Friday

So. Huddled in a corner on the couch on a Friday night. All I need now is a snack and some wine and life would be perfect. To be honest, I could quite happily go to bed now. Instead we’ll watch Graham Norton and the next thing it will be 11pm. The story of my life.

When I arrived home today the girls were already in the bath and I run down the passage to take over and they promptly dismissed me, preferring that the Domestic Goddess bath them. Gmpf.

Then Etienne shows me this:

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Apparently they sent cookies home for Mothers Day from school. They were finished by the time Etienne managed to get the kids to the car. Typical.

At the table tonight everyone is talking/laughing/whining/messing as usual and Isabel pipes up: ‘Mom, Daddy bought you a DVD today!’ Followed by an uncomfortable little silence. And Etienne shaking his head.

We then have a conversation about ‘Who ate Mommy’s cookies’ and Daniel says ‘But Daddy also has one in his tummy!’ He claims that he was forced to eat one. Right.

All this whilst trying to keep Mignon off my lap so I can have my supper.

Just a usual Friday night…

Why

If you have been a parent for any length of time you will be well familiar with the word WHY and the indiscriminate use thereof.

For example, I arrive home tonight with gifts for my friends Camilla and Renata.  So this conversation ensues:

  • Isabel: Why are there 2 gifts?
  • Me: Because the one gift is for Aunty Camilla and the other gift is for Aunty Renata.
  • Isabel: Why?
  • Me:  Why what?
  • Isabel: Why did you buy them gifts?
  • Me: Because they had birthdays and Mommy and Daddy couldn’t go to Aunty Camilla’s birthday because we had to go to Ouma Hanni and Oupa Duncan’s 40 th anniversary party. And Mommy is going to Aunty Renata’s party tonight.
  • Isabel: Why?
  • Me: Why what?
  • Isabel: Why did you go to their party?
  • Me: Because their hearts would have been very sore if I didn’t go.
  • Isabel: Why?
  • Me: Because I love them very much and they are my Mommy and Daddy.
  • Isabel: Mommy and Daddy.
  • Me: Yes.
  • Isabel: Why?
  • Me: Why what?
  • Isabel: Why are you going to Aunty Renata’s party?
  • Me: Because she’s my friend and she’s having a party.
  • Isabel: Why?
  • Me: Why what?
  • Isabel: Why is she having a party?
  • Me: Because it’s her birthday.
  • Isabel: Birthday!

The way I know the Why’s have come to an end if she repeats the last couple of words of my last sentence.  Then I have this feeling of Winning.  Which is usually short-lived.

Sigh.

Just some random stories

  • My first day at work was fabulous.  Lovely people, lovely company!  I am also the proud owner of no less that 6 blisters.  I haven’t worn heels for longer than an hour in MONTHS, so I took the ‘comfortable’ pair of heels with as a back-up.  By 10h00 I was wearing them and by lunchtime I was buying plasters.
  • Isabel had a croup attack on Thursday night.  She’s never ever had croup.  At 01h30 we woke up to that barking cough and 10 minutes later I was at the emergency room.  They nebbed her and I brought her home.  Round trip: an hour.
  • On Saturday morning I had my hair appointment and clothes search for a make-over shoot this coming week.  I have never spent longer than 2 hours in a salon on my hair.  Normally I run in, they plonk the stuff on and 2 hours later I’m running off.  This took 4 hours. 4 HOURS.  The result:  a lot of blonde streaks.  My first attempt at blow-drying this morning was spectacularly unsuccessful so I’m dreading tomorrow.  So far I’m going to have a possible footwear fail as well as a hair fail.
  • Tomorrow morning is the first morning we have to mobilise the kids and be out the door by 07h15.  We used to let them wake up by themselves and saunter out the door at around 08h00.  I also have to get up a LOT earlier because now I have to a. Shower, b. Dry my hair, c. Put on decent clothes and d.  Put on my face before we leave.  Should be fun. (I’m making a mental note here to keep my sense of humor in tact, I might need it in the morning)
  • We also had a live-in domestic move in today.  It’s a lovely lady by the name of Sylvia who is undaunted by noisy children, mess and dogs.  She also didn’t run screaming for the hills when she arrived late afternoon just after friends had left us after a long and rather boozy lunch.  Which entailed several bottles of wine and almost all our crockery standing in precarious piles around the kitchen.  As we walk in the door I apologise for the mess saying we had friends that have just left.  Oh, she says, were they here for the weekend?  Whilst casting an eye over all the bottles our friends had left from a tasting, all in various stages of emptiness.  ‘cringe’
  • I’m slightly nervous for the night as Mignon has now also started with a croup cough, which I thought wasn’t contagious.  But according to the Great Oracle of Google it is a contagious as the common cold.  My Mother is on standby for tomorrow..

I cast a mental eye over my life tonight and even though there are some enormous changes at the moment it’s all good stuff (except the croup).  We are very, very blessed.

Stand by for more news..

ps: yesterday we saw a long bridal stretch limo with a bridal party in it, and as it passed us it had that tell-tale little dove (Doves undertakers) on the back window.  Hilarious!

Things I should be doing right now

At Bookclub last night my friend Tertia said I should stop blogging recipes otherwise she’s going to stop reading.  And then she called me anal, but that’s a whole other story (pot-kettle-black, say no more) Gmpf

So, just for the record, even though I want to blog about that fabulous Chicken Pie recipe I made up all by myself (wink wink) I won’t do it and I only blog food for Meat Free Mondays.  Capisce?

Maybe it’s my own fault for being such an errant blogger lately and I apologise for this.  It occurred to me that if I spent more time blogging about life and less about food the food stuff wouldn’t seem so much.

Anyhoo, the Sussies (Mignon and Isabel) are turning 3 on Saturday and as usual I have taken on something I have never tried before: fabric painting.  No, I’m not saying what it is yet in the hope I don’t eff it up.  My parents have gone away so my Mom’s not here to help, but at least this time it’s in the afternoon. So hopefully my sister who offered to help won’t pitch up drunk again. (another long story, but at least I have my own expectations firmly in check this time)

Today I have to print out photos for the birthday posters for school tomorrow (more on that tomorrow), bake cake for school for tomorrow, go for an interview and conduct 2 of my own.  Tomorrow is bakebakebakebakebake and then decoratedecoratedecorate until the cows come home.  I’m also hoping that that won’t end in tears as I am baking the actual birthday cake for the first time EVER.  (normally I buy the sheets from Pick and Pay and just slap some icing on or I make my Mother bake and my friendly neighbour do the icing).  And inbetween I have to figure out this fabric painting thing.  And get Etienne to sort out the other odds and ends, which he’s really good at!

BUT the great news is that my dear friend Catherine has offered to photograph the party, which has taken such a weight off my shoulders.  On condition that she leaves me out most of the shots.  Just so you know how fabulous she is, here are some pics she took of the kids for Christmas last year:

 

 

 

 

 

(Isabel was wearing purple top and Mignon in white)

Can’t wait!!

The Sussies

When we had twins we made ourselves some promises. It was really important for us to raise them as individuals. To dress them differently, never refer to them as ‘The Twins’ and some other things we felt were important at the time.

I have a friend who used to hate that she and her sister were referred to as ‘The Girls’ and this made me even more determined to not refer to Mignon and Isabel as a collective.

I’m afraid we might have failed a little.

It started very innocently. From their arrival we spoke about ‘Sussie’ (sister) and ‘Boetie’ (brother) as part of showing love and affection. Somewhere along the way they became a Collective, ‘The Sussies’. At school they talk about the Sussies, at home we tell Daniel to say goodnight to the Sussies.

In the back of my mind I have wondered about this, but not really ever got smacked with the way other people perceive it until this past week.

Someone asked me in what context and why we call them Sussie and it was really hard to explain. We have so many names for them that aren’t their own names: Liefie, Skattebol, Pokkeloks (no idea where that came from!), Pop, Koekeloeks (once again, no idea!), Monkey. The list is endless.

So, this weekend I was thinking about how they would feel about it in the long run and if they would be mad that they are referred to as ‘Sussies’, which technically they are. And I’ve decided that for now it’s ok. Sometimes it’s just a little easier to talk about ‘Sussies’ if you are in a hurry and just need to get the words out and I am very comfortable that everyone that matters at school understands our way of thinking and celebrates their differences the way we do at home.

What do you think?