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.