Some random thoughts on the girls turning 5

5I wanted to do a whole post with pics of the girls from the last 5 years, but you see so much of them on FB and twitter I thought I would give you a break and only post this one pic of them on their birthday,

Instead I had a random little thought that’s like a thread I have to unravel, so this post is really about having a thought process more than anything else. And I need to give my head a break from thinking about Princess Party Origami Shoes* and other party arrangements that had me grinding my teeth last night.

It started with the girls’ teacher asking each of the parents to write their children a letter about the first 5 years of their life that is read to them in class on their birthday.  As you may know, I’m hardly ever at a loss for words, but I procrastinated writing my 2 letters (as you do when you have twins) until 10pm on the night before they were due.

You see, I have a lot to say about our amazing little girls and celebrating them each as an individual little person. A LOT.  It has been our life’s work to treat them as such, from dressing them differently from day 1 to encouraging different friends and interests and acknowledging that they have different emotional needs and respond differently to discipline.  But in the end I have to concede: they are very much alike in many ways, not in as many ways as they are different, but still. And it’s about time I maybe start to realise it and say it’s ok instead of pushing them away from each other in the end.

For people who don’t know them well there is the most obvious thing that they look very much alike.  Unless you look closely or know them really well they both come across as pretty boisterous (read: LOUD. No idea where they get that from by the way..), it seems like their body language is the same and they both love pink.

The thing is: they are both girls, so they will potentially both love pink.  They love Barbie and colouring in and helping in the kitchen (mostly because our household revolves around our kitchen).  They both love jumping on the trampoline and they both love bubbles in the bath.

I was lucky enough to attend their first ballet “recital” this week and was completely blown away by how much they have learnt in such a short time and how much they LOVE ballet, it made me all weepy.

They are children. They are completely and utterly awesome and we are so blessed to have them and their sweet soul of a brother that has just fitted into the mayhem that they bring with them.

So today I’m taking a moment to celebrate their alikeness instead of their differences, just a moment, because I think it’s worth doing.

*as usual I’m going OTT with party arrangements, mostly in my head, this is just one of those things I thought wouldn’t take long, but ended up being a pain in the arse more than anything else.

PS: men don’t understand parties.  Etienne and I have 2 big annual fights and they normally fall in the day or 2 before the kids’ parties because he is baffled by the amount of stressing I do about parties.  This year I got it out of the way early when I had a printer and origami shoe meltdown on Tuesday night.  At least it’s done and dusted now and life carries on.

PPS: men also don’t understand that if you have 18 of something and suddenly you only have 17 of that thing it is a big fucking deal because then you can’t have 6 rows of 3, you’ll have 2 rows of 6 and 1 row of 5 and that Just Won’t Do. But I think Etienne is on board with that now.

biscuitOh, and those star biscuits I was on about the other day? Etienne came up with the idea of painting glitter in the letters whilst I was decorating the edges.  Isn’t he awesome?

Lastly: I’m going to indulge my paranoia and take Isabel to the Ortho on Monday to have her arm checked, rather safe than sorry! Even though I was *almost* accused of being a hypochondriac like a certain member of my family we shall not mention (my Mother).

Winner of the Backsberg Picnic Concert Tickets

I know, I’m late, but herewith the winner of the 2 tickets to join us at Backsberg Picnic Concert for the Koos Kombuis concert this coming Sunday.

And the winner is… Adele Robertson!!

Adele, please email me at rouxtania9 at gmail dot com to make arrangements.

Catching up

This is a catch-up post, it’s been mad.

What a fun week we had last week and tomorrow the girls turn 5. I’m stocking up on tissues, can’t believe they are 5!

I came down with a sinus, chest blahblah thing last weekend and took the afternoon off on Tuesday to go home and sleep. I had just fallen asleep when Norma comes to tell me there’s a phone call. It turns out its aftercare: Isabel fell forward over a chair and broke her fall with her hand. They’ve checked, it looks ok, should they still send her to ballet? As much as I appreciated the call I was a little baffled, if the child’s arm is ok and she wants to do ballet surely she should just do ballet?

Off back to bed I go and I vaguely hear the kids come home and later Isabel comes into our room, proud as punch, arm in a bandage and sling. My eyes nearly popped out of my head.

So, I put on a bra and pants and off to the hospital we went. On the way there I called aftercare in my best WTAF voice and was told that they try to give parents the facts, but they try not to upset parents with too much information and sometimes you have to “read between the lines”. I assured them that I would be upset either way, so rather give it to me upfront and “reading between the lines” is not one of my superpowers.

 

Our little trooper
Our little trooper

The locum took one look at Isabel’s arm and carted us off to X-rays (already after 5pm) after taking my temperature (I had a fever people!) and giving me a script for antibiotics. That little girl of ours is one tough little cookie, she didn’t as much as flinch when they were poking and prodding, even though you could see that she was in a fair amount of pain.

Diagnosis: Greenstick Fracture of the right wrist, slab and bandage for 2 weeks, no cast needed.

The next morning I receive a call from the aftercare manager, a lovely woman whom I have loads of time for. It seems there was a miscommunication of the severity of Isabel’s injury and yes, they will rather give me news straight up in future, none of that reading between the lines malarkey.

I’m still not 100% convinced we will be ok with a slab and bandage for 2 weeks, but I’m also not sure if it will scream OCD mother if I take her to an Ortho for a second opinion.

What would you do?

The chest sinus thing? The locum at hospital wasn’t too concerned over my less-than-stellar state of health; he gave me a script and said that if I wasn’t better in 2 days I should then probably get the antibiotic. It is now a week later and I am now on steroids (after a visit to our regular GP on Saturday) because my ears are so blocked and ringing constantly. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t rate that locum’s opinion very highly.

This coming week is all about party preparation, so I’m slave-driving poor Etienne to get all the bits and bops done before Saturday and still remain sane. I’m hoping it’ll all work out well, which it will, I’ll just OCD the crap out of it as usual.

cookieLastly: Yuppiechef sent me an awesome Letterpress cookie set (for free!!) that I took for a spin yesterday, thinking I would make cookies with the girls’ names on for school. The results are actually not too bad, let’s hope they look ok when I’m done decorating.

May you have a lovely week!

Ps: did you see that I’m giving away 2 tickets to go and see Koos Kombuis with us this coming Sunday? Hurry and comment here, it closes today.

Win tickets to a Backsberg Picnic Concert

Backsberg-Picnic-Concert-2012-web

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I know! I’m not really about competitions, but Etienne and I have very fond memories of Stellenbosch days (waaayyy before we were a couple) when we used to go and see Koos Kombuis at Die Eike. He was well-known for drinking his Tassies and smoking the odd joint whilst performing some of our favourite Alternative Afrikaans music. We spent many a night with our very own R8.00 bottle(s) of Tassies singing along to the likes of Lisa se klavier and Die Fokol Song.

These days I hear he is all grown up and we would love to go and see him next Sunday, 17 March at Backsberg. How this works is that we get 4 tickets, 2 for us and 2 to give away to a lucky reader that is

1. in Cape Town (unless you plan on flying in for the weekend at your own cost) 2. available next Sunday, 17 March 2013 and

3. can join us for a picnic at the concert.(wine for your own account)

Alternatively you can buy your own tickets for the concerts from www.ticketbreak.co.za/backsberg for R85. Tickets are also available at the gate for R100 or R60 with a valid student card. Children under 12 years get in free when accompanied by an adult.

Admission to concert venue starts at 15h00, with the opening act starting at 16h00 and the main act at 17h00. For the full line-up of bands, directions, comments, and more information on the series, please visit www.facebook.com/backsbergconcerts.

Competition (giggle) closes at 17h00 on Monday, 11 March and a winner will be picked at random on Monday, 11 March at 20h00 using cut up pieces of paper with your comments on and will be audited by my accountant husband whilst we drink some of our favourite Backsberg Pinotage.

To enter all you have to do is leave me a comment telling me why you would like to go and see Koos Kombuis.

And GO!

Welcome to the House of Lice

By now you might have seen my (several) frantic FB posts about Head Lice as we had an Invasion.  To say I had a freak-out would be a grand understatement.

When Megan (our fantastic Au Pair) called last week to let me know that we had The Lice I issued forth instructions for the house to be burned down beds to be stripped, teddy bears washed, towels changed, furniture vacuumed and all brushes to be boiled.  I then, from Crisis Centre, aka the safety of my office at work, called the closest pharmacy, gave them Etienne’s credit card number and cleaned their shelves of any and all products recommended by FB.  And a metal nit comb.

I then started scratching. Straight after I called the school and aftercare and asked them to burn check the mattresses the kids lie on in the afternoons,

By the time got I home that day my instructions had been followed to the letter and I was greeted by 3 bemused children with significantly less hair than they started the day off with thanks to a certain metal nit comb. BUT. Order was re-established, or so I thought.

Over the course of the next few days there was more scratching and embracing of our inner baboons (thanks for that one Katrina) until Megan and our Norma discovered the rest of the Family Nit happily living on the kids’ heads.  So we kicked it up a notch.

Once again, from the safety of Crisis Centre, after much googling,  I issued forth instructions for heads to be covered with olive oil and glad-wrapped, left for 45 minutes and then nit-combed and washed.  I believe I might also have issued forth instruction that they may watch TV, “I don’t care, as long as they sit still and it gets done”.

3 days in a row, with a rinse and repeat of the bedding, towels, teddy bears, furniture and brush boiling. Every. Single. Day.  You can never be too careful you know.

And then I found more of the fuckers in Mignon’s head last weekend, which meant that I spent Sunday evening, after our disastrous Sunday shopping expedition literally picking nits from hair. Never has “nit picking” had more meaning for me than it has the last week or so.

For now it seems things have calmed down, but I’m not taking any chances.  I made Etienne check my head again last night and I’m scratching as I type this just at the thought of it. I want to run screaming when the kids approach me for a hug and lay their heads lovingly next to mine. I’m long-distance hugging my own children!

liceJust for your info, we started with the Picksan on the left as well as a a leave-in spray (not in the picture), but I really like the Treet-It kit, I highly recommend it for preventative treatment too. Apologies for the bad pic!

Ps: True to my overactive Working-Mother guilt I considered taking half a day leave to sort it out, but I know I need to depend on my support structure.  Hard though.

Pps: speaking of awkward, I received a lovely R400 speeding fine last week which Mignon was clutching this morning, desperate to “take the picture of Mommy’s car when it went too fast” to show the teacher. Over my dead body.

Ppps: I joined the gym, post to follow. And yes, I can see you laughing in the corner over there.

Family Winter Holiday Break

beachI’m crowd-sourcing holiday destination ideas for a week’s break in winter this year to somewhere warm on behalf of our family and some friends.

By “warm” I mean somewhere I will be able to get a small tan in July and we can escape the Cape winter for a week. We also need to break up the 3 week school holidays otherwise our kids will spend 3 weeks in holidaycare and that’s not fair toward them at all.

We have never been to a resort-type place before, but have decided that we want to give it a bash, OCD’s that we are.  We do not have the R90 000 it would cost for the 5 of us to go to Mauritius nor the R60 000 to go to Zanzibar (not even close!!), so local is lekker.  We would also love to take the kids on a plane if at all possible as they have never been, but flights are kaaaak expensive. Every place we have looked at is only slightly more expensive than the flights there and then you still need to hire a car. Without even blinking very hard you can spend R30 000 on a little holiday, so scary. And still above our budget.

We have a few things that we would really like:

  1. We do not want to look at dirty dishes for a whole week. Not as much as the rinsing of a single glass.
  2. We do not want to cook a meal for a whole week.
  3. We do not want to make beds, mop floors or do washing for a whole week. (ok, maybe the odd load of washing, but that’s IT)
  4. We want to go someplace where there is lots for the kids to do and very little for us to do except live from meal to meal and watch the horizon after breakfast to see when the plane goes over.  (which by my careful calculation will be at 10h00 every morning)
  5. We would love someplace we could swim in the sea or go for a walk with the kids.
  6. We need a week of sloth and cuddles and lolling about aimlessly with our kids, but with the option of a babysitter if we want to have a morantic* dinner for 2.

We have looked at the likes of the Wild Coast and Umhlanga, but any suggestions are welcome.

Aaannnnd GO!

Thank you in advance…

*Yes, I said morantic on purpose

A ballet tale

balletWithout sounding like a complete drama queen, I had myself a little meltdown yesterday.

It went like this:

The girls started ballet at the beginning of the term and we wanted to give them a chance to settle in and decide if it was really their “thing” before we forked out the R510 x 2 for their ballet outfits. Yes people, that would be R1 020. For ballet outfits.  For 2 x 4yo girls.

You see, it is one of the joys of having twins: everything costs double.  Besides, when I was their age I briefly did ballet until the teacher told us to lie on our tummies and touch the backs of our heads with our toes.  That kind of flexibility does not run in our family, so I wanted to avoid this expensive indulgence, for lack of a better word.

By last week it was clear that we really needed to get cracking on those ballet outfits after not having received our list of required items as promised or being able to get to the ballet shop (The Ballet Box) to buy said, prescribed items for our little ballerinas.  It’s been mad the last few weeks.

So, on Friday I call The Ballet Box and ask whether they will be open on Sunday as Saturday was going to be impossible due to the lovely Sally’s wedding on Saturday morning and squeezing in the girls’ fun walk and a way overdue hair appointment for me.  Yes, they are open on Sunday.

On Saturday I call them again to check, yes yes, they are open from 10h00 until 14h00 on Sunday.  Are you sure I say, I need to buy ballet outfits for my girls, yes, no problem.

Off we went to our wedding and we had a relaxed morning yesterday and popped around to a friend for tea before we went to do our big shop, my girls and I.  We were all very excited, me because I could give Etienne’s credit card a last little stab before payday and the girls because, well, they are girls and they are spending time with their Mom and it’s BALLET CLOTHES.

After tea we drove down to the shop and guess what? Closed. At 12h15.

I sat in that parking lot looking at that closed door and I felt utterly defeated. So did the girls.  They didn’t whine or cry, they were utterly gutted and confused, because why did their Mom lie to them? I can handle a lot, but making a promise to my kids and not delivering does my head in, especially if it wasn’t my fuckup.

I then went through all the stages of grief, most of them right there in that parking lot.

Denial:  I got out the car and tried the locked doors and called the shop, no answer.

Anger: I then left a carefully worded FU message on their voicemail so as not to teach my children any more bad words than they already know.  (If you are reading this and you are from the Ballet box, I’m the Tania that left that grief stricken, passive aggressive message.  You’re welcome)

Bargaining: Girls, Mommy will make a plan.  I had visions of having to take half-day today so that I could drive to the Southern Suburbs if need be to procure ballet outfits because hell was going to freeze over before I gave The Ballet Box a single cent of our money.

Depression: If only I were a better Mother/didn’t work full-day/was more organized. At this point I had pulled out of the deserted parking lot and was driving home, the girls very upset in the back of the car that we were going home now and not buy their ballet clothes.

At which point I started crying. I cried all the way home and eventually went to hide in our room so as not to upset the kids, getting angrier with myself by the minute and to the complete bewilderment of Etienne.

Acceptance: I eventually pulled myself toward myself and decided to go and check out the sports shops to see if I could find at least some of what I needed.

Enter Mr Price Sports Store, after a false start at Sportsman’s Warehouse, where I found everything I needed.  At half the price. And the service was amazing.

So, to the purveyors of The Ballet Box: get stuffed.

And now, for some horseplay

This is purely for some Sunday fun, but I’m curious: Who eats ready-made meals and how often?

Just in case you have been living under a rock here is the timeline of how the scandal unfolded of horsemeat that was found in pre-packaged meals and processed meat products.

I will be upfront and say that, as an unwritten rule, we don’t buy pre-made meals.  I completely blame Etienne for this as we often used to stand in front of the pre-made meal fridge/freezer in the shop, look at the price and then decide that we (he) could make it cheaper (and better) at home and then proceed to do so. I did buy some of those mac and cheese meal thingies from Woolworths a couple of times, but the kids refused to eat it, so we haven’t tried it since.  To us that’s like taking a R20 note, tearing it up and flushing it down the toilet, times 3.

When I became a food label Nazi because of Daniel’s food allergies it became a game to check out the crap they put in those meals and I sometimes had to restrain myself from saying something to people in shops that load their trolleys with meals for the week from the fridge and freezer.

I have now calmed down to the Zen place of “each to their own” and I don’t care what other people feed themselves or their families, so this post really is not meant to be from a bad place, I’m really just curious.  To prove this point I have made a lovely little (anonymous) poll for you to take part in of you so wish to.

What I want to know is this: Do you buy pre-made meals for your daily main meal or that of your kids, be that supper or lunch.  Simple.

And remember:  NO JUDGIES

Why I wore Black today

stoprapeThis morning I took this photo of myself in support of Black Friday.  If you know me at all you’ll know that

1. I hate photos of myself,

2. I avoid taking photos of myself (especially in mirrors)

3. I try to limit my outrage to a select few topics such as parents that don’t put safety belts on their kids in cars. Rage and anger takes up too much of my precious energy.

BUT

Every one of us knows someone(s) that has been touched by rape, abuse or violence.  We can choose how we respond to it. We can try to ignore the inconvenience and un-prettiness of it, or we can be outraged and angry and declare how utterly fucked this country is, or declare that we will donate money toward a good cause, or do nothing, nothing at all.

Or we can choose to make a small difference every day, a positive difference in someone’s life.

That is my choice, and I’m lucky enough to be able to do that every day at work and will continue to do so.  I’m also blessed enough to be surrounded by people that are making a difference in their own big or small way.

I chose to wear black today in solidarity with the people that I know and love (or don’t know that linger my social media streams) that have had their power taken away from them in any shape of form.

I chose to wear black today because I will teach my children about their own power and that it is never acceptable or excusable to have anyone touch you in any way that is not meant to display love through my actions and my words.

I chose to wear black today because rape, abuse and violence in not acceptable. EVER.

I chose to wear black today because I refuse to be silenced and I refuse to allow people to be silenced and not be able to speak up for themselves.

I chose to wear black today because too often the victims are forgotten.

I chose to wear black today because we should never, never, NEVER get sick of reading about violence, because if we do, we will never choose to make a positive difference.

What is your choice?

To Gym or not to Gym, that is the question

gym 5I’m not a big fan of going to the gym, it’s never really been my thing. When I was drinking and partying studying at Stellenbosch a friend (hi Marleen!) took me to the gym once and was greatly amused by all the new uses I had found for all the machines. It was a story that was retold with great gusto many a late night in Finlay’s (a long gone watering hole in Stellenbosch)

In fact, the only time I really frequented the gym was back in 1996 when I had just come back from London and was unemployed for 3 months. I rocked those step classes, but that petered out very quickly when I started working 14 hour days again in hospitality.

gym 4I have tried Belly dancing and Pilates and Yoga and I have loved them all, but I am in a committed relationship with walking now and am starting to run (when I say “starting” I really mean “thinking about it a lot”, but let’s keep that between us ok?).

The only time I have to exercise is in the morning.

5am in the morning to be specific.

I could tell myself that I will go for a walk in the evening after the kids have gone to bed, but that would be a big fat lie, there are too many other things to do and there is so little time in the day with them that I really cannot steal another minute of my time with them or with Etienne.

So, 5 am it is.

gym 3Except, all of a sudden it is very, very dark at 5 am in the morning and it’s getting harder and harder for me to make it out the door. I also know that I have to leave the house to exercise, I am *that* undisciplined. I will not get up and run on a treadmill or use an elliptical trainer or one of those type things. Ask the lonely health walker that stood in our house for 4 years.

So, gym it is. I think.

What’s it like going to gym these days, I gather it’s still done?

Must I get one of those personal trainer type people or just dodge them altogether?

What machines are there these days?

What is accepted gym etiquette, if any?

What do people wear these days?

Any other pointers?

Help me out people, I’m stuck in the 90’s..