I cannot even think about it

I have to fetch all of Shanie's stuff from the yard. I cannot do it. Not ready. Not now. Please can this just go away.

I really should phone the owner at least. I am such an ostrich

Please turn the noise down

Too much too soon too little time

My little boy has just turned three. He got a scateboard cake. He loves barking at the scateboarders going up and down the road. Yes, I am talking about E, running around in the nude, barking at all the kids in the neighbourhood.

Apart from barking incessantly, he also talks a hundred words a minute. In a mixture of English, Afrikaans, Sotho and something I think must be Klingon. And he is obsessed with cars, helicopters and superman/batman/spiderman. How did that happen? I tried to raise a gender neutral child...sounds so very correct when you read about it. Impossible in our house. And him and his life long little friend had a boxing match the night of his birthday, and he was the clear victor, to my horror. He should be hugging trees and be spending his time in meditation.

His number one toy is his penis, followed by an assortment of matchbox cars, marbles, feathers and dried life forms. He brags about his bodily functions but will not allow anyone in the bathroom when he has to potty. His love of water has left me with adrenalin pumping hundred miles a minute through my veins, dripping wet with a coughing baby in my arms, three times in as many years. Now he is going for swimming lessons and loves diving into the pool - looking all grown up as he holds his arms straight out in front of his face before doing these amazing belly flops.

He is convinced that pigs can fly and who am I to argue differently?

Dump Trucks are for Dumping

E has been toilet trained for more than a month now, both night and day. No problems, he goes by himself and sorts everything out. He even went once in a public facility two weeks ago. That was a huge breakthrough for us.

Until yesterday, when he decided that his dump truck is, you know, there for dumping. He thinks it is very funny and I am trying to not make an issue out of it. Maybe I should move the potty to his bedroom and the truck to the loo?

Darling Move Up

your pillow is over theeerre

This coming from my almost three year old, at five in the morning. He has this habit of waking early to come snuggle with mom and dad. I don't mind cuddling with the little boy body. Just sometimes it gets to me. Especially if he wriggles a lot, like this morning. Then I tend to migrate to the bottom of our king sized bed. Which is where a concerned little face found me and very gently guided me back to the wrestling zone.

Canned and Ready for Mass Consumption

I must admit, I fantasize a lot. Fantasy and reality intermingled to present what I experience as life, my life. Sometimes it works.

With these photos it did not work, instead I managed to capture the cagedness of life. It all started as a wish for the smell of Africa. Moist dark soil, grass seeds and open sun burned spaces. It ended as a faux safari, complete with Asian tourists and American volunteers.

The true king of the African savannah. Despite his environment, no one can question his regal bearing.







The agitation of this male lion was obvious for every one that bothered to care. How is it possible then that some tourists could open their windows and wave at him to get his attention? No wonder foreigners get eaten in SA, they do not read the signs. Or maybe they just do not understand english?









Some quality cuddle time spend with the family, never mind all the gawking cars trying to get a shot of these big cats. Our visit to the lion park left me feeling empty. A bitter taste in my mouth when I looked at these photos. What are we doing to ourselves and our world?

The end to a really kak week

No better word for it I am afraid!

It all started on a misty Monday morning, with P bumber bashing his newly fixed car. The little car's bonnet is so bend you cannot even open it. This a mere six weeks after getting his car back from the panelbeaters from another accident he had back in August. Did I say August? Yes, it took them nearly five months to fix it the last time as they just could not source all the parts locally. Don't ask, that was their excuse.

Then sometime between Monday night and Tuesday morning, some people with evil intentions entered our yard and helped themselves to all our computers. How is this possible? Simply, the electric fence (this is life in SA, everyone has a six foot electric fence between themselves and the outside world - well at least everyone that can afford to) was switched off. Yes, switched off. I had to terminate the appointment of my domestic worker, today. It was really awfull. She cried and said it was not her, I felt lower than beetle dung, but the bottom line is that she was the only person (apart from myself and P) who had access to the key where the fence is switched on/off. And it was switched on, on Monday morning, before she worked in the house, all day Monday. Am I prejudiced or just a scared mother? We were sleeping in the house when the burglary happened, it could have been far worse for all of us.

So the rest of the week was spend trying to organise a computer to work from, and phoning clients and people to get them to send me all my information by email. No, I did not have back-ups. If I can believe the assesor, we will have it all sorted latest Wednesday of the coming week. Meaning, some money in the bank to replace some of what we lost.

I think the biggest loss is my faith in myself and humankind (did I do the right thing?).

Silent tears over a grey skin.
A cruel letter signed in both our hands
How could it ever be the same
even when I followed her
and
tried to apologise
I do not understand
why I did that
But she was right, it can never be the same

No cheating

Before we dressed this morning, with E still wearing his night nappy, he wanted to go to the toilet but could not undress and aim fast enough. So he peed the floor. The overly sensitive mother that I am, I offered him his smartie just to make sure the youngster did not feel a failure. But he very indignantly refused and shooed me out the bathroom with the door closed firmly in my face.

Only to be called a minute or so later.

Come quickly come look!
It is gooone (standing next to the pot with his hands turned up and a silly grin on his face) This is a regular game so I duly played my part.
Hah, where did it go?
Lots of silly giggles, 'Look in a toilet', and he opens the lid for me admire the prize.

A drop of pee, and a giggling toddler urging me to give him his now, well deserved, smartie!

Upgrade or not?

Well, a new year always calls for change

In our house it signalled the change from a double bed mattress on the floor for E to a real bed. The kid is nearly three and only now has he his very own bed.

We ended up buying bunk beds, P got all nostalgic about him sleeping on the top bunk as a kid. For E, it is a space saver, the top bed has no mattress, just a car carpet with lots of match box cars flying over the edge. A wonderful idea, E loves his upstairs playroom.

Except that today he came flying down too - onto the bottom bed. Very impressed with himself. Yes, he intentionally jumped from the top bunk to the bottom one.

Summer Holidays

The last day of school was filled with bubbles of fun in the sun. The perfect day for a party and did these preschoolers enjoy this themselves. Even the mothers (gasp) became little kids themselves and came skidding down the slip and slide. Well only after all the grownup mothers with their kids left for home.








Elrich showing his best little friend, Maina, that his mother is (again) lurking in the background taking photos of him! These two spend all their days playing, fighting and imagining together. They are the babies at the school and by far the favourites.





Exhausted after a hard day of playing. The two little ones fell asleep outside under the jungle gym. When the weather turned for the worse we picked them up with their beds and carried them into the school. Nothing could wake the two buggers up!

Digging for Diamonds

That is what we have to do some days. Otherwise I might just feel that all I am doing is building sand castles. This last week has been a bit rough emotionally. Still so much a roller coaster ride and I am so easily hurt, but then Phil sometimes is very selfcentered as well and his very first response to any potential conflict (not even real, but imagined) is to flee. Out the door, only to return the next day. No seriously....it drives me batty.

But tomorrow we will be married for 15 years, I can hardly believe it. I have this mild suspicion that Phil has totally forgotten about it. I am not gonna do anything. I am tired of organising everything and being the heart of the relationship.

I want to say so very thank you to all my friends here who encourage and pray and think about us. It really does help me to stay focussed and keep going. In Afrikaans we have a saying 'Jy is soos 'n riem onder my hart' not sure how that will translate but it is something around being the rope (or strength) that keeps me from falling flat on my face.

And I went digging for diamonds today - or at least met diamond diggers to do their Social and labour plan. Very interesting and totally different scenario from the platinum mines with which I have been working to date.

So much for my idea of going on holiday the 20th!

Between then and now

For some reason I could not add the last couple of photos to the previous post. On the way back home we drove through Mkuzi Game Reserve and got the most amazing shots from giraffes and a beautiful Nyala ram came down to the water to drink











Elrich does playball at school and this was at their year end function/graduation party. It was quite chaotic and I must admit I was impressed with the way in which the teachers managed to get these kids to listen and cooperate in the middle of all this madness.









Nature taking back from man, roots growing in the tar at the venue where we had the summit for Local Economic Development.

The joy of the coast

I am recovering slowly. So instead of working on Friday I decided to go to the mall and develop those beach photos. Remember the dive trip to Sodwana? I thought that some happy memories might help pull me out of the ditch. It worked, kind off.
Buzani has never been to the coast and cannot swim, so she started of really scared of the water but caught onto the idea really quickly. She ended up soaked from head to toe, laughing all the way and could not get enough of the sea. It was so much fun watching her having so much fun!
There was a whole school of little fish in the water that would ever now and get jump through the waves trying to get away from some bigger game fish hunting them. It was like standing in jacuzzi the way the water was teaming with life. Very beautiful and fascinating.

These little buggers made their rounds through all the campgrounds every morning. Scavenging whatever was left around. This here is the leftovers from our stew (potjie kos) we made the previous night, well really just a lick of sauce.

Can I curl up and die?

Today I have just had enough. I am tired. Deadly. Tired.

I feel like the carpet has been pulled from under my feet.

Phil says he is a failure, he cannot measure up to me
That he does not even think he is good for us as a little family
I love him, but I cannot take the stress anymore
Why can he not just be there for us

I do not understand his struggle

Why I blog

This has been on my mind a lot recently.

It really started with me not writing bone honestly about E's report. Why did I not want to reveal all? Simply because I do not want him to be labeled, even if it is a 'good' label and even if it is by people that would most likely never meet him. You see labels, create expectations, expectations by other people might lead to failure.....I would hate to set my child up for failure.

But then back to me, why do I write and post personal details of me and mine on a public space, accessible to anyone....You could even find us through Google I discovered this morning. Is it a quest for immortality? Do I write for the readers or for me? Is this a self serving tool?

Since any number of people could visit here and never be 'known', the idea of writing for readers makes little sense. Unless it is like writing a novel, to anonymous readers. To let them be voyeurs of my life.

Back to the beginning. I started this blog for me. I started writing here because writing is my creative energy. I make sense of the world and my emotions by writing it down. The interaction I get from some readers here, is supportive, interesting and welcome. But it has also started to make me think twice about that which I blog...you know, managing impressions. A big attraction in internet relationships.

But then I have not managed it here any more than in real life. How so? See my real life friends and family do not know that I blog. I have not let them into the inner chamber of detail you lot have been exposed to.I have a desire to be honest here, I want to say what I feel and think. Even if it is not always nice, or politically correct, or whatever. Because here is where my mind lives, here is where I can be both more and less than what I am in real life. So if in future I am bone honest about anyone, just ignore it and do not label us. We are just your regular boring little family.

Indecent Exposure

As we celebrated the fact that E slept late (and wonder above wonders, in his own bed), I suddenly felt P ducking lower to my body, trying to detangle the duvet to cover up and salvage the last vestiges of parental dignity.

Yes, the young man was standing in the door with a quizzical expression on his face 'daddy what you doing?'

Uhum morning love, come give us a hug (nothing like changing the subject), Phil trying to disengage, cover up and keep a straight face

A Brainwave

Would you like to watch a movie?

E must wonder what happened as he never gets to watch a movie first thing in the morning, and never ever gets to eat breakfast whilst doing it

At least we had time to hmmmm you know, start the day properly, the way we used to when we did not worry about little bodies watching us in fascination.

Oyster eyes

The recycling of waste into glasses,
a niche market in Gauteng.
Savannah’s dutiful final reincarnation.

Pleading to sell, imploring relief.

Why did I hide my face?

Where does he sleep tonight?
That too thin young man frame
I cuddle a stocky little baby boy, sleepy eyed in a cozy bed
Where are your mother?

A White African?

My identity, personal, cultural and national is in flux. I am deconstructing me.

Woman, wife, mother, sociologist
White, African, Afrikaans
South African?

Who am I? I have often pondered my personal identity on here but where does our little family fit into our Rainbow Nation? What are the memories, traditions and culture I want to leave my child?

When I tried to explain this confusion to a colleague (black african - why the need to explain his background?) he said it is not the past we must leave our children as a heritage, it is the future we want them to grow up in. I like that very much. It gives me the opportunity to leave my child a future heritage, future traditions and memories.

Yes, I am ashamed of the past as created by white people, yes I am horrified by what occurred in my country and I do experience guilt when I see the misery that is still evident. I am even ashamed of my intelligence, my opportunities, my education. It is all build on a foundation of exploitation. In sharp contrast to my guilt I also suffer from 'compassion fatigue' and drive around with dark glasses, wind up my window before robots so I do not have to face the beggars, street vendors and other desperate hopeless people.

The question on the Africanness of white people has been the source of much discussion and public debate recently. And I find myself pondering the reasons for the debate, the underlying motivation from both sides of the argument to proof or dispute the fact that the entry criteria for an African identity are the colour of your skin. Is this not the very thing we have been trying to abolish in our country? An entry ticket based on skin colour? Die vraag oor nasionale identiteit is vir my soos 'n turksvy, op die oog af eenvoudig, eetbaar, maar as jy nie versigtig is nie sal die dorings vir 'n lang tyd nog in jou vingers sweer.

So recently I find myself polarising to my language again and taking an interest in our national holidays (something I never used to do). I watch with interest the evolvement, well really, the cultural revolution taking place in our 'townships' (still a comfortable word in the media, despite the apartheid inference). The shaking off of everything African that is occurring under the young black people. And I am amused.

In the spotlight

It is the end of the year (gasp) and we were invited to E's school for our very first teacher parent conference. E's little school is very child centered and they invited each of the parents for a one on one meeting with them to go in detail through their report. A daunting 9 A4 page document, fortunately for us, it states the whole curriculum and E is only (or rather should only) be on the first page.

Phil was very late, but to his redemption we had a huge thunder shower (cloud break truth be told) just as he left work - very seasonal for this time of year, which made the drive really slow. To my surprise, the principle was very pleased that a dad attended the meeting, apparently he was the first to do so out of a school with twenty kids. How can dad's still be so uninvolved in their kid’s lives and futures. I find education one of those really daunting aspects of parenthood and I am already stressed about making the right decisions when e is older.

E did really well in school this year, even though his communication skills was rated as about four months behind, they were impressed with how fast he progressed once he started talking. It took him forever to say his first word(s), fortunately he has totally forgotten those first words (yeahhhhh!!!). The most amazing thing the principle commented about was that he had an unheard of concentration span of longer than an hour (to work on a specific problem) and can easily cope with their three hour work periods (doing different activities) normally reserved for the older kids. It seems like his concentration span has fast tracked him across the curriculum and he is working with abstract concepts such as matching three dimensional shapes to two dimensional cards and the binomial cube (I tried it and it is quite fun).

The problem mentioned more than once was that he is not a push button child at all, even though he is keen to work, he will not necessarily do stuff as and when he is told to. Did not sound like he disrupts the class, but they did mention that if he continuous with the current attitude in later life he will have himself labeled as a problem child and even worse....ack more to stress about.

But to end on a good note this was their summary of our little guy:
Elrich never ceases to amaze us! He is currently doing work that is in most cases way above his age expectations. He often becomes frustrated when he attempts to do things (work and play) that he is mentally capable of, but is physically just too small (you telling me!!). Elrich is a loving caring child who is always cheerful, he makes friends easily and despite being younger than his peers, is a popular member of the group.

Overall, it made for a very nice first report!

Perilous pottying

E does not do stuff you tell him to do, neither does he do things that he cannot initiate, or do perfectly. He has always been like this. The most frustrating time in his life was when he wanted to move and could not figure out how to get his body to do it.

Why should potty training be different?

After the initial 'I want to wear my spiderman's mom' became a health risk as he would refuse to urinate for two days (unless he is sleeping and then he would just wet himself) I but him back in nappies.

Until Monday morning when he came running into my bedroom with this desperate expression on his face 'Mommy quickly klere uittrek, pooh outside' He was wearing a bodyvest with clips between his legs and could not undress himself.

Asking him if he would not rather want to pooh on the potty, a definate 'NO!' convinced me that he would need a bit of motivation.

So I fetched some candy - placed it on the washbasin and called the young man. I told him if he wants the candy he must make his pooh in the potty. Got rewarded by a screaming toddler. So I just left it. Couple of minutes later E takes me to the candy and asks me - Mommy what is that? It is candy my boy. Oh. To the potty: Mommy what is that? It is the potty. Oh. So he made a record breaking pooh in the potty and ate his candy.

We do not have that 'FIRST NAPPY OF THE DAY' anymore, but he might need some dental attention soon...

Eavesdropping on E

I am blow drying my hair in our bedroom, listening to E having conversations in his room next door.

Some banging, crashing and loud bashing sounds
a mischievious little giggle
wispering 'naughty, naughty, naughty'
More crashing
'lets do it again!'
an evil little cackle
Something landing with a door shuddering noice
A very loud ' what you doing?'

When I stepped out to see what is up - the bike, blocks,jumping horse, scateboard the whole lot, are all heaped at his bedroom door. A serious face looking at me and explaining 'momma, scateboard naughty, and horsey and blocks and fietsie (bike), they are all naughty'

A self satisfied nod of the head and he is ready to leave for school.