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.