The books on my bedside table

Some are a bit old, some are new, some are borrowed…

I am ah huge fan of Jodi Picoult, she tends to jump from character to character so you can get everyones point of view in the story.

Perfect Match
My Sisters Keeper
Mercy

Battlefield of the Mind – Joyce Meyer
Joyce is a true inspiration. With a troubled childhood she rose up from her circumstancesand faced the world. I can relate to her. She knows where she is coming from and heading to.

7 Steps to a better you – Joel Olsteen
An American preacher whos dad used to work in the cotton fields and built a church from scratch.

Relationship Rescue – Dr Phil(lip) McGraw
His motto is – People will only do what works for them – So true.

Chicken Soup for the Christian Womans Soul
Chicken Soup for the Working Womans Soul
Chicken Soup for the Ocean lovers Soul
These are my all time favourate. True Stories that opens the heart and rekindle the spirit. Sometimes when I am lost I only have to read one of the stories and then I am on track again.

Anderkant die Scrap – Dana Snyman
He is my favourate Afrikaans Author. He is a storyteller that I can relate to. I would like to meet him one day so he can sign the book.

Mense van My Asem – Steve Hofmeyr
Many people might not think so, but he is a true inspiration. I have been a fan since his “Agter elke Man” days. Yes his eyes might wander a little, but he is a phenominal singer/songwriter. He also stands up for the Afrikaans culture and language. Unlike Joost - he leaves no stone unturned in this book.

Well that’s my bedside full of books. At the moment I have no time to read, but this stage of my life shall pass too and then I will be able to read a little...

Us

This morning at 2:00 am I was holding a hungry baby whose life entirely depends on me for survival. We shared a smile as I looked into my own eyes. A little hand grasped the neckline of my nightgown as if he wanted to let me know that that was the way he felt safe.

At 2:20am I watched those same eyes drift off. He drank the Milk as if it was the last bottle and he would never have the chance again.

We don't need much at that time of the morning. When our eyes meet the world and everything in it is forgotten.

It is true that nothing prepares you for Motherhood.

What were you doing at 2:00am this morning?

The New Year

Life does not always turn out how you want it to be - true. Last night I was thinking about the new year and all the adventures that waits. Did we have a few surprises this year.

I don't know where I will be a year from now, but I feel positive that it will be in a better place. The challenges of 2009 lies behind me. I climbed that hill.

Every year has it's challenges. I don't know if I am ready for any of them in 2010. I try to be positive though. Yes, there will be days that you cry and ask "what now?". On the other hand there will be joyful days where your heart miss a beat. But who am I to predict 2010?

I try and be greatful for every day.

So people, the new year is upon us. Try and stay positive.

May we all have a good one and may God be with us in all we do.

Ok all you crazy bloggers, time for me to take some time off and relax. This is my last blog for 2009. I will be back in January and hopefully try to fit as much blogs into 2010 as I can. At long last (and way overdue) I am getting internet at home as a Christmas present so yay for that!!

We have had a rough week, Corne’ had to see the urologist on Tuesday and might need a small operation in February to set things right. But it can all change I pray that things don’t have to go that way.

Keep on blogging till the brightest star on the Christmas tree fall on your head and you need a glass of wine and some marzipans to make it all better.

HO HO HO.

I love you always.


XXXX

The South Coast

It was in June 2008 when we decided to drive down to the Natal coast to show our daughter the sea for the first time. She just loved playing in the sand. She and her dad ran along the beach jumping at the waves and chasing sea birds.

It was nice to get away. The beach was there for us to enjoy, it was out of season and only a few locals hang around that couldn’t be bothered much.

What is magic for us is that as little as she was at the time she still recalls that holiday. She asks us often if we remember that we did this and that, then my husband and I just look at each other in amazement. That is what we are there for, to contribute to her happy childhood memories.

We have decided to take a trip to the Coast in March next year, when our son is a little bigger and then our daughter can return to her favourate place – the beach where she has fond memories.

The Biology Teacher

Our grade 12 Biology teacher used to take a week off a year and travel to the City to sit on park benches to talk to strange people. (Those were the good old days when you could still do those things). She used to share her life experiences with us while teaching the anatonmy of the human body. I was amazed the stories she told. She could tell persons whole life story in a couple of minutes. She made me realise that there was life beyond the small town that we lived in. And if you had a big imagination like me you would hang on to every word she said and take to the stories in an instant.

She was an interesting person. She never had a Pizza in her life, or Coke for that matter. She did not believe in reading the newspapers or watching the News on TV. To some people she might have sounded a bit borring but she was the most interesting person I have ever met indeed.

She gave me hope beyond my boundaries.

On Rotten Tomatoes

Once I was running away from my Dad hoping to escape the hiding he was about to give me. He chased me around the house. My Mom used to put green tomatoes on the kitchen window silk to ripen and sometimes one or two were forgotten there to rot. When Dad realized we could run around the house all day with all my energy, he grabbed one of the rotten tomatoes when we passed the kitchen window and threw it at me.

Surprisingly the hit against my head was soft – but the bad part was that I had rotten tomato all over me. Dad turned around and laughed. Justice was done – it was way better than a hiding.

And that’s how I got hit by a rotten tomato once.

The Plant Whisperer

We have a small garden and I am sad to say that we hardly give any attention to it. The old woman next door who talks to her plants’ garden looks like a small paradise compared to ours.

Every Sunday when my father in law comes for his weekly visit he just sighs and connects the hose to the tap to give the thirsty garden a little water.

“These plants need water and attention,” he always says.

I don’t have time. Besides, I am not a plant person. When my mother died someone gave me a plant and it died within 2 days. Plants have senses and things.

Plants die you know, if you don’t look after it.

No Shit.

Searching for Snow

One winter about eight years ago we jumped in the car to go searching for snow. I would’nt say that it was my wild days back then, I was just a little bit less responsible than now. We drove around lesotho and the closest we came to snow was to see it on the peaks of the Drakensberg. We stayed in a lodge at the bottom of the hill just before you go to Tiffendel – SA’s famous ski resort.

On our way we had breakfeast in the free state I think at a cold cold town called Smithfield, where we were informed by the locals that it snowed there a week earlier.

I have only seen snow twice in my life or rather touched snow twice. Once was in 1995 in the town I grew up in – it snowed for the first time in 20 years. The last time was about 2 or 3 years ago in Joburg but it only lasted for about 2 days before the sun melted it all away.

Well that was my wild weekend of driving – all in the name of snow.

The Capetonian

Last year when my sister and I flew to Cape Town there was something about the Cape Town men that struck us. Wherever we went to visit the family or friends we would find men in one of two places – either behind the stove or behind the sink doing the dishes with their hands in the water. At my Aunts house my cousins took care of the dishes.

My one cousins husband went to the shops and returned with shopping bags and a Paw-paw of all things. Who would have thought to go past the fruit isle and get a Paw-paw? To put it this way, if my husband came home from the shops with a Paw-paw, I would’nt know wheter to throw it at him or grab it and hug him. Her husband also cooked the meal that evening and did the dishes. We were really impressed. We asked my cousin what the magic ingredient was…maybe it was the women behind the men that made all the difference.

Oh and something else, you have wine three times a day, where there is food it has to go with a good wine and the people down there know their wine might I add.

Cape town is a bit laid back like they say. Gauteng is one big rush..

Serious Bru, SPOIL the lady. That’s what they do down there.

The Wish

I was standing at the check out point in a supermarket when my eye caught the little girl in a trolley a short distance away. She looked so familiar, and in my mind I was trying to place her. Then I saw her mother and it all came back to me. They were in our Saturday play group about 2 years ago where I took my daughter to. I couldn’t recall her name but I can remember that the only thing she could talk about was having a 2nd child. Some Saturdays her eyes would be swolen when she came to class. To all of us it seemed like it was the only thing she could focus on at that time. Almost as if she forgot about the joy that the child she already had brought her.

After a year when it was time for my little one to go to nursery school we left the group, and it still did not happen for her at the time. I remember saying a prayer for her, to ask God to give her a child if it was His will, and I also asked for acceptance if it did not ever happen for her.

What got my heart beating faster is that there were 2 children in the trolley in the Supermarket that day. A little boy got added to the family in the time we were apart. I wanted to walk up to her and congratulate her but decided not to. She got what she wanted, and I will let her have her moment for the rest of her life.

I am happy for her.

The Holiday

October 2002. The Garden Route. It was the first holiday my husband and I took as a couple. March the following year we were getting married. My husband-to-be thought it would be a good idea to invite my parents along, he called it some “bonding” time with the in-laws before the big day. My parents have never been to that part of the country, in fact with money being a bit tight it was the first holiday they took in many years. My Father was so excited when we invited them along. He got out his Map book and planned the route and all the stops.

We were staying at a lodge in Plettenberg Bay and my mother could’nt stop talking about the soft beds that they slept on. She enjoyed it so much. The one day we took them to a Winery just outside Plett. They stocked up on Wine for the next year! The next day we went to Knysna and got on a boat to get close to the famous Two Heads. The most beautiful memory I have of that holiday was on the beach at Wildernis. My husband comes from Namiba and was used to swim in the cold water at the beach. We all laughed when he jumped at the waves and we couldn't believe he had the nerve to swim!

It was her last holiday before she died on 27 November the following year. I am greatful to this day that I could give her that little bit of paradise before she died. Because that is what that part of the world is, a green paradise.

I still see her sitting on the beach at Wildernis, enjoying the Sun and wind in her hair.

Today she has been gone 6 years, and I still cry on days like this.

The City that never sleeps

The other day I was on Google Earth exploring New York City and discovered that 5th Avenue and Madisson runs parralel with one another and does not cross like I initially thought. See, I always wanted to go take a picture on the corner of 5th and Maddison, and yeah I discovered that that aint going to happen.

If there is one place on earth I would love to visit before I die, it is NYC. I don’t know, many people will say I have been watching too many movies. But it all interests me. Central Park. Time Square. Ground Zero. The Empire State building. I have felt like this for a long time now, before they even started shooting romantic movies in that City. Although, I am a sucker for any movies that is on location in New York.

Imagine living in New Jersey and driving across a huge bridge to get to work. Or walking the streets and standing in the middle of Time Square.

It’s all there waiting, the City that never sleeps.

People who dream the most, do the most.

On Life

The day before my Mother died my husband and I drove through to the hospital. After sitting at her bedside until late she begged me not to leave. She was halusinating, most of the things I could not make out. She talked about the TV remote that was hidden under the couch pillows at home. The next moment she would talk about her sister that was dead that stood next to her bed. She knew I was there. I cried so much, and did not want her to see that I was upset. It broke my heart to see her like that.

I gave her a kiss on her forehead and promised to be back in the morning. Sadly, that is the last time I saw her alive. The feeling of leaving her there to die all alone is something that will haunt me every day for the rest of my life. There is not a day that goes by that I at least think of it once or twice.

She loved me so much my whole life. She gave up her career for us, she gave up everything. It was the least I could do for my mother, but instead I walked out.

I never thought for one moment that she would be gone by 8:00 the next morning.

I have had dreams about her waving from a window and showing me everything is ok.

She tried to connect via my dreams, and that’s all comfort I have.

The Tombstone

“We have decided to go to the graveyard before you return home this afternoon,”my Stepmother says. It is January 2004, about 3 months after we laid my Mother to rest. Holy Shit, I think. Seriously? If you are trying woman, you are not very convincing.

“I’m not going to the graveyard with you, sorry, nothing personal.” For f*ck sakes, I think, it is personal but here I am trying to be nice in an awkward way even if it does mean I have to tell a lie..

The truth is, I do go to the graveyard on my way to Joburg, and I still prefer to go alone. By now my Father is fuming, but with all the years of experience I leave him to cool down, no use in lighting a fire that is already lit. It might be a good gesture in his eyes to go to the graveyard, but I’m not buying any of this. She should just stop trying so hard, maybe then we could be friends.

While she was organising her wedding with the money that was meant for the Tombstone, I did the good deed and ordered one because I knew there would never be one if someone does not take action. That is one promise I kept to myself, that I would give my Mother the Tombstone she deserves. That was the last thing I could do for her. If I left it up to my Father and his wife, there would still be a empty space with a number on it.

My Mother was not just a number.

On Love

My children mean the world to me. I never thought I could love so much until I became a mother. And if you think it is love the 1st time around, try doubling or even trippeling it the 2nd time you become a mother. Life has been treating us pretty fair so far. I know that God can take away just as quickly as he gives, so I am on my knees every morning thanking him for the precious moments I can share with my children as long as I have them.

I think children are the greatest gift, and we are lucky to have two. My heart still goes out to my friends that are trying. For the 3 years that we tried I felt like a failure. Six weeks after that I got a wake-up call. Nine months after that I had a healthy boy. All in good time I always say.

Never give up on your dreams.

Motherhood

If you are going to be a mother and complain about being spit on or being vomited on then you might have to pass the whole idea of becoming a mother in the first place.

I can’t tell you how many nights I have sit up with my now 5 year old, in the middle of the night since she was a baby. There is no time to carry her to the bathroom or fetch a bucket – you just have to grab what you can at that very moment (even if it means you have to take off your pajama pants and try and clean up while you are covered with vomit) The fact is they are going to get sick. I can’t remember how many times she has had a fever.

Once when she was potty training I found her in her room with s*it all over and being creative on the walls of her room. Some S*it art on a Saturday afternoon – how lovely.
My question is…are you ready for Motherhood?

It really is not as bad as they make it out to be.

The Other Best Friend

We met six years ago in one of our Saturday classes we were attending at Damelin at the time. Her nickname was “Tamatiekind” because she got 36% for one of her tests and we all know how many tomatoes goes into a bottle of All Gold Tomato sauce.

We started talking one day and discovered that we were married at the same venue within a week from one another. We both had a Red Bull and Vodka shot given by us by the venue owner before we walked down the isle. We drove in the same car also provided by the Venue. The only reason she did not get married the day I did because it was her birthday. When it is my annerversary I sms her birthday wishes, and she wishes me a happy annerversary. 7 Days after that I return the annerversary wishes. That is our special connection, and we have’nt been too busy ever since to do that every year.

When we were busy writing our finals I discovered that I was pregnant, with lots of cheering from the class and her being the main stirer. Two years after that she fell pregnant and I was right by her side. This year we managed to have our babies in one year, something that did not work the first time for us but now we are happy that it happened for us. And we both have agreed that 2 is enough for now.

The other day she brought me cupcakes when I was down with the blues.
Now that is what I call a friend

The Ninja

It was one Christmas at the Botanical Gardens that we saw this little boy running along the path up to a Moslem woman who was covered in black clothes with only her eyes showing.

“Are you a Ninja?” he asked. You could hear everyone around us holding their breath, like they could’nt believe what this boy just asked!

“No,” she replied and I am sure she had a smile hidden somewhere under all that black material.

When she passed we all burst out laughing.

Now that was a funny moment that I will remember for the rest of my life.

The Weight issue

Every day since the birth of our Son I have been stepping on the bathroom scale. It has been 10 weeks and I am already 13kg down. Most days it is 1 kg other days it is half. I was also breastfeeding for the first time, with my daughter I never had the chance. Could it be the breastfeeding? What ever it was, it worked. One of my friends who had a baby 2 weeks after me said she is going to continue with this until she is 21, I second that.

The last time I stepped on the scale was the morning before I went in for my C-sec, I was 95kg. This morning I took a deep breath, like every morning before this one and stepped on, so it red 82kg. I am happy. Does the weight fall off quicker with boys? I think I lost 5 of the 22 kg that I put on with my daughter and that was my starting weight on this pregnancy – 74 kg. For now that is my goal weight. No use dreaming about the 60kg body I had when I met my husband, lets just get halfway there for now…

So, 13kg down, 9 to go.

I am loving this.

The right thing will come along

So I did it. I sent my CV to about 40 recruiters. The time has come. I love this place, and it will indeed be sad to leave. My experience in life is if there are too many things that are working against you then it is time to move on to bigger and better things. At the moment is not the work but rather the 50km one way traveling to work, and my children that are far that are issues. I am so happy here and am excited to move on, but on the other hand sad to leave.

I have had so many great opportunities here. In the 10 years that I have been here I have always been treated fair, and I have had lots of opportunities to better myself which I grabbed with both hands.

God will put my CV in the right hands. It is just a matter of time.

A place called hospital

It must have been 2 or 3 years ago when my child ended up in hospital with a bad chest infection. Like I have always said to the mothers on the forum, I don’t wish that on anybody. It is the worst feeling when you see your child in a hospital bed, and you as a mother has done every possible thing you can and now the doctors has to take over. We are supposed to protect them, be there for them. You feel like the biggest failure. I cried even before she was admitted, because as a mother you just know that she is going to be admitted whether you like it or not.

So my father in law had to make a scene in the middle of all this. He just hemiliated me more, you have no idea how it feels to have the Hospital Manager stand next to your bed and try to explain that only 2 adults are allowed per bed in the Childrens ward, and the rest would have to wait their chance outside. It’s a hospital, of course there are reasons to the rules and regulations.

I felt so bad about everything. In the middle of being worried sick about my child, I still went and appologised to the security woman at the entrance. No one else would bother, and unlike my inlaws being set in their ways I treat everyone equal and with respect. She was there, doing her job, was it so difficult to understand?

The day my daughter came home we flew to Cape Town and the salt and humidity in the fresh Cape Town air helped to clear up any mucus that was left, so she was her old self again after just one day.

We had a wonderful time those few days. That’s all we needed after that horrible experience that left us empty as a parents.

I felt fresh and ready for motherhood again when we returned.

If you could, would you?

Ok let’s say you are 19 and the world is waiting for you to explore. You have a chance to move in to the Playboy mansion and explore a whole lot more. Would you? Would you pack up all your things and move for a chance to see the world in exchange for some fun with Mr. Hefner?

We all know Hugh Hefner has money – and lots of it - but would money be enough motivation to grab the bull by the horns? Or the old man by the balls..lol. Imagine chasing your twin sister through the halls and picking up a little dog’s poo. The dogs are the worst. Why does every girl have to have 2 little doggies that makes such a mess eeeuw.

I don’t know, Mr. Heffner is sweet and all, but my morals and beliefs go way beyond money. I suppose I would last for one day. It is night time that I am most afraid of – and money would not motivate me at all.

I love my own bed, and some fresh muscles might I add.

I miss Kendra, Holly & Bridgett. The new girls are boring.

Can they cancel the show now Mr. Seacrest….*yawn* *yawn*…

If the shoe fits

I don’t know why I always look at a person shoes when I meet someone. It is an old habit. A habit that helped me choose my husband, my friends and all my boyfriends. Once a guy visited me in Slops, and I showed him the door. My sister was so mad at me coz he was a local at the gym and she could not believe I looked past all the muscles down to his feet. Maybe it is people’s toes that scares me, I don’t know.

Let’s put it this way – if you were a guy and barefoot (even if it was next to the swimming pool) and hitting on me you would’nt get past the 2nd sentence. My husband wore Bronx when we met – impressive. Oh and can I mention that his belt was the same colour as his shoes – I think it was just meant to be. He knew what to wear that day to sweep me off my feet.

I can remember all the shoes down to the brand of all the people I have met. I might not recall their jewelery but the shoes oh the shoes I can give you details on. When I was robbed and in shock I could give a description of the mugger’s shoes.

So I am stocking up on nice shoes for my Son. And my husband knows what makes me tick.

For me it really is all in the Shoes.

Blogging killed my Diary

I always used to have a diary and enjoyed writing the day’s acitivities in it every night before I went to bed. But then life got really busy and you know how it goes, before long it gathers dust at your bedside table and it begs for a little ink, a little piece of your life.

This morning I unpacked some old boxes and discovered that the last time I kept a diary was when I met my husband until it was time to make some Wedding plans when I stopped. A couple of months ago I got introduced to blogging through some ladies that I share the forum with. First I became addicted to some blogs that I red, and then I decided to write my own. I wrote one blog then I was hooked. It is kind of an online diary, and the best part is I don’t have to always write and nail it down to one day or a specific date. I can write about life and everything in it.

I prefer to blog. Besides, as much as I love to write typing does not hurt at all.

One day in your life can be borring. But life, life is interesting.

The Picture Brain

I have a big imagination. That is why till this day I don’t watch Horrors, yip, I still get nightmares coz I don’t know where to draw the reality line. The one who laughs the last might not necessarily catch the joke. That is all me, I laugh the longest and I do get the joke, it is just that it plays off in my mind over and over and then I have to laugh again…and again..and again.

I can narrow the cause of my big imagination down to when I was little. I was the middle child, with middle-child-sindrome. My sister was in school when she was supposed to play with me and my brother only made his arrival six years later, so that left me home alone with my Mother to keep me company until I was ready for big school. But being so little you even get bored with your Mother, as a child you love exploring and you are pretty much on your own mission most of the time.

When I was older my Mother once told me about the imaginary friends I had. The rabbit and the bear seemed to escape my mind, but the rest I can still remember till this day. I should have never told my sister about any of them, coz she still tortures me..

My Father always yelled at me when he saw me talking to myself. He would ask me if I was mad. I tried to stay clear of him. I went into hiding and just talked and played coz it was the very thing that I enjoyed and as a child I wasn’t ready to give that up yet – the imaginary world where I could escape to when times got too lonely.

So nowadays when my four year old runs through the house in her princess dress imagining she is princess Holly and talking to Ben the Elve I just let her be, and my husband knows not to interfere. Even though she is in nursery school with friends unlike me when I was little, she is the same child I was all those years ago. When she went to nursery school I was a bit sad coz I thought we would skip the whole imaginary friends part, but they seemed to be back after 26 years feeding my childs imagination. So I don’t know if I really was lonely back then. I had the love and comfort from my Mother, which was enough, and maybe I just needed that little bit more.

At the moment I am not the parent that questions everything she does.

Life is there to for us explore. Wheter we are 4 or 40.

The Baby Blues

So eventualy the baby blues kicked in on day 10 after the birth of my son. I was standing barefoot in the kitchen doing the dishes when all of sudden it hit me, and I started feeling sorry for myself. I missed work. I missed fighting with our clients over prices. I missed my laptop. I missed driving to work and back. This is not me, I thought. At that moment it felt like the only good thing I could do was to look after 2 children, clean and cook for a husband that comes home and throws himself on the couch. This City has really changed me, I thought. I have been here too long. Some women would give their left eye to sit at home and look after the children.

I had to get outside for a moment and breathe. The 4 walls of our house were too much for me. I dialed my boss’ number. She was happy to hear from me. I cought up on office gossip and asked about everyone else. I felt better when I put the phone down. My prayers were answered when a good friend sms’ed and and asked if she could come by for a visit, I said yes in an instant.

She brought some cupcakes and juice, and some skinner that I haven’t heard in a while. She had a baby boy in February so all her advice also came in handy, and she understood what I was going through.

Well I had the baby blues for one day. Sometimes all you need is a friend to talk to, someone that understands, even if they only do listen.

Thanks again Elizma for the cupcakes.

The Godmother

The other day my sister and I thouht about the time my brother was born in 1984. I was going to be six years old that August and she turned nine in December. When my mother was in hospital we were split up, she went and stayed with my mother’s eldest sister and I had a Godmother who looked after me for that week. Somehow to this day my sister thought we were together, but we werent. It is amazing how far back one can remember if you just sit to take the time and think.

I stayed at my Godmother’s for that week. I can remember my Dad walking through the door at her house with great pride, anouncing that it was a boy. It was the time before scans and C-sections. There was enough to keep me busy. In the mornings we would bake cup cakes with my best friend at the time that happened to live across the street from the house. We made clothes for my Barbie on her hand driven Singer sewing machine. It was the best time, the time I spent waiting for my brother while my mother was in hospital.

Last I heard she was living in Frankfort in the Free State, baking cupcakes for the local church.

She must be over 70 by now.

Winter

I can still remember the cold winters during my childhood in the little town where I grew up. The pipes would freeze so you had to wait for it to defrost before you could take a bath. Every morning there was a thick layer of ice on our front lawn, it never snowed but the morning dew had a thick layer.

My Dad used to return home early in the morning from his regular night shift and would brief my mother on the reading of his thermometer at work. Dad was funny in that way. We had a rain meter, and about 3 thermometers around the house. If there was rain he had to know how much. If it was cold, he had to know and had to get an up to the degree update. “It is –5 this morning”, I could hear him in the kithcen when my parents were having their morning coffee while we were curled up in bed waiting for my Mom to callus later on.

I can remember the naked trees that were robbed from their leaves by the morning breeze. I can remember the sound of the wind around the corners, a sound I would never forget and haven’t heard in a long long time. My sister and I shared a room and used to put all our blankets on one single bed and keep each other warm. Sometimes when she sleeps over in winter we still do that.

I miss the winters down there.

The Higveld would’nt know what a winter is if it bites it in the ass.

The R40 fortune

One Winters day when I was about 11 or 12 years old we were short of money. You could always sense that as a child cause there was a bit of tension in the house, usually in the last week of the month when there was month left at the end of the money. My mother did not know where the next meal would come from, and feeding a husband and 3 children was mostly one of her main concerns.

The wind was strong and the air cold. To give you a bit of background - in our front yard we had a wired fence, with a big gate and a little gate and a red post box by the little gate. Oh that is something else I miss – the postman on his bike delivering post – but he has no relevance to this story.

For some reason on this day about 20 years ago, my mother stood by the window staring outside, maybe wishing for a miracle to come flying in the door. All of a sudden, something caught her attention outside. She called my Dad to come and have a look, as if her eyes betrayed her at that very moment. By then she had everyone curious so we were all standing a bit closer to have a peep out the window.

Then I saw it. Two R20 rand notes were blown in by the strong wind onto our front mesh and got stuck inside. To this day I don’t know how one could get stuck, let a lone two. Dad went outside to collect our newly found fortune. We all know R40 was allot of money back then.

I think she must have prayed, like always during those harsh times.

God listened, and provided for a week until the next payday.

The Kite

So who’s going to make him a kite, Dad? Sometimes I wish things were different, boy, we screwed up so bad between us. My husband has two left hands as you know. If there is anyone that can make my little boy a kite, it would be you Dad…

You made us things when we were little. You helped with assignments. Remember that Plaster of Paris set that you bought me one Christmas. We moulded the shapes and then you showed me how to paint it. I remember I brought home an assignment once where we had to create a Netbal field on a carton so you went to school to make notes so we could get the lines on the field right. I got an A for that assignment, Dad.

I always thought that if I ever have children that need assignments done I would bring them to you. You would be creative enough to think of something when the time is right. Those memories are all I have. Sometimes I wonder if you still recall those times when we were little, Dad?

I have to build him a kite. You showed me how, remember?

You are missing out on so much, Dad.

I still love you.

The Big Sister

Ever since we brought our little boy home our little girl wants to do everything on her own. We were worried because we thought she would wet the bed again or start whining like a 2 year old, but luckily none of those things has happenend yet. In the mornings she gets dressed herself, and she knows now that the lables come at the back and the print in the front. She even puts her shoes on the right way; it does not look like two bananas turning outward anymore when it is the wrong way around.

There are some things she just can’t do on her own but she managed to find ways around it. One day while I was busy breastfeeding she came running with a cup in the one hand and the milk carton in the other. I make sure all the yogurt and viennas are on the botton shelf of the fridge so she can help herself whenever she feels like it.

When her brother naps in the afternoon and I get time to do the dishes and start cooking she brings her chair and “helps” me do the dishes by playing with plastic cups in the dishwater. After that she wants to help with the drying so I give her the teaspoons to dry. It might sound strange but it is a bit of bonding time, and it takes me back to when I was five and helped my mother around the house. It is amazing how much of yourself you see in your children.

We all had to make some adjustments when the new baby arrived.

The Matter of the Cake

“What about Spongebob Mom?”

“You had a Spongebob cake last year.”

I feel bad, it feels like I am making the decision on her behalf. He is obviously as popular as last year so I should just order old Spongebob again. She is lucky to have a choice, when I was five you had to take what was coming your way, the people were not so creative with wax paper back then.

“I also like Barbie.”

“Ok, can we get you a Barbie cake?”

She thinks for a moment.

“No, I think Mickey Mouse…”

I smile for a moment. She can’t make up her mind, now I feel better about old Spongebob, maybe he is’nt that popular afterall.

“Oh, and don’t forget about Hanna Montana,” I say with a little sarcasm, because looks like we have to cover the whole Disney channel here.. The moment I say ‘Hanna Montana” she jumps to her feet.

“Oh yes, please Mom! Hanna Montana! Hanna Montana!”

I pick up the phone and start dialing.

“Are you sure?” I ask, but she is already dancing halfway across the room and I know that the matter of the cake is settled.

A moment later the cake woman on the other side squirts out a giggle.

“A 5 year old that likes Hanna Montana”, she says,”they start early these days.”

One Hanna Montana cake coming up for my 4 old daughter’s 5th birthday.

The New Brother

When our son was born our daughter was a little bit dissapointed. Her father said that the doctor will cut me open and then her brother will jump out and grab her around the neck, and being a small child with a big imagination, she believed him. I sometimes fight with him because he tells her all these stories and she hangs on to every word he says.

“But he sleeps the whole time,” she said after the first few days at home. So, the precious times when he is awake I call her to hold his hand or massage cream into his hands and feet. She fights with me when I clean his ambilical cord. He cries cause he is cold I try and explain, but to no avail, she thinks I am torturing her brother.

“This is my brother and not yours!” she yells to her cousin when they come and visit.

“I know,” Emma answers patiently.

“Emma just wants to have a look love, and besides, you can share him,” I try and keep the peace so that no one feels left out.

Another year or so and they will all three be running around the house, then they can finally play with the long awaited brother/cousin.

Until November then...

I am sure going to miss blogging - I won’t be able to blog until 1 November from today.
It’s like a daily fix – you sit you write you feel good. I will be doing allot of writing when I am at home though, and saving some of it on to disk to put in my blogs later.

Life has been so good to us, for the past 8 months I have been a nervous wreck, but I could have never done it without the support from my friends and family. What I will miss most about the pregnancy is the kicking and the movement in my tummy. On the other hand I look forward to having my bladder and back all to myself again as well as sleeping on my tummy and picking up my daughter and comforting her when she is sad.

Last year on my birthday my sister and I joked about this year’s birthday – maybe I would be pregnant or have a baby we laughed – well there was more truth in those words than we realized.

This morning hubby and I lied in bed talking for a long time until Claudia came and squeezed herself between us. The Cat was at my feet purring away. I had it all right there – a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and a comfy cat that was keeping my feet warm. Corne’ was kicking away when he heard his sisters voice.

Can life get any better than this?

The Neighbour

Of all the people in the street we grew up in – we stayed the longest. We moved in in 1983 and my parents moved to another house in the same town in 1997 or 8. Eventually all the neighbours had nicknames given by my mother. It was at the time when M-net started and whatever she would associate the people with she would add a –net at the end.

The lady across the road was loer-net, she peeped allot and we had a joke about her curtain having a permanent wrinkle. Whenever a car stopped in front of our yard or anybody else’s you could be sure that the curtain would move. Boy she was up to date on everything that happened in the neighborhood. It was also her daughter who fell pregnant on the first date after calling my sister and I “loose” for having so many friends over after turning 16 and she was only allowed to date when she turned 18. Today she is married to one of my old boyfriends…mmmm lets not go there that’s a whole new blog.

The woman in the house next to her was koekkie-net. She baked biscuits and sent her children selling it all around the neighborhood. I can remember the cake fumes that came from her house - I can still smell it.

The woman next to us on the right had 3 children and a fourth was on the way. She was st**k net – yes it was funny in those days. (I hear she has five now and is living in Vierfontein).

I remember many neighbors from my childhood. The ones that was barely scraping by and other ones that had a good life. They were never too tired to lift a hand or shout a quick hallo. There was a time when we all knew our neighbors and they would welcome you with a cup of coffee any day.

I’m not sure what the old lady’s name is that lives next to me. The other day I was at work, it started to rain and all I could think of was my washing on the line. She took it off the line and put it neatly behind my back door.

I gave her a thank you note with some chocolates.

We still have good neighbors.

Where did the simple life go?

I don’t know when life became so complicated. I used to eat sleep and go to work – and now I have to think of all the things that I need to do in one day. Having children probably adds to the confusion. I can’t remember when last I slept in – we are up between five and six every morning starting the daily chores. But then again I wouldn’t trade waking up now for the world – a loving 4 year old who inherited her morning-person-ness from her dad and a Cat who couldn’t be happier if you give him a bowl of food.

Actually – I can’t remember how life was without them. Maybe it was so borring that I did not make any effort to remember. I don’t remember what we used to do with ourselves except for the occasional movie and shopping spree. We almost had 2 full years to ourselves before our daughter arrived. I can remember we went on holiday and that must have been the most exciting thing apart from the Wedding and honeymoon.

Last night when the power went off and we were all 3 curled up on the couch with kitty on my lap I realized that we have 2 children – and the 3rd is on the way

This week

So many things are happening this week. We went to look at a bigger car on the weekend and decided to just do it – safety wise. And we had my sisters little one over and putting 2 car seats into our car was a mission.

It’s hubby’s birthday on Wednesday – I went and bought him a Springbok Jersey for next weekend when he goes to Bloemfontein to watch the Springboks take on the All Blacks. He was so excited about the trip but at the same time he did not want to leave me being so far pregnant and all. But I phoned my sister to come over in case we have to rush to hospital and besides my bags were already packed in week 27.

It’s his birthday and he deserves a break. With all the worry about baby (men don’t show it as much as we do but I know he did worry) and running around to get everything in order I figured it would be ok. At least my sister is there for me then. And there are 10 other numbers that I can call if baby do decide to make his grand entrance.

The cat’s stitches are coming out on Wednesday – poor thing. Cats are clean animals and he is so frustrated with the funnel that prevents him to lick his fur. Last night we had people over and he found a place on everyone’s lap – if you sat down you sure had to be ready for kitty to jump and find a warm space. We laughed when he just wanted to sit with hubby – maybe he knew who paid the Vet’s bill last week. Well for whatever reason the Cat got a liking to him.

It’s my 2nd last week of work – for some reason I thought I had a week left but it is still this week and next week. I think I am going into nesting mode and my house can’t believe what is happening, it hasn’t been that clean in ages.

Since the arrival of our daughter the house has never been the same. But now we don’t find things because everything is so in order. When it was a mess we knew where everything was.

The Replacement

Oh great – that is all that I need now – one more worry while on Maternity leave. An old lady phoning me asking when to go to the toilet and running a campaign to apply for my job or to stay on when I am back. The trouble is – she lost her job a while a go and who wouldn’t be hungry for work especially when your age counts against you.

I have to leave my laptop for her to explore while I am gone trying to fit into motherhood for the 2nd time. Now I have to spend the last 6 working days putting confidential stuff on to the external hard drive… Life is a bitch, I tell you.

The truth is I am not threatened in the least by her, I was planning to look for something else anyway, it’s just that I don’t need fire underneath my ass right now. You know, people looking for trouble and haunting for ghosts so they can put themselves in a better position. When I find something else that I like she can take everything I have in my office with pleasure, including the damn Laptop.

My desk will be empty when I leave here next week Friday – and there will be a to-do list and how-to-do list ready. I would gladly assist a young vibrant girlie who understands that she is just helping out. But older women with issues are another problem.

There is only space for one of us here.

The Letter

Dear Mom,

So much has happened since my last letter. It still feels like you are away on holiday and could return at any moment, I apologize for not letting go. Letting go means forgetting all about you, and I am not ready for that ever. Sometimes reality sinks in, and then I remember that you left us for good and are not returning.

The miscarriage was not that bad, I got pregnant again on my first cycle so God looked after us in that way. Yes we will miss the baby but we are having another miracle and not taking anything for granted this time. I learnt that sometimes some things has to happen in order for you to appreciate other things more. Yes, I am still scared every day, but I have also learnt to trust and to have faith.

Dad is happy with the new wife. I’m glad that someone is looking after him; we both know that he couldn’t do anything on his own even when you were here. I would hate to say anything bad about her. Maybe it’s not her, its just the things about you that I miss. I miss the kitchen that is now forbidden territory. You baked, you visited with your friends and I know that you prayed many mornings in that place. Most days I ask myself why she couldn’t be a bit more like you. Your heart was like a taxi - there was always space for another friend.

The Children are growing up fast. Annelize and I both have girls as you know. Sometimes I see myself in you, and know that she would turn out ok one day because I am like you. I now understand why you did and said most of the things, I just wish I could understand back then but I had to become a mother first before all those things sank in.

I don’t know when I will write again, I can’t promise anything but I will update as soon as I can. My letters, like life, holds no promises.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Yeah I’m guilty – I haven’t blogged for a while. Blame it on the Cat, my Mother-in-Law and me doing the duck walk to get to my computer as the weeks are getting closer to meeting our baby boy.

Allot has happened – but like always there has to be a little drama in my life otherwise even I would loose interest. My boy is weighing over 2kg now the same as his sister when she was born. I can remember how little she was and imagine him doing breast stroke in my tummy that big. He will come out when he is ready – or when we are ready at 38 weeks.

The poor Cat was in a fight and we had to rush him to the Vet on Saturday morning. He’s better now – he’s got a funnel around his neck that he does not approve of, but anything is better than biting his wound open and returning to the Vet. The stitches come out in 10 days – so 10 more days of the glorious cone-shaped funnel. He has time for purring so everything seems to be better – and he let me stroke him since yesterday so it tells me that he understand that we are only trying to help. Hubby has also become attached to the Cat – he lets him sit on his lap and that is a first if you want to call it that.

Mother-in-law got a job but hasn’t given notice yet at her current job so heaven knows when she will move. I have little words when it comes to her. On the other hand I can write a book on our adventures together – but let’s not wake sleeping dogs.

My tummy is a beautiful baseball shape - nothing compared to my butt. When someone told me that you carry more in your butt when you are expecting a boy, there certainly was allot of truth in that. So that adds to the duck-walk I don’t know on which side to sleep anymore – my arms get numb from all the extra weight, my tail bone gets pulled to one side, I am so out of breath and not to mention the more frequent trips to the loo now that baby’s head is down there. But I’m not complaining – it’s all worth it in the end.

I have come to 3 conclusions in the last few days–

You can’t put a price tag on a Cat – it’s simply too precious.
With ones mother-in-law it’s a different story.
And the famous preggie duck-walk – now that is priceless.

Sliced Bread

Today I brought some bread from home. At the old offices there used to be a shop nearby and here, well here we are between somewhere and nowhere and no-one cares about buying bread for lunch. The two persons who suffer the most are the cleaning lady and myself.

I have to eat something at lunch time, before I was pregnant I never used to worry about lunch and sometimes it got so busy I forgot to eat. But being pregnant also comes with a built in clock or food alarm as I call it. I have to eat otherwise I will drop dead on the spot.

So we did not have bread the whole of last week. (I guess I dropped dead 4 times last week then). This morning I brought my own bread. I don’t know why I have all these issues with food but I do.

She smiled when I handed her the 2 slices of bread and I could see she was thankful. Like me she also has a big belly to support, for a different reason.

I don’t know when I started to love bread so much. I even blog about bread.

Am I going nuts??!!..oh nuts..mmmm cashew’s my fav sbtw.

Claudia's Birth Story

I've been meaning to post this for a while...

My problems started at 27 weeks, I started bleeding and hubby rushed me to hospital only to find out that my Gynae was on leave and another dr was standing in for him. The dr examined me and said that my placenta moved and was lying underneath baby. The previous week I went for my regular scan and everything was fine. He put me on bed rest for the rest of my pregnancy. I can’t remember how many times I went to hospital between 27 and 34 weeks. The blood would dry up and when I got home the nightmare started all over again. I cried so much during those weeks, the blood was awful. When she was 2kg at 34 weeks the dr decided to do the C-sec. I was given anesthetic because she had to go to I.C.U straight away after birth.

When I woke up I was in allot of pain, but not from the cut, it felt like the dr’s made a fire inside my belly!!! The dr explained later when he cut me open he found placenta everywhere, and he had to dig for the baby. He also had another problem, my placenta grew onto my ovaries and he had to put stitches in where he cut the placenta loose, and if it did not come loose the only other alternative was to give me a hysterectomy but luckily he managed to get it loose from the ovaries.

I had to get a blood transfusion after the birth, I lost so much blood. I wish they put me in another ward, because the worst part is just laying there without my baby while the other mommies were up and breastfeeding their babies.

On the 2nd day when the catheter came out hubby brought a wheelchair and wheeled me to the I.C.U where I could go and see our baby. The sisters helped me pick her up, she had about 8 wires and pipes on her little body. (her weight fell to 1,8kg). I fell in love immediately.

For the next 2 weeks I made friends with almost all the staff in hospital. They encouraged me to eat and take a break and promised to watch her. They brought me hospital food and one lady even bought me lunch at the cafeteria one day. I was there every minute, holding and comforting her. They brought me magazines to read and gave me regular updates on my little girls well being. The only reason she couldn’t go home is she couldn’t suck on her own and we had to teach her the sucking reflex, that is when you give the baby milk and you put your finger under her chin and massage the chin area. She was a little fighter, and the day she drank all her milk she was allowed to go home.

That day couldn’t come sooner. It must have been the best news ever when the dr announced that she could go home!

The last few weeks of my pregnancy was horrible, but the reward in the end was all worth it. Today she is more precious than everything, and she will always be our miracle baby.

Humpty Dumpty..

So I carry 2 laptops, 2 oranges, my handbag and a school bag. I fall. The oranges make their way down the paving into my neighbor’s yard. Hubby comes running. Claudia stands at the bottom of the steps laughing at her mother that just pulled a circus act on her. I laugh with her; maybe it will help ease the pain on my wrist and the top of my bum that caught the step. Then he tells me to be careful. Yeah, like that is going to happen when you expect me to carry everything…anyway….

For a moment I am dizzy and shaking. What if I hurt the baby? A moment later he kicks, so casual like he did not know his mother had a great fall at the backdoor of his soon-to-be home. He kicks again just to remind me he is still there. He heard his sister laugh I figured, it always wakes him up and let him drumroll in my tummy.

I don’t bother looking for the oranges, they can stay and grow where they are for all I care. On our way to school Claudia still laughs like she can’t get over the images in her mind that she just saw.

My bum hurts, but I’m ok. Baby is ok. The whole world is ok, just for today.

Fat free? I think not

When your husband goes to the shops and you ask him to bring you Turkish delight and he returns with fat-free-energade-jellies then you have a problem. Maybe he thinks you are getting a bit f-a-t. Maybe he wants you to think that he does not know what Turkish delight is and the next best thing was fat-free-energade-jellies. Maybe he listened to every word the nurse said when she told you what not to eat to maintain a good weight. Taking your husband to a scan has its pro’s and con’s I suppose

The first time I thought it was something quick he grabbed at the check out point because he forgot to get me the Turkish delight. The second time was last night and I instantly knew there were reasons behind it. My word..I’m getting fat!! My husband seems to think so too, like the answer to my weight problems lies in those fat-free-energade-jellies.

The truth is, I need a Turkish delight when I ask for Turkish delight. If my body craved fat-free food I would have said “hey bring me some of those fat-free-jellies while you are out”. Oh, and “hey I couldn’t get enough of the fat-free-milk that I enjoy with my morning tea and cereal so I finished it all!”

I don’t need this eat-fat-free-stay-fat-free bull while I am pregnant.

I need real food.

MIL Diaries

First of all congratulations to Tammi who had her baby girl this morning, my friend I am so happy for you!! May she bring joy and love to your lives from now on.

It is D-day for me, mother-in-law moved in for 3 months I think, but not sure. She’s ok but after a day or two we start rubbing shoulders and that is where the problems starts. I thought I could spend some quality time with Claudia before the baby comes but that aint going to happen now. I can pull all my hair out for allowing all this. But you know how it goes if you squirt a word then you are the Bitch of the house.

It is my preggie hormones that I don’t trust. Maybe if it was any other time it would have been fine. We have to prepare for our boy so before and afterwards the emotions will be high, now top that off with a mother in law and you have one big disaster waiting to happen. I have tried for the last 7 months to keep myself calm and quiet. I don’t know if I will be able to control myself from today.

My bags are packed, including an extra one just in case I have to leave to go to my sisters place if push comes to shove. Yes, if it means that I have to go to my sisters for some peace and quiet then I will have to go.

I hate it when people look over my shoulder.

The start of day

My day begins at 6pm when I am wakened by a hyperactive little girl and a Cat that follows her every step. She throws her arms around my neck, and the Cat..well the Cat is there for one reason and that is food. The morning coffee arrives from hubby (sometimes I think that is the only thing his mother showed him to do). Once he tried to bake and egg and it ended up next to the Pan instead of inside.

At about half past seven the doorbell rings for a fresh visit from mother-in-law on her way to work. Sometimes she complains, sometimes she brings us the latest family gossip, sometimes she fafs about our household but I couldn’t care less that time of the morning, I have honestly learnt to switch off between half past six & seven.

Between seven and half past we dress, and it is a mission telling a 4 year old what to put on according to the weather when all she really wants to put on is Bratz, Barbie or Hannah Montannah… Yesterday we searched for the Mickey Mouse beanie, and of all the beanies in her cupboard old Mickey had to be the one…

At half past seven I drop her at school and start the worst part of my day, the 60kms to work. One and a half hours later I arrive at work if there were no accidents, but on average 3 days out of 5 there are lane closures and accidents unfortunately. Not to mention one or more of the many robots that is out.

I leave work at half past three hoping to get to school at five, and once again, if I am lucky. At the end of July I am going on pregnancy leave, and hopefully I will sort out my life at the end of this year. I hate rushing to work and back.

Dad

I don’t know what made him care less or me for that matter. Death in a family is supposed to bring people closer to each other; well it has torn us apart for many years now. Do I wish things were like they used to be? Not really, it was nothing to write home about. Maybe I have finally accepted all his faults and just see him as an ordinary person.

People have been horrible to me about this distancing from my father. I know it is my Dad, no matter what. I know his time on earth is probably shorter than mine, and when he dies and I won’t forgive myself for not talking to him it would be my issues to deal with. I dislike people who think they can carry the whole world on their shoulders, including the issues I have with my Dad.

We are both stubborn. We are both to blame.

But the damage is done. I don’t blame my Stepmom, cause every person has the right to make their own decisions about including people in their lives. Maybe one can manipulate those decisions, but in the end if you have made up your mind about someone nobody can change it.

Jasper

I used to be Supergirl and he used to be Super..something... We wrote each other every day. After school he would send his little brother with the letter he wrote in Gym class or some class where there was nothing to do. Poor thing had to do everything his big brother said, he was like the slave and we were the masters.

He wrote the most interesting letters. I used to think that he would become a writer eventually. It wasn’t necessarily letters about love, more about life and everything in it. He wrote about the way he saw the world, and his dreams and visions. We only had one class together, I think it was Maths. One day he asked me out, and I said yes. Things did not change. We were still best friends writing each other every day. Maybe I expected a little bit more, or too much.

Three months later I broke his heart when the Clown of the Matric class asked me out and I said yes. I couldn’t resist, after all it was someone I had my eye on since I entered that school. The letters stopped. He never talked to me again.

I don’t know what happened to Jasper. He left school at the end of that year. Later I heard from a friend that he went to the Technical school 13kms away.

I held on to his letters for a couple of years after that and threw it away when the time came. I haven’t spoken about him to anyone. Like everyone else he played a role in my life and I have to write something about him for old time sake

The Teacher

Don’t ask me the names of the English teachers before and after Mrs W. I will always remember her for some reason. She used to be the coolest teacher in the school. I can still remember her nickname for me, Mrs Difficult, but it had something to do with my surname and not the way I behaved. She used to have a nickname for everyone, and that was understandable coz she would remember us better that way.

She had a different style of teaching. My scores for English must have been the best of in that year of all the years I was in school. Her class must have been the only class that I paid attention in. (I daydreamed my years through school) There was just something about her that kept all of us focused. She also used to joke allot and if someone try to teach me something with humour I certainly take it in allot faster.

We were so excited when the Principal announced that she was going to join us for the 10 days of our “Veldskool’ break. She made everything so much more exciting and we all had a blast.

I saw her on facebook the other day, and I sent her a thank you note for changing my life in so many ways. Maybe she did not realize it then, but she certainly deserves the credit.

A full-of-crap-cat

Oh the Cat is funny. I bought new food for him to try out, and it turned out he did not like it at all. So he did not sit on my lap for a week. He would come and lie on the couch next to me, but there was no space for my lap in his world. I even begged him to come and lie on my lap but to no avail. It is comforting when he warms your lap with his winter fur while you watch TV. The message was clear – he did not want anything to do with me.

On Saturday we went shopping and I bought the usual brand of Cat food with some wet treats to make up for the terrible mistake I made.

Last night he was back on my lap again. Clearly I was forgiven. It’s amazing how Cats try and express themselves. They keep you guessing all the way. I guess he does not like change at all. He loves his good old brand of cat food and that is it.

I have to be tuned in to everyone’s feelings in our house. The point is, I love being a mommy whether it is to a full-of-crap ginger Cat or a know-it-all 4 year old.

Ann

In mid 2001 I moved into an upstairs room with an elderly divorced lady named Ann. She was a bit nosy and talked allot, but anything was better than staying in a place where I did not belong. In the afternoons when I returned home from work it was nice to have a little quiet time to myself. Ann had a big ginger Cat who fell in love with me immediately. Well the feeling was mutual. Cats know when you need comfort or company.

The first few weeks he phoned me everyday. You know how it is, sometimes after a relationship the “friends” part actually means “future hope” so I cut myself off completely.

Yes I was lonely at times. My sister was on the other side of the City and my parents were 200kms away in the country. But I could not go back to him just because I missed the company. I did not hate myself for giving up all I thought I had. Besides, who wanted to relocate to Germany with someone they don’t even love. Only someone with the opposite morals than me I thought..

Once I sat crying on my bed and something told me to look up. There was a shelf full of books and an old album that Ann forgot to put elsewhere when I moved in. I paged through it. There were photos of their trip to Mauritius a couple of years back - I knew that because she even saved the plain tickets. She looked so happy back then. She had a family. Her 3 boys and husband are on most of the pictures and I realized she must have been behind the camera the whole time. I could find only a few pics of them together as a family.

Ann was also alone in a way and she lost more than I did. During the 2 years that I stayed with her before I met my husband of 6 years we found comfort in each other.

In Ann found the strength to carry on. And in my journey forward I found good things.

When your child is lost

We were at the Barney show at the Dome 2008. I only turned my back for a second to put the cup in her bag. The next moment she was gone. My husband and I started shouting at each other. He blamed me, I blamed him. My whole body went limb. Where would one start searching with children running all around you, and only one of them could be yours.

We ran up and down in the isles calling her name. Every time I called her name I got a little bit sadder, and the calls for her came out more desperate. It must have been a couple of minutes that felt like hours. Lots of things went through my mind. I panicked, I cried, I trembled, I blamed myself for being so stupid to let my child out of my sight for a split second. I didn’t even listen to my husband shouting and expecting me to pull a child out of a hat.

Then I saw her running in one of the back isles entertaining the people with her smile and dance moves. I ran and I grabbed her and held her close to my chest with tears streaming down my cheeks. She didn’t understand why I behaved the way I did. He grabbed her from me. It was almost like he was going to have a hawkeye on her for the rest of the show, or for the rest of her life for that matter.

A big purple dinosaur appeared on stage, and everything I experienced during those few terrifying moments flew out the arena when he started singing:” I love you, you love me, we’re a happy family…”

The Graveyard

I don’t know what it is with me and grave yards. Whenever I visit my Mother’s grave I take time to walk down the isles and read the tombstones. My grandparents on my Mother’s side are also buried in the same graveyard, and it takes time to find their stones.

Often you see a double grave where a husband or wife has passed away, and about 4-6 months after that their better half died. Maybe they were so sad that their world came crushing down, heart broken, and they had to meet their better half in heaven shortly after that. Can you miss someone that much that you would die without them?

The saddest Tombs to read are the children’s. I also have a brother that lies in that same graveyard. He was about 2 months old when he just stopped breathing in October of 1990. My Mother never recovered after that. Children are supposed to outlive you, not the other way around. He had to die so my Mother could join him 13 years later so she could have one of her children with her in heaven.

The other day I saw a name of a young boy who I knew in high school. I realized that I have been gone so long that I missed the gossip in town about how he died. You wonder if it was an accident, or sudden illness, or a freak accident for that matter. You remember his family, and for a moment you are silent to pay some respect to someone who died so young.

You need not ask questions where you can not find answers.
Walking in a grave yard certainly makes you count your blessings.

The Old House

Whenever I dream of my childhood I always dream of the house I grew up in. I can still remember the day the moving truck pulled in front of the house in 1982, I was about 4 years old. They day I left I was 18 years old, and about 2 years after that my parents moved to another house in the same town.

When I visit my hometown I drive past it just before I take the big road to the City. The new owners cut off the big Pine with the swing where I used to spend my childhood days daydreaming. It’s just not the same without the tree. Maybe when we left the tree’s time had come too. They have no children I suppose, or all the Pine needles just made too much of a mess in their yard that they had to cut it off.

Sometimes I wish that I would find the house empty so I can peep through the windows for one last time. Maybe walk around the house and gather some long forgotten memories.

The street in front of the house has also gone quiet. We spent our weekends playing ball with the children across the street until 8pm at night. I wonder if the people in the small towns now also live in fear like we do.

Life used to be so simple back then.

The Boss

I used to rush out of his office before he could ask any questions. I only later realized that he craved for the morning company. I did not know what conversation could I possibly start with an 80 year old. Most elderly people think that you feel sorry for them that is why you start a conversation in the first place. I never knew why I had to go in half an hour before everyone else. I used to sit at my desk and try to concentrate on the day ahead.

The problem was, I had to type all the letters so I was forced to go in there up to 5 times a day, including taking the tea in the morning. He used to be brief, and I used to take notes as fast as I could so that I did not have to ask for anything twice.

He was old, but wise. He taught me new words, well words that were in his personal vocabulary that my spell check on the computer did not recognize. 3 Years ago his P.A went on holiday to Australia and I had to be his right hand for 4 weeks. What I thought was going to be a nightmare turned out to be the best time in my life for anyone I ever worked for. The first day as his P.A I brought some muffins to work and put it on the tray of morning tea. (I was so nervous the night before that I had to turn to baking).The rest I can almost say, is history.

In those 4 weeks I learnt more than the 5 years I was at the company. We laughed and chatted away, and I realized he wasn’t the old monster everyone made him out to be. He told me stories about World War 2, where he was a prisoner. I loved the stories about him skiing in Switzerland with his family when he was younger. He also had a German professor who left him with words to live by:”Nozing iz impozzible.”

He died peacefully on the 18th of January 2009. We all miss him, but it is the legacy that he left behind that we will always cherish.

He was the best Boss I ever had.

I'm full of Soap!

Last night we were having our usual bath, some mother and daughter bonding ritual in the evening when hubby watch the news.

I took the sponge and started rubbing her tummy with soap. She gave me the famous look, when things does not go the way it should.

"Oh no mommy, now my whole body is covered with soap!"

"So what is your point?"

" My point is full of soap."

She thought her mother was acting a little more strange when I hugged her.

The Robbery

“Why didn’t you press the panic button? Why didn’t you shout for help? Why..”

I can still remember her walking up and down in the office, shouting at us. I didn’t answer. Maybe I was just lucky to be alive at that moment, and couldn’t be bothered with her remarks.

It’s kind of nice to sit in traffic while your colleagues get robbed. She just walked in and blamed us for everything that happened. She was considering all the options. Fact is, we were robbed and he was gone, probably robbing another company accumulating his petty cash for that day.

Even though she was angry, I did not wish what happened upon anyone. It is like they say, you know. Your whole life does flash in front of you the moment he points the gun. You experience a feeling that only someone that has been in the same situation before can describe. I did not tremble, I wasn’t scared, I also did not get an adrenalin rush to fight for the little time I thought I had left. It’s like you are ready to go right at that moment. A feeling of piece comes over you. You accept your fate. I wouldn’t say it is giving up. You realize that there is nothing you can do. Period.

I’m glad she wasn’t in the office that day. Maybe she would have done all those things that she thought was right and things could have gone horribly wrong.

I haven’t stopped looking over my shoulder since that day. Maybe it had to happen to make me more aware of my surroundings.

People in Armani suits can rob you.

Trust no-one…..

The Picture

I cried for two days. Our Mothers were best friends. We were like the perfect match. But my month of love ended when he did not return. I even went and spoke to his mother to ask if she knew what was going on. I never got an answer.

The day my mother died we went to his mother’s house to tell her the sad news. It was about 8 years after he broke my heart. I saw pictures of him and smiled. I got my answer. I knew why things did not work out. It was all in the pictures in front of me. It’s not like I went looking for them, when you walked in she had a whole exhibition of her precious son.

Somehow I couldn’t picture myself with him, even that day. In an instant I knew that everything happened for a reason. It kind of closed a chapter in my life, and I was greatful for that. Nobody had to say anything, the answer was right in front of me. A picture really does speak a thousand words.

When we are young and vulnerable we do not see the bigger picture. It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

The Dream Job

There is a big Media24 Building in Bompass road or somewhere near there, and every time we drive past it I let everyone in the car know that I am going to be working in that building one day. Last time my sister just snorted out a loud laugh, “Doing what?” she asked.

I don’t know…my first intention is to get into the building. I don’t know what it is, but every time it just draws me closer. I have checked out jobs on their website to get IN there. I have imagined every square inch of office space the building has to offer. I have pictured myself sitting in one of those offices, making coffee for someone in need of a cup, just being THERE. It’s so silly, like all my problems & fears will just fly out the window once I am INSIDE.

Maybe I should stop next time and have a look around, ask if I could check the place out. Then I would be a little closer to my dream….or halfway there.

Even if it never happens, one can never stop dreaming about the things that make you feel good.

Waiting for The Mommy Car

According to my husband a bigger car is something you qualify for when you have 2 children. Well it’s time, and way overdue if you ask me.

When do you know when your car is too small? When you have to put the Pram on the back seat coz it wouldn’t fit in the boot. When all your groceries is stacked up in the passenger seat and the boot is already full. I need space. The more people the more groceries. We are not 2 people anymore you know. There is just no space. And soon there will be 2 of those lovely Prams that does not seem to fit.

When there is no space for my legs in the passenger seat I get frustrated and I kick. Don’t know what I am kicking at, I just kick. Maybe the leg space will get a bit bigger if I kick. Maybe someone will feel sorry for me and buy me a new car with lots of leg space and electric windows with power steering and airbags.

When I fell pregnant early this year he promised me a bigger car when the baby is here. But we will have to see, now he is talking more towards the end of the year. Yeah right. I can see myself protesting in front of our house for a Mommy car.

I need a mommy car, and I need it now. I have had it with my small car.

What is in a name?

In my 1st pregnancy when the dr. announced that we were having a girl I could only think of the name Annabelle, until someone came and burst the name bubble saying that people would end up calling her Anna. I tried to ignore it, but in the end I could not shake off the horrible thought of my little girl being called Anna.

The next name that popped into my head was Claudia, maybe because Claudia Henkel was Miss South Africa that year and her name was all over the press. The name was easy on the lips, and at least no-one could abbreviate it even if they tried. Somehow over the years we did manage to call her Claudi instead of Claudia, but that will pass too I suppose. It’s not that bad, not like Anna, or Belle for that matter.

The 2nd time around it is a boy and we chose the name Corne’. There used to be a sexy Springbok Captain called Corne’ Krige, and that is about as close as we could get to his name, with our surname being Kruger and all. He’ll be making his appearance in September this year, with no surprises coz he is a poser and shows off the clockwork. He likes the corny name we chose for him I can tell.

What is in a name?

By The Book

Ever since I can remember, I loved reading all the manuals if someone bought a new gadget. I still read signs and follow all the right directions to wherever I want to go. I love my recipe books because it tells me that my food is going to be perfect if I follow all the right instructions. Well most of the time.

When you go to my Sisters house on a Sunday afternoon you will see her throw all the spices she can find into a big pot. I don’t even know if she owns a recipe book. She is the best navigator if you need to go somewhere, without a map book. She does not read the dosage on the medicine bottle. She goes on feeling.

Maybe I have relied on manuals and recipe books all my life because I do not trust my gut. Sometimes I wish I could be like her, she just goes with the flow and it all works out well in the end. Her food is way better than mine out of the recipe book. She once made Soup and I asked her for the recipe, and she couldn’t recall all half the spices she put in that soup.

She knows what goes with what. I have to read it. We are different in that that way. Maybe I feel safe with all my reading. But together we make the perfect pair. You should see us cooking up a storm when we are together. She rolls her eyes when I read the measurements out of the Recipe book for the tenth time, and I shout at her when she grabs spices with her hand and adds it to my pot.

I wish there was a manual on life, but life does not meet you halfway. You have to work and fight for everything you have. That is the only manual that I don’t read, but write as it happens.

Everybody has a gut. You just have to trust it enough to know it will work.