic hair chop. I need to get rid of the damaged hair. And getting it all to one length again, would also be a great idea. The lopsided look is not working for me. I must admit, I am freaking out. Oh wait, I told you that already. The thing is, I’ve always had long hair, but I guess with long hair, comes great responsibility (I’m sure I heard that on Spiderman). If you’ve had experience with hair breakage, and have some advice to share, please drop it in the comments section. You guys, I don’t want to chop all my hair off! Help!
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Husband, do you still think I’m pretty?
This morning en route to work, I asked my dear ol’ Hubstopher: “babe, do you still think I’m pretty?” How needy of me, right? But the thing is, it’s almost a year since I gave birth to Jo and I pretty much feel as if I’m still pregnant. Maybe it’s the constant need to shove food in my face, or the fact that I want to live in gym pants. Maybe it’s the excessive tiredness or that my waist band has expanded and it clearly has no desire to return to it’s former state. I mean, we can mull over the details some other time guys. But for now, I just wanted to come here to let you guys know that I feel like a fat slob and I often wonder if my husband thinks it too.
He obviously gave me the standard “I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world” response, which I guess is a better option than “get out of the car, fatso”. And I obviously wasn’t happy with his reply. I was all “yeah, you HAVE to say that, because I’m your wife”.
And he sighed.
The sigh said a lot. The sigh said things he probably didn’t have the time or energy to get into. His sigh reminded me that to him my loveliness isn’t dependent on what I’m wearing or whether I brushed my hair. To him my beauty has nothing to do with the size of my clothing or whether my eyebrows are on fleek. He doesn’t base his opinion of my worth on whether I can successfully wear a pair of hot shorts in public. Heck, my hubstopher isn’t even concerned about whether my shoes and handbag matches. And that’s because when he looks at me, he sees his bride. And he sighs because he doesn’t feel as if he needs to justify why he thinks I am the most beautiful girl in the world.
It got me thinking: “what the heck is your problem, woman?!” No, seriously, I asked myself that question in a candid one-girl conversation. What the heck is your problem?! Why do you base your beauty on superficial things like weight and appearance? Moms, why do we put so much pressure on ourselves to look like a super model, post-kids? It’s almost as if we want our appearance to be UNCHANGED by motherhood. But the truth is that being someone’s Mama changes you in every single way!I don’t know about you guys, but my children have completely rearranged me! Their little hearts have reshaped and molded me into a woman I never thought I had the capacity to become. And when my daughter looks at me, the last thing I worry about is whether she thinks I’m beautiful. When my boys talk to me, I’m not standing there wondering if they are impressed by my carefully applied face beat.
When my kids think about me, I want them to remember a kind and compassionate heart and a willingness to serve others. I want them to remember a strength to stand up for what is right and a humble soul, not driven by ego. When they think about their mom, and associate me with beauty, I want them to find the glory in how I helped to draw them closer to God… and NOT in a perfect, size 6 appearance.
All of this from a simple sigh, this morning, when I asked my hubstopher “babe, do you still think I’m pretty?”
Oh and disclaimer, guys: I do believe that we should look after ourselves… caring about your health and how you present yourself, is important. But set healthy expectations for yourself. Your face is not the most important thing about you! The size of your legs and flatness (or lack thereof) of your belly does not determine how valuable you are. And you, my dear, are far more beautiful than you realize.
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Be the light – got the tshirt? {Giveaway}
Be the light… please? Yep, that’s kinda the mantra around these here parts. I mean, I liked it so much, I put it on a tshirt. How’s that for dedication? But okay, I know what you’re thinking… “What on earth does it even mean, girl?” Well, I’m here to answer questions and give things away… two things I do often as a mother.
When I started this blog in 2011 it was more of an online diary of sorts because I felt as if I had a lot to say and nowhere to put all of it. A couple of years later, Ella convinced me to “go live” and share my stories with the world. She’s quite good at selling things to ya (It’s the main reason why I keep her around) so I couldn’t say no. But, when I started legit blogging, I suddenly felt like… what the heck do I say?!
I mean, sure there are tons of products to review and tips to share. But, come on guys, there are only so many smiley-kid-faced, soppy-family stories that I can share with you before you want to gourge your eyes out. And so I decided to get real – down and dirty – with you guys. BUT, I wanted to leave a trail of hope… the faith that God’s plan for every situation is for our GOOD and not to harm us.
A scripture then came to mind. It’s actually one of my faves. You can find it in Matthew 5:16 and it says: “In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” In a nutshell, this means: When we shine our light (by showing compassion, kindness, love, hope) we reveal God to others.And suddenly it all made sense… BE THE LIGHT! So, more than being a source of entertainment and information, I wanted my stories to help you shine your light a little bit brighter. Because, the truth is that life often throws us curve balls (and I don’t do sports, so thanks life) but YOU control your response to it. I don’t know how it all ends but I do know that we’ve been given the promise that every single aspect of our lives are in the hands of a power that is greater than us, and He kinda knows what He’s doing. So it’s our job to live as if we trust in Him. It’s our job to shine our light, so that those who are living in darkness and despair can learn about His love and kindness, through our lives.
Anyways, so when That Girls Store asked me if I’d like to have limited edition tshirts made for my blog readers, I had to say yes! I mean, I have a message… WE have a mission statement! And I would love to see it on a tshirt – loud and proud – “been there, doing that, got the tshirt!”
Looking to buy your very own “Be The Light” tshirt? Well, here are some more deets:
Who is That Girls Store? It’s a local company that creates and designs custom pieces.
What’s My Spreadsheet Brain’s involvement in all of this? I literally just sent through my design. That Girls Store creates the tshirts and ships them off to you.
How many will be available? It’s super duper limited edition, so only 20 are available for purchase.
What’s the fit like? Think: Woolies comfort fit. My JustEllaBella tshirt (see left) is a Large. The oversized tshirt is all the rage I’ve been told. By my teen. Because I’m old. If you’re not sure you can email the store directly at thatgirl@thatstore.co.za and they’ll guide you. (4xl can be accommodated)
Whats the cost? Only R200.
How does shipping work? Postage costs are R65 to all major cities in South Africa.
Where can I buy one? thatstore.co.za
When can I buy? The tshirt should be available on the online store as of today until stock runs out!
How long does delivery take? 5 to 7 working days.GIVEAWAY!
You guys, I appreciate every single one of you so much. For reals, yo. And I know that forking out 200 bucks on this tshirt will probably be done out of love and sincerity… because you love me back (I see you, friend) or because you love the idea behind the slogan. To honor that, I am going to give one of the 20 tshirt buyers a very special My Spreadsheet Brain hamper filled with a few cool things just to say thank you! Yep, this means if you buy the tshirt you have a one in twenty chance of winning! Woohoo!
The hamper includes:
A beautiful gilt-edged Helen Steiner Rice One Minute Devotions titled ‘From The Heart’ (makes for a great gift, wink wink)
A My Spreadsheet Brain custom mug – yep, I made it myself, with my bare hands… so to speak
A KNC Beauty collagen infused lip mask… because pouty lips are life
A Laqa & Co Cloud Lips lipstick in a poppin’ color!To enter, all you have to do is: Buy a tshirt! That’s it. Once you’ve made your purchase drop me a message to let me know that you’ve done so! Hope to see selfies of all you gorgeous mama’s wearing your “Be the light” tshirts soon! Winner of the giveaway will be announced on May 31st.
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He must be cheating on me
He must be cheating on me. My husband, that is. I’m convinced that he is seeing someone else. And I know who it is too.
It’s probably the pretty, curly-haired girl at the office. It has to be. I mean, she’s so pretty and she wears high heels to work every day. Who does that?! It’s not even a special occasion. He probably notices things like that. He probably wonders why I don’t wear stilettos every day.
And I think he’s also cheating with the neighbor across the road… the one without kids who goes on hikes every weekend and smiles cheerily when she greets us in the morning. He probably thinks she’s fun and adventurous. He probably hates my boring routines. He probably wishes his life was fun and adventurous too.
No wait, he’s cheating with his ex-girlfriend. That’s a definite. I saw her at the mall the other day. She looked so put together and happy. We locked eyes and I tried hard to show her how amazing my life has been since I “won” the title of being Mrs-So-and-So. But the truth is I can’t remember when last I felt as if I won. All I feel is tired and disgusting. I wonder if he ever texts her to tell her what a huge mistake he’s made. He probably wishes he could turn back time. He probably sees me in my yoga pants and stained t-shirt and wonders how he ended up here.
He’s cheating on me. I’m sure of it. And I get it too – he wants to be saved from this life of schedules and potty training; play dates and the mundane. Evidence? I don’t need evidence. The evidence is in the way he looks at me – as if I’m exactly who he needs me to be. It’s such a lie. I know he’s not telling the truth when he calls me beautiful or sexy or the only one he wants to be with. What a joke, I can’t be that wonderful. I mean, I smell like porridge and wet wipes. My fashion sense has no sense at all and the last time I wore anything tight fitting was when I could barely fit into my maternity jeans. The last time I did anything worth noting was when I managed to get the baby to fall asleep before 7pm.
Or maybe he’s not the one cheating. Maybe it’s me. I’m cheating on myself.
I cheat myself of praise, everyday, when I compare my beauty to someone else’s convincing myself that my body is too flabby and my lips are not full enough. I rob myself of satisfaction when I deny my talent and creativity, by believing self taught lies that say I’m not as brilliant as I’d like to think. I steal my own joy when I entertain thoughts that I am not strong enough, not clever or bold enough, not fun or daring enough. And I rob my marriage of its passion and contentment when I go to bed angry at night, irrationally convincing myself that I am unworthy of all of my husbands love and affection.I don’t know it but I cheat myself of fulfillment when I believe the lie that I can’t be a hands on mother, a fun and exciting friend, a lady on a mission, and a beautiful and desirable wife all at the same time. I am more than enough, just as I am. And on days where I don’t see my worth and my substance, he does.
And that’s how I know he’s cheating on me. My husband, that is. Because he sees someone else when he looks at me.
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Let’s talk about why a mother would leave her newborn in a drain
One morning, while sipping on my morning coffee, an alarming headline made my stomach turn: Newborn Baby Found in Drain. A mother (we are assuming it’s the mother) abandoned her 3 hour old baby girl, in a sealed sewer pipe. Baby was found naked but was still alive. It was heartbreaking and left me in an emotional state for the remainder of the day. Social media, of corse, was ablaze with furious onlookers who had a gazillion opinions: Who on earth would leave their newborn baby in a drain?! How can someone be that inhumane and cruel?! I mean, lady, how could you do that?! There is no reason why a mother would leave her newborn in a drain. Surely you had options, lady?! I mean, there are places of safety to take your little one to. There are other alternatives – seriously? You didn’t have to stow away your freshly born baby girl into a disgusting, ant infested drain pipe. How could you?!
Okay, so let’s talk about that for a minute. Let’s talk about why a mother would leave her newborn in a drain. Can we talk about rape and sexual abuse for a hot minute, too? Can we talk about the sexual promiscuity our children are being exposed to every single day on social media, advertisements and in the series you allow them watch? Oh, we definitely need to talk about the music they listen to and how we allow them to wear bum shorts and then wonder where the over-sexualised behavior comes from when we “don’t act that way at home”.
And while we are at it, let’s start discussions around poverty and women empowerment. Let’s dissect the education system and how some of our children lack their very basic right to learn. Let’s talk about how our young girls, in poverty stricken homes, choose to give up their education in order to clean your house or sell fruit at the taxi stop. How our young men feel as if doing things the wrong way is the right way to live, because this is the only way they know to survive.I mean, while we’re having our debates about the lady who dropped her baby into a sewer pipe, can we also maybe talk about depression and post natal depression. Maybe we can share resources and information on it… I mean, while we’re debating about the mother who abandoned her baby. Perhaps we could use the space to also talk about how thousands of new moms feel overwhelmed, exposed, ill-equipt and not ready to be a mother, even after giving birth. Oh, we definitely need to talk about teenage pregnancy too. Can we talk about how our children are having children? Where are we going wrong?
I don’t know this mother, nor do I know the baby. Heck, I wasn’t even in the area when baby girl was found. Was it wrong, heartbreaking, cruel to leave a 3 hour old baby in a drain pipe? Yep. Is it completely inhumane to have a little life start like that? Definitely – I wouldn’t wish it on anyone! Were there other options available for the mother? Yes. But I reckon that, if we’re going to use our voices to say something about the topic on social media, perhaps it will make more sense to offer solutions rather than opinions. Your opinion will not prevent another baby from ending up in a drain.
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Hey husband, remember me?
Hey husband, remember me? I’m your wife. Well, atleast I think I am. Okay, I was your wife the last time I checked and we still live in the same house, so I’m more than sure that I actually am your wife. How are you? No, I mean, how are you reallly? Oh, me? I’m okay, I guess. Slightly tired. Mainly exhausted. Wait, those two are the same thing. Anyways, I came here today to chat to you about the fact that it sometimes feels as if you’re not my husband anymore.
No, I mean, it feels as if you’re not MY husband. I know you’re A husband because you’re a pro at being a hubby and a daddy. It’s weirdly attractive. But I digress. What I meant to say is that sometimes it feels as if you’re not MY husband. You know? The guy who has been set apart just for lil ol’ me? Yeah, that one. I miss that one.
What went wrong? I guess it’s more along the lines of what went right. And the answer would always be our children and the home we’re building together. It’s the best part about being yours and you being mine – the fact that we get to raise these bundles of poopjoy together and watch them figure the world out while we pay their school fees (sigh… school fees).But, husband, what I actually want to say is: please don’t forget me? I know, the rent needs to be paid and the oil in the car needs to be changed and someone needs to check if we have enough life insurance (and I nominate you to take care of these exciting things). But in the midst of all of the life-living, don’t forget me. Don’t forget to hold my hand and give me little hugs while I’m cooking. Don’t forget to tell me I look nice or that you missed me after a long day at the office. Don’t forget to tell me you love me. I still need to hear it. Like, all the time. No seriously, all the time.
And I promise, I won’t forget you. I won’t forget the guy I married, who is buried underneath all of the husbanding and fathering that you do. I won’t forget how hilarious I once thought your silly sense of humor was. Or that you like it when I rub your shoulders. I won’t forget how much words of affirmation mean to you and that it means a lot when I cook you special meals.Because, the truth is that, as much as our children need us to parent them, they also need to see us loving on each other. Our version of a healthy, happy marriage, is a blueprint for theirs. Loving each other and working through conflict and trials together – as a unit – is the greatest lessons we can teach our kids, without having to say a single word to them. Maybe we can work on showing them that we are more inlove with each other, than we are annoyed. (Fine balance sometimes, I know.)
So husband, remember me. Remember me and all that you love about me. I mean, I’m still the woman you fell head over heels with many years (and pants sizes) ago. The one who you find insanely attractive and wildly interesting. I’m still here, somewhere. And yes, sometimes you may have to dig a little deeper to find her, but I promise, I’m worth the search.
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Dear telemarketer… it’s not me, it’s you…
I’m not in the mood to be dramatic and emotional today, so I sha’nt, but for the love of all that is good and holy, can somebody please tell all the dear telemarketers of the world that we have a lot of children and not enough money to spend on every single product they try to sell us on the daily?!
The worst is when they act as if you’re being rude because your response to their (often deflated) sales pitch is no thank you. I mean, I get it Celeste, this is your job. Heck, I sell digital advertising for a living. Your pain is my pain, sister. But can you maybe not act as if I owe you a solid?
I mean, if part of your job is to cold call and sell cellphone contracts to people who currently have cellphone contracts (because you are, uhh, calling me on my actual phone… from whence the contract came) do it with some pizzazz man! Give it life! Make it fun! Or atleast be friendly and not long winding. (Tip: If you must read from a script, maybe don’t make it sound like it, Mark…)
Secondly, no I don’t have a reason why I am not interested in upgrading my life policy. Oh wait, I do, I’M NOT INTERESTED. That’s my reason. I don’t owe you more information than that, Tshipo!
Thirdly, no I am not going to pass along contact details of friends who might be interested. Why? Well, mainly because I’d like to not be thrown with a shoe, the next time I enter my best friend’s house, thanks.
You guys, someone should write a “Telemarketers Etiquette” book. Please, I beg you. Where is Richard Branson when you need him?
In a nutshell, what I really came here to say was: Be kind to telemarketers, you guys! They are a demotivated folk who are probably tired of hearing people (like me) say no to them. There is only so much rejection the human heart can take, yo. BUT also, if you’re trying to get hold of me, and your number is hidden, chances are I will not be answering the call. You can thank Celeste for that.
Image: Freepik
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Is it weird that I want to adopt?
Our family of six is pretty much complete, one would say. I mean, the recent addition of baby Jo came as a sweet bonus and when I held him in my arms – all soft and squishy – I immediately knew that my womb’s job here on earth was done. I had given birth to three beautiful children and was gifted the pleasure of being Seth’s step mommy. What more could I want? Well, I strangely do want more. Is it weird that I want to adopt? Is it totally loony toons that my heart does not feel as if it’s reached maximum capacity yet? I feel as if there’s another little child, somewhere out there, that needs me to be her mommy. Does that make me sound a tad bit psycho?
It’s okay, we’re all friends here, you can be honest with me. Hubstopher does not share the same sentiments that I do. And I get it – having kids is pretty darn expensive! Oh and let’s not talk about how we sleep sitting up sometimes. My tired is tired. It’s no easy feat parenting four kids. But somewhere, deep down in my heart of hearts (Where is that even? Narnia?) I feel as if there’s a little girl out there that belongs to me.
I know what you’re going to say… it’s hormones… I’m emotional… I’m just broody again etc. Maybe you’re right. I mean, I’ve been broody before. And although I can’t relate with someone who struggles with infertility (I’m as fertile as a turtle, you guys!) I kinda know what it feels like to want a baby so much that your heart aches. That’s how I felt right before I fell pregnant with Kari. But strangely, this time around, I’m not even contemplating housing another little one in my mommy-incubator. Like, that factory is closed, yo! Instead, the ache is a different one, it’s almost as if I’m waiting around for another little child… and I don’t even know if she’s coming.So I had a casual chat with a social worker and she confirmed everything that I already knew. Screenings are vigorous – they don’t just put a random child into a random family’s care all because you get the “feeling” that you should adopt. No lady, they need to check that you’re emotionally and mentally able to love and care for someone else’s child. Also, can you afford it? What’s your home situation like? How’s your marriage? Adopting sounds good on paper and makes for a really cool Disney movie. But the realities of it can be quite challenging.
Anyways, for now, I’m content with raising the gifts that God has given me. I mean, I’m not exactly filling in adoption forms. But I just thought to find out if any of you has ever felt this way and what you’ve done about it.
