Sex Ed! What should we really be teaching our kids?

I was eavesdropping on my 5 year old playing house with his cousin, had a laugh at the role play but it does beg some questions. The girl was mommy and my son daddy, she spent the whole game complaining about how much house work she had, and without listening to a word she said my son asked her to pour him a drink. Is this what we teaching our kids what marriage is about?
We were discussing at book club (the source of all knowledge) when is the appropriate time to start teaching our kids about the birds and the bees. 3 was suggested starting age of basic anatomy getting more detailed with the years. Research I have done suggests always being prepared as they will ask at the most random times. This got me thinking what I was taught, I can remember a book with cartoon sperm, a talk and a bad PACT skit/play at school, and my mother saying that if cant do it in public you shouldn't be doing it. Did this really prepare me, I am not sure.
I read a blog written by a dad wishing his daughter has great sex in her life, not locking her behind a chastity belt. Not promoting promiscuity, but yes, sex is awesome.
We spend so much time complaining that our husbands should be more intuitive, knowing when we need a glass of champagne, when to be left alone, when to be hugged, when to put the kids in the car and disappear for an hour or two. We expect alot from them in the bedroom as well, they need to know when we want to be cuddled, when we want to be thrown on the bed for a good Rogering and when to sleep in the other room with very little definate input from us. Reading some articles in mens magazines by men commenting on why Christian got women dripping like a perculator, majority concluded that women secretly like to be dominated or that women are materialistic. I wanted to shout at these articles saying no no no. It was signing off each email differently, rubbing soothing lotion on her bruised ass, and other such acts. Treat her like the most important person in the universe and you can do whatever you want to her in the bedroom.
So... How do I teach this concept to my boys? Is it possible to teach this, or is it nature? I have started with old fashioned chivalry. What should we be teaching our daughters? How do we help them create a world that just a little better?

I'm swimming in the rain, what a glorius feeling, I'm happy again.

I have mentioned before my lack of good motherly discipline when it comes to doing fun things, today was no exception. We woke up to grey skys and leaky clouds. We were blessed with an amazing electric storm last night, lightning, thunder and a downpour. My boys love the rain, it sends an excited energy bolt through them. It started with my 2 year old, that is yet to be convinced by homosapiens choice to wear clothes regardless of the temperature, jumping on his bike with his Flounder hat going for a ride in the rain. I donned my dri-mac and off we set. Neighbours giving me the helpful medical advice that my kids will catch some rain virus and end up in a slow sneezing painful lump on the couch. I thank them for their concern and continue my race through the big puddles splashing. Back at the house the 5 year old decides swimming in the rain will rock this rainy day. I don't mind a good goof during a monkey's wedding, but on a London pisser takes a bit more. So I set my boundaries, I will swim with you but you jump in first. Off we go, 2 year old in armbands an birthday suite, 5 year old whooping at prospect. Cannon Bombs away! We are swimming in the rain, what a glorius feeling, we are happy again. Half an hour later, blue, boys wrapped in towels run back to house for hot chocolate and marshmallows, I jump into a hot shower. That sting of hot water on icy cold body after bombing, jumping, diving, and underwater scare game is invigorating. Choosing to spend the day in the pool, riding bikes, on the slip n slide, splashing in puddles, rewarded with hot treats beats sitting holed up in front of the tv anyday! I am off to bed with a big tingling smile!

Mmmmm...Good Question???

Every parenting book gives us the advice to prepare yourself for the sex questions, so that we can answer appropriately and without creating a big fuss. So far I have fielded these relatively well. What I did not prepare for were questions on race and racial issues. Being brought up in South Africa may have made us a bit more edgy about answering these. I am really irritated with myself about my hesitation and lack of preparation. My now 5 year old usually spurts these out on the trip home from school, one of the biggest reasons why I do everything to ensure I take and fetch from school. We spend many hours of our lives watching builders build, anywhere that has an active building site I get convinced to stop and watch. After watching the builders pouring concrete for the foundations of the new school aquatic centre we hopped in the car, lunch box on lap, ready for trip home which consists of blissful silence or a rundown of school events or a game of ask the awkward questions.
"Why are all the builders the same as my friend A?" "What do you mean by the same?" "They are all brown." Now instead of simple truthful answers sticking to all learned principles, mind realing with 10 different explanations, I went with the stupid and senseless which does not satisfy anyone. Lucky can distract 5 year olds easily and bank it for a better day.
The following day I was somehow coerced into having 2 boys around for a play date (when I write these it points out that my kids really do manipulate me). Due to the excessive heat slip n slides and pools were the game of choice. Sitting on the patio eating lunch in life guard mode, my domestic worker was telling me how fascinated she is by the kids swimming. I told her to grab her lunch and come sit with me and she can watch the kids. Being much older than me, therefore brought up in what we term the old South Africa, this goes against what she has done all her life. But she does it. So we sitting chatting, she asks me about the race of the boys. I explain that the bigger boy is Zulu and the smaller boys dad is coloured and I think mom is Indian. She laughs and says when she was young she would never have thought a maid would be sitting eating lunch with her madam watching a rainbow of kids play together without any thought. Thinking back to the previous day, and my reluctance to answer race questions, these kids are so fortunate and we must do everything to keep these kids in the same prejudice free mindset as they grow. I love being South African living in South Africa because we have made real change for the better.

PikiTup Mondays

Mondays are associated with going back to work, long haul to the weekend and general blueness. Not in my house, Mondays are dustbin collection days. The dustbin truck arrival creates much excitement. The dog usually alerts us to its presence first. Followed by squeals of delight from the boys. Racing to the door, garage open, exploding out toward the rubbish collectors. Of course mom has to be there too. The hum that wafts off the dustbin truck hits you as you step into the road.Then they wheel the dustbins and attach it to truck, pull the lever and the dustbin lifts and tips the contents into the truck. For a 2 year old this simple action is like a teenage boy watching cheerleading practice. For mom, the dustbin juice that has been bubbling in the hot Jhb sun for the week is set free to attack the olfactory senses. If this was the end of the experience it would be manageable, but no no. The dustbin men then hop onto the truck and move onto the next house. Yes we are now following closely behind within in smelly distance. A big up to the PikiTup guys, they notice this interest and as a change in their dull existence they start to interact. First step is letting the boys pull the lever that tips the bin. Then they notch it up a level, grab the boys, plonk them onto the runner board, jump up to hold them and whistle some coded dustbin man lingo that means go. My heart leaps into my throat, torn between let your kids experience things have fun, and OMG you are going to fall off, be ridden over and die. Now I am forced to follow closely behind on high alert to perform a supermom dive catch and roll should they fall. Thankfully it is only 500m around our complex. When we get to the end I feel relief but the boys have had so much smelly fun! We stroll back to our house and I love to listen to them retelling the tale of the trip on the dustbin truck. You feel so proud when they then announce that they are going to be Dustbin men when they grow up, that private school education is money well spent. Back inside to wait another week filled with adventure until the truck returns.
Go check out FB page Little Boys Rock.

Yebo Gogga

Silk worm season is in full swing! This is marked by the trail of mothers making the trek to the closest Mulberry tree each afternoon to feed these critters. It is amazing how much joy and fear such tiny things can bring. I was alerted yesterday morning by a blood curdling scream from my domestic worker, "It's escaping ...". Hurtling down the stairs to find one of the silk worms has climbed out the box in search of some leaves on the lid. Now anyone that has attended school or has boys knows, you know that the biggest mistake you can make is to show any degree of fear for anything in their power. The look in my boys eyes of pure excitement when they realised that the scream was not from anything life threatening but has the potential to terrorize. My 2 year old immediately picked up the escapee and proceeded to chase my maid around the house shouting Whaaaa and pretending to throw the worm at her. I have never seen anyone so happy to see the end of a workday.
I learnt many years ago that no reaction elicits no joy and they move on rather quickly (I learnt some years on that it equaled gal pal and not girlfriend too, but let's not deviate). This has stood me in good stead as a boy mom but sometimes they catch you unaware. My 2 year old has picked up on this and is becoming too good at the casual. Last week I give him his lunch, he says thanks and very casually "here mom" handing me something, without thinking I take it, expecting a stone, leaf, toy or some snot; no no the random object starts wriggling and as I open my hand it flies up at me and away. I shout in fright and drop all I am holding. Recovering, all I see is this naughty naked cherub doubled over with laughter. I still have no idea what it was.
I felt after this I was wiser to his capacity for mischief but was not prepared for the pure excitement of bugs to land in my lap. Sitting outside on the road supposedly watching the kids riding bikes, actually engrossed in my FB newsfeed, somewhere in distance hearing rumblings about snails but not paying much attention, until, a large slimy snail gets plonked onto my iPad screen, coupled with squeals of snail mom, snail. Joyful, thank you, having just read about being grateful for any gift your child gives you.
My oldest is less intrigued by smaller crawlers but super stoked by larger reptilian kind. I regularly indulge this, so it was time for our holiday outing to the crocodile farm. A place where he gets to hold baby crocodiles, a range of snakes, some dragons and a few others. But refuses to hold the Tarantula. The 2 year old quite the opposite would not hold the croc or snake but allowed this arachnid full reign. This trip had some extra treats in that we got to watch a few feedings. The pythons whom rarely move from what seems like a constant slumber are rather quick to strike at a chicken (Roadtrip movie highlights flashing through my brain, a time before my channels entered the 300's). While all the other kids look at crocs and move onto the play area, my eldest spends the entire time just watching these large reptiles. At least this time we got to see a feeding and some vigorous croc mating to keep mom entertained.
This last week has increased my fear that one day it won't just be an ice-cream tub of silk worms but a snake in a cage and a Tarantula in a box, and I am positive that my domestic will not stick around.  

"Today was my best day"

"Today was my best day", these were the words of my son tonight in bed after his 5th birthday party. This has been a long awaited party. My oldest has a very one tracked mind, he plans ahead for events, looking at each aspect and discussing ways to get each dream to be a reality. His birthday is of course the big event of the year. For the past 2 months (would have been longer but mommy may have gone bonkers), each day we look at the calender count sleeps to his birthday, then go through how the day will pan out. "We will wake up, open presents from Mom, Dad and brother, then we will have breakfast flap jacks stacked up with a candle on and sing happy birthday, then we will play with the new presents, put brother to sleep and rest, pack car and go to firestation, we will set up tables, then friends will arrive, we will play for a bit, then go slide down the fire pole, ride in fire engine, spray the water, then blow candles out and cut the cake, then play a bit more, then friends will go and we will give them party packs, then go home and open all my presents". Yes, we did this everyday and sometimes more than once. Included in this is his birthday wish list. He loves catalogues, he will pour over them for weeks, if you want to treat him just bring the latest lego or ToysRUs catalogue home and he is in heaven. From these and numerous trips to various shops he develops his wishlist. It is comprehensive and specific, grandparents are allocated the gift that he would like from them. You would think that it would change often as he saw new items, but no, once he has decided nothing else will budge his choice. This leaves us in a mad scramble to try get the exact make model and colour to try fulfill his wish.
This may sound like what a brat, you get what you get and be grateful. I would normally agree but as with everything it comes down to how he handles the situation. This morning he looked for the present that was what he asked for, with a huge smile he and a thank you thank you thank you it makes it worthwhile. The present that wasn't exactly to his specifications, got a Thank you I love this one and I know you tried to get the Spiderman one.
My concern this year was sibling rivalry issue, how is the 2 year old going to be, and is the birthday boy going to go into selfish mine mine mine mode. I was floored, my 2 year old grabs a present and starts ripping at the wrapping, my heart was sinking because don't want to ruin this pleasant day, birthday boy turns and says " it's ok if he opens some, just show me what it is when it is open". This demonstration of tolerance was tested and again shocked me to the core when his brother took the gap and blew out the candles during the second hooray. I stopped breathing for a second, waiting for the complete ass collapse, when all was quiet we quickly relit them and he blew them all out.
After a full afternoon of activity and festivity we got home and our house turned into a tsunami of toys and still peace in the land. I quickly put 2 year old in bed. Lying in bed with the birthday boy debriefing, he says he loved everything, getting wet with the hose was not his fabourite but it was fine. He says he got everything he wanted and it was the best day!
It is days like these, when your kids are perfect that make you want to give them the world with a cherry on top. I love making what happens in their head happen in life. The months of planning, the annoying daily mantra about his birthday plans, everytime he has asked for a toy, everytime he has hit his brother, every rude remark he has made just gets washed away. Today was my best day too!

The Curse of the Mommy

Got a WhatsApp from friend saying she was of to do some "me shopping". Sent back appropriate emoticon and thought nothing more. Then pics start coming through of cute baby grows, baby shoes and the cool new boys range. I had to laugh as she has The Curse of the Mommy. It is so hard to switch off. I go to shops to get my self a new top for the dinner function on the weekend, come back with 3 new t-shirts for each boy and some new pajama's with a cape, and no top for me. It is not exclusive to the retail environment. Many times I am driving alone in the car and randomly shout out "Digger", then embarrassed and relieved that no one can hear, or worse is only adults in car who think the crazy chick next to me is strangely excited by Fire engines, Dump trucks and double decker buses. Before I had kids, I was driving with a manager, she suddenly phoned home and told her son that she saw a blue Subaru that he loves. I thought this was very random until I got caught by the curse.
Many book club discussions have yielded the hypothesis that Dad's for the majority don't suffer The Daddy Curse and may even find The Mommy Curse an irritation, and visa versa. They don't take every opportunity to spend every waking moment about the kids. I have to arrange specific Mommy Breaks to get away. Joined a book club to unashamedly drink wine mid week, grab a spa opportunity when it comes, and ditch the kids with Nana to go grocery shopping alone (sadly this is considered a mommy break, very unglamorous).

I try give my antenatal class mommies a sense of it. They are worried about what work will do without them for 4 months, should they do a course during maternity leave so not to waste it. I try get them to ensure they have plan B and C in place for if they don't want to return to work. This is scoffed at, work is my life and shall never be replaced. 4 months later replaced by tears of not wanting to return.

I call it a curse because despite our moans and groans we would not give it up for anything or anyone. All it takes is your 2 year old to bring you a leaf and rock, " I picked these for you mommy".

Real world stay away from my kids

Driving to school is the best time for me, kids talk non stop and I love to hear what is rattling around in those brains. Sometimes it is mindless chatter about Ben 10 aliens or the many Diggers and Dumpers driving past. Today was one of those days that made me sad about the world. I am a positive optimistic mom and person, I had thoughts of the end of the world this morning. This is how conversation went: " mom, I am never going to have kids" " Yes you will, one day you will be an adult and have kids of your own." " I need a girl to help me have kids" " Yes you do, but you will meet a nice girl that you love and she will help you have kids." " No, she will leave" " I dont think so, you will love eachother and get married like mom and Dad." " But sometimes even if you love the girl she will leave ..." " sometimes". I did not kow how to respond to this so I chose silence, he saved me, " lets rather talk about what we going o do in the holidays" " What a good idea!".

I much prefer the story of the prince saving the princess from the castle and they live happily ever after. I forget sometimes that these kids are exposed daily to divorce, separation and worse, and how it impacts them. In some ways the fact that a 5 year old has emotional maturity to grasp this is amazing, evolution, but I would prefer headless running around laughing!

Watching my son playing soccer, 2/3 of team have one parent standing on one side of the field and the other on the other-side. Each holding a juice and a treat. The whistle blows and the kid is torn, not wanting to choose either parent. To quote Ellen: "Love your kids more than you hate your ex". I want to shout this at the parents but I know I cant judge. I want to put my kid in a happy bubble.

Will the happy bubble fail to prepare them for the world, or will the reality bubble start the end of our society where this generation won't want to bring more kids into this world to protect themselves and the unborn. For now I am going to let my boys lead me, hoping there is more talk about Phineas and Ferb adventures than real ones.

The sprinkles on my Sundae are wrong

Do you worry how happy your kids are. This is a constant in my life. It is also one of my biggest disillusions about parenthood. I have played with kids my entire life and I really believed kids were ultimately happy. I saw the kids throwing tantrums in shops and fighting with siblings but I really thought this was the odd occasion. I was wrong! I do believe I have set the bar on my kids happiness too high, but as a naturally happy person I was sure that adding the fact that my kids were kids it would be constant happy.
What I was not expecting is life of persistent fighting them to do things. In my head, kids bounced into the car, ran excitedly to school, super hyped about a party and would run around constantly playing games and causing mischief. What I did not realise is that all these activities can be preceded by a suitcase full of anxiety.
My oldest is far more anxious than I am geared for. Something like bike day at school, which I would think would be so exciting, can cause a sleepless night, followed by school refusal, having to pull him off me sobbing when the bell rings. Ultimately it was the super fun but the slight change in routine and fear of the unknown and unexpected definitely impacts on the full experience.
These events of course lead down the path of self blame and guilt over being the less than perfect parent. What am I doing wrong that he does not run off shouting for joy about being alive.
Now that I am no longer seeing kids through Emerald City green glasses, I have noticed I am not alone. It is comforting in some ways but also distressing at the same time. I see how stressed everyone is majority of the time and this must be feeding down to our kids. Moms trying to be a stay at home mom while running a business from her smart phone, Dad working harder so mom can do both and still afford our lifestyle. I read articles about bringing up happy kids and for the most part doing it, but is it enough?
I wake up in morning saying that I am not going to shout today, kids going to get undivided attention and I am going to be a picture of inner peace and calm. "I don't want pancakes anymore I want toast" "That shirt itches me" "I can't walk myself, carry me" "I wanted to put my seatbelt on myself" "What have you planned for today" "That's boring" "Ummphh" "You did not answer me first" "You only do things for my brother" "I wanted that one" "I wanted the blue cup".Inner peace is replaced by crazy mommy tantrum.
I still strive everyday to make that the happiest, most memorable day of my kids life. Some days I get closer to the unreachable than others.

She has milk in her Boobs!

"She has milk in her boobs" A comment I have heard a few times in my life. As a midwife, mom and friend my view on breastfeeding is not a secret. I try stick to my pro choice about everything in life but on this topic I find it difficult. Yesterday my son of near 5 ran up to a friend of mine that was feeding her baby. He went to lift the blanket to see the baby and say hello. Immediately I said wait she is feeding him, not because I did not want my son to see but because I was not sure how the mom felt about it. And of course little boys comments have little tact, " He is drinking milk from her Boob", with that naughty, I think this might be rude giggle. Then he ran off to go play.
This got me thinking to a few of my experiences and how I felt about. One that sticks out is sitting at my in laws house, off to the room to feed baby; because public feeding makes others uncomfortable; my niece asked if she could help, she runs to the kitchen to fetch a bottle, confused that I dont have any she follows me to the room. She sits quietly next to me just watching, I am waiting to answer the questions that I can see spinning through her brain, she gets up and says she just needs to tell her mom something. I hear her announce to the lounge that "she has milk in her boobs".
When it was time for baby number 2, I thought best to do some research on how to handle the topic with your toddler. The advice ranged from letting your toddler resume breastfeeding and dual feed to only bottle feed the 2 to avoid the uncomfortable topic. So advice was no use, I thought I would just wait and see what happend. It started off as mild interest, sometimes jealousy, then intense need to know. What does the milk taste like? I expressed some into a cup for him and it was met with a Ugggh that is yuck with a I just poisoned him face, sometimes jealousy, can I drink from your boobs? My choice on this topic was NO! You have had your turn. Then there is the ever funny and I have great video footage of the breast pump attached to his boob and he trying desparately to extract some milk for his brother, his 21st is going to be so much fun. Ultimately he found feeding time either boring or a time when mom can sit and build puzzles, lego or read books as she has 2 hands and her boobs can stretch in all sorts of directions. The baby of course goes into monkey mode, hanging on for dear life so as not to lose out.
I loved breast feeding my kids, it was hard at times, I moaned sometimes but when it came to weaning my youngest I felt so sad, he was ready a while before I was. I cried the day he took the bottle willing from me and never asked again.

Dumping the Dummy and bottle

We were having coffee at Jungle Junkies, a kiddies play area, and we got to chatting about our kids removal of dummies and bottles. My favourite of the day was one mom that tied her child's dummy to the bed by a long string, allowing access just into the TV room, then slowly shortened the string until the child was having to lie in bed, lift up for a few sucks, then lie down again until she gave up on the idea completely. Some sad tales of the little ones stealing dolls plastic dummies and hiding in corner to give it a few sucks.
This got me thinking back about my eldest, a great but sad day. He gave up his dummy at 9 months on his own, but after weaning got really attached to his bottles. A few months after my 2nd son was born I tried unsuccessfully to remove the bottle. After 3 days of all of us crying I gave it back, to try another time. About 6 months after that my son came to me asking for a Duplo fireman set. He said that he really needed it. My evil mom saw this as an opportunity. I explained very carefully that mom and dad had no money left, so the only option was to use bottles to buy the fireman. He thought about this and decided No, not worth it. A few weeks later he came to me and said he was ready, he really needed the fireman. Calm on the outside, jumping for joy inside and full of trepidation knowing that this time regardless I had to follow through. I said no problem, after school next day we will go to the Lego shop and buy the fireman with the bottles. We discussed it in bed that night while he was drinking, ensuring he understood his decision, yes he needed the fireman. The next morning he came to me and asked if he could have 1 last bottle please before we go. With a tear in my eye, I made him the final bottle. He took it to his room, lay on his bed and savoured every moment down to the last drop. He then gathered all the bottles, gave them to our cleaner, asked her to please wash them nicely for him as he was going to buy a fireman with them after school. At this point, it was taking all my power not to burst into tears and tell him it was alright he can keep them and get the fireman.
I fetched him from school, bottles clean in a packet, ready, Not! We drove to the Lego shop where I again confirmed he understands that this means he can no longer have a bottle, he assured me he knows. He ran to the Lego shop, grabbed his Fireman box, ran to the till, handed his packet of bottles over. The staff at the shop were amazing, without blinking she took the bottles, rang up the fireman, put it in a packet and gave it to him. This beaming exited child popped his packet in the pram and went to play at the tables. I gladly slipped the assistant my credit card, she carefully hid bottles in a different packet and slipped them under all bags in the pram.
That night expecting the worst, bedtime came, a slight tear from my son, but clutching his fireman he went to sleep. He never asked for his bottles again. I was so proud of him, I still get teary thinking about how much he loved something, but when it was time to move on, he did, with maturity, appropriate mourning, a smile.

I just went to the toilet!

The toilet and bathroom used to be associated with quick business, feminine hygiene, long queues and the rare sexual encounter. That was BC (before children). It now has so many more references.
I went to fetch my oldest from school one day and his teacher looked tired. She said that today was one of those that she needs to lock herself in the bathroom for 10 minutes before she can deal with her own kids. This got me thinking about the time spent in the toilet lately as opposed to previously never thinking about that room much.
Firstly it is rare that it is private, for the most part I have an audience starting with the loyal staffies that dislike closed doors in any form, then the oldest in the words of Isabella " what you doing?" This followed by a discussion on plan of action for the rest of the day. Never to be left out toddles in the little one that is immediately excited as this is a very exciting room. He usually starts the assault by flushing the chain, turning it into a more Eastern experience than you prefer, then he turns to the roll of toilet paper, leading with " wipe mommy" and sticks his hands between your legs in the most helpful manner. This generally leads to a "Get Out", the oldest sulks off as he feels he was in his rights to be there, the youngest leaves but grabs toilet roll on his way out and you helplessly watch it unravel at an alarming pace; at least the dogs make a quit exit as they have now learnt that they can catch the brunt of a mommy tantrum.
The toilet can also be a place of much excitement. It is a difficult balance that must be achieved between not letting a toddler wreck the room, drown or otherwise injure oneself; and making it a place that he feels confident to use during that exciting potty training time. The first wee in the potty or the toilet creates load squealing noises and unequalled praise. There is often a potty dance and treat to mark this momentous occasion. The enticing of the pooh is also very exciting, hours are spent sitting on the floor next to the toilet using words of encouragement, reading books, singing or any such tactics.
My more recent thoughts about the toilet are somewhat different. My boys have discovered that there are times in the day that mommy needs to go to the toilet and leave them unattended or more unsupervised for minutes at a time. I am yet to discover if their exploits are spontaneous or pre-meditated. They will be sitting eating breakfast watching Phineas and Ferb quietly, I mistakenly think here is my chance, I dash out the room to the toilet. I come back moments later to empty seats, discarded breakfasts and a sinking feeling in my stomach. I then follow the trail of destruction, the dog food poured into the water bowl, the arts and crafts draws open and blobs of glue still wet but drying all over, the action figure box strewn across the room as a search for the hero of the day started and find the boys in a power struggle over 1 item that both feel is needed to be played with at that precise moment. The only thought I have is that I just went to the toilet ...

Sifting through the Ashes to find my bra

I spent some time over the holidays with my Women's Rights are everything cousin. Listening to her admonish me for giving my son a white marshmellow and his girl cousin a pink one, I thought how much hard work it is to have such strong beliefs. I recently have increased my work hours as the kids become a little older, lying in bed exhausted in evenings have made me wonder about these so called equal rights.
Did these hairy legged bra burning women think about what they were doing to the next generation; could there have been a man behind it all, railing these women up while he sat back and laughed? Here we are 20 years on from her marching at rallies, are we better off?
I find myself not only feeling the instinctual guilt over not being the best mother, but now I have added to that the guilt of not fulfilling my potential in society and not contributing financially equally to my partner (and realised just called him partner vs. husband). So if I choose career and motherhood that means working a full day and week, leaving my kids for majority of the time with a caregiver, that is good at her job but would rather be spending all day with her own kids as opposed to mine, or I have option of a creche with all the other working mom's kids. This is being done too early for the mother instinct to have evolved out of me, so all the time at work I am feeling guilt over not being there for my kids, no time to prepare show n tell, or have play dates ... This is why I chose not!
Many women are also then coming home in the evenings to a stressed Dad that is frustrated and depressed that he is not fulfilling his potential or financial obligations as there are now 50% less jobs and opportunities for men in the workforce.
Could it be time to compromise? Could it even out? Can it be equal without having to do same jobs? We probably needed to have burnt the bra's so that we could move forward then soon settle back. Until then I will stay home with boys in the day; work more and more in the free hours; and just read all the fantasy porn about being submissive to my husband...

Does The Hulk have green pooh's?

Does The Hulk have green pooh's? This is a random thought of a 4 1/2 year old boy while driving on a Sunday. I tried counting the other day how many times in a day I heard the words pooh and butt, it is not possible. Especially when the count is doubled by the 22 month old parrot that then runs around shouting " pooh pooh pooh".
It was really stressing me out in the beginning that my son vocabulary now only consisted of 2 words.  I was impressed at how he was able to integrate the word butt into every single discussion. First line defense was stop it now before it progresses to other words. Each attempt exponentially increased the volume. Not working as giving words attention. Second line defense, ignore the problem as if did not hear it. Worked for a while but no real improvement. Going to bed singing the homemade pooh butt song not good for the sole. Reading an ecard about Men that think about sex every 9 seconds or some stat like that, got me thinking that it clearly starts at young age, only topic is butts. Yip! Instead counting words, took note of space between the thoughts. 9 second intervals is quite accurate.
New game plan! Not gonna change nature so use to my advantage. Some concerns about perpetuating a cycle rather than stopping it, no, my needs first. " I am not bathing today, moan whine ..." Lets try a language you understand, " get your stinky pooh butt in the bath you pooh pooh head" not proud of myself, but this laughing happy child ran and jumped in the bath. Tested it in various situations and have not failed to get a smile and action.
My private strategy in place and a happy home we continue on. Play dates are designed to expose, shame and make you so happy that you are not alone. Listening in to interaction of my son's friend and his mom made me smile, " pooh pooh head mom butt butt ... " . The mom turned to me, apologised for her son, with the defeated look of I don't know what to do. I smiled, turned and kissed my poop head boy while he still lets me.

Coffe please! Hold the babychino

I was lying on my couch on Sunday afternoon in my half hour Dad's home and grandparents are here bliss. My mom in law offered to make coffee and tea. Despite my horizontal bliss I jumped up, dont be silly I will make it. Partly because it is polite to make guests coffee but largely because I have come to cherise my coffee time, and tea drinkers dont make good coffee.
One of my favourite times of day is around 11h30, oldest at school and toddler is down for day nap, and I make myself coffee. Something I have learnt the hard way and is a teaching point in my antenatal and postnatal classes is the timing of the cup of coffee. As you sneak out of the room avoiding the creaky floor board, silently close the door and take a deep breath; you might be tempted to do the chores before you sit down, DON'T! Dont unpack the dishwasher or do invoices or anything else. Turn on the kettle, sit down enjoy your coffee first because may be the only time you get.
Even at a restaurant that hot yummy cappuchino can be elusive. All is going well until the waiter arrives with the cup in hand. Your kids appear out of no where, they were happily playing on jungle gym 30 seconds ago, now they are on your lap with spoons in hand. The invention of baby chino's has done wonders for the hot cup of coffee. Sugar all over the table, half milk spilt at least you get a fighting chance at that coffee.
Forget the chores, forget work and just sit and have your coffee.

Mothers Guilt Oh She Is A Bitch!

I heard my one year old waking from his midday sleep and I quickly ran and gave the maid the monitor and bolted for the car. Well sleep is a strong word, when it takes an hour to put him to sleep and 20 min later he is awake again, I think power nap is a better description. Jump in car and rush out the garage. I dont even make it to the gate when the guilt hits me with full force. I stop the car and decide if I should go back and get him, I then think that it will take 15 min to get him changed and in car then I will be late in fetching my 4 year old from school and he will be upset. I decide that just keep going as quicker without him.
Guilt is a subject of my thoughts a lot these days. I got so upset watching Private Practice the other night, here I am running out on my son and these people, yes on TV, daughter has been stolen and they might never get her back. I should spend every waking (which is more than necessary) moment with my boys.
Then I have good days, my son arrives at school on dress up day, dressed in his home made Peter Pan outfit and all teachers gush over the inventiveness of costume and applaude me for the simple outfit that he clearly helped me make. With a beaming heart I look at other kids costumes, then I see the kids whose parents did not dress them up today. The sad looks on their faces makes me want to cry. I am not sure why they are not dressed up, did the parents forget, were they too busy, do they lack means or simply not care. I wish I could have brought extras for them. On way home I wonder if my guilt on leaving my son for 20 mins, or not putting them to bed every night when I work nights or the worst is that monthly book club drinking guilt laced wine, is actually selfish because most parents dont have options. Their kids have to go to creche or spend all day with the nanny. Maybe the guilt is heightened because of this, I dont work so I should spend all day uncomplaining with my kids.
Chatting to a few other moms I notice it is not uncommon. Guilt over working, not working, sending kids to school early as baby 2 is on the way, not breastfeeding, having a c-section, not carrying baby to term, not allowing teenager to go to party ... Even my mother still has guilt and we are all grown up feeling guilt over our own kids.
All the websites, someecards, psychologists, FB pages and those in the know say forgive yourself you doing a good job, but sure that I will run out on my kids, hide in the bathroom and continue to feel guilty.

A cupcake ate the carwash man

Driving with little ones can be bitter sweet. You can think of it as being confined to small area with singing, screaming, non stop talking and straining neck and back to retrieve the items lobbed at your head from the back; on the other hand it can be the only 15 min in the day that the kids are strapped in and they cant go anywhere, so you can relax and listen to radio with kids as white noise in back. Leaving the house is usually the hardest part, even if it is for a 5min drive down the road. bags are packed and all necessary items are in the car. Start by finding dogs to put them outside to avoid them running out garage and spending 15 min getting them back. Now time to find the kids who have now started a new game and reluctant for the outing. Next best thing is to offer that they continue the game in the car, so help them lug all the necessary items into the car. So have 4 year happy and in the car, strapped in and ready. The 1 year old has now been distracted by fun stuff in garage and sees you coming to take him away and strap him in. He runs, hides and basically perfects the goose step to avoid all attempts. STOP, just turned this into a game. New approach. BYE we going and you will have to stay with the dogs by yourself. Separation anxiety has its pro's and as much as you hate exploiting your kids weakness, there comes a time that necesssary. Ok 2 kids strapped in and ready to go. 1 year old is now parched due to avoidance game. Forgot juice, so back in house, make 2 non spill juice cups as not coming back. Ready, lets go. 4 year old now finds his packed lunch for outing and starts to tuck in. Very kindly shares his treasures with his brother who is not so good at confining crumbs. Start the car. Sighhh, a little time, listen to news, a song that does not have actions no no the nagging from back starts so not worth it, I put in their cd and just resort to enjoying my thoughts rather than the radio. Mmmmm too quiet in back followed by joyful giggles and ... Mom he spilled! Yes 1 year old has taken lid off the childproof spill free cup and is pouring it all over. No no no, too late. His comment "pour" "gone". So, lets focus on head, shoulders knees and toes safer than all else. Destination reached, errand done, back in car. Getting back into car often easier than going first time so lets just get home before hunger starts to cause melt downs. Trip home has own challenges, you have to keep toddler awake without bribing food that will spoil dinner and drink is slowly glueing itself to upholstery. Trip spent pointing out Diggers, trucks, cement mixer, MOTORBIKE! You look back to ensure eyelids remain open and he is eating a cupcake. Where on earth did that come from? Yes party on weekend had those cupcakes, it clearly was not eaten on way home and missed by the dogs scrap hunting welcome party. 4 year old is torn between that is groce and " I want a cupcake". It is the time in the day when you weigh up the tantrum of removing it vs. turn a blind eye and pretend never saw it! Yip, you decide that take car to carwash in morning before it gets condemned and will give child extra probiotic and all will be good! What makes life worth living is the look on face of the carwash man when he opens the door! Starts with price, Polo is small car so R35 for wash and vacuum and decide to pay R10 for dash polish. They wash the outside and then you pull into vacuum bay and as open back doors, PRICELESS! Key is never return to same carwash twice in a row. Happy driving!

Up up up DOWN

Before the boys came I would watch Jackass and like and wonder why! Now I have discovered the answer, they are boys. The worst moment in your baby life is when hear the apnea mat alarm, you are in the room at vampire speed. I found my youngest at 9 months hanging off side of cot having climbed over and out. Determined to keep at least 1 of my kids in the expensive cot, I put him in a sleeping bag and made my husband drill new holes to lower cot a extra cm. just made the game more of a challenge. Giving up packed up the cot and put him on a matress on floor. In morning I hear screeching, go into the room and he is not in the bed! A satisfied laugh makes me look UP, yes he has climbed up the burglar bars to the top of the window and now of course is stuck. This trend continues and gets worse. Not just 1 but 2. Cooking supper, baby sleeping oldest in park with friends. Monitoring him by the sound of scooters up and down the road. Then I hear lets go slide, I stick my head out and see them playing on fireman pole and slide, acceptable. Minutes later it is too quiet so I peak out again, these boys are at the top of slide with scooters discussing the logistics of going DOWN the slide riding them. NO NO NO! The problem with younger siblings is they underestimate their abilities vs the older. My now 18 month old climber feels he has mastered the jungle gym all except fireman pole, easy, hold step slide. I help him a few times and all good, but mom helping is not cool. Saying cheers to my oldest at school, little monster before I can get to him, drops at terminal velocity to bottom of the pole. He stands up, dusts himself off, looks at me with half tears, half smile. As there is no permanent injury I am chuffed that he has learnt a lesson. Carry on with my parent teacher chat and I look up and AGAIN. I promptly leave before child welfare is called. Sitting at a 7 year old party on the Saturday chatting about how my boys may not live to 7 birthday while watching kids slide down the giant slip n slide into the pool. A bit later I look up and yes, all the dads are on the slide, but they have body boards to stand on sure that this will be fun, no the kids scooter now that will be better! Luckily in mid 30's men have beer bubbles to help avoid injury. It became clear that my boys would probably make old bones even if it is with a couple of pins!

Sunny Puddle Days

On most days I consider myself a reasonably good mother. There is one area that I fall very short of the expected bar, that is when the opportunity arises for my boys to have fun. Yesterday was a typical example. Evening routine was going as usual. Supper happend a little earlier than usual because there are days when boys just can't wait. Cooking spaghetti bolognaise while your 4 year old is playing soccer in the kitchen and your 1 year old has discovered the joy of the microwave, you push a button and light comes on, plate turns and every 10 seconds makes this beeping sound, is something only a mom could cope with. Despite every talk from dietician and books on healthy eating, I turn on the TV to ensure that food goes down before next game pops into their heads. Now my biggest challenge of the day is getting boys to bath. I bribe them with the idea of putting pots and pans and some kitchen utensils in the bath to ensure that bubble bath cappuccinos and soapy soup is properly prepared. Pyjamas on and planning our last game before Dad gets home and we start to quieten down, when we hear a noise that sends excitement into the room. After a hot hot day the Highveld often rewards us with a storm. With an eager look my 4 year old says please can we have an umbrella. We play on patio during the heavy storm and as soon as it lightens up, I just cant resist their pleading faces and the pure joy I will see if I let them go. A real mother would say no, you have bathed and in PJ's and it is hour before bed so NO! Instead I grab their wellinton boots, an umbrella and we head for the garage for other goods that will make this fun. Out we go, 4 year dressed in policeman hat, Spiderman PJs, blue wellinton boots and on his scooter. 1 year old wearing red wellington boots, Winnie the Pooh PJs and a fireman hat. For the next 45 min we splash, stomp, wet each other, skid through large puddles and fall lots. Dad arrives home to the 3 of us looking rather soaked but with red cheeks and smiling faces. The part makes me judge myself is the looks and comments from the people that live in our complex, in their cars rushing to get inside. Most felt that my children would need to be hospitalised soon due to fact that rain contains bacteria and viruses that should be avoided at all costs. Just as I am about to call timeout on the fun and succumb to the pressure, the most beautiful rainbow appears in the sky, it occurs to me that out of all 45 houses, my kids were the only ones that got to experience that today! Towelled off, dry PJs, big smiles we all went to bed happy that night! Reflecting on my decisions of the day, I always think about what I will wish I had done in when my boys are grown and with their wives, and that is when I am sure that I made the best choice.

Using your toddler to punish inefficient retailers

Shopping with a 19 month old boy is never dull, especially on the days when you decide today you not going to give up and give him a big packet of chips to sit quietly in the trolley. 
After 3 minutes of shopping bliss he climbs out! Best way to control is enlist their help, pass him each item to put in the trolley. This works for a while until the idea of running free down the isle is too much.  I let him go while I finish the row, then the wave of anxiety as all is quiet and I suffer extreme fear of my children being stolen. He is gone! No he has climbed under the shelf to retrieve an apple that went missing weeks ago.  Pulse under control, I put him back in the trolley and resume shopping, passing the coldrink row because I am still resisting the junk. He lulls you into a false sense of security and I move from essentials to items needed. I reach for an item high on the shelf, turn and he is gone again. Abandon trolley and run the rows calling him. He is in the meat fridge poking holes in all the vacume packs. Assess the damage, put goods that too damaged to leave without a guilt into the trolley, and head for the till. Let him help the packers, it is the highlight of the outing. I hand over my credit card and after 3 swipes the till lady informs me that they are off line. Grrrr! The management say that the signal at the tills is not very good, lets try hand held near the door. This too failing it is decided that best to phone bank for authorisation. So off we trot to the office, where I now have to give life history over the phone. So I decide to let him free, I can see him so their is no danger of abduction, and I just watch. He starts at the fruit, bringing me bananas one at a time. He then moves onto the packed fruit, stacking them into a castle. Feta is on special so he feels it should be more prominently displayed in the middle of the floor. A staff member is then put on toddler watch. As she follows him I think maybe I should be the better mother and stop the carnage, then I look at my watch and see how much time it has taken and turn a blind eye. Payment sorted, lady walks him back to me, and for a child with limited vocabulary he has convinced her to open him a pink milk, banana and the elusive packet of chips! I smile and push my trolley to the car.

Tigger's Time

"Crying over a stuffed animal, how silly"
Tigger has been part of our family for 4 1/2 years now. He has attended every event, every bedtime, wiped many tears, been saved from dogs teeth, used as a teether and just brought joy. The stress of never losing him has had its moments as no replacement has ever made the cut.
Lying in bed my son tells me that he does not need Tigger anymore and we should give him away! My shock was noticeable. I enquired the reasons and it was just that he does not need him anymore. In desparation to prevent this happening I suggested that we dont give him away but find a special place for him that he can always watch over us! My son says no it will be better to give him to someone that needs him. He then looks at him gives him a kiss And says: " I will miss you, I love you". The tears are rolling down his cheeks and I am crying. I have not been brave enough to yet part with him. Tigger leaving marks end of my son being a "baby" and despite him being ready I am not. Despite this being a positive and mature step, I would like to hold on just a little longer.