We spent the first few days back home taking it in turns to sleep. Enjoying being able to drink water from the tap, sleeping in beds, eating at a table, showering and feeling clean for longer than a few seconds! We had to get the car fixed. It became apparent that the rock it had developed was more serious than just a missing suspension bumper. The garage was surprised the beast still had four wheels, a full set of suspension throughout was required. 😦

Soon enough normal routine kicked in and the boys started back to school. Lego Boy had now moved to year one despite only being in reception a few weeks. No doubt it was going to be a challenge for him but he didn’t seem daunted. He came home with his first reading book… It appears even in deepest Africa you can not escape Biff, Chip and Kipper!

Well and truly in the rainy season we encountered torrential down pours like nothing I had ever experienced. The rain hammering on the metal roof was deafening and the garden turned into a river. The rain had completely transformed the game park, the grass was taller than the car and all the tracks were muddy. In between the rain we could still make the most of the sun, walking in the mud and swimming at the swollen waterfall.

The rain had caused the temperature to drop, sometimes getting as low at 20 degrees.

(Yes that’s Baby Blue in a jumper at 23 degrees!)

And although I’m not going to claim that as a cold temperature it defiantly felt it after the 40+ degrees we had been camping in just a few weeks previously. Baby blue got a virus and we experienced our first admittance to the clinic. As his temperature soared and he became sleepy and groggy we feared it was malaria. The rapid test came back negative but they wanted to do a full blood screen. (The rapid tests only identify one kind of malaria). The clinic staff couldn’t take any blood, they hadn’t got much experience in taking it from such a (as they put it)  ‘well covered baby’. We had to wait for an expat doctor with pedriacic experience to come do it. She was in high demand and we had to wait a few hours but she did manage to get the blood required from his groin. Although the staff were pretty convinced it was a virus the wait to have it confirmed that it wasn’t malaria was grim.

I have always appreciated the NHS knowing that whenever we have needed help medical assistance it has proved invaluable. When within minutes of arriving at A&E I was diagnosed malaria, when Lego Boy had an infection at birth and was treated with such care, when they efficiently took a lifeless Middle Man from my arms (at 10 days old) and nurtured through suspected meningitis him back to health, I can not thank everyone involved in the NHS enough. And now after experiencing a private clinic in Africa I can truly believe that the NHS is one the best healthcare systems in the world.

 

Luckily all our cost are covered but I know its not cheap. People complain about waiting time in the NHS (which is free) but in private there is still a lot of waiting. As frustrating as waiting is I try and remember it means that our case is not a bad as who ever is currently being seen.

The clinic was not bad, no where near. Baby Blue was treated with care and compassion in a professional manner. But they didn’t have the facilities that the big hospital we were used to in the UK has.

(No cot)

Living in the middle of no where and along way from family has other challenges too. I have had to learn to cut the boys hair, the first couple of times with kitchen scissors. My first few attempts caused my husband hilarity, ‘He looks like a young Ringo Star’ referring to Middle Mans first cut. I hope I have improved since then. I had to cook my own birthday cake for the first time ever, my mum was not around to provide it :(. I had to add extra chocolate to make me feel better!

We have to be creative when entertaining the boys, I hosted a messy play, we have made streamers for abit of baby sensory, and of course we talk about the world and travel. One evening we were talking about America, and Husband says ‘They put pickels in burgers’… the look of horror on the boys face was too funny for words. (They call their penis a pickel).

Our trip at Christmas had been fantastic but now we were missing family!  We were therefore estatic to find both sets of parents had booked flights to see us in the next couple of months! So excited we started counting down the weeks until there arrival.