Averting disaster

This entire past weekend it felt a little like I was either being hurtled toward disaster or barely escaping it.

It was my Dad’s birthday on Saturday and we had offered to cook him and my Mom a meal, seeing as how my Mom is still out of action due to a dislocated shoulder. I also (studiply) promised him a cheesecake which I’ve never tried before.

After a bit of a slow start on Saturday morning (blame Whine Club from the night before) we flung ourselves at the mercy of Stodels before I went screaming through the neighbourhood to get Daniel to a party at 11h00. I was meant to do my Dad’s cheesecake first thing in the morning, but thought I could drop Daniel off and then go back home and do the cheesecake.  No such luck.  (I’d never dropped Daniel off and left him at a party before and I was hoping I could do that on Saturday.  Alas)

He eventually said that I could leave him, giving me just enough time to drive to Willowbridge to see if I could buy a cheesecake.  Nope, no such luck.

Back to the party I went to collect Daniel, only to have Etienne call and say that the alarm had gone off at my In-Laws’ house* and he was going there with the girls to check it out. 10 minutes later he calls and asks me to fetch the girls so off I went to collect them and back to the party (which by now was actually long over, but there was a bunch of lovely Moms, the kids were having fun and I just couldn’t be arsed to deal with my Cheesecake Crisis. And there was wine.)

Eventually I dragged the kids off home, just in time to start supper.  At this point I realised that Cheesecake was just not going to happen, so Pavlova for dessert it was.  So now I have several containers of cream cheese in the fridge, I really have no excuse not to make the bloody cheesecake.

When I opened my handbag when we got home everything was wet inside, including my iPad cover and the iPad, so that went straight into the rice.  I was not happy at all, I was baffled by what could have happened until I picked up a bag of sweets that Daniel got at the party this morning to find it wet.  There was a waterballoon inside that had popped in my bag.  At least the iPad seems fine, phew, I would have been very upset.

Saturday night was a veritable hurl-fest for me (No, I didn’t have *that* much to drink) so not much sleeping got done, but life goes on. We wanted to take the kids out for lunch yesterday and ended up at Eaglevlei.  We hadn’t been there in a while, but used to love it.

From the minute we walked in we could see that things aren’t what they used to be.  It used to be a really great restaurant with outstanding service.  They have expanded the seating in a big way, but with pub-type wooden benches and the menu seems smaller.  They now also have a Sunday Buffet and we despise buffets.

The dining experience wasn’t too bad (you can’t really mess up a salad), but it felt like they had taken elements of a fine dining restaurant and slapped it with some Spur.  Very weird.  I don’t think we’ll be going back in a hurry.  And I don’t care if you think I’m a food snob.

What did you get up to this weekend?

*a couple of assholes had taken a crowbar and broken the steel front gate as well as the front door, grabbed the 2 tv’s in the house and made a run for it.  They were literally in and out within a minute.  My In-laws luckily are away at the moment, so no-one got hurt, but it is really not cool.  Also, the audacity of robbing someone at 2pm on a Saturday afternoon in full view of the street is astounding.

PS: this is a very long and rambly post, I know. But it’s done now.

Random things our kids say

This past week a random email conversation triggered a memory and subsequently a sequence of events I’m not sure I’m ever going to be able to blog about, not even a password protected post.

The reason is simply because it isn’t my story, but it potentially has massive ramifications for my family. On the upside it would explain so much of what my family has been through in the last 20 odd years and some of my own phobias.  I’m just ALL about the silver lining, aren’t I?  My shrink must be rubbing his hands in glee and already pre-ordering a fancy new car.

So instead of getting stuck I shall distract myself and amuse you with random things our kids have been saying:

The other night I was reading to the kids when Daniel grabbed my ring finger and studied my engagement ring. He then wanted to know when he could have it. (My first thought was that I wasn’t planning on dying soon) I asked him why he wanted my ring and he said that he wanted to give it to his BFF R as they are getting married. He’s going to have to wait quite a while before he can pry my rings from my cold, dead fingers.

That very same night Isabel farted and announced that it was by far the stinkiest fart she had ever made (Mom!  Smell my fart!) and how proud she was of that fart. She can be quite a tomboy, I’m contemplating enrolling her for karate just to channel that energy of hers.

My folks were over for lunch yesterday and for some reason we were set upon by about 100 000 flies.  There were none at all and the minute we sat down at the table they descended upon us the crafty little buggers.  So we lit citronella candles and kept waving them away (we really need one of those tennis racket fly electrocution thingymajigs by the way) and Isabel pipes up: Die Donnerse vlieë!

Oops.  Cue awkward silence.

And Mignon?  Mignon is a little like Ashwin Kumar (the Dad from the BBC talk show The Kumars at No 42).  He always had these random little stories that didn’t really have an end.  For example, last night we were having our usual Sunday night feast (toasted pitas with cheese and bacon) and she pipes up: Mom!  Did you know that my teacher’s baby’s name is Sonika?

May you have an awesome week and you may manage to keep the donnerse flies at bay.

Ps: reason number 411 877 you shouldn’t ever run in the house:  Etienne challenged the kids to a race to the bathroom this weekend to brush their teeth and Mignon fell around the first corner and Isabel tripped in the passage and literally bounced off a bedroom doorway and is now sporting a bigass purple bruise on her hip, poor baby.  ALL my children..

Christmas 2012

Here we are, sitting on the stoep of our rented house in Shelley Point, each with our electronic reading devices. In silence, like old people.

I refuse to apologise, the silence is too precious.

We can hear the waves crashing and our children are strewn across our bed, comatose after 3 days of sun, sand, sea, presents and 24/7 attention.

Over the last few days my thoughts have wandered to how our summer holidays have changed since the children. Our first summer foray away with Daniel to Betty’s Bay was a catastrophe. Terrible weather, couldn’t leave the house for 8 days, I vowed never again.

The next summer I was pregnant with the girls. I spent that holiday floating in a pool. But only just.

Then there was the trip to Arniston with a pram, camp cots, bottles, nappies, dummies and the whole bang shoot. Not to mention a toddler and 2 crawling babies.

Then there was Stilbay. Better only because there were fewer bottles, no camp cots, helping hands and the river. They loved that river, we will definitely go there again.

Then we stayed home and had ourselves a biggass family Christmas at our house. Not a year I remember fondly.

Last year we were also home, but things were looking up.

This year has by far been the best holiday year with the kids. No prams, no nappies. They dress and feed themselves. They wipe their own bums. Those are huge things for a household with 3 kids, trust me.

They chat, they draw, they play with each other. They love to be with us, they are surprisingly helpful, especially Mignon. Daniel is getting some much needed alone time with his Daddy catching fish and us girls go for walks on the beach in the mornings. Isabel is just, well, Isabel, my bright and happy gal. My parents and sister came up for a lovely visit and stayed for Christmas.

I guess I’m feeling a little nostalgic. I’m thinking of the Christmases of my youth. Kimberley in December with my Dad’s parents, long since passed away. My cousins. More Christmas on a farm in Campbell with my other Grandparents, also long gone, with more cousins.

I wonder, what memories are we giving our children? Will they look back fondly at the Christmases of their youth one day? Are we doing enough to make these holidays special so that they sustain them until the next time we can stand still.

As a family.

And exhale.