Archives for posts with tag: love

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!

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?

Hubby dearest complains from time to time that the DSTV (paid channels) subscription is under utilised by me.Because if i’m not watching the series channel, I am watching the home channels, and mostly for the cooking. And I’m always quick to point out that he only watches national geographic and  automotive channels, but at least he gets instant results and gratification from my watching the cooking shows….And he gives me a silly grin.

Gone are the days when we used to spend hours, weekends sitting and cuddling in front of the telly watching movies. Well, this applies more to me than him, because he at least still finds more spare hours to quietly indulge in a movie than I.

The point of this “note” however, came after the realisation that,yes I am predominantly drawn to the home decor and cooking programmes.I remember my first introduction to reality cooking shows;”top chef”. I loved the format, the different settings and ambience they had for the show. After that, I saw a super abundance of these reality cooking shows, amongst which are; chopped (which I like), Masterchef (which I took time to get used to but now thoroughly enjoy), Amazing Wedding Cakes (which I adore), Buddy Valastro, the feisty American-Italian with his many shows,the Cake boss,the Next great baker and Kitchen boss ).

However the point within the point I am trying to make is that,of all these amazing shows I have mentioned and more,I realised that at present, I am more in love with two, as in hectically in awe; The Great British bake off and Food and Drink. The former, I love for the format and setting. The competition is between a group of enthusiastic novices, or non experts in the baking field if you may. People that just have a love for baking and some lovely home baking memories/history, and that’s it. It takes place under the watchful eye of baking experts, including my two favourite, Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood.Don’t their names just sound like exotic cocktail drinks you would indulge in, at a meditteranean holiday?

Merry Berry and Paul Hollywood picture (both in the middle) from the BBC website

Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood picture (both in the middle) from the BBC website

Anyway, the competition takes place in a tent, out at an open field unlike the closed studio settings one has become accustomed to, the grass in all its green glory.And the judges themselves undertake the challenge, showing us viewers what goes into the cakes, the do’s and dont’s and what the final outcome should look like. Imagine my excitement on Sunday morning when I tune in to the omnibus and find that in one of the episodes, Mary Berry-my lovely cocktail, is baking the Battenberg cake,The very same one I had made on Friday evening in honor of my mother’s birthday on Saturday. I used the recipe  from one of my recipe books, except I opted to use round cake tins instead of the square ones, with lemon curd as a filling versus jam.And instead of the marzipan, I used some leftover self-made marshamallow fondant I had used to cover my son’s birthday cake previously.Yuuuummy!

 

The Battenberg cake picture obtained from Google

The Battenberg cake picture obtained from Google

The Battenberg cake picture obtained from BBC food website

The Battenberg cake picture obtained from BBC food website

The DivineMo Battenberg Slice.

The DivineMo Battenberg Slice.

Mummy's Birthday Cake, made by DivineMo with love.

Mummy’s Birthday Cake, made by DivineMo with love.

My next favourite show is, “Food and Drink”, hosted by the “young”, sexy,kitchen God, Michel Roux Jnr and his lovely drinks expert lady,Kate Goodman.The show’s presentation is just impeccable.

Firstly Michel is apparently of culinary royalty, with his father and uncle being renowned chefs in their own right.Secondly the guy is hot (a topic for another day). Thirdly, the ease with which he presents his show and prepares the marvels in his kitchen. The cooking space.Ooh how I love his cooking/dining space in its blinding whiteness…A thing of beauty indeed.The celebrity guests just make the show all the more wow. From appearances by Nigella Lawson, Gregg Wallace, Heston Blumenthal and Gordon Ramsay…..the show is as eclectic as eclectic gets. And how can I forget the drinks expert contribution,Ms Goodman on her ever informative and eye opening suggestions on wines, spirits and beers. Can someone say Aamazing?!

I am neither a food nor a drinks connoisseur, and I don’t pretend to be.Although in my next lifetime I wish to be…..A food and drinks expert that is.I just have a huge appreciation, and respect for the art that is cooking.

The point within, the point, which is within the point I made earlier……My favourite shows are British.How uncanny? And the British are not really renowned for their culinary skills.Who would have thought?

Toad in the hole anyone?

What’s your ultimate reality “food” show? and why?

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.

“Good morning, how is the big boy doing this morning?”

Me, thinking aloud, “Huuh, on my cellphone, this is the treatment i get? No asking how I, the mother of the big boy is doing?”

“Hai soka uena, ke etsa’ng ka uena”?….literally meaning, “get away, what use are you to me”?

Those were the sweet, kind and loving words exchanged between mother and daughter earlier today.My mother and I have always been on super good terms to say the least, well, except for the days in my childhood when I wished she wasn’t my mother.Those days when she would whip the crap out of me for doing some stupid thing or other (of which there was plenty), back in the day when whipping your own child was Aokay. In fact, the most absolute normal thing to do, to instill some discipine in this little scoundrel, when talking had failed. When disciplining your child didn’t call for the justice and children’s rights court to convene hastily at the Hague #Rollseyes#.

As I was saying, my mother and I’s relationship has had always been cordial and loving. All that seemed to change from the moment I announced to her that I was 6 weeks into incubating the little seed growing inside me.She kind of became apathetic towards me, and started directing all her love and attention towards my tummy. I reaped the benefits of course,as she used to buy me dried fruits, popcorn (my love), fruit juices, all cravings good, emphasising that they were not for me, but for the benefit of the foetus.Huh?

Now that I do not get to indulge in the treats she used to feed MY seed through me, despite MY rather loud protests that “the boy will still get the benefits of the food through breastmilk”. I am nonetheless spared from making endless and expensive trips to the shops to buy baby clothes as granny is always “inadvertently” ready to buy something cute or warm for her little man.Gone are the days when I, the only child used to be showered with a spur of the moment purchase of a scarf or a cute little dress.The little old lady is totally engrossed with the 3.5 toothed man.

Granny and "the other" Teletubby!

Granny and “the other” Teletubby!


I never really thought I would understand,when my parents,  mostly my mother, would utter words like, “you are still young my child, one day when you are a parent,you will understand”.

Yip, that train is here, it has finally arrived and I can now say, “I understand mom”. I understand, that I will never understand the intricate,inexplicable amount of love I have for the boy, or the deep seated fears, anxiety I have of grooming him to be a wonderful and God fearing human being.

What shocks me is the love and pure joy I see on my mother’s face when she sees or talks about the boy, worse the pain etched in her voice whenever she cannot be with him. She is my mother, she still loves me of course, and I am very happy there is someone else who loves my son unconditionally and wholeheartedly, outside of his daddy and myself.

I think I would first have to be a granny, to test-drive the capacity, my capacity for that much love for a grandchild, but hey, I’m not in a hurry.