It hurts.

Have you ever made a decision that you nearly regret?
At first it seems the obvious thing to do but things go wrong and regret sets in. Why is it simply done by others and when my turn rolls around I face obstacles?
I know it’s not nuclear physics, it's life, but right now, it hurts.

I had Amani’s ears pierced on Saturday. I was told this was the perfect age, she would heal a lot quicker - I thought yeah! This is the thing to do.
I gained the courage to pierce mine at about 22 years of age and I didn't wish I had done it sooner but I thought she would thank me for this.
Took her to the salon and within a few short minutes we were done. Only problem was the guy who did the job didn’t mark the spot so the ear holes were not anyway near identical. One was much further up than the other.

Now, I stand at cross roads;
Should I let it pass? - this would be her special mark. She would be different:-)(I’m not sure I would be in her good books though).
Should I go back immediately and have her pricked again?
Should I allow time for this one to heal then do it again?
My insides are boiling. Why should my little girl suffer because some guy did a crappy job? But again, I exposed her, so he is not entirely to blame.

Trouble in the hood

Sam and I were enjoying a lazy Saturday afternoon; Sam was working on the computer and I was keeping Amani entertained when Mich walked in sparkle eyed. He seemed to have a brilliant idea. He said “I’m going on an adventure!”

“Nice Mich, and where are you going?”

“I’m going to the market”

He sat down and drew a map. 

Sam and I were half attentive - Mich is always talking about things that he makes up in his head.

He went to his room and came back with a rack sack.

“Mummy what do you pack when you’re going on a long journey?”

“It depends on where you are going and for how long” I replied

“Not very long, just for one day”, he said

Sam and I run through a list – a rope, a torch, an umbrella, snacks…

“And where would you be going?”

“Out of the gate”

Sam said, “Uh, I don’t think that would be a good idea”

He went on working at the computer and I playing with Amani.

After about 45 minutes, I noticed the house was awfully quiet. I walked out to see what Mich was up to and noticed the gate was open. Since Stella was outside, I asked her if she had seen him, she thought he was in the house.

PANIC!!!

Then I prayed intensely.

I walked out the gate and there was no sign of him. What were the clues?  Market, long journey, adventure. Since we have a market at either end of our road, Sam searched at one end and Stella at the other.

She found him on his way back, talking happily about what he saw.

That gave me the fright of my life, especially with all the kidnappings going on.

Now that we have a slight idea what kind of 6 year old we are dealing with, Sam and I need to listen more attentively, take clues and act on them immediately.

Meanwhile Amani made 3 months a week ago; she is eating and sleeping well. She wears clothes for a 6 to 9 month old. Weighs a good 7.2 kilograms and her smiles are for world; they literally make her father melt like an ice cream in the Dallas summer heat.

She has been drool central. Yesterday I was about to feed her when she gave me a knock out smile, the sun shone on her gums and they sparkled, well at least I thought they did. She seemed a little unsettled when my sister asked if she was teething. I brushed it off – “No, she is only 3 months old”. But then I flashed back to what I thought were sparkling gums in the sun and quickly checked again. There, on her lower gums where two white teeth, shyly peeping out of her gums. Yup! She is teething alright; I hope she doesn’t get any ideas of using me as … I won’t even go there.

My Einstein

The morning drive to school is interjected with intense quiz sessions, taking a cab is starting to look like an alternative. Mich has some serious abstract questions to ask, I never know what is coming at me.

Monday
Mich – "If you fall from a cloud what happens?"
Me – "You die"

Tuesday
Mich– "How fast do you fall?"
In my mind – How fast do you fall? What kind of question is that? You just fall.
His Dad – "9.8 meters per second", then he goes on to talk about gravity and all that;- Physics lesson right there.

Wednesday
Mich – "Can a cricket swim?"
In my mind – But of course, don’t we hear them most in the rainy season?
His Dad – "No! Crickets can’t swim, they would die,they breathe through their abdomens ...". Science lesson - Check.

Thursday
Mich– "When you’re making a brick, how do you prevent it from sticking to the ground?"
In my mind – Hmmm… but what makes you think it would stick to the ground?
His Dad – "You could use straw, or grass"
Mich – "I’m making a ball out of mud but every day I come back from school I find it stuck to the ground".

The way I see it, I need Sam by my side all the time. Physics wasn’t my favorite subject, so really … I hope he asks all his questions while his daddy is nearby otherwise I will be in serious trouble. Don’t want to be getting butterflies in my tummy each time I hear “mummy?!”

The alternative is to answer the questions a day late, that way I have time to surf the internet for answers.
In the mean time I thank God for an intelligent husband :-)

Did I marry too soon?

What am I doing in this mans bed? Who is this kid calling me mummy? And why is this baby suckling at my breast? -  Exposing this sacred part of my body?

I want to go dancing. I want to write a new chapter in the novel of my life. I want to twirl in the free open meadows. I want to listen to the sweet tweeting of the birds and the crunching sound of leaves under my feet. I want to date again, to spend time with friends after 8pm and not feel it’s late. I want to have a snack for dinner and not have to cook a meal. I want to think about me alone.

A friend invited us to a housewarming; on the card the party would run from 4pm – 7pm. I thought 7pm was late - it’s Amani’s bedtime. Sam had a good laugh, he said, “When you think 7pm is late for a party, then you know you are truly growing old”. Tut tut! I’m in trouble.

There were days when 7 pm was time to bath and get ready for the paaare - which only begun to sizzle at 11pm. We organized parties, danced and laughed till the wee hours of the morning, then crammed ourselves in the girls rooms of a friend’s house (at 4am). I want to do that again.

Now I’m thinking about home work, P.1 school projects, shopping lists, diapers and occasional intimacy.

I enjoyed being single. I skipped at the opportunity to have a drink. Young men told me they loved me, they wrote poems, they tripped over themselves and I basked in their praises. I didn’t look, they came searching. I miss that attention.

I would like to travel and not worry about the husband and kids. Sometimes the task of raising human beings is daunting, the thought that little Amani depends entirely on me is overwhelming.

Why is it okay to go into town with a head scarf on? Frumpy clothes suit me just fine and now I fancy my mother’s flat shoes.

It’s unsettling to meet friends now married with 4 – 5 children. The lean mean guys are now pot bellied; the ladies are chubby all over. For some men the hair has taken flight, never to be seen again, for others the hair reminds me of snow white - white being the common denominator. The perky personalities have been replaced with frowns – life is too serious.

Maybe it’s not marriage, maybe I’m just growing older. Is this midlife crisis?

Back on the treadmill.

A fat hamster, having lived a lazy life is placed on a tread mill by a 6 year old boy. The boy is so excited to have a hamster for a pet, he turns the wheel double fast to see how fast its little legs can peddle. The hamster runs, faster and faster – it loses breath. Its feet can’t move as fast as its mind dictates. It topples over, gets dragged, ends up with its feet in the air, still peddling as though it was on the tread mill and its eyes wide open in bewilderment. I feel like that hamster.

After 3 months of sitting at home, 2 and a half of which I spent sleeping and eating and feeding Amani, I'm thrown back into this fast paced work world and I’m struggling to catch up to speed. Half my mind is at home with my little bundle. As I focus on the pile of work on my desk, my expanding chest is a constant reminder that right about now, I would have been serving my munchkin her breakfast/break/ lunch or snack.
In theory I should;-
-Feed her before I leave in the morning – 6:15am
-She should wake up between 7:50 - 8:15am
-Bathe and sleep again around 10:00am
-Wake up around 10:45 and have her 2nd feed of the day
-Have her afternoon nap between 12:30 and 2pm
-Have her 3rd feed around 2:15pm (this is when I should dash home and feed her)
-Feed again around 3:50pm and nap for 30 minutes
-Wake up around 4:20pm, play till 5:30pm when she has a bath
Hopefully by 5:30pm am back home ceteris paribus.
After her bath I feed her and she slowly winds down to sleep around 7 pm.
But with the work on my desk, colleagues asking for help when the clock strikes 5pm and Kampala's crazy traffic, it's tight.

While briefing my supervisor about my schedule, our conversation went something like this;
“So, it’s good to have you back. How is baby?”
“Thank you. Baby is doing just fine”
“Are you still breastfeeding?”
“Yes I am”
“Do you have enough milk?”
“Yes I do”
(My responses were brief. I was not too thrilled to expound with a male colleague intentionally standing within ear shot)
“Ohh! That means you have to express, where will you keep the milk…”
I almost told her to shhhpp!! I didn’t like the conversation, for a second there it sounded like I was a cow in a dairy factory.
The fact of the matter is, yes I have to express. I sit in the conference room and like a secret service agent, I glance over my shoulder to make sure I’m alone. I unleash my weapons and spend the next 15 to 20 minutes looking out the window.
I have to be careful how much I drink because soon after expressing I’m full again. It’s nasty if blouses get stained so I have to be well equipped and tactfully avoid bright colored clothing. There is nothing as unpleasant as a nursing mother with map stains all over her blouse or having the scent of a milk machine – so I drown it in perfume. But seriously I hope I don’t get to that point.

Love and malice aforethought.

“Mummy, Amani’s nose and hands look so yummy, I want to eat them”. Then he spends many of her waking hours pecking and sucking on her cheeks.

“Mummy, I think Amani is the most beautiful baby in the world”.
“Yes Mich, I couldn’t agree more”.
He will want to carry her, sit with her, dance for her and not leave her side.
He reads to her, shakes her hands and brings the cutest smile to her face.
He is protective of her.

But when mummy says, “hush! Baby needs to sleep” all over a sudden doors get slammed, slippers are dragged, shoes are stomped, songs get louder. There is a need to raise his voice as though we are in separate rooms, even when we are at the same table.
Funny thing is, she doesn’t mind. She associates the “littler” person in the house with noise, energy and games. She beams a wide smile when she hears his voice and sleeps as still as a log through all his noise.
I have labored to explain “Baby needs to rest, so she is happy when she wakes. And mummy needs to rest too, so that mummy is happy”. He doesn’t get it. I probably should let it go.

I wish I could read the mind of a six year old. From where I stand it’s all about “me, I and mine” – absolute selfishness. Now how to get the selfishness out is the trick, I wonder if it comes out the same way foolishness does.

Proverbs 22:15 (Amplified Bible)

Foolishness is bound up in the heart of a child, but the rod of discipline will drive it far from him.

She does me well

She rides a bicycle, starts a motor and pulls a few punches

She steps on an imaginary accelerator

She studies my face intently:- making out the C shapes at the sides of my head and the black things on the top of my head

She looks me dead in the black spot of the eye, when she has had enough of a gaze, she shuts her eyes to drink it all in

She knows my scent and leaps at the sound of my voice

She laughs when its time to feed

She coos in satisfaction

Her toothless smile makes plants grow and the sun to shine in the middle of the night.

My little girl Amani