Pop went the mango

Three days ago I noticed a little spot on Leo's chest. 

The spot looked like a third nipple - which wouldn't be a surprise seeing that Chris sports a discreet third one (at a friend's wedding once the seating plan had Scaramanga written in big letters just.for.him).

Then upon yesterday's inspection the spot looked a bit angrier, so I dotted on some savlon and expected it to fade away.  It didn't.

I checked this morning and although the skin remained red, the head of the spot was a little pointier and darker.  Before Chris left for Kampala I asked if he thought if could be anything other than a spot?  He was really helpful, said he wasn't sure, then jumped in the car and buggered off.

Typically Leo wasn't bothered, but by lunchtime I'd had enough so asked Madrin (our cleaner) what she thought?  Her reply, 'there's something alive in there,' made me run my hands through my hair a million times.

So I sat on the back steps in the blazing sun and held Leo's arms as Madrin used a hankerchief to squeeze the pointy spot.  Squeeze she did and out popped a wriggly mango worm which I quickly and manically rubbed to death with a stone.

Leo barely made a sound and as I stared at the hole in his chest he shoved me away before charging off across the garden, spot free, mango free, born free :)

'I am that drunk, homeless 10 year old....'

My brilliant mate, Nic, whose a mother to two young boys sent me this link yesterday afternoon.  I fucking love it, especially the comment about, 'leaving the house looking like a drunk, homeless 10 year old'!!!

THAT IS ME.......although I try to palm off that 'particular look' as living in the Developing World without having access to anything remotely fashionable, let alone clean.

And for those young, childless, travelling friends of mine who watch with raised eyebrows and don't yet seem to understand the concept of me putting the gurning, toddling, noisy baby first?  This sets the rubbery record straight!

To All Parents From A Non-Parent

Window of Love

The.wheels.ground.to.a.halt.recently. 

Leo was as sick as a baby with a filthy cold, exploding teeth, a forehead hot as charcoal, large, red rimmed eyes, weak arms and inactive legs.  Our bed sheets, smelling of baby wee, hadn't been changed and had I known in advance I'd have invested in a bin liner and goggles because day five had him barking hard after every meal and spraying me with vomit.  Thankfully Chris was around for a few days and we played the exhausting game of parent tag, 'you hold the baby and I'll make lunch', 'you hold the baby, I need the loo', 'you hold the baby 'cause I've got to reply to emails', 'you hold the baby, you hold the baby, you hold the baby'.  'Ohhhhhhhhhh bloody hell, when is this illness going to end......'

In those few precious hours last Friday morning I sat watching Leo as he lay splayed across me, asleep, in our bed.  He wheezed like an old man and his small chest heaved with each rattly breathe and although unsure, I knew deep down I was giving him absolutely everything his tiny body craved to help him battle the fever burning down his body.  During those quiet hours I held him close and drank him in without interruption - no phones, no emails, no talking, no chasing time, no chores, no finding things to fill the time, no nothing - just him and me, a moment caught in time.  I studied his beautiful face, his curled fingers, his prefect toes and his narrow tummy as he exhaled the humid air from his lungs.  I touched his hair, the long wispy blond strands that poke over his ears and look out of place against the tufty bits on the back of his head.  

I realised that one silent morning the absolute love I feel for him is unlike any other emotion or feeling I know.  When he threw up all over me and I dropped everything on to the kitchen floor, including myself and our filthy clothes, he waddled over and crawled into my lap, circling his arms around my neck.  Leaning his tiny heaving body against mine I knew, as I held him tight, that a mother's love is a bond that cannot be broken.  When time stands still and gives you that window, fling it wide, because the sea of love that greets you on the other side is utterly breathtaking.

Solar WHAT?

I took a work call this afternoon from a local tour operator:-

T.O - 'Hello, I'm calling to find out if it's possible to see the solar eclipse from your place in Murchison in November 2013?'

Me (WTF) - 'I'm sorry, can you repeat that?'

T.O - 'Yes, if I book clients to stay with you in November 2013 will they see the solar eclipse?'

Me (stifling a little laugh) - 'Maybe, but it will depend on the weather.  Do you know what a solar eclipse is?'

T.O - 'Of course I do, it happens in Novembers.'

Me - fall on floor and die laughing.