<img src=”https://livedancelaugh.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/img_0025.jpg?w=300″ alt=”My Teletubby2″ width=”300″ height=”224″ class=”size-medium wp-image-1397″ /> My Teletubby2 And this right here has been the reason for my loooooooooooooooooooong hiatus.This beautiful, bubbly, buttery and feisty thing.

This thing came exactly 2 years and 6 days after his brother, so no “happy occurrence” as previously anticipated. As many may know and relate, raising a toddler and an infant, is no easy feat. Changing a 2 year old poopy nappy and a runny infant nappy one after the other can have quite a knockout effect on one. Now let’s talk about preparing food for them, avoiding the store bought- convenient stuff, wait, maybe not, that should be a post for another day, But yes, it has been crazy. It has been tiring and uninspiring. But it has also been filled with a lot of love, giggles, hugs and laughter.

My first teletubby was sleep trained very early on. With the second one however, i dropped the ball. I was too nonchalant and relaxed and took it for granted he was a natural good sleeper, so i wont struggle. WRONG.With everyday of sleeping on the wing, being breastfed to sleep, rocked to sleep and co sleeping with mummy, I was digging myself deep into a well i could no longer get out. the boy was hooked.

Until last week when i snapped and decided there and then from my little corner at the office that, “tonight i’m going to sleep train the thing, however long it takes, however heart wrenching it may get at times”.It’s 7 days today, six nights of no cohabiting, but may i use the word smooth? Yes smooth has been the transition from mummy and daddy’s bed to cot, and for the first time this past night, he slept throughout the night, without even a little whine from him. Alone in his cot, in the bedroom he shares with big brother.

oh happy day……#Sing with me please#, Oh happy day,( Oh happy day). Oh happy day……Proper sleeping coupled with that crossfit workout I’ve been getting up to at the box during my lunch break, DivineMo, is back baby. Reclaiming my life one sleep at a time.!

I have never been particularly crazy about them.I always thought they were meant for a specific type of people , a group/type which I obviouly didn’t fit in. Don’t get me wrong, I thought they were cute and all, but I wasn’t one of those with names lined up, cute little outfits dreamt up and the likes.But I would from time to time flirt with the idea of having three (3), in fact, I would be most delighted with an odd number, any odd number. Five(5) would be great, but eeer, too many odds stacked against me, let’s see.

1. I had my first only at 32 years of age…….too late

2.They come at too high a cost, despite their cuteness; Sleepless nights,Lethargy,too much admin’,loss of social life, a very low libido (ahem) and yes they get too costly financially in the long run.

3.I don’t have the knees or energy to be chasing after them, and the list goes on……….

My teletubby turns two years of naughtiness and cuteness this coming April.I asked his dad, “So are you ready for baby number three luv”? He nearly toppled over the stool and fell flat on his face.
“No way”, was his response, “In fact. Yes we could go for baby number three whenever you’re ready, but I would have to stay as far away as possible from you for the entire duration of the first trimester”.

I decided to feign innocence, droopy face and a lil pout, “Why?”

“With our first pregnancy, you were lovely to live with, but with this second one, damn woman you’re lucky I took my vows this seriously, otherwise I would have looong abandoned you”.

Hahahahahahha, I had a long teary and hearty laugh, at some stage I was even gasping for air.But yes, looking back, I can honestly say I am profoundly humbled by my husband’s patience, and calmness through the first trimester of this pregnancy. I was downright nasty. As a colleague friend of mine always says about people, “I was on a constant, abundant diet of shit burger” and what came out of my mouth and mood swings was seriously intolerable. And I wish at this stage to not shoulder any responsibility for my offensive utterances to the poor guy, but to blame the entire thing on him. Yes him. Had he not tripped,fell on top of me and left a seed “therein”, I would have continued to be my normal,playful and pleasant self.

Me and my bump with a friend, at another friend's wedding!

Me and my bump with a friend, at another friend’s wedding!

That ladies and gentlemen is the reason I have been scarce for so many months. I was lethargic and uninspired for the most part, what with having a now 21 months old rascal on tow. But now that we are in the last leg of our second pregnancy, and some of my energy slowly seeping back (for the time being), I should be able to share a story or two, until the littlest Teletubby makes an entrance to planet Earth too.

When? Take a wild guess……Yip, April again. In fact we are crossing fingers again that the baby is born on the same day as the older teletubby.If I wasn’t such a sucker for letting God doing things his own way, instead of us always trying to interfere, sometimes unnecessarily. I would go the Caesarean route, just to be a proud mummy of 2 beautiful boys (another boy, yes)sharing a birth-date, exactly 2years apart. The lucky-rare species of mother who would only have to host 2 exotic birthday parties for the price of one….and only once a year.

And someday when I’m old, fragile and 100 years of age, when Alzheimers has hit, I will not be scolded for rembering one birthday at the expense of another……But hey that doesn’t mean we stop praying for the happy “occurence”.

For now let me be off on my nectarine peaches bingeing and stealing an afternoon nap.


He is the sweetest, kindest and most thoughtful person I know, puts me to shame all the damn time. And two months back when I broke the news that it looks like we will not be able to attend the Johannesburg International Motor Show, JIMS as it’s fondly known by enthusiats, I could see the blood drain from his pale-black face.And it broke my heart.But the truth of the matter was, we were broke as church mice,and dipping into our credit cards for this sort of thing was just not an option. As a matter of principle, none of us even broached the subject.

The show is hosted once every two (2) years and we have known since our last visit in October 2011 (when I had a cute little 3 months pregnancy bump) that we were definitely returning,in 2013. Ooopsie.

Being the financial Minister of our household, along with a million other portfolios I have been “assigned”, I made a mistake.I overspent,under budgeted and most terribly,I didn’t do my projections/forecasts right. And our situation was made bad, mainly due to funds that were being diverted to our shoe business, unfortunately leaving our household finances in tatters.

But truly speaking, in my defence, the whole truth and nothing but…. it was the weak Dollar-Exchange rate that threw me, us and our finances to the bottom of this dark abyss, in the end leaving us a little strapped for cash, especially when it came to “luxuries” like JIMS. The next few months looked a little too blurry for my liking.

But lady luck had a change of heart. The second consignment for our private label is due to leave the Brazilian factory next week, cash is ready, both for the 70% release and for all the heinous taxes and duties, PLUS we have a windfall, some odd little spare change to actually go indulge in one of our favourite pasttimes alone without baby, ok not baby anymore, the just turned 18-month-old-law-unto-himself-little-man. Fewer things give more pleasure than seeing my husband’s face light up, baring  teeth and all, and seeing the imaginary wag of his tail at the sight of something he adores, or in this case, something good he hears, as I calmly broke the good news to him. “Sweetness, I know we have plans this weekend, but if you are game, we could abandon those,do JIMS instead, in and out on Saturday since it’s starting On Friday”.

Not toothy a smile, but the kind of cheer that melts my heart!JIMS 2011

Not toothy a smile, but the kind of cheer that melts my heart!JIMS 2011

The reaction was priceless; A sudden jerk of the head, a bashful smile followed by a serious wrinkling of the face in disbelief as he tried to search the sincerety,or lack thereof on my face, not wanting to get too excited lest I was pulling a prank on him (his style not mine, by the way), but after I explained that 1.The dollar-rand exchange rate is now favourable to us, 2. Some of our savings came through and 3. The shop was able to raise enough money to pay for its own taxes and duties, after an awfully dry and depressing winter…. he gave me that  8 year-old-boy-mischievous-sunbeam-smile and I knew we were on. Yaaaay, happy days, happy days.

So with that ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. My husband and I are driving to Johannesburg this coming Saturday, to see how the other half live, or in this case, how they get from point A to B while the rest of us drool to no end.

A few of the machines from the 2011 show……

I never got  its name, but I call it the Beemer Spaceship.

I never got its name, but I call it the Beemer Spaceship.

The BMW 650i..#sigh#

The BMW 650i..#sigh#

The Audi R8 GT.I fell in love with the R8 on Ironman and the love still runs deep..

The Audi R8 GT.I fell in love with the R8 on Ironman and the love still runs deep..

The Audi E-tron.....Wooow!

The Audi E-tron…..Wooow!

Yip.That's me and my barely there bump....In awe of this German machine!

Yip.That’s me and my barely there bump….In awe of this German machine!

For months I have wanted to write something about friendship,about my once in a lifetime friendship, but time and space weren’t availing themselves,even words, until this morning when I came across this post on the “interpretation of true friendship”.

1992, the year I started High School, 12 years of age,  a little knob kneed, shy yet talkative, and wide eyed. The place and year I would meet my best friend. We were in the same Form A class and I did not like her one bit. She was rowdy, naughty and just plain irritating.She was every teacher’s worst nightmare,mine too.And there was not a day I did not go home to my mother moaning about this girl in class who just made my blood boil. I don’t know when, I don’t know how, but she had quitened down, seemed shy, decent, respectful, all the things she never appeared to be at first, and she had become part of my group of friends. Did I mention how pretty she was? She was a lot chubbier than I, very dark and very beautiful, with the smoothest buttery skin I had ever seen. I had a typical teenage acne face, so drooling at her prettiness and perfection of her skin were the order of the day.

Months passed, years went by, and our friendship got tighter and tighter. Both our families loved our friendship and revelled about how mutually happy we were. We were young and carefree, so we would spend hours and hours on the phone, we would talk before an event about the clothes we were going to wear, and always insisted that they were similar clothes, just like twins would dress. And typically, if we were going to a musical concert or party, we would always opt for denim jeans (in the color of the day), white baggy shirts and some high top sneakers or ballerina flats. To our parents delight, we were not typical teenagers, we didn’t experiment with alcohol or drugs, we were not into parties, or rather we were not allowed to go to parties except once or twice, and would attend an awkward one or two music festival, where we would get to see most of our favourite artists of the time perform.

Boys were also some sort of mystery to us.Yes, we had boyfriends but as much as I don’t think we ever talked about it, boyfriends to us were just that….Friends that were boys, who were just “supposed” to enjoy and share in our interests, like going to the movies ,going swimming, enjoying some Saturday or Sunday afternoon ice cream walk, nothing more nothing less. As a result we got disappeared on/dumped a lot, hahahahaha, because we were just “not up to the required standard”, no making out, no kissing (yuck), and obviously no funky-monkey-dance.

After our fourth year of high school (in 1995 I believe) I changed schools, and went to study outside the country, in a town some odd 100’s of kilometres away,made new friends, and if my memory serves we well, that’s when our friendship started to show some cracks. I would be with the new friends sharing our experiences at the time and my dear old friend would feel out of place because she somehow felt cut out from the rest of the group. Something she took time to point out, but when she eventually did, I made a serious effort to acccomodate her.

Life went on, distance still a factor, but our friendship still intact, she met a boy, they were besotted with each other,in love,and they were serious but I didn’t really like his obnoxious tendencies, she didn’t like that I had other close friendships and wanted me all to herself and the cracks became bigger crevices. More distance got added to the equation, and the next thing I know we are not sharing each other’s lives, triumphs, joys, downs, dreams and crazyness as we used to. Both our families were unhappy at this turn of events, because they had seen how much positivity and love we brought to each other’s lives, how genuine and pure our bond was, but alas.

We were very similar, but very different. We shared the same principles and values, but had vastly different outlooks on life and love I suppose. I am a free spirit.I had other friendships which brought different aspects of life, into my life, but by no means at the expense of what she and I had.To me she was a friend, a mentor, a confidante, the sister I never had, and for that reason I never questioned our bond, our love, despite who came in and out of our lives. She and I have never had the time to explore what really happened with us, but I believe she questioned, her faith in us waivered, and she let the comings and goings of other people in my life determine the future of what she and I had, our sisterhood. Had she known and believed in us, she would have known that she was and she still is the sister I never had.

Both married with families and kids of our own, years of possible memories and achievements lost between us, but I pray someday soon I will write a more positive post about the crazyness our now 30+ old selves haven gotten into, like serious-hurt-your-belly-roll-on-the-floor-laughs we used to have at each other’s problems,before we could get to the serious business of playing Nancy Drew, trying to unravel the mistery that is our lives and problems.

GIRL  shenanigans<

Feisty and maddening with her stubbornness at times, I will forever love her and cherish the love,honesty and sincerety we shared……..My once in a lifetime true friendship!

happiness-Thankful for everythingJust when you think you understand it all.You realise that you don’t.

When we are young, we are encouraged to go to school, study hard and get good grades, so that we can come out of school, contribute to the economy and make successes of our lives.To be able to achieve for ourselves and our families, one, two, and three. In the process, while trying to cheer us on and motivate us to achieving the set goals, whether it be passing grade 1 or meticulously cleaning the dog pen, we are offered rewards.These come in either the form of hard cold cash,some possession, or even an experience. Whatever the case, a child is taught earlier on in life that they have to be a dreamer, an achiever, to be able to attain success, in however many interpretations of it there are.

I have lived my entire life exactly to fit that mould.At first my little life was channeled towards getting good grades, which in turn would make my dear parents happy and they would offer me some reward or other,usually a mega christmas shopping spree or some coveted item or other.Yaaay, success.

As I grew older the reason and motivation to succeed was spurred by something a litle bit more me,and a lot bigger, the need and want to buy myself a fancy house and a fancy little sports car, travel the world and eat in all the fancy little cafes and restaurants.I would be successful and happy, and my life would be perfect.My happiness depended on all things that needed money, and lots of it.Meaning I propelled myself forward, to achieve great financial wealth, to attain financial freedom.

I started working (seriously) in the corporate world, a little over ten (10) years ago.I have achieved a lot,I have seen,acquired and travelled a lot, although not to even half the extent of what I am “supposed” to have financially achieved already, but I find myself content and joyful despite this.

Have I become complacent, lazy, less ambitious,or maybe depressed? This is the question that has come to haunt me a lot of late, especially in light of the fact that there currently is a management position vacant at work, just ready for me to apply and hopefully fill, but I am not one bit interested.

Rewind; Being an only child, when I was in my teens, I suffered bad bouts of depression, possibly because of loneliness I don’t know.But thank God to my best friend, my mother and a great listener, who would always lend her patience and tender care, her two ears and some wisdom, once in a while her hard earned cash, to allow me some retail therapy. She knew that my passion for books and stationery would see me heading straight to the nearest book or stationery shop, where I would eventually buy diaries and journals and learn to document my feelings, discover motivational books, and the most important of all, the bible.

In the end, the bible became my friend, my comforter. I found something solid to stand on,some solid reference point and compass, and with such unwavering conviction in the bible and the Lord came my new found true meaning of success.That joy and happiness is found in the small everyday miracles.That no amount of material wealth can bring one joy. Temporarily yes, but not in the finlong run.I would learn to rejoice in all things, keep a positive mind and spirit and learn to appreciate the small things.As a result, I learnt to relax and take life as it comes, shedding the dreaded weight of expectations and conformism that is normally expected of one. I learnt to be me….I lived a lot more, danced a little and laughed a whole lot more.

Which is no surprise then that after I got married in the year 2011, and the birth of my son 14 months later in 2012, the goal posts shifted once more.My life’s purpose seemed to effortlessly move into making sure that I am happy, my husband is happy, my son is happy and we are all a happy and joyful bunch.Nothing brings me greater joy than seeing my two boys happy and in good spirits.Small things like an appreciative husband who loves and respects me make life all worthwhile. We enjoy 95% of the same interests; travelling and all its joys, good food, cars, clothes, most importantly spending time together doing little things. Our paths diverge only at the point where he sits in front of the tv and watches animal programmes, at which I happily take my book and go cuddle up somewhere, to immense myself in the written word.

My definition or dependenceies for happiness have changed and at present I’m at a little crosroads about certain things, especially in light of the fact that, currently the world over, people seem to be glorified and respected for being multitaskers, amassing so much wealth, some even professing to getting only a few hours of sleep a night.Superhuman I don’t know, but what I know for sure is that, that is not what I want for myself.That is no what I want for my life. I want a good life, a good quality life, and not one characterised by how much possessions I have, but by how much peace and calm I have in my spirit and immediate environment.

For now though, I have to forge ahead, run the rat race and be able to provide for all my son’s basics and rewards for getting good grades, until he himself can achieve his own financial freedom and hopefully a well balanced sense of what true happiness entails…..for him.

What defines true happiness for you?

Spring officially sprang on us in the Southern Hemisphere about 12 days ago.Needless to say, it was not a warm and beautiful day as one had imagined and anticipated.

It was cold and very breezy few days, with reports of snow falling in the mountains. Effects of global warming some would say…..

Spring as with most days that bring the promise of new life,positivity,change and an injection of vava-voom into people’s lives ,always sees people making resolutions. Well, I am not a resolutions kind of girl.I do things pronto (well after some serious negotiations with Ms. Prissy Procrastination) but I was eagerly anticipating the arrival of sunny and warm days like everybody else, but most importantly the courage to finally leave the warmth of my blankets, and hit the gym to loosen some stiffness in these old ruggedy bones of mine.

A lot of drama ensued in the days following my “resolve” to go to the gym, which saw me postponing until eventually this past Monday, 09 September, I walked into the gym, cycled,rowed and pilates-d my way into a lighter, smilier and less lethargic me.

It’s only been a few days of good old working out, and the sore muscles are beginning to make themselves heard, but nothing greater than the feeling of sore muscles to remind me that I am leasing myself a few more, healthier, beautiful and vibrant days in this earth. Did I mention sexier? Yes, that too!

Here’s to beautiful, happy workouts.

This post was motivated by a fleeting remark I made in the post preceding this one. Read the rest of this entry »