Group chats love them but grrrr

The invention of Whatsapp by Brian Acton and Jan Koum changed my communication dramatically. Due to my dislike of actually talking on the phone most of my communications are via Whatsapp, much to my husbands dislike as he believes it is enabling my irrational fears. Now group chats really have an advantages, but grrrrr ...
1. The no one else cares.
"Little Johnny has a runny nose so won't be at school today, I am taking him to the Dr at 10, will keep you posted". What is this about? Are you too lazy to message the teacher privately, are you looking for sympathy, or do you genuinely believe that this is information for the entire class parents to know?
2. The long string of thoughtful replies
"Feel better soon Johnny", "Sally was at Dr yesterday must be going around", and of course all the heart felt emoticons. By doing this are we encouraging this behaviour,or are we genuinely supporting Johnny mom. I often feel guilted into responding as well, will my lack of response be noted.
3. The spin off "private" conversation
"Which Dr are you taking him to, I am looking for a good GP". This then explodes into a long conversation between 2 people in the chat. Message her privately or as my husband tells me daily, just phone her.
4. The late responder
Five hours after the chat about Johnny's runny nose some one is on lunch and decides to give 2 cents worth on the forgotten conversation. Yes, the entire cycle starts again.
6. The Neville no friends
A question or comment is put on the chat and hours go by and nothing. Double blue tick is there, so it has been received and read, but still nothing. Eventually the do gooder in the group can't take it anymore and will acknowledge it with a Big Hug.
7. The night owl and the early bird
I can speak for many when I say, at midnight and 4:30 am. No one cares.
8. The uncomfortable guilt
We are all caught up in the random ramblings of group chat and suddenly someone leaves the chat. That moment of whoops pissed them off, brief pause, then the blabbing continues as if the person was never there in the first place.
9. The voyeur
Yip, they are still there reading every single line.
10. Keep Calm and silence your group chats!

Load shedding is saving us one power outage at a time

Don't get me wrong, I do get irritated when I want to watch Orange is the New Black, and it is really damaging the economy with businesses not being able to operate, and of course the traffic due to traffic lights not working. There are other things that are happening that are so small and will never get reported in media, won't boost the economy, but sometimes a whole lot of small things can create something amazing.
Typically I call my kids in on school night at 6pm with grumbles of 5 more minutes and one last kick, then we bath eat and start settling down. I am tired and an episode of Master Chef jnr is very appealing, so when Dad comes home and the boys whoop with excitement that they can play Xbox with Dad and it is his problem to sort out if they are to play Lego Batman or Racing Cars. I get full power over the remote (well SVLN is still off limits for a few hours but that's ok).
This week we have been moving level 1 to 3 load shedding. Thursday we had no electricity from 2pm to 6pm, this excited my 3 year old, this meant that we could braai for supper. Having a braai and helping is a highlight in his life. At 4pm he and I got the braai out, he put in all the charcoal, we lit it together and sat watching it for a while. The complex kids were all swimming in our pool, so I threw him in the pool to wash off the black, picked up my kindle and sat with a cup of coffee reading Game of Thrones listening to the delighted sounds of Marco Polo. chicken kebab and salads for dinner left my Banting box ticked, and a content 3 year old (which is worth its weight in gold).
Friday night we are scheduled for 6pm to 11pm load shedding. I was not happy, I had a DSTV catch up full of unwatched series and a hard drive of How I Met Your Mother Season 9 and no electricity. Boys and I had had an early dinner a Spur and Dad lunch with clients so dinner was not a problem. I left the boys playing outside way longer than usual because no point sitting in a dark house when you can play in the sunshine. My 6 year old comes in and goes to his room and gets all his card games. For the next 2 hours the four of us sat on the floor and played UNO, Memory game, trumps, and snap. Some healthy rule debates in the light of our solar jars has a warm feeling to it. Bath and bedtime books by candlelight also has a certain appeal.
Saturday was the water. We had been notified for a few weeks that we would have no water for 25hrs due to routine maintenance that needed to be done. Filled up some jugs for the kettle and put a bucket out for the toilets. Now this is sounding like we live in a cave, fetching water from the river, and hunting for our dinner. What it sounds like to 2 little boys is "NO BATH TONIGHT" whoop whoop! A swim is just as effective and loads more fun.
Listening to all the conversations around, everyone was complaining that they have had enough of Eskom and they are going to spend the money and go completely solar and not give another cent towards electricity, and others were saying that if they ran the country they would do this that and the next thing. I was thinking that this is the best thing that has happened in a long time. environmentalists have been trying to get us to go solar and off the grid for years, all they had to do to save our environment is switch off the electricity for a few hours every day. If everyone put all their ideas out there, a country wide think tank would probably come up with an innovative solution. In my house, if no lights and no water means our family sitting down laughing over a card game, I say switch off the wifi, turn off the lights, I am not ready to collect my own water out the river just yet, but yes, load shedding could be just be the thing that saves us.

Kids Random Questions and Thoughts

You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance. ~Franklin P. Jone. 
Facebook is full of baby pics with captions of what they are really thinking. The great thing about having a five year old is that you never have to wonder what they are thinking. I often wonder why they are thinking about that, but there is no answer. I wish I could capture all these random wonderings before they get suppressed by me, his friends, teachers, bosses and social acceptability.
A typical 5 minute drive to Gran's house.
"Which is more important, the brain or the heart" "So without one you would die" "Can a beaver cut down a tree?" "is the Eifel Tower made of metal?" "Can lava breakdown the Eifel Tower" "Which was the last Dinosaur left alive" "Why do we have meat eaters" " I can spell cot C  O  T" "Is Jesus dead" "Why does dvd not work in the cd player?" " How does a dvd work?" "2 sleeps until my playdate" "Superman can't be in real life because he can fly, but Flash can because you can exercise to run faster, Batman can also be real" "Could Superman live inside a volcano if only kryptonite can kill him" "Can a King Cobra kill you?" "You can be an Alligator wrestler but not a crocodile wrestler because that is dangerous" " How does the movie get from the satellite to the TV?"
Look we are here!
It is exhausting. He is also not happy with answers that don't sound logical. Grunts and non commital noises are unacceptable. Full undivided attention is the only acceptable behaviour. I try, but there are certain days when I just can't take the talking anymore. At least once a week I declare that we are to have a silent drive, no one is to talk until we have passed 3 traffic lights. We often make 1 which is enough time for me to take a deep breath and the guilt start to seep in that I am suppressing his spirit and reducing his potential. Then I start a conversation to try make myself feel better and make up for my short comings as an impatient mother. His need to talk overwhelms his need to sulk and remind me I have ruined his thought process. During our minute of quiet time, his head filled with 10 more thoughts that he is bursting to share.
Before I fetch from school now I hydrate, get my sugar levels right and look around at all the kids being fetched by car services and remind myself how grateful I am that I can fetch my kids and get to hear all their random questions and thoughts, soon they will keep them to themselves and I will be competing for their attention.
There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million. ~Walt Streightiff 

Playing Roses and Thorns

When I read parenting articles I always get something out of it. If it just reminds me to do things again that haven't for a while. At a restuarant watching kids jumping on the castle, reading an article on separated parents. They spoke about playing Hi/Lo or thorns/roses with your kids regularly. When the boys came to eat their pizza's (I mean vegetables and water), I thought yes lets try this. I get blown away every day as to how much I underestimate my boys emotional maturity. 5 year old yes, expected answer. But then when my 2y11m answered, it made me a little teary that he could understand the idea of the game, and that I had never done this before. His Rose was seeing the big snakes in reptile shop, his Thorn when friend Nic pushed him at school.
The holidays came and went and as with all resolutions this game ended. Then suddenly I had some school redusal and tears, so decided to try again with more longevity. As it turned out my youngest was being hit by his friend regularly and was causing the problem. Discussing it with his teacher etc lead to problem being resolved and back to smiles. As always positive results leads to consistency.
My oldest is has taken to this and each night in bed he asks me what mine were for the day. Self reflection is not that easy, but when you get a response " I didn't know that made you sad" I realised that kids maybe need to know sometimes how they can impact on your day, or even that other things are also important to you.
Driving home from holiday, on my own with 2 kids in car, a bit anxious. I ask boys and get the response that there was nothing bad about the holiday, they enjoyed all of it. With a smile I could then focus on the road because it was worth every kilometre.

Lego, the love the pain

While interviewing actors they always ask if they identified with the character they played. I have never identified with any character more than Lord Business in the Lego Movie. I feel his pain. But at the same time I love the time we spend in cloud cuckoo land creating.
There are days when I have searched online for local Lego mom support groups. The emotional conflict towards Lego is tiring. I love Lego for what it is, for what it is to my boys. They can spend hours and hours playing Lego. From building with instructions to creating fighter jets and buildings. I enjoy building Lego, definate sense of achievement when you see this amazing firestation build from tiny pieces. But that is the problem, the tiny pieces, everywhere, all over, in every room.
Our Lego journey started with Duplo, amazing toy. You can put it in a big box, haul it out regularly, it rebuilds quickly and it packs away. Then my husband rescued is cake box of Lego he had as a boy from his mothers cupboard. This is when the joy and the pain began. When a child is left alone with a box of mixed Lego, the only thing to do is tip it out. No biggy, I always put the Lego on my special Lego mat, easily lifted and poured, the dustpan and broom can easily pick up any escapees. But then birthday after birthday, christmas after christmas the generosity of all leads to the slow build up of our Lego World. My son and I have a dream of one day creating a room that is Lego City. Will Farrell got to play in our dream. This dream is what lead Lord Business to the temptation of crazy glue. Once you have rebuild a ambulance more times than you can think, and worse once you have located, sorted and then rebuild the ambulance again more times this is when you start having crazy glue fantasies. Once you have sorted and sorted and sorted through mounds of lego you get to a point where you need to sort and separate in order to maintain your sanity. My sorting project is a work in progress. It started with sorting into colours, good but vaguely effective. Then moved into sorting into piece sizes in draws, more effective. Then moved into sorting mini figures into people and accessories. My recent sort is a mini figure stand, each figure has a place with all accessories. This all seems super until the 2 year old walks in and after a short trip to the loo and a boil of the kettle, you find empty draws and trays and a lego volcanoe of pieces, with heads, legs and arms that is a depiction of Dantes Inferno, a not so Divine Comedy. This is when mom turns on her heel to lock
herself in the toilet and cry. But... Everything is Awesome!

Jugerbomb for the soul

Yes, Jugerbomb bomb for the soul. Who would have thought a drunken dress up night out with your mates could go so far to heal that emotional tumble dryer.
We have been talking up this 30th for weeks now. In a way it is sad how excited a bunch of 30 year old parents can get for a night out on the town. In my world with excitement comes the ever existent mommy guilt. Now in a rational brain and not a mommy brain, the thought process would be; you have had your kids at home for 6 weeks over the christmas holidays and you deserve a special night out. The other factor is that my husband also deserves a night out with his wife and not his children's mother. Regardless before any such event I feel nervous guilt, questioning my responsibilities to my children.
This past week was filled with emotional turmoil. My baby started school for the first time. After 2 1/2 years of being home with mommy, the day arrived. I have been talking up this day for months, laughing it off saying that my christmas day is when I drop both kids at school and run from the gates screaming my new found freedom. In reality it is a day I have been dreading. I equate having to forcibly remove a child from you that is clinging on for dear life screaming "no mommy, I want to come home with you" to ripping a small piece of your heart away. Yes, I know I know, children have to go to school and they will enjoy it, they will thrive on the stimulation blah blah blah... This mommy does not cope well. Listening to all the advice being dolled out over past week, I am still wondering what actually is the best thing to say to that mommy sitting in her car in the parking lot sobbing. My friend had same situation this week, while she was telling me, I caught myself regurgitating the same drivel I had to endure all week and yet still can't come up with a good one-liner.
While managing your emotions of the event, you also need to take into account the feelings of the older child. My oldest started Grade R this week, this meant he moved into "big school". As excited as he was, it came with those butterflies of the unknown. He told me in car on way school that doesn't actually think he is ready and needs a few more days to prepare himself for school. I listened to myself telling the boys all these wonderful things about school while trying not to vomit from the anxious knot in my tummy.
When the school bell rang on Friday I was so relieved that we had all survived the week and were now a little stronger. I could move my thoughts to the problem of the outfit. I love dress up parties. I feel that you should go to some if not a lot of effort for the person that is throwing the party. But, the theme of this particular party showed off some unfortunate side effects of my mommy worry, that being the extra 20kg that does not squeeze so easily into the CEO and office Ho theme. Thanks to the team at wonder bra that unintentionally I am sure designed bras that help you put all that excess into a cup and squeeze it together to form some semblance of a cleavage that can put a big tick on fancy dress box. Outfit sorted, kids dropped at granny and daiquiri in hand to numb the rising guilt about leaving my baby for a night after he has had to endure being left at school against his will all week.
While dancing to some loud cheesy music with a strobe flashing in my eyes, surrounded by people that are just all excepting, I found the answer to the sobbing mommy in the car. I woke up on Sunday morning, a little hung over, feet blistered from squeaking some takkie, satisfied from great drunken uninhibited sex feeling like human again. So sometimes you just need to throw those granny panties on the floor put on something uncomfortable and go and be... I have titled mine Jugerbomb for the soul.

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.