Category: The Me stuff

7 random things blog award

I was nominated by the fabulous Tanya Kovarsky to tell you 7 random things about myself. I’m mentally chewing my nails as I’m wondering if there’s anything I haven’t written about myself in the last 3 years I have been blogging.  Not I have a problem talking about myself, but you know how it is.

 

So here goes:

  1. When I worked in London in the 90’s the hotel I worked in (the Bailey’s Hotel) had a fire and I was the manager on duty.  I managed to evacuate everyone by ordering all the staff around and then some.
  2. I have never owned a bikini.  When I was 6 or 7 I had to have polyps removed that left me with a fugly scar on my stomach.  The only time I have ever worn a bikini was in Mozambique and only because it was my backup cozzy and the one-piece broke. And I was 25 kgs less than I am now.
  3. I had a big round brown birthmark on my right cheek that was removed when I was little.
  4. I have had plastic surgery to correct the above 2 scars.
  5. I abhor admin and paperwork.  Etienne ends up getting lumped with most of it.  I’m happy to arrange things and make stuff, but I run screaming when I see a piece of paper or a household budget.
  6. I am having a very public love affair with turqouise.  It’s the most beautiful colour.  Sigh. (hints at Christmas nad bats eyelids at Etienne)
  7. I really don’t like pasta.  I don’t think I know anyone that doesn’t like pasta and it’s taken me a long time to accept that it’s just not me, it’s the pasta.

Tanya already nominated most of the Fabulous Mommy Bloggers I follow, so I can’t give you 15 more, but do yourself a favour and head on over to the Parent24 blogging platform where I used to blog and take a peek at Deblet, Luddite Lass, Cams, Deids13, Suki, MinkiMinki (to name but a few)and all the other Moms that blog there.  They kept me sane and it was a lovely place to find my blogging feet so to speak.  I miss them every day!

Edit to add:  There are at least 2 extra special Moms I left out yesterday and I realised it in the middle of the night!  Here they are: Hopeful Mom and Shazzie.  Sorry!

Woe is me says the Drama Queen

This is one of those blog posts where I’ve had to do a lot of introspection and still don’t have the answer, so it might seem like a bit of a ramble.  Please bear with me.

I have been in the most disgusting state of anxiety this week.  I’m talking taking a ½  Rivotril in the morning just to get me through the day, something I have always refused to do.  I recently changed anti-depressants (from Zoloft to Molipaxin) and they keep me on the saner range of slightly nuts. Etienne now even gets lucky on occasion.

But this week has been BAD. Can’t focus, vacillating between teary and bitchy, want to shove every type of food imaginable in my mouth as comfort, you can probably guess how it goes.  I started making a mental (snort) checklist of things that could possibly leave me in this state.

It looks a little like this:

There is a lot going on at work, but nothing insurmountable and there is light at the end of the tunnel, so it’s not that exclusively.

Christmas.  I need to get my ass into gear as I’m making Christmas
gifts for most people this year and I need to get organized as time is running out.  I’m also busy crocheting things people ordered that are thankfully almost finished.  But it must get finished and out of the way
now.

I want to make little brown packets with sweets instead of an Advent Calendar.  The idea is to have a little bag per child per day on the Christmas Tree that the kids can take off and replace with an ornament.  That way they start decorating the tree from 1 December.  But I need to
get that done.

There’s too much going on between now and Christmas. I’m craving peace and quiet and it’s not even December yet.  That would be the peace and quiet I won’t be getting any of anyway.

I’m only able to take a few days leave after Christmas because of work, which leave Etienne to take care of the kids all by himself for the entire week before.  Can you say BAD MOTHER?

We are also going away with the people in Etienne’s office this weekend.  They are lovely, lovely people but for some reason the thought is freaking me out no end. It has a lot to do with the “please bring swimming costume” sentence.  I fervently pray for rain.  I already feel judged as “The Fat Wife” before we have even left Cape Town.  How pathetic is that?

Am I being a complete drama queen?  (And you know how much I friggin hate drama!)

Tori Amos and Gratitude

So we went to see Tori Amos last night.

I’m not a concert connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination, but I have seen my fair share of live music to know that what we witnessed last night was something spectacular.  It was absolutely amazing.  Pitch perfect and crystal clear.  She was seated between a keyboard and a Bosendorfer piano and she pretty much played both instruments for the whole concert, one hand on each.

There was a deferential hushed silence whilst she was singing.  Afterwards there was much talk in the girl bathrooms of how long they had waited (20 Years!) to see her and how they wished they had brought tissues.

Sitting there, having gooseflesh travelling up and down my arms for 2 hours, I had for the first time in a very very long time the opportunity to just be still and reflect and just BE.  Not the mindless reflection you do when sitting in front of the telly, but that meandering of the mind we never allow ourselves because we are always running to get something done.  That lying-on-the-beach-soaking-up-the-sun nothingness.

I reflected on the very special people in my life that were there with me.

I reflected on London in the 90’s.  On Alanis Morissette. Man did we listen to a lot of Alanis Morissette back then.  On Bon Jovi’s Bed of Roses blaring out of a window in a street in Earls Court on Christmas Day 1994. The Gloucester Hotel in Gloucester Road. On working hard and playing harder. Going clubbing until 06h00 in an old church off Leicester Square and going straight to work via a shower.  And then still going out after your shift ends for a beer.

On being 21.  And then 22.  On the boys I knew (let’s face it: we were pretty much still girls and boys then).  Friends I made and lost along the way through circumstance or through choice.

On being independent for the first time.  The togetherness of friends and the ease with which you let people into your life at that age.  People that camp out in your lounge because they are backpacking and passing through. (even though I bitched and moaned about this extensively at the time)

The giddiness of total freedom and feeling invincible.  And missing home so much that you physically ache but knowing that you wouldn’t change where you are at that moment for any money in the world. 

The feeling that time is truly on your side.

Watching sleet go past my office window on Christmas Eve in 1995.  Kensington Gardens.  Camden Town on a Sunday.  Haagen Dazs.  Pret-a-manger. Chocolate Chip muffins from Cullens in Gloucester Road.

And then I thought about how irrevocably different our lives are now to what they were then.  And all the way we have all travelled since then, since the 90’s. And how I don’t feel like I could possibly be approaching 40 at the rate I am, somewhere inside me is still that young person, just (hopefully!) vastly improved with age. 

And how amazing it all turned out and how I wouldn’t trade my life now for anything in the world and the rest is actually just Middleclass Problems.  That I should stop the bitching and moaning and be thankful for all those incredible memories that no-one could ever take away from me.

Ps: Yoav opened for Tori Amos.  He was also completely amazing and another product of Cape Town.  I’m sure he is from behind the Lentil curtain…

Glass Full to the Brim

It occurred to me again today that life is all about perception.

I’ve been a little pissy lately about a couple of things I can’t talk about here at length, but I took a long look at our life of late and I have decided that, instead of being angry/hurt/sad about things that aren’t the way I think they should be I would be spending my time a lot more constructively by choosing to see them in a positive light.

For example:

I could choose to be upset about my Mother pulling The Full Hypochondriac on our GP yesterday when she had to take Mignon or I could choose to be grateful that she is there to help us out and take our kids to the doctor when it is impossible for us to do so.  So I choose to be grateful. (and roll my eyes quietly)

I could choose to completely lose my shit over spilt porridge in the morning or I could choose to be grateful that the kids demand to be independent. (Wow.  And how)(They get that from me) (Of course)

I could choose to feel sorry for myself when I leave a sick child at home or I could choose to be grateful that at least I work close enough to home so I can pop up and spend a little time with her and steal a hug and a cuddle. (it’s just sad that they only sit still when they are under the weather)

I could choose to resent Etienne because I *have* to work or be grateful that he is the kind of Dad that chooses to have balance and actually enjoys spending time with his kids. (truth is, I would have worked anyway.)

I could choose to get annoyed that our domestic lady isn’t great with understanding medicine and taking temperatures or I could choose to be grateful that our house is immaculately clean, our washing is done and our clothes are beautifully ironed and packed away.

I could choose to worry about money and Christmas coming up or I could be grateful for the awesome job I have and trust that we will be just fine.

So.

I choose to be grateful. I choose to feel rich.  Especially when I find all this in our bed in the mornings:

 

Daniel trying to hide, Isabel in the middle and Mignon looking as sick as she is at the moment. And Etienne. Poor guy.

What are the things you are grateful for today?

 

Work vs Home

At work yesterday I sent an email to a lovely friend that at the time seemed direct
without being bitchy and got a very nice response.

When I read the response and my earlier mail last night I was cringed as it seemed a lot
more bitchy than direct.  I’m happy with the message I wanted to get across because it’s about something that’s been bugging me for a while, but the words that ended up in the email were just dreadful and petty.  I hang my head in shame.

It made me think about whether there is a difference between who(m) (Dammit.  Neither looks right despite input from Twitter) I am at work and who I am at home.

The short answer is that there is.

The long answer is that for the first time since before being pregnant with Daniel I feel ok in my skin at work.  It’s been a long 6 (SIX!) years of not feeling clever/thin/sharp/committed enough at work as I had barely recovered from porridge brain after Daniel and I was pregnant with twins.  And then the ensuing tsunami of raising 3 kids with a 22 month age gap.

I’m not that chick that worked 13 hour days and then still went out to party anymore and I would rather be happy than have a job that stresses me out beyond belief.

I’m loving my job (if that’s ok to say?) even though it’s been quite an adjustment to work full day and I do feel like I hardly ever see my kids and I see it taking its toll on my relationship with them as well as on my marriage.  But I’m happier now than I’ve been in a long time, so I guess that counts for something.  I even carry the odd toothpaste and snot stain like a badge of honour.

It’s tricky to get the balance right between working and being all those other titles
bestowed upon us.  Having time to stay in touch with your old friends and making time for new ones and still do the odd thing you really enjoy in-between. (Minds out the gutter folks, I’m talking cooking.  And stuff)

It’s even trickier to get the balance right between being that go-getting-13-hour-a-day
gal and the mushy-please-just-love-me-Mommy person or seeming like you can pull
both of those personalities off at the appropriate times.  And then making the transition between the two in the 10 minutes it takes me to drive home each night.

Are you the same person at work as at home? How do you deal with different personas?  Or do you ignore it?

Do you dare to go Bare?

One of my favourite awesome people at Women24, Lili Radloff, wrote this column recently and challenged women to go barefaced.

My Mom has this thing about “Never leave the house without earrings or Lipstick”.  In fact, I risked getting fired when I was working in Hospitality when a really strange boss wouldn’t let any of his Public Facing staff wear earrings and I simply refused to take my small, unoffensive pearls out.  (and No, I wasn’t working with food at all)

Then I moved on to work in Corporate, then Not and now I’m back in Corporate.  In the Not time I didn’t wear make-up at all.  I couldn’t be asked, and it really didn’t bother me.  My only concession was Lippy.  I did initially feel a little guilty about subjecting the other Moms to Barefaced Me, but promptly got over that.

In The Time Before Children I had money to spend on expensive make-up, but these days I just smack on some base, lipstick, eyeliner and mascara as I’m running out the door and only on week-days.

I don’t wear make-up because I have to, I wear make-up because I like to.  Maybe it’s because I’ve survived the gauntlet of nappies and vomit and breastfeeding and sleepless nights (mostly).  I’m slowly but surely reclaiming ME after all that pregnancy and childbirth silliness.  I like being girly.  Make-up is part of the package, like wearing nail varnish, a nice necklace or bracelet, which I only started wearing recently again as now none of my kids will be ripping them off my neck.  And nail varnish (in all colours) has become a standard expense in our house.

You know what is more important to me?  Taking care of my skin.  My Mom had me wear eye cream from the age of 21 and learnt me respect for the sun. You only have good skin when you are young, it is up to you to take care of it.  (at the risk of sounding like my Mother)

So, I don’t mind the girliness of it all as long as it is in moderation and I would rather be teaching the kids to take care of their skins and be comfortable in their skins.  And I  won’t force them to wear any form of make-up if that’s what makes them happy.

All that matters in the end is that they are happy.

 

Internetlessness

I realised today how much in love I am with the Internet.  I cannot even begin to speculate how dreary life would be without it.

Mignon, Isabel and I were in a craft shop this morning where I was trying to buy some felt to finish off some coasters I made my friend Candice for her birthday today.  As usual I was shopping with one eye and watching the girls with the other eye (Mignon and Isabel!  Look with your eyes not your hands!)

There was an older woman bustling around the store that was quite loud and seemed very unhappy about being at work.  At one point during her huffing and puffing even the girl behind the cash register rolled her eyes.  I desperately wanted to give her a wide berth and was extra vigilant in keeping an eye on the girls.  She looked like the type of person that could shout at small child for touching something.

Don’t get me wrong.  Our kids have pretty good manners and I’ve never been one to back down from a good fight, I was just not in the mood for conflict this morning.

I made it as far as the till and was quietly lining up my purchases after herding Mignon and Isabel there with their usual fanfare.  I gave them each a packet of chips to keep them out of trouble when my eye caught a stack of crochet patterns.

The cashier slides the stack over to me and I have a look through them whilst she abuses my credit card.

I give the patterns back to the lady behind the counter and as I pick up my shopping the Loud Lady says to me:

“Those are really nice patterns”

“Yes” I say, “they are lovely, but I find most of my patterns on the Internet”

“Urgh” Loud Lady says, “I don’t have the Internet.  I don’t believe in the Internet.  All you people find those patterns on the Internet and come here and ask for wool we don’t have”

I was speechless.  She doesn’t BELIEVE in the Internet?

Is it even possible not to believe in the Internet?

Bizarre.

How many things can you tick off this list?

I’m not into quotes and stuff, but I found this on Pinterest today.  I took a couple of minutes to go through the list, and as happy as I am that I can tick off quite a few things there are still many that I don’t do.

A small epiphany.

One of the things I admire most about young people (i.e. people that are 10yrs or more younger than me) is their unabashed directness. They aren’t being rude, just fearlessly honest.

Take today for example:
I recently befriended this really bright, beautiful, young woman at work. It’s more of a telephone friendship as I realise now that I feel frumpy when I’m in her company. She hasn’t done a thing to make me feel this way at all, it’s all my own doing.

She hit me with a whopper today. We were chatting and I was on my usual self-deprecating humor mission. I said something about being a fat old hag hahaha and we had the usual skirmish where she said I was really cool and pretty and I scoffed and she said ‘You know what? It’s really unattractive when you say stuff like that about yourself’

And I thought Wow. How true.

I know that what we say about ourselves reflects what we think of ourselves and works to re-inforce our belief of our self-worth. And that we are only as good/smart/pretty as we think we are.

I realised that when I make these comments about myself I’m only reinforcing the incredibly negative self-image I have of myself.

So. As of now I’m going to be bold and brave and start believing that little voice inside that says ‘but you are pretty/clever/amazing!’.

What have I got to lose?

Ps Please do me a favour and call me on it when I do it?

Grant me the serenity

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately about relationships and whether people can change and whether I can accept the things about people that cannot change.

I believe that if you aren’t happy with something you must decide whether it is something you can change as that gives you some choices. And I like choices.  Life is ALL about choices.

You can

  • choose to try and change something you don’t agree with,
  • you can accept that which you cannot change or
  • you can simply move along from the thing or things that will not change and that you are not willing to accept.

Apologies if I sound vague.

Take work for example.  I love that I get to meet people from all walks of life every day, I think I have learnt more about what our country really is about in the last 4 months than I have in my entire life until now.  One of the biggest things I have realised is that the divide between Black and White is a LOT bigger than I thought it was.  Probably because I never thought about it until now to be honest.

As much as some white people harbour animosity toward non-white people the reverse is also true.  I am equally baffled and intrigued by this.  I mean, I was probably ridiculously naive in thinking that if I treat someone with dignity and a smile they will automatically reciprocate.

So here’s what I’m going to do: win them over.  One. By. One. Green, Black, Orange, Coloured, whatever.  I reckon if I touch only 2-3 people a day and chip away at their perception it will make a difference somewhere along the line.

I CHOOSE to accept that this will bring about a change in whatever small a way.  Imagine we all won only one person over a day what a massive difference it would make.

What do you think?