My son - who shall be hereby named CG, said something yesterday. I can't remember what it was or how relevant it was at the time. But I looked at him and thought 'Gee I really love you but I also really like you'. Yes, he's at that age where I truly get why my mom said of me at that age 'I'd swing for you'. He's at that age where essentially he is still a child but thinks he's an adult. I predict this stage to last until he's well into his 20s... if I'm anything to go by. But he is truly funny and witty and considerate and just really a nice person. And I really like his company.
And I'm sure there are plenty of lovely 13 year olds out there, but this one I made, so I have a particular fondness for him. And yes, I guess I have shaped him into a bit of who he is. He says please and thank you because that's how I taught him to behave.
I didn't - as I'm sure many didn't - think I'd be any good at this mothering lark. I didn't think I'd do a particulary good job and sure there are days when I think I must be absolutely disgusting and failing at every turn. But on the whole, I thinkI can be proud of CG and the little man-child he is. I didnt' want to be a single mother, it was never in my plan of how life should be but shit happens and I have been. And if I was a play, I would have proved the critics wrong. If CG was a cake, he'd have risen nicely.
My funny, lovely, taller than me CG. My most favourite and best accomplishment.
Saturday, 6 August 2011
Tuesday, 12 July 2011
You know I started thinking about this blog and how I really didn't want to offend anyone with it. Like how if I say something that's not liked. I wouldn't want to hurt anyone with my words. But then I also figure that the people that irritate me the most are self absorbed and full of their own life's importance, that they wouldn't read my blog because it's not about them. Well, time to catch a wake up, because this one is!
I'm one of those people that aren't like dynamite - one spark and boom! off she goes. No, I'm more a gentle simmer with a big boil at the end. I take the bad behaviour, I take the digs, I take the shit and then I take no more. Maybe I'm more like a camel with straw as opposed to a pot?
I seem to have people in my life who, for the most part, are good people - I like having them around, they're a good laugh, a good shoulder and generally love me to bits. But sheesh, these people are driving me to some very bad moods at the moment. I dislike the whole keeping up with the Jones' attitude, I dislike the showing off of monetary goods. Maybe it's the way I was brought up. I didn't have a family that went without at all. My dad is not a miser and never has been. If he's got it, he'll spend it. We had all the gadgets that were to be had etc. And we also had immense amounts of love in our family. I'm not one of those people who can say that they had a shite childhood, mine was pretty damned good. Oh yes, Mom was WAY too strict until I was 16 - that seems to be the extent of my bad days as a teen. ;o) I was showered with love and everything my heart desired. And therefore it was never about what we had in our house, because we had all I needed. So that's maybe why it pisses me off beyond belief when people brag about what they have... or rather: that's fine that you have the latest x y and z. But seriously, you don't need to make it into an epic tale. Because yes, it's pretty but I don't care. A car is a car, a couch is a couch and a tv is a tv. Can you see the same shows I can? Yes? Well then, who the hell cares that yours is a 2011 model with chrome finish and dual controls and white leather airbags? You are trying to impress the wrong person.
It's the self satisfied smugness when people big themselves up. If I have to hear ONE more time that you've got one leg, three toes, seven children, yet can still do the weekly shop while caring for your aunty's stepson's granny and go to work for 8 days a week, I'll scream. We all have our cross to bear. We all think we're doing an epic job, so you're no different. Just get on with it.
And my favourite whinge of the day: stop putting me down so that you can brag how fab you are doing. I can big myself up too. No actually I can't. I feel like I'm doing a crappy day to day job of keeping afloat. Especially compared to you with your seven kids, ten dogs and your one leg.
I can tell you the outcome of this as well... I'll get so 'gatvol' and so annoyed of your bleating and your gloating, and you putting me down, that I'll go distant, I'll make excuses and I won't return your calls. And then we won't be friends, and you'll wonder why you lost someone you claim to love so much.
I do value these friendships and I'm sure it's a passing phase but right this minute I just can't be bothered. So excuse me while I hibernate until you both get out of your self absorbed phase.
Aaah already I feel better! And can probably go on another day. Actually, another thought that's crossed my mind: should adulthood really be like kidhood? Time to broaden my circles....
I'm one of those people that aren't like dynamite - one spark and boom! off she goes. No, I'm more a gentle simmer with a big boil at the end. I take the bad behaviour, I take the digs, I take the shit and then I take no more. Maybe I'm more like a camel with straw as opposed to a pot?
I seem to have people in my life who, for the most part, are good people - I like having them around, they're a good laugh, a good shoulder and generally love me to bits. But sheesh, these people are driving me to some very bad moods at the moment. I dislike the whole keeping up with the Jones' attitude, I dislike the showing off of monetary goods. Maybe it's the way I was brought up. I didn't have a family that went without at all. My dad is not a miser and never has been. If he's got it, he'll spend it. We had all the gadgets that were to be had etc. And we also had immense amounts of love in our family. I'm not one of those people who can say that they had a shite childhood, mine was pretty damned good. Oh yes, Mom was WAY too strict until I was 16 - that seems to be the extent of my bad days as a teen. ;o) I was showered with love and everything my heart desired. And therefore it was never about what we had in our house, because we had all I needed. So that's maybe why it pisses me off beyond belief when people brag about what they have... or rather: that's fine that you have the latest x y and z. But seriously, you don't need to make it into an epic tale. Because yes, it's pretty but I don't care. A car is a car, a couch is a couch and a tv is a tv. Can you see the same shows I can? Yes? Well then, who the hell cares that yours is a 2011 model with chrome finish and dual controls and white leather airbags? You are trying to impress the wrong person.
It's the self satisfied smugness when people big themselves up. If I have to hear ONE more time that you've got one leg, three toes, seven children, yet can still do the weekly shop while caring for your aunty's stepson's granny and go to work for 8 days a week, I'll scream. We all have our cross to bear. We all think we're doing an epic job, so you're no different. Just get on with it.
And my favourite whinge of the day: stop putting me down so that you can brag how fab you are doing. I can big myself up too. No actually I can't. I feel like I'm doing a crappy day to day job of keeping afloat. Especially compared to you with your seven kids, ten dogs and your one leg.
I can tell you the outcome of this as well... I'll get so 'gatvol' and so annoyed of your bleating and your gloating, and you putting me down, that I'll go distant, I'll make excuses and I won't return your calls. And then we won't be friends, and you'll wonder why you lost someone you claim to love so much.
I do value these friendships and I'm sure it's a passing phase but right this minute I just can't be bothered. So excuse me while I hibernate until you both get out of your self absorbed phase.
Aaah already I feel better! And can probably go on another day. Actually, another thought that's crossed my mind: should adulthood really be like kidhood? Time to broaden my circles....
Sunday, 5 June 2011
Hmm
My mom still manages to make me laugh. Well in a 'you said what' kind of way. I want to take my son on holiday when some money comes through. My parents are aware of this, so I thought.
Anyway, that's the back story. So today, mom and I are having a conversation where a friend has texted me saying they miss me (in Cape Town) and I must come on holiday. So Mom says 'oh you must and take the child'. Bearing in mind, her speech is still affected by the stroke, I still thought it was a good sentence. So I said I was thinking about it, but I think I'd take him somewhere a bit closer. No, she gets quite animated at this point and says I must GO! with him and soon. I said well it's a bit far, a bit expensive, I was thinking more South of France or somewhere Europe but hot.
She gets VERY cross and says no no no I must go forever with him and never come back. So we were not talking a holiday. She was talking about me emigrating back to South Africa (is it emigrating when you're going back? hmm maybe not). I point out to her that really as much as it would probably be a nice move on my part, I'm not really prepared to take my son away from his only set of grandparents that he knows. That it wouldn't be fair on my dad nor CG. She appreciates that. To be fair, she's always championed me moving elsewhere. Until I actually make moves to do it that is. And I've had the conversation with my dad and he reckons they would be okay. BUT I think he was more meaning somewhere in England.
But it gets a gal thinking, if all things were perfect in my world: would I, could I leave this country? I yearn for a home where the seasons know their place. Where you can have a summer and a winter wardrobe. Where you know your quality of life may be more than it is at the moment. But I love England, the beauty of it is completely different to Africa. I love the castles, I love the fact there is a HUGE amount of history everywhere. I love that I live in an area where an actual battle took place. That the streets are clean, that I have a job and can pay my bills. So it's safe here, I have the excuses I need not to move.
BUT that creates a somewhat stagnant, bored and fed up me. My feet are itchy and want to do something! All of me is just wanting to break free. To just shut the door and let the house get on with itself. To just start fresh. Maybe it's not even that, but I want to get out there, live a little, laugh a lot. Not be bogged down by pettyness of the humdrum. Or even enjoy the humdrum because you know that there's something waiting for you.
It's no good really talking about it, or even blogging about it, if you're not going to do something about it. I need a list, a scheme and a piece of string - because that's what McGuyver always had for a good plan coming together - or am I getting my 80's sitcoms confused? Oooh and maybe throw in a bit of the Magnum as I already have a nice fast red car. What the plan will be is anyones guess, but like all my adventures so far, I'm sure it'll just attach itself to me when it's ready to!
And I'm sure this blog is a bunch of nonsense words that don't make any sense, but that's just me all over. It's amazing how the mind jumps back and forth. To be fair, I'm still chuckling that mother might have thought I wanted to move to the South of France. It's a good thing really that I didn't tell her I wanted to go to Thorpe Park! :)
Anyway, that's the back story. So today, mom and I are having a conversation where a friend has texted me saying they miss me (in Cape Town) and I must come on holiday. So Mom says 'oh you must and take the child'. Bearing in mind, her speech is still affected by the stroke, I still thought it was a good sentence. So I said I was thinking about it, but I think I'd take him somewhere a bit closer. No, she gets quite animated at this point and says I must GO! with him and soon. I said well it's a bit far, a bit expensive, I was thinking more South of France or somewhere Europe but hot.
She gets VERY cross and says no no no I must go forever with him and never come back. So we were not talking a holiday. She was talking about me emigrating back to South Africa (is it emigrating when you're going back? hmm maybe not). I point out to her that really as much as it would probably be a nice move on my part, I'm not really prepared to take my son away from his only set of grandparents that he knows. That it wouldn't be fair on my dad nor CG. She appreciates that. To be fair, she's always championed me moving elsewhere. Until I actually make moves to do it that is. And I've had the conversation with my dad and he reckons they would be okay. BUT I think he was more meaning somewhere in England.
But it gets a gal thinking, if all things were perfect in my world: would I, could I leave this country? I yearn for a home where the seasons know their place. Where you can have a summer and a winter wardrobe. Where you know your quality of life may be more than it is at the moment. But I love England, the beauty of it is completely different to Africa. I love the castles, I love the fact there is a HUGE amount of history everywhere. I love that I live in an area where an actual battle took place. That the streets are clean, that I have a job and can pay my bills. So it's safe here, I have the excuses I need not to move.
BUT that creates a somewhat stagnant, bored and fed up me. My feet are itchy and want to do something! All of me is just wanting to break free. To just shut the door and let the house get on with itself. To just start fresh. Maybe it's not even that, but I want to get out there, live a little, laugh a lot. Not be bogged down by pettyness of the humdrum. Or even enjoy the humdrum because you know that there's something waiting for you.
It's no good really talking about it, or even blogging about it, if you're not going to do something about it. I need a list, a scheme and a piece of string - because that's what McGuyver always had for a good plan coming together - or am I getting my 80's sitcoms confused? Oooh and maybe throw in a bit of the Magnum as I already have a nice fast red car. What the plan will be is anyones guess, but like all my adventures so far, I'm sure it'll just attach itself to me when it's ready to!
And I'm sure this blog is a bunch of nonsense words that don't make any sense, but that's just me all over. It's amazing how the mind jumps back and forth. To be fair, I'm still chuckling that mother might have thought I wanted to move to the South of France. It's a good thing really that I didn't tell her I wanted to go to Thorpe Park! :)
Monday, 30 May 2011
D.I.Y
My father is crap at D.I.Y. It appears my son has got this defunct gene.
When I was 12 my dad decided to build a kennel, many hours of blood (his), sweat (his), tears (my mothers) later and outside was the most beautiful kennel ever seen. It seemed a little too good to be true, it didn't even look the same colour as the wood he had been pummelling two days before. Yes, turns out in the early morning, the local petshop got his business.
And so we fast forward to 5 years back (that make sense?) when we bought my son one of those beds, with the desk and cupboards underneath. 48 hours it took for us to put that together (dad and I) (it says on the instructions, one day two people), this time I did the bleeding (scars to prove) and crying. Oh and the holding thumbs when the child got into it for the first time. I've not slept much in the last 5 years waiting for him to come crashing down. Now he's getting a normal bed and the chunk of wood is coming down. I've been replaced by said son and Dad and him are upstairs as I type. The two of them sound like a comedy duo, who aren't really sure of what they should be doing. At every whirr of the saw (I'm not asking why), I wince, with every brrrrrwwrrrr of the drill I shudder and with every clunk and smash of the wood I cringe. So far no injuries to report but I'm assured it's only a matter of time. I love my dad, I really do, there is not a man in the world like him, but he's seriously not very good at wood and nails and stuff. His ideas are, the practice is lacking.
And I've just been informed they've made a cupboards. I would love it if I was to eat humble pie, I'd scoff my words up and apologise for this blog, but until I see it, I will reserve judgement and get the bank cards ready for the local store!
When I was 12 my dad decided to build a kennel, many hours of blood (his), sweat (his), tears (my mothers) later and outside was the most beautiful kennel ever seen. It seemed a little too good to be true, it didn't even look the same colour as the wood he had been pummelling two days before. Yes, turns out in the early morning, the local petshop got his business.
And so we fast forward to 5 years back (that make sense?) when we bought my son one of those beds, with the desk and cupboards underneath. 48 hours it took for us to put that together (dad and I) (it says on the instructions, one day two people), this time I did the bleeding (scars to prove) and crying. Oh and the holding thumbs when the child got into it for the first time. I've not slept much in the last 5 years waiting for him to come crashing down. Now he's getting a normal bed and the chunk of wood is coming down. I've been replaced by said son and Dad and him are upstairs as I type. The two of them sound like a comedy duo, who aren't really sure of what they should be doing. At every whirr of the saw (I'm not asking why), I wince, with every brrrrrwwrrrr of the drill I shudder and with every clunk and smash of the wood I cringe. So far no injuries to report but I'm assured it's only a matter of time. I love my dad, I really do, there is not a man in the world like him, but he's seriously not very good at wood and nails and stuff. His ideas are, the practice is lacking.
And I've just been informed they've made a cupboards. I would love it if I was to eat humble pie, I'd scoff my words up and apologise for this blog, but until I see it, I will reserve judgement and get the bank cards ready for the local store!
Thursday, 19 May 2011
Brain picking
So I've said goodbye yet again. Or is it a see you around? I think maybe it is. I like to harbour a tiny thought that maybe the chapter is not closed. Or that it's yet to be read perhaps? Who knows. All I know is that, I had a fantastic time. I lived in the moment of that evening and I feel strangely calm about it all.
Oh yes, it's easy to play the 'what if' game. But it might be that is how it works. A continous (ooh that looks like a wrong spelling Ms Gerrard) meeting up and feeling very at ease. We are, as humans (maybe just as females), conditioned to think that there's a fairytale for everyone, that we are put on this earth to find someone to live happily ever after with. But it could be for some people, that's not how their life should be grown. Maybe, and here's a thought, just maybe we sometimes find a person that you feel connected to but only in short spasms of time. You feel it's in you, it should be that happy ever after because that's how everyone does it but it could be that your destiny with that person is for him/her to make you feel special for that period of time. That you live in the seconds of that time, that you enjoy it and you look forward to the next time you meet.
I might be talking a lot of shit but I am glad I lived for the 24 hours, that I have no expectations (this time, my behaviour in previous years states otherwise) and that maybe there will be another time to enjoy someday. Could it possibly be that I've matured enough to look at me and look at the world and see it can be played unconventionally to the norm? That just because most people do their life from a to z, doesn't mean I have to. I can jump to 'l' and then back to 'b' if I wish.
And be of an age when I'm not raging for a missed chance or two but embracing that I had the good fortune to meet such an epic person and have them share some of my favourite moments with. I could pick out a few but I don't think the www should be privy to all my brain.
In the words of Fall out Boy: thnks 4 the mmrs....
Oh yes, it's easy to play the 'what if' game. But it might be that is how it works. A continous (ooh that looks like a wrong spelling Ms Gerrard) meeting up and feeling very at ease. We are, as humans (maybe just as females), conditioned to think that there's a fairytale for everyone, that we are put on this earth to find someone to live happily ever after with. But it could be for some people, that's not how their life should be grown. Maybe, and here's a thought, just maybe we sometimes find a person that you feel connected to but only in short spasms of time. You feel it's in you, it should be that happy ever after because that's how everyone does it but it could be that your destiny with that person is for him/her to make you feel special for that period of time. That you live in the seconds of that time, that you enjoy it and you look forward to the next time you meet.
I might be talking a lot of shit but I am glad I lived for the 24 hours, that I have no expectations (this time, my behaviour in previous years states otherwise) and that maybe there will be another time to enjoy someday. Could it possibly be that I've matured enough to look at me and look at the world and see it can be played unconventionally to the norm? That just because most people do their life from a to z, doesn't mean I have to. I can jump to 'l' and then back to 'b' if I wish.
And be of an age when I'm not raging for a missed chance or two but embracing that I had the good fortune to meet such an epic person and have them share some of my favourite moments with. I could pick out a few but I don't think the www should be privy to all my brain.
In the words of Fall out Boy: thnks 4 the mmrs....
Friday, 6 May 2011
The End
So when I say "Are you seeing anyone?" and you say "No" or some variant of it. And I end up questioning my vibe, my 6th sense, only to find out that the world, his dog and his uncle's sister all know that you have been for quite a while "seeing someone". Well, then do not be surprised that you are removed from who I consider to be my friends.
What I value in a friendship is the knowledge that you know me, that you should know that I would be happy for someone else to make you happy. That you spent enough time with me to know that I'm like that. That you could tell me the workings of your life. That you trust me as much as I trust you and value your opinion on my life.
But you don't, so where is this friendship you have harked on about? Clearly you value it as much as an old piece of chewing gum on a thrown away pair of trainers....or maybe not even that much.
And that stings, that hurts, it really does. Call me a fool, because clearly I am. I imagine you'll use the line 'but I didn't want you to be hurt'. But we've both moved on considerably so that's a poor excuse.
Straight answers, that's all I ever ask. It's what your other friends get from you, I don't. Hence, I'm clearly not a friend of yours.
Done.
What I value in a friendship is the knowledge that you know me, that you should know that I would be happy for someone else to make you happy. That you spent enough time with me to know that I'm like that. That you could tell me the workings of your life. That you trust me as much as I trust you and value your opinion on my life.
But you don't, so where is this friendship you have harked on about? Clearly you value it as much as an old piece of chewing gum on a thrown away pair of trainers....or maybe not even that much.
And that stings, that hurts, it really does. Call me a fool, because clearly I am. I imagine you'll use the line 'but I didn't want you to be hurt'. But we've both moved on considerably so that's a poor excuse.
Straight answers, that's all I ever ask. It's what your other friends get from you, I don't. Hence, I'm clearly not a friend of yours.
Done.
Wednesday, 4 May 2011
Sneaky Sixth Sense
If I cared, you'd know about it. But since I don't, you won't.
A line that's been in my head for a few hours now. I did write a long blog about it, but it vanished.
Essentially I credited my 6th sense which to date, has never let me down.
Whooohhooooo for my sneaky sixth sense.
A line that's been in my head for a few hours now. I did write a long blog about it, but it vanished.
Essentially I credited my 6th sense which to date, has never let me down.
Whooohhooooo for my sneaky sixth sense.
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I'm itchy... my feet are mostly. Itchy. To walk places, do things, have it all. It might be the weather, it might be the chance of new j...
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In my element. Sun beating done on my bones, the sound of the sea, waves cooling my toes. Purrfect. These things make my soul sing a happy t... -
Lost my blog in a draft somewhere about the Rugby World Cup...but I'll give it another go. Rugby Hangover, I'm sure it's an of...