Archives for posts with tag: Family

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.

Toodles!

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SPECIAL FRIEND
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.
REAL FRIEND

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.
HAPPINESS not MONEY,but PEOPLE

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?

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

When my son was born, on many levels, I knew my life had changed,forever.Of the biggest and most important changes would be having a stay at home nanny/helper. Both hubby and I are home bodies who love and cherish our “alone” time, and having our space shared with an outsider 24/7 would be something to really make peace with, and fast.

My teletubby will be 15 months in 12 days time and we have been lucky to be “only” on our second nanny. “Only” because I have heard and seen people go through 3 nannies in two weeks, and our previous one only left because she was prone to sicknesses and I had to let her go. She had come into our lives when our son was only 3 days old.Being a little lady in her fifties, who had raised her own 7 kids and around 10 grandkids, we knew she was more than capable to take care of our son. And luckily she stepped up to the challenge. She loved the boy, and the boy loved her in return. She saw him grow from a wrinkly little alien to a feisty grown crawler with 2 very sharp teeth.

Being uneducated, unexposed and from the rural areas with lots of hardships, she at first ecountered a lot of challenges with regard to city living. I always had to teach/show her basic ways of doing things, like how to use the microwave oven, which buttons on the remote control to use in lowering the volume when it was time for the little man’s daytime sleep.And because she could not read in English,we had to device means of how to interpret milk formula numbers/writings to make bottle mixing easy.As much as she wasn’t much of a thinker, she took pride in her Africanness, in the only way she knew how. To affirm herself as a strong woman, she carried things, she lifted and shifted things,because in her culture, that’s what defined her, that’s what made her a real woman….Her strength.

Waking up very early in the morning and diligently doing chores until 8pm daily, was the only thing she knew how to do, and she was good at it, despite my numerous calls for her to take it easy and not overstretch herself. Even in the face of old age and frail health, she would keep on. In the end,I could no longer sit and watch her torture herself with a painful arm or a painful back. I had to ask her to go home and rest, let someone take care of her.Let her many grandkids spoil her, wash her feet.And she was happy I let her go.

Nanny smurf picture from Pinterest.

Nanny smurf picture from Pinterest.

Because of her upbringing, she could not let me down and bail out on her duties. She could not stand up for herself and put her sickness first, instead she was waiting for me to tire of her and fire her.In the end she got what she wanted, except I wasn’s nasty/inhumane as she had thought I would be as home owners normally are apparently.We still get along.We talk from time to time because she misses the little terrorist.

Our second nanny with whom we have only been with for a month is superb too.She is young, energetic, lacking in exposure too but she’s a fast learner.I am even thinking of enrolling her at a distance education facility where my mother works.To give her another chance at a much better life.

My son is very picky and doesn’t take well to strangers, but within minutes of being around this woman, he kicked up a fuss and threw himself in the stranger’s arms.All baby daddy and I did was gasp, give stolen glances at each other and smile.We had a winner…..Kids know best.

On the very first night, minutes after showing her how to clean the teflon pan, she had forgotten and had scoured the life out of it.I was angry and confused, disappointed but laughing.But I had to remind myself that it wasn’t done maliciously,but just a lack of knowledge and understanding, and that soon she would learn.Most importantly, my son’s well being came first and I’m not going to have nannies come and go in my house, in my son’s life.I was going to be patient…very patient.

The past weekend, being month end, she went home to be with her family;her mother,brother, two daughters, 3 and 8 years of age, and her late sister’s 2 daughters.On Saturday the little man and I were left alone, as daddy dearest had gone to a funeral and in our African culture that is a whoooole day’s affair…someone save us!!!!!! #screaming#. By the end of the day I was dog tired, I had forgotten to eat lunch, I was cranky and the only thing on my mind was sleep, and lots of it.

From 10h30 when he awoke from his first morning nap to 16h30, when he finally gave in to the afternoon nap he had long resisted at around 13h00, all I had done was walk on my knees (uncomfortably so)entertaining the boy, run from corner to corner getting him out of one sort of danger or another.Pulling him in his toy car and lots of dancing. I was alone with the boy for only a few hours and I was that beat. How our helper manages to keep the house clean as it is, do the washing by hand (she hates the washing machine by the way), do the ironing and keep the boy out of danger and still remain sane herself is a mystery.

Picture from Pinterest.

Picture from Pinterest.

When he was younger, small and immobile, all I wanted to be was a stay at home mum, but now that he is not so young, super mobile, deceptive and a terrorist of some sort, I am happy to say, that is one dream I’m excited my genie didn’t grant there and then. If today being a Monday, I had spent one more day with and around that much energy, I would have keeled over and died.

The little terrorist.

The little terrorist.


My handsome terrorist....Do not be fooled by the composure!!

My handsome terrorist….Do not be fooled by the composure!!

Much respect and love to my son’s nanny, my helper for all the love,care,patience and dedication with which she carries out her duties. I really cannot show my appreciation enough.She is my hero. My superwoman.The same goes to all the stay at home mummies and homemakers around the world….YOU ARE THE TRUTH. YOU ARE THE REAL HEROES OF THIS WORLD.

My husband and I are waking up very early tomorrow morning, like wee hours, to travel for some odd 600 plus Kilometres, for the Top Gear car festival (http://www.topgear.com/uk/) in Durban South Africa. The Stig will be there, Mika Hakkinen, Hammond, Captain slow, Jeremy. Did I mention The Stig ? I am excited at the time away “alone” with hubby, the anticipation of the adrenalin rush, the fun and the fabulousness that will be me tomorrow and Sunday.

But my heart aches at the realisation that, my son is exactly 14 months old, and for the first time in his cute little life on earth, him and I will be sleeping apart.For the first time ever,and that breaks my heart into a million little pieces. It hurts so much you cannot imagine. He will be in safe hands, as he will be with the folks that love him to bits, my parents, but my heart can’t help but make me feel a little guilty. The possibility of getting woken up by the sound of a tractor engine at 2 am,  is not to be tonight #Sobs#

It is hard, very hard, but I have to loosen the apron strings sometime.

“Making the decision to have a child is MOMENTOUS. It is to decide forever to let your heart go walking around outside your body” by E.Stone

As I lay me down to sleep……

 

It started a few days back.For the first time in my 30 plus odd years, I have been incessantly missing someone, a very special person. Someone I have never known, and someone I have never had.

Someone that could be my best friend, my confidante,fashion adviser and critic. Someone who could be my best love, but whose boyfriends I could have chased away by my stupid childhood/youthful tactics. Someone who could literally knock some sense in my head and we would still love each other regardless.Someone whose make up I would steal, whose clothes I would “borrow”, without their knowledge,but who would love me regardless.

Those that have them say  it’s not always easy having them.I guess it may be the classic case of wishing for that which I do not have.

Big sister ribbon from Pinterest.

Big sister ribbon from Pinterest.


Photo from Pinterest

Photo from Pinterest

I wish I had a sister. An older sister.A taller, prettier, lovelier, more
athletic,better cook…….all things wonderful, version of me. I think we could have been the best of friends. I strongly believe she would have been someone to look up to, someone worthy of admiration and respect. A person of substance, and someone I could definitely bounce noble ideas off, get some advice about life from, and get properly and objectively rebuked for my stupidity shortcomings.

I wonder what she would look like. A spitting image of “our” parents? Very pretty? Not? Would she have a sense of humor? That would be aaaawesome.