She crosses her arms. “I’m not even allowed to have cookies!!”
“Nobody said anything about cookies Claudia, I said no c-h-o-c-o-l-a-t-e-s!”
I try and correct her and realize what she is trying to do.
She asked for chocolates but she is still sick and I won’t allow it.
“I’m not even allowed to have cookies….” she mopes again. I smile, but most of the time I have to keep a straight face, trying not to laugh because sometimes laughter is the match that lights the fire in a 4 year old. It’s cookies or nothing, I think, but she’s not getting any closer to chocolates with the attitude.
“Oh I’m a horrible mommy, I know.” She looks at me with her bottom lip all curled up, her arms still crossed.
“I’m not even allowed to have cookies….”
.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
The Wild Aunt
My mother’s youngest sister used to be wild in her day; it must have been the late 80’s if I remember right… I can recall when she was 30. She would get the cutest boyfriends and always came around to show them off. My sister & I still go down the long list of boyfriends trying to remember their names, and picking out the cutest ones. Our all time favorite was a guy named Barend, and all we can remember about him was his green Nissan 1400 bakkie.
We had a couple of close calls through the years. Once we got home from holiday and saw 4 pairs of shoes lined up at the front door. Her explanation was that she couldn’t afford the rent at their previous place and moved into our house temporally. One day she ran over her ex-husband deliberately near our front door with a Nissan Langley that he bought her. He would not move in front of the car, so she decided to go ahead and let him pay the consequences… Nothing stopped her. Not even a man in front of a car begging her to talk to him.
The last time she got married it must have been the 5th time. I stopped counting at number 3. One guy she married twice, but don’t ask me his name. A friend of mine asked why we did not attend the wedding, and I replied that I couldn’t care less about someone who will be divorced in a couple of months anyway.
It was in Cape Town last year that I had the pleasure of seeing her again after many years. The wild care-free days was long gone, and were replaced by age spots and deep lines down her cheeks that made me realize she was on the other side of 50 already and counting.
It was only when she held her grandson in her arms that I saw my real Aunt. She wasn’t that bad after all, and it was like she poured all the love she could not give through her wild years into that child resting in her lap.
Life has been an adventure all those years growing up with her in and out of our house. She has lived a full life up to now, and will always be a part of us. If I can choose to remember her I would recall her thirties, when she was my Wild aunt waiting for the next adventure.
We had a couple of close calls through the years. Once we got home from holiday and saw 4 pairs of shoes lined up at the front door. Her explanation was that she couldn’t afford the rent at their previous place and moved into our house temporally. One day she ran over her ex-husband deliberately near our front door with a Nissan Langley that he bought her. He would not move in front of the car, so she decided to go ahead and let him pay the consequences… Nothing stopped her. Not even a man in front of a car begging her to talk to him.
The last time she got married it must have been the 5th time. I stopped counting at number 3. One guy she married twice, but don’t ask me his name. A friend of mine asked why we did not attend the wedding, and I replied that I couldn’t care less about someone who will be divorced in a couple of months anyway.
It was in Cape Town last year that I had the pleasure of seeing her again after many years. The wild care-free days was long gone, and were replaced by age spots and deep lines down her cheeks that made me realize she was on the other side of 50 already and counting.
It was only when she held her grandson in her arms that I saw my real Aunt. She wasn’t that bad after all, and it was like she poured all the love she could not give through her wild years into that child resting in her lap.
Life has been an adventure all those years growing up with her in and out of our house. She has lived a full life up to now, and will always be a part of us. If I can choose to remember her I would recall her thirties, when she was my Wild aunt waiting for the next adventure.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Reaching out
Every year during our childhood when my mother announced that my Ouma was coming for one of her regular visits during the winter months, my sister & I just dreaded the time nearer to her visit. She always took charge of the household, we had to be bathed by 5, report for Bible study at six (we prayed for the whole family, even if they were second or third cousins in another country somewhere) and were off to bed before 7.
On the positive side we looked forward to her freshly baked bread in the mornings. Her famous custard cookies & rusks you could smell on your way home from school when you turned the last corner to find our house second on the left.
Somehow Ouma never stopped believing in us. My sister & I accompanied her to the local supermarket one day thinking that we would do the good deed of carrying her bags when she was done shopping. I was in std 8 & my sister must have been in 10 that year… But to our dismay we found ourselves hiding between the dog food and fruit & vegetables when she decided to go and ask about casual jobs for us during the holidays. I just left her there walking home as fast as I could, leaving my sister to carry her stupid bags and determined to tell my parents in what predicament Ouma had put us in. I also swore never to return to that supermarket again, problem was, it was the only one in town…
Years later I found myself in Ouma’s position, asking for casual jobs for my brother, with great embarrassment from his side in return. I’m only trying to help, like she was years ago. I never stopped believing in him, he will never understand the way I feel. I want him to get ahead in life.
I haven’t spoken to Ouma in a long time. She is in Bloemfontein being her old self helping out older people at a retirement village. I know she still believes in me, and still prays for us every night. Somehow I think God is listening, and her prayers helped me through the years to get where I am today.
On the positive side we looked forward to her freshly baked bread in the mornings. Her famous custard cookies & rusks you could smell on your way home from school when you turned the last corner to find our house second on the left.
Somehow Ouma never stopped believing in us. My sister & I accompanied her to the local supermarket one day thinking that we would do the good deed of carrying her bags when she was done shopping. I was in std 8 & my sister must have been in 10 that year… But to our dismay we found ourselves hiding between the dog food and fruit & vegetables when she decided to go and ask about casual jobs for us during the holidays. I just left her there walking home as fast as I could, leaving my sister to carry her stupid bags and determined to tell my parents in what predicament Ouma had put us in. I also swore never to return to that supermarket again, problem was, it was the only one in town…
Years later I found myself in Ouma’s position, asking for casual jobs for my brother, with great embarrassment from his side in return. I’m only trying to help, like she was years ago. I never stopped believing in him, he will never understand the way I feel. I want him to get ahead in life.
I haven’t spoken to Ouma in a long time. She is in Bloemfontein being her old self helping out older people at a retirement village. I know she still believes in me, and still prays for us every night. Somehow I think God is listening, and her prayers helped me through the years to get where I am today.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Making conversation
It was during one of my regular Gynae visits 5 years ago that I boasted about my pregnancy to the stranger next to me, not knowing that she was there to discuss IVF and couldn’t have children of her own. This was long before I knew my Gynae was also a FS, about, IUI’s & IVF’s and the 10 famous tips of TTC. I just assumed she was pregnant, that everyone just falls pregnant easy the day they decide to have children. I did not know what to say, I was quiet for a moment and then I asked her her name, which was Petra, and then I said that I am sorry and will pray for her. After that I counted down the minutes to see our Gynae, I realized we shared for different reasons.
It was on my own path of trying to conceive for 3 years to have our second child that I met some extraordinary women. Women who are happy for you, but not happy for themselves. Women who would do anything to conceive. Women who fell pregnant and miscarried, some of them 3 or 4 times, but still manage to wake up with a smile for the world to see, but inside they were crying and all asking the same question:”When is it my turn God?” I know the pain, I was one of them. You read of mothers who use drugs and alcohol while pregnant, mothers who abandon their babies in public toilets and you wonder why that baby did not end up in your womb in the first place. Is there a message to all of this? Again you ask yourself why…
I never stopped thinking about Petra. I will always wonder if she did conceive in the end and if her arms is filled with a loving baby or is she also living with an emptiness that won’t go away. I never stopped praying for her. I hope that we meet again, maybe someday on the sport field when our children are participating, in the supermarket while we are checking out, or in the parking lot busy loading our babies into cars.
I went to the Gynae last week Friday. Somehow I have learnt my lesson, when the stranger next to me started a conversation, I replied with a question: ”Are you pregnant?”. For all I know she could be another Petra.
It was on my own path of trying to conceive for 3 years to have our second child that I met some extraordinary women. Women who are happy for you, but not happy for themselves. Women who would do anything to conceive. Women who fell pregnant and miscarried, some of them 3 or 4 times, but still manage to wake up with a smile for the world to see, but inside they were crying and all asking the same question:”When is it my turn God?” I know the pain, I was one of them. You read of mothers who use drugs and alcohol while pregnant, mothers who abandon their babies in public toilets and you wonder why that baby did not end up in your womb in the first place. Is there a message to all of this? Again you ask yourself why…
I never stopped thinking about Petra. I will always wonder if she did conceive in the end and if her arms is filled with a loving baby or is she also living with an emptiness that won’t go away. I never stopped praying for her. I hope that we meet again, maybe someday on the sport field when our children are participating, in the supermarket while we are checking out, or in the parking lot busy loading our babies into cars.
I went to the Gynae last week Friday. Somehow I have learnt my lesson, when the stranger next to me started a conversation, I replied with a question: ”Are you pregnant?”. For all I know she could be another Petra.
Friday, April 24, 2009
To move or not to move...
Moving. I have moved in my life, somehow we could'nt stay at one place for more than a year. Until 3 years ago when we found this wonderful home just big enough for us and we have been staying there ever since. My boss passed away and the company is moving 60kms away. Do I pack up all my belongings and tagg along? Or do I stay and grab all the opportunities I can get....
I'm pregnant and my Maternity Leave starts in 3 months...so I can't wait. We have to make alternate plans for transport.. Maybe my time has come, and I have to move on, and it is staring me right in the face. I have stepped out of my comfort zone before and everytime it worked out well in the end.
I'm new to this blogging, but I'm liking it already.
I'm pregnant and my Maternity Leave starts in 3 months...so I can't wait. We have to make alternate plans for transport.. Maybe my time has come, and I have to move on, and it is staring me right in the face. I have stepped out of my comfort zone before and everytime it worked out well in the end.
I'm new to this blogging, but I'm liking it already.
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