So. I’m just going to come out and say it: I don’t particularly like chocolate.

I don’t dislike chocolate, I’m not THAT odd, I just won’t walk down the chocolate aisle and drool over the chocolates or get the sads because I really shouldn’t buy chocolate. I would however get stuck in the chips (crisps), nuts and chevra * aisle. This has thank goodness rolled down to our kids and they don’t particularly bug us whenever we hit the aisle of death at Woollies, waiting to pay.

But yesterday I was waiting to pay and I thought, sjoe, I could really do with one of those little Caramello Bears. Not too much chocolate, just right. So I bought one for R3.99.

I hustle on back to my desk, have my lunch and mid-afternoon I remember about the Caramello Bear and lean back in my chair in anticipation of that heavenly caramel/chocolate taste.

I tear open the wrapper.

I open it.

And it’s gone all white and yucky on the inside.

Very disappointed I first set it aside and then realize that I was quite looking forward to that little chocolate, so I decide to take a walk back to the shop to see if they will exchange it.

Yes, no problem, they will find me another one. Luckily I offer to open the next one at the counter and it’s the same story with that one and the several others they bring, the whole box must have been damaged.

No worries, can they bring me the slightly bigger caramel chocolate and off they go. Oops, sorry, no can do, none in the shop but look, they have the 100g caramel slab. I am horrified. What on earth am I going to do with an entire slab of chocolate? But hey, I thought, they went through all that effort to help the least I can do is pay in the odd R5.00 for more than double more chocolate, how’s that for a saving! Besides, I’ll just hand out the rest at the office.

I gave 4 blocks to someone and somehow the rest vanished.

I have absolutely no idea how it happened, but I’m sure the circumference of my waist will remind me of it soon…

* that chevra link is for the healthy version. The original version is decadent as sin, which makes it irresistable of course.

It is mainly caused by the awesome people I follow on twitter and the media.

Just recently we had the Big Race Debacle of May 2012. I specify the month because I’m pretty sure we’ll have another one next month. And the month thereafter.  It will have different players, but it will center around the same theme.

Then this week we had The First Big March Debacle.  I call this the First March Debacle because I’m pretty sure there will be more, very soon.   As a sidebar: I am of the opinion (YES! I have an opinion!) that Helen Zille secretly rubbed her hands in glee over that disaster as it exposed the underlying sticks and stones (so to speak) mentality of our society.

Here’s how it plays out:

A bunch of Journos are on the scene of the “crime”, be it virtually or physically.

They tweet about it.

Everyone gathers at the virtual dinner table (twitter) to see what is happening.   There is much grumbling and mumbling and the racket is deafening.

The  journos are retweeted with opinions.

The opinions get retweeted with more opinions.

People get upset about other people’s opinions.

There is a twitter war with sides being taken very swiftly.

No one wins.

We inevitably revert back to another Big Race Debacle.

Everyone that dared to step away from twitter for 5 seconds wants to know what the hell happened.

Everything gets rehashed.

Rinse and repeat opinions.

Rinse and repeat arguments about opinions.

Another virtual scuffle breaks out.

No one wins again.

All this while? The journos stand back and enjoy the virtual shit storm, all the while also rubbing their hands in sheer glee.

Then those journos go away and think about the events and opinions of some people that weighed in.

Then everyone writes an opinion piece.

Or an opinion piece about someone else’s opinion piece.

And few people remember what actually happened.

But the best thing of all: people’s tweets are suddenly news.  It irks me that quoting people’s tweets has become news. Surely they are mostly opinions and not fact?  It makes me feel a little dirty.

I acknowledge that there is never a 100% true reflection of the facts, only a perceived reality, but aren’t we moving further and further away from reality and closer and closer to the perceptions and opinions of but a few people?

One of the things I love about twitter is that I get to see the thoughts of very bright and very knowledgeable people as events unfold, it just gets incredibly noisy.  Instead of wanting to weigh in I find myself backing away until all the noise dies down and everyone has gone away to write their opinion pieces or people are busy reading the opinion pieces.

Instead of being a place that is entertaining and supportive it has become a competition of who can shout the loudest and it is exhausting.  (And don’t for a second think I’m completely innocent, I also have my moments!)

Does this mean I’m going to abandon twitter altogether? Hell no, but it does mean that I should be looking at who I follow.  Which kills me, because I love everyone I follow and I like being able to stick my nose in and have a conversation with random people, there’s just too much other noise.

What do you think?  Too noisy or do you love it?

Last night we had the whole conversation about how much fun the dentist is, the cool chair that goes up and down, the mirror in the mouth, the bright light so the dentist can see properly and open your mouth wide and so on and so forth.  We tried to keep it light and didn’t mention things like needles, numb mouths, root canals, pain etc.  You know, things that dentist are really about.

On recommendation of the lovely Liezel I pumped them full of Rescue Remedy and a little something for pain for Isabel just for incase before we went and everyone was in high spirits.

They sat quietly for 25 seconds on their chairs:

Then we did the obligatory trip to the toilet as we do whenever we leave the house.  I can tell you what the inside of most public toilets look like in the greater Cape Town area. And then some.

Then our big moment arrived and we were shown into the consultation room.  I was literally holding my breath, knowing my luck was going to run out at some stage.  They saw the chair and thought it was like a jungle gym.  Up, under, over, above, sliding down, but I drew the line when I saw them line up to start jumping.

We ended up putting Isabel on my lap and we tipped the chair back, the light went on and she opened her mouth like a trooper.  The dentist was friggin awesome.  She kept it light, she explained everything carefully, she showed the mirror before she used it, blew some of the air on Isabel’s arm before she did anything in her mouth and explained very nicely what was going to happen when she took a little X-ray.  She even sent Mignon out with her assistant to press the button, showed them the X-ray and printed out a copy to for Isabel to take to school.  With a sticker and some toothpaste.

And then.

She put the 2 of them on her chair and elevated it all the way so they could feel what it felt like, put a blankie over the 2 of them and made them pretend to sleep.  We were all laughing our asses off.  By far the most fun I’ve ever had at the dentist!

Bottom line: nothing wrong with Isabel’s tooth, so I was very very lucky today as there was no drilling and stuff, but at least now they know what it’s all about.

Next up: Daniel.  I think it’s Etienne’s turn..

If you want to contact the dentist, her name is Dr Kelly and she is available on (021) 919 5559. This is not a sponsored post

Ps:  We are a little worried about Mignon. As I drove past Teazers the other day, she points at the picture and pipes up: “Mom!  I want to be like that girl (daai dogtertjie) one day!”  I had to carefully explain that that was maybe not a career choice that would please Mommy and Daddy.  And then, on Saturday, Etienne is watching the rugby and she sees the Stormers’ girls and we hear “Mom!  Dad! I’m going to be one of those girls one day!”

The picture in question

Some people worry that their children are going to be serial killers one day, we worry that ours is going to be a stripper of sorts…

Pps: I made this Cinnamon Sugar Pull-Apart bread for dessert yesterday and it was to die for.  I only used about half of the sugar mixture, but it was yummy.  Easy as pie to make and just as decadent. I’m in love with that smell of yeast.

My own Cinnamon Sugar pull-apart bread, pardon the bad pic quality

But.

Then.

We were way ahead of schedule (cue anther mental little round of applause), everyone was dressed and ready to go and then:

They decide they each want to take something to school which is not allowed at all as it gets out of hand very quickly.  It’s like they spend their nights thinking up ways to torture us in the morning.

Enter negotiations on what is allowed and what not:

Yes to the broken crown Daniel wanted to take for his best friend.

Yes-ish to the handbag Mignon wanted to take as it had to stay in the car.  It has worked very well in the past as they somehow feel like they have won a little.  But clearly that also backfired this morning as Etienne had drama about the bag when he dropped the girls off.

Absolute no to Isabel scratching around in the playroom, bag on her back, looking for something, anything to take with whilst everyone is already sitting in cars.  I tried leaving her in the house and realized halfway out the door that, left unattended, she would probably pack in the TV, so I headed back in.  She wants to take something for the teacher she says.  By now I’d really had her in chunks, she’s consistently been our weakest link handicap most difficult most challenging the hardest to get mobilized this week.  So I herd her down the stairs and into Etienne’s car, sobbing.

At which point I had a moment.  I realized: all she really wants is to take something for her teacher.  Followed by Oh Faaaak, I have nothing to give the Teacher and why didn’t I anticipate this and it’s ALL my fault and I’m such a bad mother and all the other kids are going to go to school with awesome Mother’s Day gifts for the Teachers and my life is a mess and Oh Look!  Green Lollipops!

So, Isabel went to school, happy as a lark with a green lollipop for each teacher.  And she smiled at me through those tears and the gratitude on her face almost took my breath away.  How’s that for a complete emotional roller-coaster ride before you have even leave the house?

It really is the little things. I must keep remembering it really is the little things that make or break their day.

Ps: I feel like I’ve been writing about Isabel this whole week, I’m going to spend some extra time with her over the weekend.

Every morning there’s a getting up/wardrobe/breakfast/teeth/hair crisis.  Sometimes some of the above, some mornings all of the above.  In varying degrees and sometimes multiplied by 3.

What infuriates me the most is the immobile stubborn silent treatment when you try and hurry them along without screaming.

What porridge would you like. Silence.

Please get your bowl and spoon. Silence.

You have to wear stockings if you are wearing a dress, it’s cold outside. Silence.

If you wear the shorts you still have to wear stockings, your legs will get cold. Silence.

You can wear the sleeveless top but only if you put on a sweater over it. Silence.

Please wear shoes. Silence.

Please come and brush your teeth. Silence.

Please stand still so I can brush your hair. Silence and turning of head.

Please take your bag to the car. Followed by complaints about who is taking them to school.

Instead of pulling out my hair I pretty much let Etienne deal with it.  Bad Mother.  I know.  Go ahead, judge me, I also judge me.  But then come over and feed, dress and brush teeth/hair for a single morning and we can talk again.  Capice?

Now before you start dispensing the advice I’m about to ask you for, yes, we have tried the “pick your outfit for tomorrow” routine which worked really well until the girls changed their minds about their outfits in the mornings.  I mean, they are girls after all.  It’s their prerogative. So now I have made it Megan’s problem.  Mean, I know.

What else can we do to make it easier in the mornings?

Ps: Isabel now has a hole in her tooth and so we will embark on our first trip to the dentist on Monday.  This is virgin territory for me, so ANY advice is welcome.  And no, I can’t take vodka with me as the appointment is at 07h45 in the morning.  On a Monday.  Shoot me.  Now.

Pps: Etienne is SO going to read this blog post and tell me it’s not so bad, I shouldn’t say things like this about our lovely children.  Let’s consider it payback for suggesting that the inability to choose an outfit could possibly lie with me. I mean, sometimes clothes just don’t look right and you have to change a couple of times.  RIGHT?

“Hi, do you maybe have nail varnish remover because Isabel and Mignon are covered in nail polish and it won’t come off”

So I call the house like a Good Mother, not really comprehending the possibilities of the words “covered in”.  I knew I still had some nail varnish remover left in a bottle lurking somewhere in a dark corner of the bathroom, thinking that should do it for the clean-up job.

10 minutes later, another message:

“The nail varnish remover is finished now, please bring some more when you come home.”

Still no warning lights flashing in my mind, call it denial if you want.

Fast forward to home time and I arrive home to the cupboard guy there to give us a quote* and the usual evening chaos.  Etienne says, have you seen what Isabel looks like? Out of the lounge comes Isabel, pleased as punch with her altered looks.  Blue neck, one leg completely blue and the other foot blue.  With a teeny weeny little bit of bright purple nail varnish on some of her toes.  I also saw that her hands must have been covered in the stuff as that’s where Megan must have focused her cleaning power.

The fact that there was so much lurking on her hands just tells me that she wasn’t completely innocent in what shall henceforth be called The Incident.  It appears that some rubbing was involved.  Along with the suspicious looking finger-painting efforts on her leg.  She alleges that their friend at school did it all, complete with doe-eyed innocence.  Bah.

They apparently nicked the polish out of their friend’s bag (friend helped them) and hid at the top of the jungle gym at school, obviously knowing that they were going to get into trouble.

All of this is fine, it’s easy enough to clean up.  You know what made me really cross?  I bought each of the girls a lovely ballet-type dress they have been asking for for absolute ages on Saturday and that’s what Isabel was wearing.  There are massive splotches of nail varnish on the dress and I can’t get it out.  Beautiful purple stains on the soft pink dress.

And the whole time I’m cleaning her leg I’m mumbling away to myself, telling myself to calm down and children make mistakes and they have to explore and don’t let her be scared of my reaction when she makes a mistake in future and ah fuckit I’m really cross and then then the crazy dialogue starts all over again.

So now I’m stuck with a brand new little dress that has nail varnish all over it.

Shall I just let her wear it?

(note how I’m not for a nanosecond thinking I can MAKE her wear it, that would be ridiculous)

*My parents sold their house and wanted to swap dining room tables.  We had a comfortable little 6-seater and we now have a massive (Beautiful!) 3m long table lurking in our dining area, so we need to knock out a cupboard in our kitchen to make space.  When we can one day afford to do this I’ll post before and after pics.

Amongst the posts was a post about keeping the flame alive in your marriage which I thought was lovely, along with a handy “100 ways to keep the flame alive”.  It’s always interesting to see these lists and see how things in our marriage measures up against them, but I thought it would be a good idea to leave the list strategically lying around in this week as we build up to Mother’s Day.

In all honesty, these lists normally make me anxious.  They are like marking a test you have written and you might fail it somehow.  Every relationship is different and there’s always something that you wish your partner would do that they aren’t comfortable with. (for example, I would like more affection in public, I always get a kick out of a smooch in the shops, but it’s not really Etienne’s thing.  But he does try, poor guy).

I was wondering why the list is written for the guy, and there are a lot of things applicable that girls could be doing for their men, but then I realized: Guys are just a lot easier to please in general than us gals.  Give them the 3 B’s (Beer, Boobs and something else you can figure out for yourselves.  Hint: it rhymes with row) and generally speaking they are happy. Oh, and the remote of course.

Lastly: Before you think I only mentioned it in passing, it is in fact Mother’s Day this Sunday.  Normally I cringe at the consumerism attached to it, but this year I shall be a team player and join in the fray.  I shall demand breakfast in bed, gifts, being showered with more love than usual, peace and quiet and not having to lift a finger.  Oh and gifts, did I mention gifts?

In fact, Mother’s Day should be like a whole weekend thing.  The Saturday should be Mommy pamper day, with a romantic dinner on the Saturday night and then Mom’s favourite food on Sunday that she didn’t lift a finger to prepare.  Children should be presented with rosy cheeks, squeaky clean and be quiet. Ok, I did a manic little cackle on the inside with that one, but hey.

For my Single Mom Friends (some of whom are legally married): Because it’s Mother’s Day I think you should find friends with Husbands and drop your children off there on Saturday morning and only collect them on Sunday evening.  It’s only fair, don’t you think?

And Dads/Lovers/Boyfriends: you can’t un-read this post.  You have 5 days to make it happen.

Just. Do. It.

Ps: On that list was a lot of stuff that made me giggle.  I clearly have a very dirty mind.

I’m really happy I insisted as I had 2 awesome days with my girls and Daniel had some much needed 1-on-1 attention from his Dad.

My master plan for the weekend was to let the girls pretty much just have a ball and enjoy all the things they are never allowed to have because their brother isn’t allowed. (all those food allergies). So there was pizza, milkshakes and McDonalds on the menu for them and they were in heaven.

We snuggled on the couch, had their nails done at a little kiddy place in Tygervalley, went to a special little girl’s party and did some more snuggling and mall-trawling today.

Actually, the McDonalds wasn’t planned, but we were having an awesome time (read: Mom was drinking wine) and they were happily playing at my friend Leo’s house so I was in no mood to fling food together last night.

I know I always have a lot to say about junk food, but it’s just a personal choice. I don’t judge. Promise. I only judge people that don’t buckle in their children. Really.

But. If I buy junk food I’m not too going to force my children to eat it. And they don’t. They only want the toy. A very clever Mom (Hi Shaz!) on Facebook suggested that you can just buy the toy. So hey, I think I’d rather do that next time.

By lunchtime today I was really missing Etienne as we haven’t been apart from each other for more than a night for almost a year. I was doing some mental foot tapping, waiting for him to come home.

It was however a nice break for all of us and great to see my boys tonight, extra squishy hugs and cuddles for both of them. Even though Daniel refused to speak to me on the phone the whole weekend, he was far too busy having fun with all the other boys.

This week’s going to be interesting as it’s going to be a whole 5 days long for a change. Ykes.

I have been fiddling with a blog post for a while now and for some reason just haven’t been able to bring myself to post it.

It’s about depression.  And a shrink.  And how I often view myself in relation to the world.

My friends regularly joke and call me Martha and I am in equal parts flattered, mortified (I mean, isn’t Martha just a teeny weeny little bit naff?) and horrified.

I’m horrified because I feel like such a fake.  I always feel like there is SO much more that I should be doing.

I don’t spend enough time with my family.

I don’t play with my children enough.  I’m not comfortable with the playing bit and I know it has a lot to do with being an absolute control freak and not being able to let go.  There’s this big wide barrier between being Mom and just being silly and not taking everything so bloody seriously.

I constantly feel like I am the “lesser” parent.  Like it’s a lot harder for me to do things that is second nature to Etienne.  I get that I’m better at some stuff but sometimes I battle to remember what that “stuff” is as our roles are very intertwined and we don’t parent like we were raised in that strict Male/Female way.  I acknowledge that it’s not a competition and I prefer things the way they are as my husband is too awesome for words, but I still have an emotion that needs to be dealt with.

It’s like this: when your toddler falls you have a choice: you can choose to make a big fuss about it or you could play it down, or have a laugh about it before they cry.  And as they get older those “falls” become disappointments or hurt caused by other people and Etienne is really great at teaching the kids that it’s not the end of the world whereas I just take it too personally.  I so hope they listen to him and not me.

I went through a really bad patch last year where I was emotionally absent from my life and I’m reclaiming feelings and joy and confidence and striving to really be involved in my own life.  I try to make the time to really look deep into the eyes of the ones I love every single day, with varying degrees of success.

I also have a lovely shrink.  He rocks.  He has literally changed my world over the last few months.  I love being able to not appear perfect and be a little fragile and a little broken and have someone just listen to all the noise in my head.  It really puts things into perspective.  If you’ve been thinking about it, but haven’t taken the leap, just do it.

So, there you have it.  The things I’ve been afraid to tell you.

If you decide to also do a post about it, please leave me a comment with the link?

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!