12 Things I Love About My Husband

Why 12 things I hear you ask? Quite simply, because today we celebrate our 12 year anniversary and I had to stop somewhere.

I think it was Khalil Gibran that said*: ‘Love that does not grow every day is busy dying’. When I look back over the last 12 years and specifically this time of year, every year, when I do some introspection about being married, I feel like I love my husband a lot more this year than I did last year. Did I love him more last year than I did the year before? Possibly not as much as I realized at the time as I was not ok myself. But this year my self-loathing is a little more in check, so my own capacity to love is bigger. (I’m hoping this doesn’t sound completely crazy and self-involved, there really is a point to this)

So anyway, there are some very specific things I love about Etienne, some I mention a lot and some I don’t.

1. His humanity. He will feed every single person that comes to our door if he could.
2. His complete uninterestedness in ‘stuff’. He doesn’t need to drive a fancy car or wear expensive clothes to feel good about himself. It really is just stuff to him.
3. His capacity to love. All of us that live in this house know exactly how much he loves us and he shows us every single day in a myriad of different ways. Whether he is cooking a favourite meal or brushing a child’s teeth, he does it as an expression of love, not as a chore that requires effort.
4. His ability to be organised. He is the one that makes sure we have a menu for the week and mostly cooks supper. He is the one that makes sure that we stay afloat financially. He is the one that goes to the library, takes out the trash and sorts out the bills I forget to pay because I had my head in the clouds (or up my bum).
5. He listens. I can complain about something in our relationship and he will actually actively try to change whatever I was unhappy about.
6. He would rather talk through a problem than let it hang, unresolved. I freak him out because I’m a master sulker and the Queen of The Silent Treatment.
7. He doesn’t hold a grudge. He is one of the most unconditionally forgiving people I have ever had the privilege to know.
8. He doesn’t get mad easily. And then, even when he does, he only gets sad, not aggressively mad.
9. He doesn’t stay mad. He is really good at getting it out and getting on with life.
10. He is affectionate. He spoons, he says “I love you”, he cuddles on the couch, he holds my hand.
11. He actually enjoys talking, he asks about my day. He listens and offers advice and doesn’t take it personally when I don’t listen (see point above about me having my head in the clouds or up my bum or stuck in my cellphone)
12. Lastly, he is an incredible Father. His children feel treasured and safe and love and cherished and listened to, much like his wife does. He sets the example that they will hopefully end up like as adults, because that was all they knew to be.

I look forward to growing old with this wonderful, wonderful man I am blessed with.

Lief jou!

*for the life of me I cannot find that quote anywhere

Big boy stuff

I made a horrific discovery today.

I was in the shops, looking for a t-shirt for Daniel, when my eye fell on a really cool loud green shirt. So, I do the mental math about what size I should buy, knowing he will be 7 in May and I start paging through the hangers. No size 7-8.

Weird.

So I look across the ocean of Spider-Man and Ben10 and spot nothing over size 6-7. Then it dawns on me: no more cool small boy stuff for my son, soon he will fall into the no-man’s land of 7-14. We are now venturing into unchartered territory.

Big boy territory.

To say I’m freaked would be a bit of an understatement. All I could think was how I should really just have another baby.

Apparently this is something that happens when your child goes to Grade 1, this wanting to re-Mother, but nothing prepared me for feeling this way. Part of me wants to push him out into the world, but an even bigger part of me wants to keep him in my arms, safe from being stereotyped and bullied and protect him from all the meanness that lurks in the world. But I know that this will also keep him from seeing all the love and the kindness and generosity, even though the hurtful things will stay with him for longer and teach him the biggest lessons.

Now I just need to put on my own big girl panties and deal with it.

How did you cope with your kids getting bigger?

Stop the bus please I want to climb off

The sole purpose of this post is so I can whine a little, so if that’s not your thing it’s completely fine, off you go, there’s nothing here to see.

Still here?

Welcome to the crazy. I started counting sleeps till when my holiday starts about a week ago. (87 sleeps and counting FYI).

Now don’t get me wrong. I love my life and I certainly don’t have a lot to complain about, but it feels like my head is about to explode.

The only way to explain it is like this: everything going on in my head right now.

Ready?

Plan what gifts to make for Christmas | organise way overdue food blog | work | make Christmas gifts | think about Etienne’s anniversary gifts | buy Etienne’s anniversary gift | work | bake cake for school for cake raffle on Friday (yes, I know I can buy, but that’s like cheating, don’t even ask) | decorate said cake | arrange girls’ night out at the end of October | work | have old book club gang over for drinks | worry about Daniel at school (long story) | work | arrange anniversary dinner reservation | have argument about said dinner reservation | work | have another argument about relevant child are option for duration of anniversary dinner | think about Christmas gifts some more | remember to make sandwiches for school staff (also for Friday) | work | worry about where to find second dress that will fit Mignon as I had to return the 2 dresses I bought yesterday as they were too small and now they only have one dress in the right size and not another one anywhere to be found and now only Isabel has a dress that fits | remember to follow up on tickets for Sauvignon Festival | lunch boxes | worry about kids during holiday week next week | work | (insert unpublishable worry about family here) | worry about Daniel’s allergies and sinuses | try to squeeze all admin into Saturday morning | try to not go mad | work | think about ways to catch up with some favorite friends I don’t see often enough | and so on and so forth |

Did reading that make you tired?

It sure made me tired, I think I’m going to go and lie down now.

What every (Jozi) girl should know

One of my most favourite friends on the interwebs that became one of my most favourite friends in real life (that’s IRL in twitter speak), Rose Cohen, recently wrote this for one of her friends that moved from Cape Town to Johannesburg and asked that I send it on to Cazpi that also moved there recently.  I’m still in mourning over losing my favourite photographer.

I’m sharing this with you partly because I thought it was hilarious and partly because I’m trying to encourage Rose to write more.  Winkwinknudgenudge.

Here goes:

Places to go for picnics and walks 

  • Melville Koppies in… Melville! It’s rugged and you can do a fairly long hike, but it’s not dog friendly.
  • Delta Park in Randburg (it’s huge and borders on the suburbs of Blairgowrie, Craighall Park and Victory Park). Very dog friendly but keep your dog on a lead. Jo’burg people are not as accepting of dogs off of leads as Cape Town people.
  • Emmarentia Dam in Emmarentia Parts of it are dog friendly (again on leads) and it’ll be beautiful now – covered in spring daffodils and irises.
  • The Walter Sisulu Botanical Gardens (45 minute drive from where you live) in Roodepoort. It’s not dog friendly, but it’s lovely. Take a walk to the waterfall.
  • Suikerbosrand Nature Reserve in Heidelberg. No dogs allowed but awesome for cycling if you’re that way inclined (60 minute drive from where you live).
  • Magalies Park in Magaliesberg (90 minutes from where you live) for retro 70s resort-type fun. There’s a golf course, tennis courts, four different swimming pools, braai facilities, restaurant, walks, pedal boats on the river. You get the picture.

 Where to shop

  • Sandton City OBVIOUSLY. There’s nothing of its kind in Cape Town. Wear comfortable walking shoes and have lunch in the Nelson Mandela Square. Memorise where you’ve parked. You will get lost.
  • Rosebank There’s The Zone in Rosebank, Rosebank Mall and the awesome rooftop market on Sundays.
  • Irene Village Market (45 minute drive from home) Save this one for a day outing on the weekends. Irene is a village north of Pretoria. The market is lovely and it takes place on the lawns near the Smuts museum, which is Jan Smuts’s old house – go inside, it’s kinda cool.

 AVOID AT ALL COSTS – Shopping anywhere near Fourways, Northgate and surrounds. It’s mayhem traffic-wise and north of the North Pole.

Where to drink 

The list is endless but you must try… 

The Radium beer hall is in Orange Grove. It’s the oldest bar and grill in Joburg.

The Jolly Roger in Parkhurst is an awesomely skanky pub with a great crowd and greater pizzas. You can buy hash on the quiet if that’s your thing, but they carpeted all the surfaces in the toilets to get rid of the cokeheads.

Giles in Craighall Park (also not far from you). They have a wooden deck, which is great in the summer. It’s named after the cartoon and the tables are covered in cartoons. The founder was murdered by one of his psycho staff members 7 years ago – but we do not talk of it, ever.

How to make friends, explained in five easy steps

  1. Invite appealing strangers for a braai. Tell them to bring their own meat and drinks. It’s expected.
  2. You don’t have to worry about the weather. It’s always braai weather even in the rainy season, because it usually only rains for an hour at a time, and usually around 4pm.
  3. Do not, under any circumstances, cancel. Braai invitations are real and very serious. There’s none of this no-show or ‘see me when you see me’ Cape Town crap.
  4. Expect the braai to last at least 7 hours. Eating at midnight is entirely acceptable.
  5. Expect a return invitation for a braai at your guests’ house, a week later.

 Tip: For reasons that will become apparent you should not make friends with people who live in Midrand.

 Jozi must-haves

Antifreeze to put in your car radiator in winter, especially if you park outside.

Bio Oilto slather on your skin from April to October. If you don’t you will turn into a scaly reptile.

Anti-static shampoo to wash your hair with from April to October. If you don’t you will look like you stuck your finger in a plug.

A Humidifierfor winter so you can breathe easy at night. If you get a cold, throw in a few drops of eucalyptus oil.

Pepper spray and/or taser– for safety reasons, duh!

What you can leave in Cape Town

Tumble dryer– you can always hang your washing outside in Joburg.

Clothes horse– you can always hang your washing outside in Joburg.

Frontline and other flea fumigators– your pets and house will not get fleas. Ever.

Your ability to parallel park – the roads are wide and there’s always parking.

Mineral water and water filters– Joburg is (apparently) one of the cleanest drinking water suppliers in the world.

Three essential secrets to survival

1.     When (not if!) you encounter a Parktown Prawn (looks like a giant, mutant cricket) DO NOT NO MATTER WHAT spray it, whack it or chase it. Put a pot over it and wait until your husband comes home. Your husband must then dispose of the creature while avoiding the stinky black ink it will inevitably squirt at him. Tip: Don’t plant delicious monsters in your garden, the Parktown Prawn monsters love them.

2.       Don’t drive like a doos. Joburgers are good, attentive, fast, sensible drivers. Don’t daydream, always indicate, change lanes with confidence and never, ever mess around at a traffic circle. It is not a four-way stop – give way to traffic on the right. That is all.

3.       Put your handbag, laptop, gym bag etc. in the boot when you’re driving around, unless you want to be the victim of a smash and grab.

The lingo

Don’t say ‘Molo’ to anyone. ‘Dumela’ is the word you’re looking for.

When to smoke a spliff

A.   Before an electric thunderstorm. It’s nerve-wracking if you’re not used to it. Plus, you can lie on your back on the grass (far away from any trees please) stare up at the lightening and feel like you just met God.

B.   After an electric thunderstorm, just before the flying ants arise. Yes, that’s right, flying ants. They awaken after rains at dusk. Close your windows to keep the buggers out, then go outside with a tennis racket and pretend you’re fighting an alien invasion.

DISCLAIMER: Information supplied by Rose Cohen who has not lived in Joburg for five years. She is not on the pinnacle point of Jozi cool anymore so use (or lose) these tips at your own peril. Should you ever find yourself in a little suburb called Hurlingham Manor, do not mention the Cohens who lived in Culemborg Crescent. It will not end well.

An Ode to Words

I recently went to a talk on school readiness. To be honest, my friend Sue bullied me a little into going, but I’m really glad she did. (Hi Sue! Love you!)

I left feeling very nervous about whether Daniel was ready for Grade 1 or not and determined to find time (did you just fall off your chair laughing?) to tick those all-important milestones between now and January 2013. The broken arm has been a bit of a setback from a physical perspective and we are worried about his ball skills, so there’s lots of work to be done there.

BUT

Last night we were all reading on the floor as we do every night (and by “we” I mean Etienne and I take turns) and Daniel was trying to read the words. He can make out some of the 3-letter-words already and is absolutely desperate to read the rest. It was like something has just clicked for him lately and he was very impatient about being read to. I was very happy for us to spend the time trying to spell out the words of The Three Little Pigs, but the Sussies were having none of it last night and kept rushing us. I felt quite sad about it as it was already quite late, but from now on one of us will read to the girls and the other will read with Daniel.

This is a very big deal to us. I can still remember when I learnt to read, my whole life opened up before me and I have been a voracious reader all my life (Etienne more so, believe it or not). We have spent hours and hours reading to the kids, the same books over and over and over again. They each fall asleep clutching a book most nights.

So, our children might not ever turn out to be Olympic athletes, but they might love words as much as we do.

And that is more than enough for us.

Can you still remember when you started reading?

Any suggestions for easy Afrikaans readers for Daniel?

Edit to add: I called Daniel’s teacher this afternoon asking about suggestions for books.  There was a letter from her waiting when I got home asking for us to send Daniel for a language assessment with a Speech Therapist.  Would it have been that hard for her to give me a heads up when we spoke earlier?  I know it’s not about me, but isn’t it just a little cold to not say anything or bother to contact us?  Or do I expect too much?

Infertility and PND

I’ve been toying with a question for a while that I don’t think there would ever be a definitive answer for: Is the occurrence of PND in Infertility Survivors higher than in Moms than managed to fall pregnant naturally*?

Here’s some of what I went through emotionally and still do, the rest I have thankfully managed to either forget or block out.

The first thing I always say about my pregnancy with Daniel is that I was in denial about being pregnant for most of it.  I underestimated the complete mind-fuck that was IVF and I never really gave myself the permission to sit back and relish the fact that it worked, first time nogals.

With IVF your hormones are all over the show, you vacillate between wanting to tell everyone and no-one what is going on and then, when it works, you have to decide whether you want to disclose immediately that you are pregnant or not.  I think an IVF pregnancy actually lasts for 11 months: 1 month to plan (best case scenario), 1 month to execute and 9 months of being pregnant if all goes well.  Our bodies were built to carry a baby for 40 weeks, but when we go through fertility treatment we put an enormous amount of additional emotional strain on ourselves that lingers way after we give birth.

When Daniel came home I had no idea what to do (like any new parent!) and the weight of the responsibility I felt was enormous.  I felt like I had wanted this baby SO badly, I had better take care of it properly.

As a result I didn’t feel that blissful or smug about being a Mother as I have heard some of my friends say, I just felt petrified beyond belief.

Looking back over being a parent for the last 6 odd years I see how that feeling has never really left me, it has often robbed me from enjoying the simplicity of just BEING with my children.  I often talk/write about how wonderfully easy Etienne’s relationship is with the kids and I realize now that I’m still carrying that exaggerated burden of responsibility with me.

I’m reluctant to do something without them just for myself (like go to the hairdresser for 2 hours on a Saturday), I feel like I have to WANT to be with them 24/7 when I’m not at work.  I wished to have them here, how could I dare to want to be without them?

I sometimes feel stuck in a evil cycle where I don’t want to fight with them, but then I get so cross when they misbehave and then I feel terrible for getting cross.

I hope to think that they are well-adjusted and happy children, but in many ways I think I put a lot more pressure on our kids because I so desperately want to get it right.  Besides my natural tendency toward OCD’ness of course, besides the fact that I was a prime candidate for PND anyway due to a history of depression, but I do think surviving infertility added to the mix for me.

Did/Do you have PND?  What is/was your experience? Did you muddle through or get help?  How are you doing now?

*Disclaimer: I am by NO means suggesting that PND is worse for Moms that conceive naturally, it is a very real and very scary thing to go through.

A very serious question about skincare

Now that I’ve lost a little of the gazillion kilogrammes I piled on over the last 7 years I’ve been taking a long hard look at myself in the mirror for a change.

I’m noticing a certain crinklyness in (especially!) my neck and on my eyelids and I realise that being in denial over it isn’t going to help.  Also, summer is almost here and I can’t walk around wearing scarves forever. Yes 4.0, I see you waving from over there where January looms, I’m not scared at all.  But a girl’s gotta look good if you know what I mean.

BK (before kids) I was a Gatineau and Clarins girl, AK (after kids) I would do the walk of shame past the Gatineau counter in Dis-Chem, straight to the formula and nappy aisle.  This made me very sad for a very long time, but it was all for a good cause and I certainly don’t think there is anything wrong with the things you buy on the shelves of the supermarkets.  They served me very well for a very long time.

I just think my skin needs a little more these days and clearly plastic surgery isn’t an option for me right now (although my boobs are looking very worse for wear, I must say.  Hang in there babies, Mama hasn’t forgotten about you!).

What I would like to know is this: what products do you use that you absolutely cannot live without?  As in, which brand do you use for your skin, and if you have a slightly (cough) older mature skin, what would you suggest?  Please, I’m not playing on the Babor and Gatineau fields anymore, but I’m sure there are products out there that are good for my skin, good for the environment and easy-ish on my pocket.

I would ideally like to build up from nothing to a range over a period of a few months and I’m looking to spend about 200 odd SA Ront per product.

Help please?

 

In snot and sleep

20120911-193008.jpg

It might just be because it is September and our 12 year wedding anniversary is at the end of the month, but I’m feeling even more in love with Etienne than I normally do. He really is quite the keeper.

I also realized something yesterday that I have probably known all along, but just refused to accept because I somehow thought it would make me less of a Mother.

Picture this: Mignon wasn’t well over the weekend and I had my usual little anxiety attack about what we were going to do come Monday if she wasn’t well enough to go to school (this relates to a post about infertility and PND that’s been sitting in my drafts for a while, it might be time to publish that one)

The bottom line for me has always been that I, as the Mom, carry the burden of worry about sick children.

On Sunday night Etienne and I had our usual conversation about sick-child-care. We like to always have a plan (and sometimes a Plan B and C) upfront so that we have our heads around things should we need to and not be running around like decapitated chickens come Monday morning. Oh, who am I kidding, Mondays suck enough as it is.

We used to do this Plan A. B and C thing when the kids were small, a pre-arranged plan or plans especially for the nights we knew that little sleep was inevitable. And we stick to the plan, there is safety in the plan and safety of creating options for ourselves. I’m not sure if any of this makes sense?

Anyway, it finally dawned on me yesterday that I am not the only parent that worries when our babies are sick. There are TWO of us that worry and Etienne is more than capable of taking care of sick children and always has been.

How have I missed this for so long? Why did I think I had an exclusive right to being a worrier?

PS Isabel told Daniel she that was going to kill him with a fart yesterday morning. Aren’t our children just charming?

PPS Isabel is now also sick and we haven’t really slept since Friday. We are both feeling a little fragile.

An Experiment in Television

This picture was not taken this week.

So we had ourselves a little experiment this week, but before you continue reading you have to promise you won’t judge me for what I am about to tell you. Capice?

We didn’t plan it or anything, it just kind of happened and we are, to say the least, completely blown away.

Here’s what happened:

The rule in our house is no TV or computers before 17h00. Until then it is proper play-time and bath-time and we relish using this as a tool to get children into the bath.

Etienne gets home way before I do, so by the time I arrive my absolutely fantastic husband is cooking supper and the kids are firmly ensconced either in front of the TV or playing something on the computer. This means that when I come waltzing in to say hello I get a grunt in my general direction if I’m lucky. Etienne is the only one that will greet me with a proper hello and a smooch.

This irritates me no end. (the lack of greeting, not the smooch. I love smooching, but that’s another post)

It however does not irritate me as much as the wailing whining crying stomping of feet tantrums do Every Single Night when we gather at the dinner table, promptly at 6h30pm, especially Daniel. It got to the point where we threatened to summarily send them on a time-out if we heard a single peep of protest. Along with the usual speech of how Daddy slaved very hard to make a lovely supper (I know, he’s SUCH a keeper!) and the hungry children in Ethiopia story and threats of no snack after supper and so on and so forth.

Painful doesn’t even begin to describe some nights, I can only imagine what it does to our digestive systems.

What really made me think was this link my awesome friend Caz sent me and that there must be some correlation between that completely irrational, completely over-the-top-emotional behavior and the sensory input overload of electronic appliances. That and the fact that I hatehatehate drama. There is also a book available on the topic.

So we decided to try something, and by WE I mean ME, I ambushed Etienne and bullied him until he agreed. Well, mostly anyway.

I suggested we cancel computer and TV for a week.

I know, how cruel am I? After some negotiation we settled on no computer games and 1 hour of TV a day for this week.

Monday night I came home to 3 children running around the house laughing and screaming like maniacs.

Tuesday night I came home to 3 children chasing each other around and around laughing and screaming like maniacs.

Wednesday night I came home to 3 children crawling around on the kitchen floor, chasing each other and screaming and laughing like maniacs.

Last night I came home to 3 children doing laps up and down the passage and around the lounge and, you guessed it, screaming and laughing like maniacs.

The only common denominator was Etienne’s face every night I walked in the door: an odd mix of terror and exasperation. (as a side note, he was waiting for me in the garage last night, he has twigged on to the fact that I tweet in the garage for 5 4 3 2 1 a minute before venturing into the house)

Supper time? A breeze. There was still a little whining, but not on the scale it used to be and they actually sat at the table for the duration of the event and didn’t run off at the first available opportunity to sit in front of a TV that is off anyway. AND they actually ate their damn food.

We need to decide where to from here, but it is almost summer and there is absolutely no reason for them to spend so much time in front of computers and the TV, but we need to be strong. And by WE I mean ETIENNE as he spends more time with them in the evenings than I do. (Love you babes!)

What are your house rules about TV and Computers/Tablets if any?

If the shoe fits.

I love the internet, I really do.  I love social media and blogs and connecting with awesome people I would otherwise never have met, be it in real life or just in my computer/phone.

But lately I have been starting to feel a little cynical about my bright and shiny toy.  I feel a little used and a little lied to, so I’m going to get a couple of things off my chest.

Let me explain:

There are lots of really wonderful blogs in SA, but lately I would open a personal blog only to find endorsements of products and brands and I gather that someone is getting paid to say nice things about a brand that I didn’t associate with them as an individual.  It baffles me.

I get that people blog for money, but I’m battling to separate how much I respect an individual in their personal capacity and how I feel when they promote a brand that looks like they are getting paid for it, but they’re not saying.

If you look at monetized blogging in the US and Australia it is streets light-years ahead of us.  What I respect about a blogger like Mrs. Woog is that she is upfront about being paid to blog, like in this post.  Feel free to go through the rest of her blog, it’s all like that and I love it.

Then, one of my all-time favourite bloggers, The Bloggess, has a longstanding and often acrimonious relationship with PR agencies and she is not afraid to say when she is paid to blog and call out people with hidden agendas.  She is one of the bravest people on the Internet I have come across.  (And funny as hell too)

We are entitled to call Blogging a career, whether you are Mommy, Tech or Car Blogger, but we are unfortunately still in our infancy compared to elsewhere in the world, so don’t rush out and print those business cards. Yet.

But I would like to ask: be honest about your intentions and I would still respect you in the morning if you told me you got paid to do so.

Does it cheapen your Blog when you admit to being paid? 

No No a 1000 times No.  I like to know where we stand with each other and you are entitled to make money from blogging.  In fact, I applaud you for it!  Someone thought your blog had reaching power and they wanted to pay you to blog.  That’s HUGE.  Don’t cheapen yourself by not celebrating it and please don’t endorse brands that do not promote your personal values.

The same goes for sponsored tweets, but that’s a whole other can of sponsored tweets.

Lastly I would like to mention statistics.  It boils down to the same principle as monetized blogging: honesty.  If you publicize a number on your twitter bio or blog and someone asks you to explain that number you should be willing to do so in a public forum and you should certainly not resort to name calling in your personal capacity to avoid the question. (If I seem vague, go and have a look at my twitter stream yesterday).

All I’m asking is this: be transparent.

Live up to your own personal brand and know that people see what you say and do at all times.  They know who is linked to what and never underestimate your readers.

If your personal brand means that you give an unsubstantiated number, in a public forum (be that on a blog or a twitter bio), know that people are going to ask questions you might not be willing or able to answer.  It’s their right to do so, as much as it, respectfully, is your right to decline to answer.

If your personal brand is that of honesty and integrity you will never lie awake at night wondering about whom is going to start asking questions, you will sleep like the baby you might have blogged about earlier that day.

Let’s just respect each other.  Be bold, be brave and above all, be honest.

Please.