Thursday, July 02, 2009


England is in the grip of an enervating heatwave. Temperatures have averaged 30 degrees and at times hit 34 degrees. Temperatures that high knock the stuffing out of you, and today I slept until late afternoon, and feel I need to go straight back to bed. Part of that is the ME, especially with all the excitement of seeing brother Stephen and his wife Margaret. They are in Paris and we will meet up on Sunday for a barbeque. Stephen and I lived together for several years, and we never got round to having a proper SA barbeque, or Braai as it is known.

I'm feeling guilty about the dog. I really should get dressed and take him out. He gets cabin fever if he is kept in too much, and a Brak with cabin fever can drive you round the bend. But I'm so tired and my body feels too heavy to move. My head and body ache and I'm nauseous, and all I want to do is go back to bed. If I do that, that dog will make me sorry I didn't take him out by being hyper up and ultra bouncy. And when you are feeling delicate, a bouncy Brak isn't the most soothing of companions.

The kids have been ratty in the heat too. I'm going to post a couple of pics of them I took yesterday. They had been crying, but see the tenderness between Wendy and Teresa Jayne, who is now getting on for 8 weeks. She is starting that Wendy thing of making it very clear that she wants us to hold her in such a way that she can 'stand' on her legs.

Caelyn describes her as a contented, sociable baby who is interested in everything, and I'd agree with that.

Teresa Jayne with her Mum.

Teresa Jayne in her chair. Isn't she thriving beautifully
on her Mum's milk? I predict that soon she won't have a neck
for the fat rolls. That is typical of breast babies, and they
lose it when they start walking. Interestingly, if she was
bottle fed, she would be considered overweight and if it
continued, she would be put on a diet. They use different
measures for breast babies because, for them, it is healthy fat.

Not surprising really, if you consider that cows milk was
designed for calves, who walk from birth and whose brains don't
develop much. They are a very different species to humans, so
the milk isn't the same. There are factors in human milk that
grow new brain cells and also provide ongoing immunity to
germs that Mum is immune to, so breast babies don't really get sick.

I am completely anti-bottle after seeing children die of it in
Africa. I truly think bottles and artificial baby milk should
be available on prescription only, and for good reasons only.
Women don't realise just how sub standard artificial feeding is.
It should be talked about at schools to try to correct the
propaganda bandied about by baby milk manufacturers for decades.
How can people make wholesome, healthy choices if they never
hear all the facts?

They could start with pointing out that human babies and
bovine babies might both be cute, but that is where the
similarity ends.

Being grumpy

Sisterly comfort and cuddles

PS/ Wendy doesn't hold Teresa Jayne unsupervised. I was there taking
photos, and please note all the cushions next to them. So no need to worry.
No reckless risks were being taken.

Poor kids were just too hot

It was a great relief when they finally went to sleep

Caelyn says that Wendy is sleeping through the night in her own bed now. She tells everyone that she is "growing", and she is very proud of the sunflowers and veg she is growing in my Mum's garden.

I'll have to ask my Mum to write about this but I'll outline a story I thought very funny. She and Wendy were at her house, which has a nice garden that Wendy really enjoys. The local kids play ball in the street and the ball frequently lands up in people's gardens. After you have had your door knocked on 5 times in an afternoon to some lad asking for his ball back, you can get irritated. Well, my mum got irritated and told them to go and play on the green. The lads, age about 11 or 12, said they weren't allowed to do that. Wendy was taking all this in.

She and Josie went indoors only to hear the football game resuming. Wendy tells Josie not to worry, she will fix it. Madam W grabs a chair, drags it to the fence, stands on it and begins shouting at the kids, forefinger wagging all the way. "You not play ball here, 'kay?, not play here, 'kay'? not kick ball garden 'kay?" and more on that line. My mum was nearly bursting with suppressed mirth. Wendy gave those boys a good finger wagging talking to, then goes back in to tell my Mum, very proudly, "I fix it"

She had, too, according to my mum.

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