It happens often, this urge to just put pen to paper (or words to screen in this case). Regulary, I don't have a lot to say just tons of thoughts swirling around in my head that need to come out.
Like, I'm really kind of sick of people's attitudes. I know I really suck at doing stuff - like sending stuff and keeping in contact etc. But I try hard and if I forget to send Christmas cards, I do make sure I send an email saying 'oh gosh sorry, here's a picture of the card you should have got but it's now Christmas Eve and I'm shit'. I have YEARS of Christmas cards all addressed without the stamps. However, I'm quite good electronically. I connect quite a lot in that realm. So it annoys me when I'm having a well documented crap week and so-called friends just don't even send a quick text to say 'are you ok?' That I send a text saying 'are you ok' and don't get a reply. It's rude. And leaves me wondering what the hell am I doing trying so hard.
Monday, 19 March 2012
Monday, 12 March 2012
As a mother....
When you become a mother, everything changes for you. I don't just mean your physical body - although that gets a beating too (hair, teeth, hips etc) but I mean your mental state.
All of a sudden you realise the world is not the great place you want it to be and there are dangers EVERYWHERE! I had a child who had no fear, a toddler who wanted to leap from the highest heights he could reach. I put the fear of falling into him. Although I encouraged the climbing, I got a bit shrieky if he got too high - I'm a firm believer in never climbing 10x your height unaided.
You also achieve the wanting to take the hurt away. Many a time, when CG has been hurling his guts up or so ill with the many germs - I've wished I could take his pain away.
And tonight was another one of those nights.
I had to have the horrible conversation that his great granny is not going to be with us for much longer. In a younger child, it's easier to simplify death I think. He went to his first funeral when he was 7/8 and coped so much better than all us adults. Children adapt to losing someone far easier. Even pets, he has done so well with them getting planted by the lavender at the bottom of the garden. Because he's my son (a boy-child) he has always been more concerned about how I'm feeling. I'll tell you about Fluffy. Fluffy was CG's rabbit, I didn't particularly want a rabbit. He was 5 and a half (CG not Fluffy, I have no idea how old Fluffster was) and in the 72 hours we had the rabbit, he was gold with it. Then the fluff ball died. I was distraught. I covered up the death for 3 days! My dad eventually took CG down to the beach (this was after 3 days of scouring the area for a pure white bunny to no avail) and told him the score. His first words were 'Is Mommy okay?'. His first words to me were "It'll be okay, don't cry. Fluffy can go by the lavender". [The Lavender in my garden is where all the pets are]
But as he is a teenager now, he knows exactly what the score is, and that death all very permanent and sad. And tonight he sobbed. It was horrible and I only wish I could have taken this pain for him. I wish I could have said she'll be okay. But that would have been lying. So he cried, and I got to hold him like I did when he was younger (a taller than me teenager isn't so free with the hugs as he once was) and tell him how hard it was going to be, to cry was more than okay and we also have to be so strong for Grandad.
Tis crap it is...
All of a sudden you realise the world is not the great place you want it to be and there are dangers EVERYWHERE! I had a child who had no fear, a toddler who wanted to leap from the highest heights he could reach. I put the fear of falling into him. Although I encouraged the climbing, I got a bit shrieky if he got too high - I'm a firm believer in never climbing 10x your height unaided.
You also achieve the wanting to take the hurt away. Many a time, when CG has been hurling his guts up or so ill with the many germs - I've wished I could take his pain away.
And tonight was another one of those nights.
I had to have the horrible conversation that his great granny is not going to be with us for much longer. In a younger child, it's easier to simplify death I think. He went to his first funeral when he was 7/8 and coped so much better than all us adults. Children adapt to losing someone far easier. Even pets, he has done so well with them getting planted by the lavender at the bottom of the garden. Because he's my son (a boy-child) he has always been more concerned about how I'm feeling. I'll tell you about Fluffy. Fluffy was CG's rabbit, I didn't particularly want a rabbit. He was 5 and a half (CG not Fluffy, I have no idea how old Fluffster was) and in the 72 hours we had the rabbit, he was gold with it. Then the fluff ball died. I was distraught. I covered up the death for 3 days! My dad eventually took CG down to the beach (this was after 3 days of scouring the area for a pure white bunny to no avail) and told him the score. His first words were 'Is Mommy okay?'. His first words to me were "It'll be okay, don't cry. Fluffy can go by the lavender". [The Lavender in my garden is where all the pets are]
But as he is a teenager now, he knows exactly what the score is, and that death all very permanent and sad. And tonight he sobbed. It was horrible and I only wish I could have taken this pain for him. I wish I could have said she'll be okay. But that would have been lying. So he cried, and I got to hold him like I did when he was younger (a taller than me teenager isn't so free with the hugs as he once was) and tell him how hard it was going to be, to cry was more than okay and we also have to be so strong for Grandad.
Tis crap it is...
Sunday, 11 March 2012
Absense
This is something that I've thought about often and I reckon there will be quite a lot of it in the future.
As a child, I was somewhat different to my peers. Yes, a lot of us were from immigrant stock down the lines but my dad came to SA in the 60's and not with his parents. So I was one of a few kids who had grandparents in another country. I didn't suffer through this, I had a most lovely set of grandparents and a great granny who never made me feel like I was lacking in grandparent duties. Bearing in mind, this was pre internet and email and Skype, we connected via 'snail' mail and sporadic phone calls. And I met my grandparents a few times. I really did feel I knew them from the stories my dad told of his mom and dad and his Granny Young and his siblings. The cousins who were close to me in age, we corresponded via letter.
It's only when I started to live in England, that I realised I didn't know my English Nana at all really. And I got a taste of how my Jo'burg cousins must have felt about my SA Nana. For once, I wasn't the favoured grandchild.
Now she is coming to the end of her years and I do wish I had known her more. My son on the other hand, DOES know her well and is devastated that she's so ill.
This isn't a blog about her though - that will come later. I will say that I wish she had been born in my generation, she was so talented with her hands yet her generation wasn't afforded the oppurtunities or chances mine was.
My blog purpose is basically, that with people immigrating to Australia from her, from South Africa to here and so on, there will be a whole new generation of kids who will know their grandparents via Skype. And that makes me sad. I think my son has been so lucky to have my mom and dad at his side, his whole life. I know he feels the same. Often he had remarked that he's so lucky to see his Granny and Grandad almost every day, as his friends sometimes only see theirs at the holiday times. I love that he will look back when he is my age and remember doing so much with them - much like I do with memories about my SA nana. He will remember a trip to Scotland with his granddad (the real Scotland, not the one we made up - although I'm sure he will remember that trick too), he'll remember cooking with Granny and possibly the day our life turned upside down when she had her stroke. He'll remember going to Cape Town with his mom and Granny and then recall having a "Boys Week" with Grandad when I went to SA with my mom.
So in respect, I'm glad I didn't uproot him and move when I wanted to. There! I've said it, and I never thought I'd say that, because in truth, the only thing that keeps me rooted to this spot of the world is the fact my parents are here, and my son is happiest when we are all around.
As a child, I was somewhat different to my peers. Yes, a lot of us were from immigrant stock down the lines but my dad came to SA in the 60's and not with his parents. So I was one of a few kids who had grandparents in another country. I didn't suffer through this, I had a most lovely set of grandparents and a great granny who never made me feel like I was lacking in grandparent duties. Bearing in mind, this was pre internet and email and Skype, we connected via 'snail' mail and sporadic phone calls. And I met my grandparents a few times. I really did feel I knew them from the stories my dad told of his mom and dad and his Granny Young and his siblings. The cousins who were close to me in age, we corresponded via letter.
It's only when I started to live in England, that I realised I didn't know my English Nana at all really. And I got a taste of how my Jo'burg cousins must have felt about my SA Nana. For once, I wasn't the favoured grandchild.
Now she is coming to the end of her years and I do wish I had known her more. My son on the other hand, DOES know her well and is devastated that she's so ill.
This isn't a blog about her though - that will come later. I will say that I wish she had been born in my generation, she was so talented with her hands yet her generation wasn't afforded the oppurtunities or chances mine was.
My blog purpose is basically, that with people immigrating to Australia from her, from South Africa to here and so on, there will be a whole new generation of kids who will know their grandparents via Skype. And that makes me sad. I think my son has been so lucky to have my mom and dad at his side, his whole life. I know he feels the same. Often he had remarked that he's so lucky to see his Granny and Grandad almost every day, as his friends sometimes only see theirs at the holiday times. I love that he will look back when he is my age and remember doing so much with them - much like I do with memories about my SA nana. He will remember a trip to Scotland with his granddad (the real Scotland, not the one we made up - although I'm sure he will remember that trick too), he'll remember cooking with Granny and possibly the day our life turned upside down when she had her stroke. He'll remember going to Cape Town with his mom and Granny and then recall having a "Boys Week" with Grandad when I went to SA with my mom.
So in respect, I'm glad I didn't uproot him and move when I wanted to. There! I've said it, and I never thought I'd say that, because in truth, the only thing that keeps me rooted to this spot of the world is the fact my parents are here, and my son is happiest when we are all around.
Wednesday, 7 March 2012
Action
It appears baliff action works. I have a few payments of maintenance coming my way. I'd say thank you to the parties concerned but the fact it had to go to 13 years and baliff action, means I've been waiting far too long to be gracious about it.
And it's not that CG has ever gone without but that's been with a lot of help from my parents. There is no way at all my life would be half as easy without them. And yes, it stings when you see the other party has been living it up while I look to Heavens and wonder if I'll manage to buy trainers and PE kit or just the trainers. Or if my gas will last. Now, many folk would say 'Aaah but you bring a child into this world...". And I agree, but I never planned this relationship would end, in fact I put up with cheating within that relationship when I was 6 months pregnant because, the thought of bringing my child into a single parent environment was horrendous to me. I was pertubed enough that I wasn't married, but I digress and my veiws and opinions have moved on from there. I also never thought that my son's father would turn out to be so remiss in his responsibilites. I guess that's the bit that shocked me most of all.
But this is not a woe is me blog, this is just pure facts, that finally I have some maintenance soon to come into my bank. It means the school camp and scouts camp can be paid for outright, it means my credit card isn't going to groan when I take it out my wallet and it means I don't have to ask my dad if I can borrow cash again.
This is my birthday week and it has been grand so far. I've danced until my feet ached, I've laughed with good friends, I had a cupcake from somewhere I've wanted to go for ages (didn't live up to the hype but no matter), I had a video from my lovelies in Australia and a quote from AinW from my N. And roses from someone (haven't a clue).
Yes, if this is what turning *@? does to a person, I'll have some more please!
And it's not that CG has ever gone without but that's been with a lot of help from my parents. There is no way at all my life would be half as easy without them. And yes, it stings when you see the other party has been living it up while I look to Heavens and wonder if I'll manage to buy trainers and PE kit or just the trainers. Or if my gas will last. Now, many folk would say 'Aaah but you bring a child into this world...". And I agree, but I never planned this relationship would end, in fact I put up with cheating within that relationship when I was 6 months pregnant because, the thought of bringing my child into a single parent environment was horrendous to me. I was pertubed enough that I wasn't married, but I digress and my veiws and opinions have moved on from there. I also never thought that my son's father would turn out to be so remiss in his responsibilites. I guess that's the bit that shocked me most of all.
But this is not a woe is me blog, this is just pure facts, that finally I have some maintenance soon to come into my bank. It means the school camp and scouts camp can be paid for outright, it means my credit card isn't going to groan when I take it out my wallet and it means I don't have to ask my dad if I can borrow cash again.
This is my birthday week and it has been grand so far. I've danced until my feet ached, I've laughed with good friends, I had a cupcake from somewhere I've wanted to go for ages (didn't live up to the hype but no matter), I had a video from my lovelies in Australia and a quote from AinW from my N. And roses from someone (haven't a clue).
Yes, if this is what turning *@? does to a person, I'll have some more please!
Sunday, 4 March 2012
Hangover'd feet
I don't do hangovers. Never had one, never want to have one. But my feet have appeared to have taken the idea and run with it (hehehe amusing after Vodka Ice...)
I do suspect it's a 'chick' thing. It's where you add 4 inches plus to your height in the shape of pretty footwear and dance the night away. It's a little silly, when you haven't worn the heels in 4 months. And my feet are protesting even the day after the night before.
But I can't blame the shoes. How can you blame the most prettiest shoes in the land?
I do suspect it's a 'chick' thing. It's where you add 4 inches plus to your height in the shape of pretty footwear and dance the night away. It's a little silly, when you haven't worn the heels in 4 months. And my feet are protesting even the day after the night before.
But I can't blame the shoes. How can you blame the most prettiest shoes in the land?
Hic
I miss you. There. I've said it. Never want to be over emotional, but I look around and nothing compares. So I miss us, you, me, all of it together.
I've titled this 'Hic', because I'm slightly under the influence. Fact remains that the sentiment is true.
I miss....the feeling of being whole.
I've titled this 'Hic', because I'm slightly under the influence. Fact remains that the sentiment is true.
I miss....the feeling of being whole.
Friday, 24 February 2012
The years and times
I've been meaning to write a blog about this for quite some time. It appears that time is now and it couldn't be more apt.
The last week or so of February is always a nice time for me. And during my lunch break today, I realised that pretty much most of the really important moments in my life happened in the last week of Feb. Or rather the life changing moments.
The last week of Feb is when my son was born. Without a doubt, that was the moment I became a woman. Every year on the eve of his birthday, I write to him or about him and what I wish for him in the year ahead. He turns 14 within a few days and I'm still in awe that I brought this child into the world. That I have formed this teenager who is lovable, loved, funny, kind and sensitive and clever. My word, is he clever! And polite. He has good manners and in this world where teenagers get such a bad rap, I'm seriously proud of my CG who remains as delightful as he was since the day he was born. Oh yes, of course he is moodier by the minute (those horrible teenage hormones and emotions) and is prone to stubbornness (just cannot fathom where he got that from). But he is mine and he is amazing and I hope he continues to grow in that vein. I don't think he knows how much he is cherished and loved and adored by myself and his maternal grandparents. But again, that's not really something you know when you're a teen. You know it when you are a toddler and when you are an adult but I remember being 14 myself and raging at the world and thinking I was so unlovable. But yet, I was the most loved child.
It's fairly well established that I am the Memory. That I remember quite a lot others have forgotten. And on this day 23 years ago and about this time (give or take an hour and much time travel between the hemispheres) I was on a train becoming best friends with N. Now as a young girl, you swapped best friends weekly. I flitted from group to group and had a core that I counted as my best friends. N is different. On the 24 Feb we became 13 13. 23 years later and she's still the woman I turn to, when no one else understands what's happening in my head completely. I know she will not judge, I know she will be honest and I know she'll listen. I have shared every part of my life with her....there is no secret this woman does not know. I could write quite a bit about our bond. And I find it very fitting that we took that train journey on this night in 1989, in that week which changed my life. Maybe the Universe chose that week for me - to meet two people that would form who I am. And then the same week to have my son, another person who forms who I am now.The thread that runs through my life per se. I'm not sure why, I'm not sure if it even matters but I can remember more about that week, the feelings I was feeling, the clothes I was wearing, the conversations I had down to the last word, than I can about most things I've experienced.
There's no doubt this is a very special week for me whatever year it is... I was due to be born this week but I wasn't (I waited just another week - YES! It's my birthday soon!). And it's a good week, a great week, my week.
And people say I hark to the past.. it's not a bad thing. I grow from my past. I don't wish I was back there - not at all, but I can sit here and think tonight 23 years ago, I danced to the Coca Cola song in a room full of people, when it felt like there was just two of us. I watched the Lost Boys but only for a little bit. I ran for a train with my N at 10.05pm and we shared a meeting of the souls hanging out the window, and I stayed up all night talking of boys and mischief and making toasted cheese. I can remember that and I can smile and be happy that I found two people that understood my soul. Some people wait a lifetime for that kind of meeting.
Yes, this is rather sentimental and possibly puke inducing. That's the kind of mood I'm in.
The last week or so of February is always a nice time for me. And during my lunch break today, I realised that pretty much most of the really important moments in my life happened in the last week of Feb. Or rather the life changing moments.
The last week of Feb is when my son was born. Without a doubt, that was the moment I became a woman. Every year on the eve of his birthday, I write to him or about him and what I wish for him in the year ahead. He turns 14 within a few days and I'm still in awe that I brought this child into the world. That I have formed this teenager who is lovable, loved, funny, kind and sensitive and clever. My word, is he clever! And polite. He has good manners and in this world where teenagers get such a bad rap, I'm seriously proud of my CG who remains as delightful as he was since the day he was born. Oh yes, of course he is moodier by the minute (those horrible teenage hormones and emotions) and is prone to stubbornness (just cannot fathom where he got that from). But he is mine and he is amazing and I hope he continues to grow in that vein. I don't think he knows how much he is cherished and loved and adored by myself and his maternal grandparents. But again, that's not really something you know when you're a teen. You know it when you are a toddler and when you are an adult but I remember being 14 myself and raging at the world and thinking I was so unlovable. But yet, I was the most loved child.
It's fairly well established that I am the Memory. That I remember quite a lot others have forgotten. And on this day 23 years ago and about this time (give or take an hour and much time travel between the hemispheres) I was on a train becoming best friends with N. Now as a young girl, you swapped best friends weekly. I flitted from group to group and had a core that I counted as my best friends. N is different. On the 24 Feb we became 13 13. 23 years later and she's still the woman I turn to, when no one else understands what's happening in my head completely. I know she will not judge, I know she will be honest and I know she'll listen. I have shared every part of my life with her....there is no secret this woman does not know. I could write quite a bit about our bond. And I find it very fitting that we took that train journey on this night in 1989, in that week which changed my life. Maybe the Universe chose that week for me - to meet two people that would form who I am. And then the same week to have my son, another person who forms who I am now.The thread that runs through my life per se. I'm not sure why, I'm not sure if it even matters but I can remember more about that week, the feelings I was feeling, the clothes I was wearing, the conversations I had down to the last word, than I can about most things I've experienced.
There's no doubt this is a very special week for me whatever year it is... I was due to be born this week but I wasn't (I waited just another week - YES! It's my birthday soon!). And it's a good week, a great week, my week.
And people say I hark to the past.. it's not a bad thing. I grow from my past. I don't wish I was back there - not at all, but I can sit here and think tonight 23 years ago, I danced to the Coca Cola song in a room full of people, when it felt like there was just two of us. I watched the Lost Boys but only for a little bit. I ran for a train with my N at 10.05pm and we shared a meeting of the souls hanging out the window, and I stayed up all night talking of boys and mischief and making toasted cheese. I can remember that and I can smile and be happy that I found two people that understood my soul. Some people wait a lifetime for that kind of meeting.
Yes, this is rather sentimental and possibly puke inducing. That's the kind of mood I'm in.
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