Category: The Me stuff

The other job and other random stuff

Shew.  I was all psyched to whine about how I thought things would calm down now that Daniel’s party is over (happy birthday for today!!) and how there is no end, but then it paled in comparison to what Stacey’s had to deal with today.

Ok, maybe just a little whine..

I rushed home yesterday as our awesome hairdresser, Maryke, was coming around.  If you live in the Northern Suburbs of Cape Town and you have zero time for yourself or to fight with kids at hairdressers she is the answer.  She comes to our house every 6 weeks and cuts everyone’s hair (except for Etienne) and we all worship her.  And she is reasonable.  And she is good company.  And she is friggin awesome with kids. And she listens when you say “only a little off the back please”

I have been growing out my hair for ages and I decided that it was time to cut a whack off as most of the layers have grown in.  I was also feeling brave enough to not have Maryke thin out my hair at the top.  Bit of a miscalculation as it turns out as I had completely underestimated the thickness of my hair as clearly I haven’t seen it in it’s natural state in the last 20 years.  After she left I caught my reflection in the kitchen window and I thought, this looks like Princess Leia hair, all bushy on the sides.  As I let the thought go I walk into the lounge and Isabel pipes up: Mamma!  Jy’t princess Leia hare!

Sigh.

Inbetween all of that I was trying to bake my usual quick sheet cake for Daniel for school today when I realised we were out of oil and I sent Etienne off to the 7/11 after a verbal scuffle about who has less petrol in their car (I won that one, but because I’m stubborn as shit I ended up having to drive to put petrol in my car later anyway).

Then we made dinner.

Then I mixed the batter for the cake.

Then Etienne burnt his hand on some hot oil.

Then we had dinner.

Then the kids went off to bed, herded by Etienne.

Then I coloured my hair.

Then I decorated the cake.

Then I showered and dried my hair.

And then I collapsed.

Tonight I am baking carrot muffins for someone for a baby shower.  And I know I shouldn’t have overcommitted myself, but she asked so nicely ages ago already and I said I would.

I just hope they come out ok, I will be mortified if they don’t!

Staking a claim on yourself after kids

Our favourite app

When I had babies I stopped doing a lot of things that I didn’t even realize made me feel good.

For example, I stopped wearing necklaces.  I have literally bags of beads that were yanked off my neck by a zealous baby we hurriedly had to retrieve off the floor lest one of them finds their way into a little mouth.  And once, shortly after the girls were born, I wore a necklace to the office a colleague helpfully pointed out that it “makes my neck look fat”.

I stopped wearing my wedding rings because I refused to have them altered after having the girls and they haven’t fit since.  I mean, who was going to wonder if I’m married or not anyway?  I’m very sure I gave off this “I’m a harried Mom” look that made most people run screaming.

I haven’t worn a watch since I was pregnant with Daniel.  Not that I think I will again either.

I have a set of silver bangles I used to wear for many years that was like a basic (after earrings and lipstick) that lay desolate in my jewelry box.

I hardly ever wore make-up when I didn’t absolutely have to. Ok, I still don’t, but there’s something therapeutic about waking up and putting on your face.

My hair was, well, uhm, interesting.  It actually still is, now it’s just longer and I can tie it up instead of walking around with naff, haphazardly blow-dried hair.  I have really stubborn hair and I don’t have time or money to deal with it, so I’ve just accepted it.

I didn’t make an effort to dress nicely.  Who wants to look at a fat chick anyway? It was all black and long and wide.  The bigger the better.  And most mornings I was covered in puke/toothpaste/milk/porridge/mud anyway.

But things have changed over the last few months.  I have come to realize that something as small as a pretty bracelet could really put a little spring in your step in the mornings.  It’s the little things that make you feel good.  Finding a nice lipstick, pretty toes, glitter varnish on your fingers because the girls demanded it so.

It didn’t happen overnight and I’m still stubbornly hiding those big black clothes in the back of the cupboard, but every day I promise myself I’m going to try and look good FOR MYSELF.  I’m going to stop comparing myself to other, skinnier women.  (There’s always going to be someone skinnier than me and even then I would probably find something I didn’t like about myself.)

I now actually look at myself in the mirror.  The first few months it was HARD.  The self-loathing was too much and, to be honest, some days it still is.  But every day I put on something that makes me feel good, no matter how small, and then I actually feel good for the day.  It has been such a gradual process and I only now realize how life changing it has been.

I feel like I’m reclaiming my own “girlyness” and I’m loving every minute of it!  Next up: purple nails and glitter tops.

ps: don’t google “dress up”.  I found an “original Jesus dress up” with various outfits you can put him whilst he is on the cross.  Don’t even ask, the internet is a very strange place.

pps: I suspect soon I will be seeing “Jesus dress up” in my google search stats. Oops.

Blogging about not blogging

I feel like I have missed a couple of sessions at support group lately.

“Hi, my name is Tania and I’m a blogger”

Only, I haven’t been blogging.  In fact, I haven’t been doing much of anything lately.  Not tweeting, not blogging, not crocheting.  The odd half-hearted attempt at Words with Friends (which I’m spectalularly bad at). Over 800 posts sitting in my reader.  Neglected friends in real life and in the computer.

I come here and start writing a post, don’t finish it and then it sits in my drafts, staring at me with puppy dog eyes every time I open the page.  Oh the guilt of The Unfinished Blog Post.

I’m not going through anything spectacularly bad at the moment.  Although going through a rough patch generally gives you a reason to blog, even though you sometimes do it in a roundabout passive-aggressive way.

It’s not like I don’t have anything to say.  Trust me, if you have known me for longer than 30 seconds you’ll know I ALWAYS have something to say.

Blogging friends, have you ever just not felt like blogging?  Just not been able to scrape together a coherent sentence that you think fit for public consumption and whatever you write just doesn’t look right?

The Logical Song – a memory flashback

I know I’m giving away my age, but I recently re-discovered Supertramp and in particular The Logical Song.

I don’t proclaim to have an accurate memory of my 2 spectacularly unsuccessful years at University seeing as how I spent most of it either in the Neelsie (the on-site cafeteria) or in Finlays (a pub that sold Tassenberg at R8.00 a bottle that is sadly no longer there).

If there is one thing I always remember is an Afrikaans / Nederlands lecturer that put the lyrics of The Logical Song up on the overhead projector (do you remember those?).  The lyrics just opened something up for me about growing up and I can’t remember the context of what she was trying to tell us, even though it was likely something to do with don’t-fuck-up-your-studies (see how well that went for me), but the words are nonetheless very special:

The Logical Song lyrics
Songwriters: Davies, R; Hodgson, R;
 
When I was young
It seemed that life was so wonderful
A miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical
And all the birds in the trees
Well they’d be singing so happily
Joyfully, playfully watching me
 
But then they send me away
To teach me how to be sensible
Logical, responsible, practical
And then they showed me a world
Where I could be so dependable
Clinical, intellectual, cynical
 
There are times when all the world’s asleep
The questions run too deep for such a simple man
Won’t you please, please tell me what we’ve learned?
I know it sounds absurd but please tell me who I am
 
I say, “Now what would you say for they calling you a radical
Liberal, fanatical, criminal?”
Won’t you sign up your name? We’d like to feel you’re
Acceptable, respectable, presentable, a vegetable
Oh, ch-ch-check it out yeah
 
At night when all the world’s asleep
The questions run so deep for such a simple man
Won’t you please, please tell me what we’ve learned?
I know it sounds absurd but please tell me who I am
Who I am, who I am, who I am
 
‘Coz I’m feeling so illogical
D-d-digital
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Unbelievable
B-b-bloody marvelous
 

ps Etienne and I are off on a special overnight date-night tonight and I’m deliriously excited!

A state of Happiness

One of the things I love most about walking (except for the fact that my body seems to be losing the weight in the wrong “B” place, that is, Boobs instead of Belly) is that it gives me time to reflect.  It also gives me an opportunity to walk past pretty houses and gardens and appreciate their beauty.

Several people have commented lately that I look really well and I usually crack a joke and say it’s all because of good drugs, but it struck me yesterday that I really am really well.

And Happy.

Sure we are still broke, I still have to work full day and I still get to see far too little of my kids, but I’m actually Happy.

I was trying to figure out what it means to be happy and why I would suddenly feel happier now than, say, a month ago. (except for the good drugs that is).  I remember reading an Afrikaans story many years ago about how you only experience happiness as a memory and I remember thinking at the time how sad that is, because it is so true.

How often do you relate fun stories to people as memories and remember thinking how happy you were at the time?  What could possibly be wrong with being happy now, in the moment?

Here are a couple of things that I think have contributed to this feeling state of happiness:

  1. I’m more “in the moment” at the moment. I’m trying hard to make eye contact with my kids when they talk and really try to listen in to what they are saying now that they are getting really good at expressing themselves.  They are funny, bright and happy children.
  2. I’m feeling grateful for my life.  I’ve stopped wanting to be what I am never going to be and started looking at what we have and what I am NOW.  Really looking.  And appreciating.  And accepting.
  3. I’ve come to realize that people that drive past me when I’m walking might be judging my fat stomach and arse, but at least I’m not watching those cars from the couch.  So who really cares?
  4. I’ve come to accept that some people in my life will never change so best I stop fighting with them about things that will simply never be different.  That was incredibly liberating and it takes away their power to hurt me.  I highly recommend this!
  5. I have an awesome husband.  Our relationship gets stronger by the day because we are both working at it.  And that love is a shining beacon for our children (permit me that little soppiness!) Life really is too short for relationships based on compromise, falseness or lack of trust.
  6. I’m taking time out for ME. Who would have thought??
  7. I am spending less time on the internet.  I have been a bad tweeter and I have been a really bad blogger lately, but I would rather spend time having a conversation with Etienne or reading a book on my Kindle Fire I got as a gift recently (How friggin awesome is that?!).  I miss my friends in the computer, but the ones that are worthwhile will understand.
  8. I refuse to be in a rush. I would rather either start getting ready 5 minutes earlier or be 5 minutes late to a social event than rush.  (Not like the party we were 40 minutes late for recently instead of 10 minutes as I got the time wrong.  Oops).  I’m also taking my time reading to the kids at night and not rush through it and give that extra cuddle and kiss at bedtime as they seem to settle sooner then.
  9. I’m taking the time to dress to feel good, not cover up as much as I can with wide, black clothes.  With varying degrees of success, but hey, I’ll keep trying!  At least some days I leave the house now feeling (gasp) pretty.  Makes such a difference to my work-persona
  10. Speaking of work:  I love my job.
  11. I’m determined to stop hating my body by not giving in to telling myself how fat/ugly I look and feel as a consequence.  Once again, with varying degrees of success, but it’s a work in progress.

Are you Happy?  What is wrong with your life now that prevents you from feeling Happy? What holds you back?

The things we don’t blog about

Maybe I’m just in a really pissy mood today due to a combination of things, but it strikes me extra hard today that they are mostly things I cannot blog about.  And that pisses me off even more.

I started blogging because I wanted to keep a record for our kids of how they grew and developed and to remember and celebrate the awesomeness that they are.  And often I do.  BUT I’m irritated because I think that I am leaving behind such a sanitised version of our life.  I don’t do passive aggressive or cryptic very well, so often I just leave stuff out lest I sound too whiny and miserable.  (which means that I end up not blogging for days on end because I just can’t summon the energy to do upbeat or quirky and funny)

Not that I am miserable or that my life is unhappy, very far from it.  I appreciate that we all have issues and that you cannot wait on happiness or fulfillment, you create that for yourself.  Or so my therapist tells me.  (something I probably shouldn’t blog about either)

So I can’t blog about the person that has owed me money for more than a year and how it threatens my family and how bloody angry I am about it.  Enough already.

I can’t blog about the horrific things that come out of a family member’s mouth and how I fervently wish not to be like that person and then catch myself doing exactly the same.  I really really really hate that.  There are lots of unresolved issues there.  Can you tell? (have I mentioned the Therapist-we-shall-not-mention?)

I can’t really blog about how someone has pissed me off beyond belief at work and that I have to pander to childishness and drama.  I have no words to explain how much I hate drama.  In the bigger scheme of things it isn’t such a big thing, but it’s still not something fit for public consumption.

I can’t blog about the stuff that really affect me emotionally and how I am trying to change instinctive reactions and coping mechanisms of the last almost 40 years and the irreversible impact it has on the relationships with people close to me.  That is just too raw.  Thank God for Etienne, the kids and vodka.

I can’t blog about how much I hate my bathroom scale despite eating the right foods and walking grooves in our neighbourhood street. Oh wait.  That I can blog about.  Fuck.  I hate that bathroom scale, I avoid it like the plague.  And I shall be chucking it out the bathroom window on recommendation of someone whose opinion I value greatly.  (see how I did cryptic right there?)

What is there you don’t blog about, if anything?  What are your big No-No’s?

Getting old

Etienne and I went to the funeral of a friend’s Mom today and in a weird way I love going to funerals.  I get a chance to have a little cry (which really doesn’t take a lot if you know me at all) and it gives me an opportunity to let my mind wander. (I do mean that in the nicest way possible and I’m hoping not to be struck down by lightning or something being from an NG Kerk background, the Catholic Church of the Afrikaner when it comes to guilt.)

I was thinking about our friend who lost his last parent and their children’s last Grandparent.

And then I thought about the fact that we still have both our parents, despite the fact that I bitch and moan about some of them sometimes (once again, in the nicest way possible of course).

And then I thought about what our parents were doing when they were the same age as we are now.  When Etienne’s parents were almost 40 they didn’t have him yet, in fact his Mom wasn’t even pregnant yet.  When my parents were almost 40 I was in High School.  And my Mom had cancer when she was 42.

Which is quite scary considering that Etienne turns 40 in February and I only (cough) neeeeext year.

I also realized that if our kids have kids at the same age we had them I will be 70 before I see any Grandchildren.  Now that’s a scary thought.

And then I thought about getting old.  Not in a morbid I’m-going-to-die way.  In an I-wonder-how-it-will-be way.

Will I have lots of hobbies?  (Definitely.  I’m the Hobby Queen)

Will I drink a lot of gin/vodka/wine (Duh)

Will I be cantankerous? (Probably)

When will I stop working? (Hopefully long before then)

When will Etienne retire? (Hopefully not long after me, we have lots of catching up to do)

Where will we live? (By the sea I hope)

Will we still have sex? (Hell yes, that’s what drugs are for)

What will our kids end up doing? (Anything they want)

Will we be grandparents? (I hope so)

Will I interfere? (See under Cantankerous)

How do you feel about getting old?  Do you think about getting old and being old?  What do you want for your life when you are old?

A blog post about Adele

You read it right, I am writing a post about Adele. Up to today I was a fan. Admittedly, I was a lukewarm fan, but a fan nonetheless.

After today I am smitten. Do yourself a favour and buy the Live at Royal Albert Hall DVD. Don’t borrow it or download it, BUY it. You will never NEVER be sorry.

She is funny, she is honest and she made me cry with Make you feel my love. It is a Bob Dylan song and it hits you right in the gut. It made me think of being a parent, even though it’s more of a love song. About the things we would do for our children, the lengths we would go to. Have a look and then read the lyrics at the bottom:

Make you feel my love

When the rain
Is blowing in your face
And the whole world
Is on your case
I could offer you
A warm embrace
To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows
And the stars appear
And there is no – one there
To dry your tears
I could hold you
For a million years
To make you feel my love

I know you
Haven’t made
Your mind up yet
But I would never
Do you wrong
I’ve known it
From the moment
That we met
No doubt in my mind
Where you belong

I’d go hungry
I’d go black and blue
I’d go crawling
Down the avenue
Know there’s nothing
That I wouldn’t do
To make you feel my loveThe storms are raging
On the rolling sea
And on the highway of regret
The winds of change
Are blowing wild and free
You ain’t seen nothing
Like me yetI could make you happy
Make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn’t do
Go to the ends
Of the Earth for you
To make you feel my love, To make you feel my love

Ps. In the Royal Albert Hall DVD she dedicates the song to Amy Winehouse. I get all teary just thinking about it.

Too lazy for words

I am literally too lazy to write.  Granted, I am working today and tomorrow, but the whole Festive Experience this year compared to last year is just like day and night.

Last year I went all Martha Stewart and we had Christmas day at our house.  I literally cooked and baked for 2 days and to say Christmas day was a disaster would be an understatement.  (Not from a cooking point of view, from a family politics point of view).  But lets not linger.

This year we had Christmas at my parents’ house with my Dad’s brother and his wife and it was a blissfully quiet and stressfree Christmas.  I made the sum total of a lemon curd, a green salad and potatoes for the day.  Yes, I made a whole lot of other stuff for gifts and literally crocheted until my fingers ached, but that was fun, so it doesn’t really count.  At some point I will blog the stuff I made (a knitted scarf, crochet bags, vanilla essence, creams, crochet necklaces and face cloth), but right now it’s just too much effort.

My birthday is on the 1st of Jan and we usually invite everyone that’s around over for a late, relaxed braai on the day.  Last year was huge, so many of our friends were around and we had an awesome time, but I just can’t this year.  In fact, if I don’t have to see anyone on my birthday at all (except for Etienne and the kids) I would be cool with that. Does that make me a horrible person?

I also remember that last year my FIL turned 80 on 9 January and I was responsible for arranging the party and decorating the table etc.  This year he is 81.  He gets wine and a big kiss.  That’s about as much effort as I can muster.

I also realise that last year is vastly different to this year.  Last year I was in a very unhappy place and feeling very uncertain about the future, so I was probably happy to overcompensate for not pulling my weight financially.  This year I am very tired, but quietly content.  My happy drugs have kicked in, I feel a lot more secure, there is a (very) little light at the end of our financial dark tunnel and Etienne and I are in a good place.  The kids are just, well, the kids.  In a completely awesome way.

I’m feeling positive about 2012 and I bought a whole lot of cotton today so I can start with a huge blanket for our bed, the first big thing just for us.

How are you feeling about 2012?

Ps: Last night I was doing the dishes after spending the morning being chased around on the beach by the kids and listening to Etienne read to them.  They were tired and ratty and kept interrupting him when he was trying to read and we were both counting the minutes until we could collapse on the couch.  They went on and on and on and on and he just kept it together.  Any sane person would have lost their marbles and shouted, but he didn’t.

And that is why I am the luckiest girl alive.

Infertility and Baby Showers

I was reading this giveaway post on Melinda Connor’s blog earlier today and I was taken right back to when we were in that suspended state of Infertility.  Because you really live in suspension.  That state where you never stop dreaming about a miracle, fear being confronted with other people’s joy and self-hatred because your body has failed you so miserably and you really just want to be pissed off at all the people that are having babies.  Horror at the amount of people having abortions, even though I support the fact that they had a choice to terminate it just hurt that we were battling so much.  I constantly felt like the Scarlet Woman, like people would look at me and judge me for not falling pregnant at the drop of a hat.

We were lucky in that we knew what the problem was (my manky tubes) and what our option was (IVF only).  But there were no guarantees that IVF would work for us.

One of the hardest things for me was all the babyshowers as all my friends seemed to be having babies in the 3 years we were falling around.  I missed out on a LOT of babyshowers.  I once even bought a gift for the Mom and got Etienne to drop it off at her house.  I felt really shitty, but I couldn’t bear the thought of it.  And you know what?  Most of my friends understood and gave me the space to deal with things as I saw fit.

I have to write this post, because if you are reading this and you are battling infertility I want you to know it’s ok.  Take all the time and space you need and don’t feel obliged to accept invitations to events that will leave you drained and upset for days after unless they are really important.  It’s not worth it.  Life is too short.

BUT.  Be polite and tell the people that matter why it’s hard for you.  You owe them that.