60 days

Today is officially 60 days. The point of no return for the birthparents! Woot woot! For someone who wasn't thinking thinking thinking about the countdown too much (read "forcing myself not to think about it"), I am super excited today that there is no longer a bit of a wet blanket dampening our excitement. Needless to say, Hubsy and I will be taking Jess out today for a bit of a "painting the town red" story to celebrate. And by "town" we mean Wimpy (sort of like a South African version of McDonalds). Because Dunhillbillydee has such a wide variety of dining places to choose from. HHhmmmm...

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And now, our little wriggly monster can officially become Jesse-Lee Hillbilly. I am so super duper excited! Yay!!!

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Today, Robin and I officially became parents. And having it be to the best babe on the planet is just totally mindblowing. When God answers prayers, He answers them well, doesn't He?

When I grow up...

... I want to act in Cats!

Tips and Tricks, edition 3

I waited two months before attempting to do hand and footprints of my lil wriggly monster. And with good reason too. Never underestimate the power of a baby's clenched fist. Ever seen a thirty-something trying to uncurl a 2-month-old 4,5kg baby's fingers, while wielding a paintbrush in one hand and a cardboard between her teeth, all the while insisting to the Herculean babe that it would be fun without getting the cardboard speckled with spittle? The thirty-something would surely lose.

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I am still nursing my bruised ego.

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And scrubbing the metallic blue paint from my curtains.

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And that's all I have to say about that.

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Hence my reason for writing this post. If you are, indeed, going to attempt the impossible, allow me to offer a few suggestions that might aid you in acquiring the perfect little hand and footprints you so desire for your scrapbook.

Ready? OK, here we go...

1. Call in all of your friends to help. A team of about six or seven adults should do the trick. In the absence of reliable friends, proceed at your own risk. With caution. And a stash of caffeine at the ready.
2. Set your thermostat or heater on the highest setting possible if you're doing this in winter, as this will allow you to derobe. Blue metallic paint likes fabric, y'all. My curtains will never be the same. Neither will my eiderdown. Or my shoes.
3. Make sure you have the curtains drawn. Especially if your neighbours are peeping toms.
4. Now is about the time to get nekkid. Both you and the wriggly monster.
5. Talk sweetly in a soothing voice, so as to keep a measure of calm.
6. A tot or two of strong caffeine at this point should soothe the nerves.
7. Dip the paintbrush into the paint. Do not be tempted to put too much paint on the brush. It makes for glooby prints. And bigger paint splatters on your scatter cushions.
8. Prise open the fingers of the child. (It might help to wait until she's asleep. I didn't. That's how I know.)
9. QUICK! paint the child's palm.
10. Even QUICKER! remove the drooled-on-cardboard from between your clenched teeth and press against your child's palm.
11. Talk sweetly in a soothing voice, so as to keep a measure of calm.
12. Peel away the cardboard from the child's hand, which is probably already aiming for the tightly-curled-fist-position again, and place the smeared, barely recognisable handprinted painted cardboard on a flat, dry surface. Face up. (If you can do this while still holding your child's hand, this would be FABULOUS! If not, make sure you have a bucket of warm soapy water ready to wipe the blue paint from your child's hand. And hair.)
13. Talk sweetly in a soothing... ah, what the heffalump! Press speed-dial on your cellphone and instruct your husband to abandon whatever he's doing and come to help immediately! Believe me, it's all downhill from there. Once the child knows what's coming, there aint no way on this blue planet you're going to get another handprint, leave alone two footprints. And believe it or not, Dear Hubby won't mind rescuing two partially clad damsels in distress from a paint splattered room. I have it on good authority.

Now if only I can find a way to remove glittery blue paint from green gingham.

A special note to Ms J.

I am thinking of you so much the past few days. I have lost your email address and wanted to send you BIG HUGS and lots of warm wishes as you embark on this huge adventure. I am praying for you!!! With lots of loves xxx

Doing Moses

It occurred to me this past weekend when one of my best friends asked me, that I hadn't ever told you what became of our adoption of the little boy... remember him? I mentioned him a couple of times. And then a couple more times...

Ja. Well, after so many years of infertility and all of those torture sessions fertility treatments, it was a bit hard for us this infertile to say no to him. I mean - hello! - someone was offering me a baby!!! So we said yes, and then asked God to show us the right thing to do. (Sometimes you have to do the Moses thing and step into the water before the sea parts.) So that's what we did. We said yes. And then we said, "God, You so know that our finances are not going to stretch to meet the needs of two little people right now, please either make a way for us to have both and still be able to put some butter on our bread, or (shudder shudder!) take one baby out of the equation.

People, that's tantamount to declining your lotto winnings!

Anyhoo, the answer came through loud and clear, the first time I laid my eyes on our sweet lil Jesse-Lee. And verbalized when I held her in my arms. How could I share my Jesse-Lee time with another baby? God had provided for us. He heard our cries, saw our need and formed her, for us, in the womb of a sixteen year old girl. That very same week we declined the little boy.

Robin said something to me just the other day. He said, "You know what, Womanofmydreams?" (OK, so he might have said "Char", but I like to think he actually said Womanofmydreams. Or Mylifelongfantasy. Or something like that. Oh, woops... where was I? Oh yes. Robin was saying...) "Seven years ago we started asking God to give us a baby. Our baby. And we couldn't understand why He wasn't answering our prayers. Well, have you realized that when we started asking God for OUR baby, her birthmother was only nine years old? It's no wonder we had to wait so long!"

WOW! I truly hadn't thought of it that way! We HAD to wait seven years, because her birthmom wasn't even near child-birthing age when we started asking! God really did have a WONDERFUL plan for our happiness. He knew all along that Jesse-Lee was on her way... we just had to be patient. God already had His plan for us way back then. I can't believe I had such a hard time trusting. I wouldn't even heed His command to "Be still and KNOW that I AM God."

And now - WOW! - how different things are. Now I get to praise God every time I hear her little voice. Or see her smile. Or hold her fingers while she eats. I rub my cheek against hers and breathe her in, willing her to feel the love oozing from me. I dream dreams for her already. And it's all because God saw fit to grant us our wish. To create one very special little girl, to knit her together in her (birth)mother's womb and give us the privilege and blessing of allowing her to call us mom and dad.

It still totally astounds me.

And listen, if you are still struggling with infertility... I wish I could say that I know things will work out the way you want them to! I wish I knew what the future held for you so that I could encourage you. But, while I don't know those things, I do know that God really LOVES you and wants nothing but your happiness. I struggled with trusting Him when there was no light at the end of our infertility tunnel. I cried out to Him time and again. Sometimes in anger. Sometimes in need. How relieved I am that God isn't intimidated by our feelings. He knows our thoughts. He sees our need.

And today I can tell you that God knew exactly what He was doing when He had me waiting. Because now, when I look at our little Jesse-Lee, I know that she was planned for me from the very start. God made a way! And I will spend the rest of my life praising Him for her.

It's Bond, James Bond...

or, uh, Lee, Jesse-Lee!

Or you can just call me sweet cheeks!

More pics!

OK, can you blame me for totally overloading the server with all these pics?

Gas? Gas Schmas, I say

Yay! Blogger isn't giving me error messages anymore! Woot woot! OK, so while the going is good, I'm going to overload this post with bunches of pics of my noony pie. Yay!!! Here you go, guys. Feast your eyes on my precious little peppermint crisp tart. These were all taken yesterday.

Tips and Tricks, Edition 2

How could I have overlooked sharing this one with you? If the man in your life is as clever as mine, then right about now, you should be sitting forward in your seat. Allow me to explain. See, when Hubby Dearest and I were freshly-weds back in the day, we were all gung-ho about sharing chores, et cetera, warra warra fish paste. You know, all that pie in the sky / bed of roses kinda stuff. My hubby must've gotten a few tips n tricks from some of his married pals, because come dishwashing time, my hubby galantly volunteered to wash all of the dishes. Wow!, I thought! I totally hit the jackpot with this man of mine! And then Hubby Dearest proceeded to wash the dishes SO BADLY that I politely declined all of his offers to wash the dishes thereafter. See? Totally devious clever man I have.

Fast forward seven and a half years to the arrival of our sugar dumpling. Hubby Dearest galantly offers to share all baby-duties with overtired wife. Can you tell where this is going? Yuuupppp. OK, so we split the chores. Hubby feeds all eight pets and the chickens every night when he gets home. Char feeds the sugar booger. Hubby makes his own supper every night. Char scoffs all the chocolates and crisps in the pantry cupboard eats whatever she can lay her hands on. Hubby takes the early morning shift with the sugar booger (from approximately 4 a.m. until approximately 6:30 a.m.). Char mans the night shift. Both parents are super happy with the very nifty plan, because Char is a night owl anyway, and Robin always wakes up with the fowls anyway. SO... plan is enacted. All's well that almost ends well. Well, until hubby starts rushing the nappy changing in the mornings, because punkin pie is starting to get the wriggles. Great fun. She waits until you're about to close the nappy, then she does the jig and watches you trying to pin her legs down with your elbows and hold the nappy down with your one hand, while pushing the legs away from the sticky part of the nappy and... you get the picture. No problemo for hubby, he just half attaches the nappy, then closes it all with the press-studded vest, hoping it will hold everything in place. Then, at our shift change time, Char finds all manner of interesting things in baby's vest and leggings. If you know what I mean.

Lucky for me, I see through Hubby Dearest's sabotage. Lucky for him, he's friggin hot.

Needless to say, there will be a few lessons in holding down the wriggling monster and strapping her into a poop-catcher nappy-changing taking place in the Hillbilly Household soon. Beginning with how to avoid getting your shoes wet. And that's all I have to say about that.

Tips and Tricks, Edition 1

Hi guys. My blog is giving me error messages again. (What's new, right?) So it might be a while before I can share some more pics of our caramel pie with you again. In the meantime, it might be a good idea for me to share a few things with you that have been happening.

And now I'm sitting here wondering just how to share with you all the thoughts and run-amock-emotions that we've experienced since our noony came home...

Firstly, let me just say, there are a few tips and tricks I've learned mighty fast, y'all. So, if you're preggo's and would love another batch of unsolicited advice from someone you've never met who knows ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING about rearing a newborn, now's your opportunity to run and grab a pen and paper...

1. Cradle Cap isn't catchy. Even though you might still feel the need to wear rubber gloves when you touch her.

2. Contrary to your worst nightmares, ingesting a little bit of baby's wee will NOT render you dead within ten seconds. Or two minutes, for that matter. Investing in a pack of minty gum might lessen the pure horror of the taste sensation though. Then again, if you're a fan of dried fish, this might well be your, ahem, cup of tea. Or pee. OK, ew. Now I'm even grossing myself out.

3. Do NOT squeeze any little zits that appear on your baby's face. I repeat. DO NOT squeeze any pimples on your child's face. Step awwwwwaaaaaay from the child. Put away that insatiable desire to see that bubble explode! Go and put on those rubber gloves again (see advice number 1) if you cannot restrain yourself. It works. Believe me. It is virtually impossible to squeeze a zit with yellow rubber gloves on your hands.

4. When your baby is screaming bloody blue murder and you have implemented the process of elimination to determine why she's about to break the sound barrier, (a. is she hungry? b. does she have a wind stuck? c. does she have a wet bottom even though you changed her just five minutes ago? d. is she tired? - helllllo! I'm also tired!) and you don't know what to do with her anymore, a few drops of Rescue Remedy often does the trick. For me, not her. I have been sorely tempted to dose her with some Paediatric Panado on the odd occassion when she's got the wrigglies in the middle of the night and my matchsticks no longer want to hold up my eyelids, but hitherto have dodged the temptation. It was a close call a few times, but hey, a miss is as good as a mile, right?

I have many more nifty tips, but right now my butterscotch pudding is putting my resistance to the test asking for attention. And now she's giving me another one of her dazzlers... Who could possibly resist?

Because I'm devoid of inspiration time...

...and because I am totally guilty of neglecting you guys, I'm going to cop out of blogging today by just sharing some pics of my lil pork chop. (I don't eat pork, but anyhoo...) These are TERRIBLE quality too, because I snapped them on my cellphone. Robin has the camera with him at work for the camps he's hosting, so it's my cellphone or nothing.

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A word from Jazzy:-

MMmmmeow! So, this is what my competition looks like!

Mmmmmmm... I don't know what all the fuss is about!

But she sure can make a huge noise. Wonder if she wants to join our cat's choir?Oh well, as long as she doesn't mind sharing Char's lap with me,

I guess I can tolerate her. Purrrr... purrr...

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Look into my eyyyyeeeessss...

Look deeeeeep into my eyyyyeeeeesssss...

Now, tell me I'm not the most gorgeous person on the planet!

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I'm even cute when I'm schnacking!

... or napping!

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...or squealing! I just need to squeak and I have everyone jumping up and down. Lots of fun. At least, I think so!

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And then, just when my mommy doesn't know what to do with me anymore, I flash her one of my dazzlers!

Mom -she's a sucker for my smiles!

M.I.A.

Sorry guys... I haven't been able to go online for a while. My mom's gone back to Durban, which means I'm all on my own with Jesse-Lee. Robin's busy with camps for two weeks, so it's me and Jess. In other words, no time to even check mails. Gosh, this parenting thing is dang hard work! Much harder than I thought it would be, with a whole lot more guesswork than I thought it would be too.

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Anyhoo, just wanted to say howdy. I've missed you guys.

I'll blog again a.s.a.p.

Toodles.