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.

The Joy of Light

You get a chair. You get a light bulb. You get on the chair. You stretch and try and turn the old light bulb. No-one seems to care if you have light in this part of the house or not, except a four year old who can’t do it herself. You stretch a little bit more, but it’s stuck. You can’t call for help, coz when you look down you have a 4 year old looking up to you, literally, expecting her Mommy to change the light bulb so she can play with her toys in her room.

You can’t even let out a power word, because the walls have ears. You get a suitcase. You put it on the chair. Perfect. The old light bulb turns eventually with much effort. You get down and look for the new light bulb, coz on your mission to find the suitcase you left it somewhere in the house.

You find it. You get on the chair. You step on the suitcase. Now you have to find the beginning of the thread so you don’t screw it on wrong. After a couple of turns you find it.

You ask her to switch on the light. Magic!

You walk down the hall past the couch where he sits. You feel like throwing the old light bulb at the Rugby on TV. You throw it in the bin instead, and then you smile and think of a little girl playing with her dolls with the joy of light in her room.

The best friends Mother

“I hope she’s not dating him is she? The poor guy has nothing to grab on to.”

I can remember her fishing for answers that October afternoon. It was my best friend’s mother who wanted to be aware of every move we make. Of course she got me blushing. Oh no, I thought, this was a mistake. When she offered to do my hair for the Matric farewell I did not realize it would come with a price.

She forgot one thing. I was her daughter’s best friend. I knew of all the special moments, and certainly not any detail someone would discuss with their mother. My friend and I did of course share everything, we still do. Somehow her mother wanted to be a part of us but we didn’t let her. She had her time to be young we figured.

From the moment I met her mother I realized there was something a little different about her. Yes, we wanted to know everything. And no, we were not ready for everything. To be honest if someone would ask me today what I had learnt from her I would say absolutely nothing. One has to leave the exploring to yourself I’d say. Maybe I was so embarrassed that I never listened to anything she said.

It’s funny. Her question still sticks in my mind after many years. Truth is, she used another word instead of “dating” and I’m too shy to put it in my Blog.

Of course I lied.

The 4-legged King

I used to cry every Saturday morning when I saw animals in cages we passed the pet shop on our way to do the weekly chores. We did not have a garden to accommodate an animal. I wanted to take one home so badly, just as long as they did not have to be in a cage anymore.

Later when we moved to a bigger place with a garden the thought of having an animal had kind of slipped our minds. Maybe we have gotten so used to the idea that we did indeed forget. One Saturday we passed the pet shop again and my eye caught this cage full of kittens. I realized that we could have one if we wanted one! It did not take allot of convincing on my hubby’s side. (After all he did not have to look after it).

We chose this light ginger coloured kitten but forgot the most important part - to look if it was a male or a female. Lucky for us it was a male. (Later I discovered that a ginger cat is a good call, because 90% of all ginger cats are male.)

He has become a part of our lives in a very special way. It’s like he’s the king of his own castle. We are a match made in heaven. He has found a good home, and I have found the comfort of a loving cat, always looking for a cuddle or a stroke. And always watching Kokkie the cockatiel’s every move, just in case he wants to escape.
Now that I am pregnant he follows me everywhere. He loves waiting in front of the Loo even when I go for the upteenth time. He lays at my feet when I hang the washing. He sleeps on my belly when I watch TV. He has even put his gallivanting on hold for me. He is always there for me now.

He just came and said hello, walked all over my laptop, looking for a belly to sleep on.

Adopting a cat was one of the best things I ever did.

The First Flight

“Come on, come on, we are going to be late!!” Oh heck, I think, did I mention one have to sit for 3 hours in front of the airport doors before the bus arrives that takes you to your plane? It is her first time flying, and she is nervous.

“Get us some coffee; we don’t want to miss that plane!” I get my nervous sister some coffee. And oh, of course, that plane is waiting for us.

‘The bags, watch the bags!” I put the bags in front of me to put her mind at ease.

“Are we really doing this?” It’s too late to turn back now, I think. We got a lift here, remember. That person is halfway home already.

Its half past three on a Thursday morning in early April 2007, we are on our way to Cape Town to visit the family. Whilst standing in the Coffee queue I had to call her, because one of the gay guys queuing had the smell of a roman god. I thought it would take her mind off things..

“What if the plain falls?” Don’t say it out loud, I think. There are people here that are just as nervous as you. But it’s too late, by now we have everyone’s attention.

Some people read the morning paper, like it is an everyday occurrence and just another morning flight to Cape Town. You can spot a Jetsetter from a mile away.

“Are we at the right gate?” I read the tickets for the millionth time. Yip.

2 Hours later the bus arrives to take us to our plane.

When we eventually lift of, it is I that grab her arm.

Never loose hope

It is early December 2008. I walk down the long passage to the reception desk. Somehow I knew, but did not loose hope until the last minute. My heart beats out of my chest. This is really happening. A million thoughts go through my mind. I don’t feel like crying. I am angry.

She takes the admittance form and her facial expression changes. “I’m so sorry..” I don’t reply, I have no words. Just fill in the damn form so I can get out of here, I think. She picks up the phone: “I need to request an abortion for this afternoon.” Abortion. Isn’t that a bit harsh? She finds me hiding behind the reception desk. Thank you, I think, you’ve got everyone in the waiting room’s attention now. Oh please world, open and swallow me!

At the hospital reception desk I feel like I am under crossfire. “Was this your 1st or 2nd one?” the clerk asks, probably just trying to make conversation while we wait for the slow computer system. Please, I pray, don’t talk so loud, people are going to look at me differently when I walk away here. Half an hour later I am admitted to hospital. The nurses are extra friendly, I sense a bit of sympathy.

The journey home is extra long. He gives me the speech that I come 1st and he would do anything for me no matter what. I don’t listen. The only thing in my mind is the life inside me that is no longer there. Maybe I should have been less excited the last six weeks and told less people, maybe then I would have a hell of a lot less explaining to do now.

It is mid-February 2009 and time for a routine check-up. The dr stares at the monitor and his face lit up.

“You’re not going to believe this…” he says.

I’m 9 weeks pregnant.

All in good time

I can remember being in high school and the only thing I could dream about was my wedding day and the children I eventually would have. Money was tight and there was little hope for a career. What made things worse was that we lived in a small town, with no opportunities for school leavers. My parents raised me and hoped for the best when I left school.

2 Days after my final Matric exam I was standing on our porch faced with a decision that would change the rest of my life, I just did not realize it then. An opportunity came up to work in JHB. I had to choose between the big City and a laid back life in a small town. I chose the City. Like always, with any decision, there is a price you have to pay. I had to leave the one guy behind that was ready to marry me. He let me go. I’ll always be greatful for that.

When I first came to the City it was so inviting, it still is. I studied and got a diploma attending Saturday classes while working a 40hr week. Then I got my drivers license, oh I was so proud of myself that day. I don’t know what kept me motivated all those years, perhaps it was the thought of going back to that small town. Life in the big city was so exciting, and a lack of excitement my whole life made me want more.

The years moved on and I only got married about 8 years after that day on the porch. At the same time some of my friends back home had their 3rd baby already.

Over the years I have realized that all things happen in good time, you just have to be patient enough to wait for it.

The Office

When was it that I first walked into this office? Has it been 8 years? Yes, time has flown, and too quickly if I might add.

Like any other place, it holds allot of memories. Good ones and some bad. I am glad I got to be a part of all this, and I realize my time is running out. Soon I will move on to better and bigger things. It’s just a matter of time.

I can remember the day I got my drivers license and we all celebrated when I got back. Somehow there was always reason for celebration, with lots of wine of course! Then the day came when my future husband walked in, not knowing that 2 years later I would be planning our wedding in this same office.

Once a guy came in with a gun and left with my wedding ring, watch and cellphone. I have been aware of all that is happening around me from that day onwards. Maybe some things has to happen first before you take action.

Soon all this stuff will be standing in a new office 60kms away. I am a bit sad, but excited at the same time. At 30 some new adventures awaits. First I will be a mommy for the 2nd time, a little boy is almost ready to enter our lives in September of this year. Then I will be moving on to a new career. I try not to think about the 2nd part too much right now. Yes I am excited but I have to be a mommy first, then the other things can follow at their own pace.

The fact is, something has happened. I’m taking action.

Life goes on, it’s business as usual.

Mothers Day

In the month of May each year 2 things happen. It is Mothers day, and it is my late Mothers birthday. On Mothers day I still cry because I can’t pick up the phone and just call her, and on her birthday it is worse. I see allot of her in myself these days, managing a 4 year old and keeping things together. Some times I pause and know exactly how she felt when she told me not to do a certain thing. I know now that love and discipline walks hand in hand. She shouted at us when we got hurt because she cared for us, and all the “I told you so’s” was because she loved us and did not want us to get hurt.

I miss her. Her voice still echoes in my ears. In the beginning I was scared that the image in my mind I have of her would fade, but it never did. Maybe we are scared that we will forget when people die. But the truth is, they all leave something behind in order for us to remember them, whether it is something they did or said, that will stay with us for the rest of our lives. They have an impact and they do not know, you don’t realize it until they are gone. You try and remember the little things, all the detail, all the days spent in their presence.

I can tell you many stories about my mother. She loved me with all her heart.

The Spa-bug

This should be on your list of things to do before you die. Visit a Spa with your sisters or close friends. We have fun, lots of it.

The 1st time still sticks in my mind. For the 1st time in anything you have to take a camera, even if you get silly stares from rich b*tches who does this kind of Spa thing every week. No Spa moment was going to escape that camera, and yes we, had to name the regulars, who could miss the entertainment of the day!!

Just a tip – don’t ever choose a “sound & relaxation therapy” option unless you really understand what it is all about. What a load of sh*t. They put a headphone on your ears, and the sounds that came out of that thing was like those sounds in pre-scool when they test your hearing. Rather give me dolphin or water sounds – eish what crap I tell you! The other problem was that we had to be quiet but we couldn’t stop talking…so the staff had to come and shhh us a couple of times. It was like the quiet room of the place, and we were there to vent about the children and husbands. Oops!

The next thing they do in s & l therapy is put sunglasses on your eyes that reminded me of something out of Starwars – may the force be with you when the lights starts sparkling all over the place. The worst was the Parafin wax feet treatment thereafter. No. 1 the wax was way too hot. (this we were told by other therapists at another Spa coz we were always asking about the temperature of that first wax treatment..)

The last Spa visit was a month ago. We never go back to the same place; we try them all out, which calls for a new adventure every time. Maybe the first time we did not know what to expect, that is why the 2nd time was way better and we had a blast! Well the bug did come back and bit us!! We try and go once in winter and once in summer, or when someone’s birthday come up the men knows that that is the best birthday present ever…

I love my husband, he allows me to be selfish sometimes and take a break with the girls.

We all need a break.

Running for Mom

It’s 5 o’clock Sunday morning. He puts on his running shoes and can almost sense my frustration when he looks over his shoulder. “Don’t worry honey, you’ll run again, we’ll buy you a new pair of running shoes when the time comes.” Although there is nothing wrong with my running shoes, I realize that he is trying to make me feel better.

It was nice to run with my partner. I had to stop because of the pregnancy, although there are women who run well into their 2nd trimester, we could not take any chances this time – doctors orders. I have run 5kms, 10kms & 21kms in my life, early on a Saturday or Sunday morning when most people like to sleep in because it is weekend. I have seen men dress up as ladies when it is a ladies race only, arranging for some humor along the way and at the same time getting their bodies in shape, in disguise. My sister & I have walked allot of 10kms talking, only realizing an hour later that the time was so short for all the things we wanted to gossip about!

I ran 21kms along the Hartbeespoortdam 2 years ago when I was supposed to attend my fathers wedding. The view was much better, the people friendlier, and to save myself from crying I did something good for my body instead. My thoughts were with my mother all the way. I have had a hard time letting go of Mom, I wasn’t ready for a stepmother all stuffed up in my face.

We all had to get a replacement when she died. Mine is a love for running.

The joy of Tradition

1 March 2003. My father & I were waiting at the back of the church for the Wedding March to make our grand entrance, and of course for the music to start. Everything was perfect up until then, my sister took care of things from the minute we got at the venue and I was amazed that we were indeed a winning team. Did I say up until then everything was perfect?

The only song that played at that moment was “Breathe on me” from the Hillsongs Group. When the DJ had to restart that song for the 3rd time I realized something was up…. I could hear the whispers from the guests… Oh no, I thought, where the hell is the Groom? What has happened to the Wedding March, and are we at the right church??!!

My brother came walking around the building ask what the hold-up was and that the people were waiting. So were we…for the Wedding March!!! It turns out the lovely Groom that was about to become my husband changed the song the last minute. Of course, I thought, he has been living on his own planet for the last 27 years where there was no Wedding, Easter or Christmas traditions in place.

I did not walk down the isle on the Wedding March that day. It did not make a difference anyway, the man I have been waiting for for 24 years was going to be mine, and we had the rest of our lives to work on our own traditions together. What is in a song?

Last Christmas Claudia and I decorated the tree. She was all excited about the fairy lights and was dancing away in our living room. She asked her dad to put the Angel on top of the tree. I could see the tears in his eyes later that evening when he said thank you for bringing such joy to our lives every Christmas. Now that is what I call tradition.

The Best Friend

My best friend was born on the 7th of April 1978. 4 months later I was born, only for us to meet 14 years later at last. We clicked immediately at the beginning of Std.7. This year we are 30.

At the end of our Matric year we had to say our goodbyes, I moved 200kms away to the big city, leaving her behind in that small dreadful town. After that I think we only saw each other once or twice a year if we could cover the distance between us, or if we were lucky enough to be in town at the same time.

I went to visit her last year and noticed that she turned into a real Martha Stewart, a stay-at-home-mom with cupboards full of cookies and a pantry full of home made food and lots of time on her hands. Somehow she was a bit lonely, so we made the best we could of the few days that we could share together. She couldn’t stop talking; it was like we were in our early childhood again talking about old boyfriends and all the things we went through in our high school years. I told her about Facebook, some foreign name she had not heard before, and showed her the photos of our school friends I am now friends with on that foreign site. She has 3 children now, all grown up and she is a good mother, like I always imagined her to be. She gave me some tips to TTC and we shared our deepest secrets that I know would stay between us forever.

That weekend away did us both good. I realized that we are both Supermoms, whether we are staying at home or rushing to get to work in the morning traffic. If we could be one woman, with all our qualities put together, you’ll have the ultimate Supermom.

All of us have one, a best friend. The truth is, she is my best friend, and I wouldn’t trade her for the world.