Not today: part 2

Notes by Nectar

Exactly five weeks ago, my dad had a heart attack.

The doctors in Dubai told us that Dad would need a valve replacement and a bypass. And soon – within the next few weeks. They kept pushing for a procedure called a TAVI (transcatheter aortic heart valve). Every time the doctors and nurses were checking up on him they would push for this procedure. They kept asking whether he’d set a date. They said they knew an excellent doctor. So when my mum said they wanted to meet the doctor and then decide what to do, she was told that they first had to decide to have the surgery and then they could meet the doctor. What nonsense.

So, Dad was home – I sent his reports to a cardiologist friend in London. He wrote back to me within minutes telling me to get a second opinion. He also…

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Not today

This is a post my sister wrote. I hate being so far away from my family. X

Notes by Nectar

Exactly a week ago, my dad had a heart attack.

On Wednesday evening, just before dinner, my dad complained that he’d been feeling uncomfortable all day, like he had a weight on his chest. My mum and I weren’t too concerned by this as he often says he’s ‘uncomfortable’ or ‘not feeling too good’. About 20 minutes after dinner, at around 9.15pm, he said he thought he needed to go to the hospital. I told him I’d call an ambulance but he said it wasn’t necessary. He’d change out of his pajamas and we’d get a cab. I went to change (I was also in my pajamas already) and when I came out of my room I heard him in his bedroom – he was gasping. I went in to see if he was OK and he told me to call an ambulance. He couldn’t breathe. I called ‘999’, gave…

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C9 – Day 2

You know – it’s not been too bad. I miss food. I spent the day thinking about Chinese food. And kebabs. Instead I ate  five grapes and a bit of cucumber. At least I haven’t  had that sick headachey feeling this time!
Yesterday I didn’t do the required 30 minutes of exercise. Today I dug out my 30 Day Shred DVD – and I feel great!
Now – confession time – smoking. As in I haven’t stopped. 🙈🙉🙊
I can eat tomorrow!!

Right on Time!

As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I (like millions of other women) immediately (and excitedly) calculated my due date.

Baby’s due date was August 31st. I was, to be honest, a little disappointed. I checked to see if I’d made a mistake. I checked to see if there was any way I could change my due date to September 1st!

Yes. School cut-off dates. Yes. Many people thought I was (and still am) mental. No one else seemed to think that being the youngest in the class would be a disadvantage. In fact, many thought I was being a bit silly and that it didn’t matter at all. But it does matter. I’ve SEEN it in classrooms time and time again. And I found this article, which just proved my point.

As you probably read, because of some issues, I had to see a specialist early on in my pregnancy. When I saw the her, she told me that if I was going to have a c-section, it would have to be about ten days to two weeks before my due date. Not having a c-section actually didn’t cross my mind. I felt it was a matter of ‘better the devil you know’.

This made things more difficult. So I would definitely have a ‘young’ baby (it makes sense in my head) and I had to choose which day he would be born. How would I choose?

I spent the next few months annoying the hell out of LagosDad. Which date would we choose? Would it be a ‘good’ day? Etc. The one date that I was thinking about didn’t thrill me much as we know many children with the same birthday.

Having the baby in Dubai didn’t happen (a good thing, I think) and I saw my consultant in London at thirty weeks. I told him that I really wanted to have a September baby. He knew why immediately. He suggested just waiting to see what happened. He said we’d schedule the c-section for September 1st, unless I went into labour before, of course.

I was ecstatic. I was in with a chance of having a September baby!

I reported this latest piece of news to my parents and my in laws. Forgetting that they don’t actually give a crap and that having a September baby isn’t all that important to them. Instead my mother-in-law gave me a list of (August) dates which were ‘meant to be very lucky’. And told me that the first few days in September were very unlucky. I was livid – combine that with raging hormones and… Well you wouldn’t have wanted to see me.

My mum was in India at the time. I asked her to PLEASE go and see our pundit (priest) and ask him if there was any truth in what my mother-in-law was saying.

I’d like to say that I don’t believe in all this lucky and unlucky nonsense, but the fact of the matter is that if I can do something that may be better for my children, then I will – even if it’s reluctantly! Also, sometimes my mother-in-law’s facts need double-checking.

Anyway, so my mum came back to me to say she (my mil) was right (damn!) and that September 1st would be ok as long as it was before mid-day. Relief. I was scheduled for 8 am.

Everything was back on track. Unless I went into labour before.

On the 29th of August I was feeling like hell. My legs hurt. My head hurt. I didn’t want to move or go anywhere or do anything. I just wanted to sit in front of the television with a pile of Magnum ice creams (only the Classic kind). I went to bed early and felt much better on the 30th.

That day (the 30th), LagosDad and I went to the Lindo Wing for some blood tests. Then we went out for lunch and to run one or two errands. The next day was my due date, but this baby was going to stay in until September 1st!

Alas, I was wrong.

Lots of (possibly unwanted and too much) information coming your way now – so you may not want to read any more.

I woke up on the 31st morning and needed to pee (for the millionth time). And I saw that I was bleeding. I knew I’d bleed a bit, but I didn’t realise it would be quite that much. I nearly had a breakdown (in private). My first thought (and I’ve not told anyone this) was that there was something wrong with my baby. All I could think about was the bleeding at the beginning of the pregnancy. Once I snapped out of it, I figured that my waters had broken.

I woke LagosDad and my mum. I rang the hospital to tell them I was coming in. And it was during that conversation that I realised that my waters hadn’t broken before. I knew that because they broke during the phone conversation!

I was a little concerned about a few things. All my fault for leaving it so late – but I was going to shave my legs and have my bikini line done, as well as get a mani and pedi that day. I even thought I’d try and fit in a blow dry!

How could I go to the hospital and have people see me when I hadn’t ‘groomed’ myself?! I was so embarrassed! Apparently, according to the midwives, they’d seen worse – so I was ok. Phew.

They monitored baby’s heart rate and everything was fine. My consultant came in to see me and said we could still wait and see what happened.

It was about half past eight in the morning. How long did he think I was going to wait? I hadn’t had any contractions. I didn’t feel anything really.

So I decided, if the baby wanted to come that day, he was coming. Whether we I liked it or not. And I told the doctor to take him out.

Vinay was born by emergency c-section on his due date. Everything happened fast that day. People were rushing around. With Varun, it was very different. Everyone was so relaxed and laid back. I found myself wondering why it was all taking so long and trying not to twiddle my thumbs (in between bouts of throwing up because of the anaesthetic).

Once he was born (9.41 am), my mum and my in laws all said that he was born on a very, very lucky day. It was Ganesh Chaturthi. I had to accept that this was a good thing!

One thing though… And I asked LagosDad about this… See he, his brother and his dad all have terrible time-keeping skills. What’s worse than terrible? Whatever it is – it’s worse. So what I wanted to know is, if all three of them are ridiculously late for everything, how come both his sons arrived right on time?


He’s Arrived


Baby V (V2) arrived this morning. I was hoping he’d wait until tomorrow, but like V1, he decided he wanted to arrive on his due date!
I’m still in hospital. Waiting for LagosDad to bring V1 so he can meet his baby brother.
Posting from my phone, so no idea if this will work!
More soon.

Yes. I’m Judging.

Earlier this week, LagosDad and I were invited round to celebrate  someone’s birthday.  The wife messaged the day before to say it was her husband’s birthday and to come at 8pm as it was a surprise for him.

Neither of us wanted to go – but we knew we had to stop by for a little while.

We went late (LagosDad didn’t get home from work until about 8.30pm).  We walked into their home and four men were sitting on one side of the living room – watching Arabic TV and smoking.  And two ladies were sitting on the other side of the living room.  Fully dressed up – high heels, tight skirts, etc.  They greeted me as I sat down and went back to their conversation (in Arabic).  The hostess was running to and fro from the kitchen to the dining table (in very, very high heels) and I could hear children screaming upstairs.

Once the hostess joined the ladies, they proceeded to take several selfies for Facebook and Instagram (she told me this herself).  And the screaming upstairs got louder.

One of the kids came downstairs – he was fourteen months old.  He was crying and fussing.  It was half-past-nine, and I’m sure he was exhausted.  His mother ignored him and his father got the Shisha out.  And the rest of the men were still smoking.  The dad then went on to feed his fourteen-month-old Fanta.  The little one wasn’t sure if he wanted it, but dad gave it to him anyway.

The host and hostess’s daughter is about eighteen months old.  She was eating chocolate biscuits.

The other kid that was there was about 4 years old.  He was tired.  Anyone looking at his face could see that.  But he was also bored.  He entertained himself by scraping a plastic fork back and forth over a plastic plate.  The noise was irritating – but bearable.

His mum took him to the bathroom.  They emerged a few minutes later and the poor kid had a big red hand print on his face.

I am at a loss for words.

Yes, they are of a different culture to us.  And, yes, a different religion.  And actually, the couple who invited us are about ten years younger than us – so they’re even from a different time.

But keeping your children up, feeding them Fanta, slapping them and smoking around them (not just around them, but while they are sitting on your lap) surely isn’t acceptable?  Not in this day and age?

My dad used to smoke around us when we were kids – but I don’t think our parents’ generation knew any better then.

We have information at our fingertips – there are health warnings everywhere we look!

Am I being too judgmental?  Someone please tell me!


Two weeks ago I wrote this post, and I’m happy to say that I’m still exercising and I’m still enjoying it!

Now the actual point of this post is to tell you about my Zaggora HotPants.

I had one pair already and I ordered a pair of Capris and another pair of HotPants.  They finally arrived last Friday (two weeks before they were scheduled to) and I could NOT wait to wear the Capris during my Saturday workout.

Come Saturday morning, I pulled them on and started my workout.  Halfway through I thought they felt a bit funny.  I pulled up my t-shirt and saw a hole in the Capris just over my bellybutton!  

Yes, yes – let’s hear the jokes about how I obviously need to lose weight or about how I should have bought a bigger size!

I took a picture immediately and sent it off to Zaggora customer service.  I won’t attach the picture here, it might frighten you!

Their customer service got back to me this morning and they are sending me a new pair!


Now THAT is what I call service.


So there’s this thing…  It’s a thing I can’t do.

It’s a thing that makes me feel inadequate as a woman and I find it very embarrassing.

However, I decided I had to share it because there must be others out there like me…

So, the thing is…


I don’t know how to fasten my bra behind my back.

There.  I said it.  *hangs head in shame*

It’s not like I haven’t tried.  I have.  But I just can’t do it!

I can’t get the hooks and eyes lined up correctly.  And if I do line them up correctly, I can’t get them to fasten!

Please, please – someone – please tell me I’m not the only one!

Cutting The Line

This afternoon I took Vinay to go get some groceries.

After experiencing Park N’ Shop on a Saturday a few weeks ago, I decided I would try and avoid ALL grocery stores over the weekend as much as possible.

Alas, that was not possible today.  I can’t even blame it on anyone.  It’s only because of my own disorganisation.

Anyway, I whipped round the store as quickly as possible with Vinay sitting in the filthy trolley.  There was no other choice – he either sat in the trolley or got run over by other trolleys.  The place is tiny and cramped – two trolleys can’t fit side by side in the aisles.  Two people can barely fit.

So I got to the till and stood behind (but not directly behind as the tills are L-shaped) the person paying.  Another (Indian) lady turned up with her basket, stood in front of me and started unloading her stuff!

I just looked at her.  I couldn’t believe it.

I said to Vinay (loudly), ‘Oh, I’m sure we were next in line.’  With a tiny hint of sarcasm, of course.

She looked at me, smiled and said, ‘I only have a couple of things, do you mind?’

I replied, ‘Well, since you’re already standing there there’s not really much I can do.’

She huffed and turned her attention back to her basket.

At that moment, one of the guys that work there took me over to another till, I paid and was out before she had finished.  Hah!

So – should I have just stayed quiet?  

She was older than me, but by no means elderly.  She is what I would classify as an ‘aunty’ – anyone your parents age is called ‘aunty’ and ‘uncle’.  But I didn’t know her.  Should I have been more respectful?

If I had known her, would I have said anything?  Probably not.  Most of you would think that if she knew me she wouldn’t cut in front of me.  But – I’ve experienced ‘aunties’ just standing in front of you in the line to pay.  Why?  Because they can.  And they know you can’t do or say a damn thing about it.  They’re friends of your parents or your in-laws.  They talk and spread gossip and they KNOW you can’t do anything!

What would you have done?