This Is My Life

My rather bright and funny 5 year old decided yesterday, while in the bath, to drink Dettol Handwash. She wanted to blow bubbles. Out of her mouth.  And apparently she took around 5 mouthfuls of the stuff. I asked her whether or not it tasted horrible? Apparently it did. This didn’t stop her.

The poison center found it as funny as I did after I found out that thankfully there are no seriously toxic substances in the hand wash. But for the rest of last night I kept checking to see whether she was still breathing or possibly burping bubbles.

Now we just need to look for the bubbles when she farts.

PS this is probably the 3rd time I have been on the phone to the poison center for Talia.  I’m getting better:

• The first time I was hysterical and sobbing and convinced my child was facing certain death (handyandy on a sponge that for some reason she decided to suck instead of use to clean the lipstick off the cupboard doors where she had drawn (age 4) (Note for self, when they say a suitable punishment for children is to clean their own mess, I don’t think they had Talia in mind).
• The second time I was sobbing and convinced my child would end up in hospital (she sucked the top of the furniture polish can that my maid had left on the floor (also age 4)).
• This time I was calm (after hubby came home and I had a bottle of wine) and am now convinced that Talia will need to be watched until she is 25. Drinking horrible tasting substances as an experiment somehow reminds me of my late teens and Sambuca. Don’t know why.

Change and adventure seem to follow me closely, sometimes one step behind, sometimes off to the side and sometimes right in my face and blocking my way. You can only move forward with change, and with change comes adventure. And so it is that we’re starting on a new adventure (as if my recent experiences of hot air ballooning, walking the Otter trail and learning how to ride a horse weren’t enough). We’re moving. Again. This time we’re going a little further away. Like a whole ocean and then a little sea away. We won’t be leaving soon, our tickets are booked for the beginning of next year, but now the process starts. Selling the house, shipping our furniture, finding something on that side.

And oh, my angst and anxieties! will the girls be ok? will they make new friends? What is their playdate etiquette like “over there”? and their birthday party etiquette?  And where on earth will I find biltong and 5 Roses Tea? And then I think about the positives, better schools, safety, new places to discover, new foods to eat.

We’re leaving our small pond here to discover the world. We’re never still. There is always something on the go. There is always drama and excitement and adventure. And so, with all the change, I decided my blog needed a new name too.

This is my life. And I love it.

Yesterday while waiting for Talia to finish play therapy, Squidgy and I took a walk along the river. We were following the path, when she darted off to pick up a “golden goblet filled with magical water.” She gave me my one to hold and told me it was very special as the sweet water made fairies fly.

Walking along the river collecting golden goblets

What could be more special than being allowed into the magical, imaginary word of a 3 year old?

Keira: mommy, stop singing! me: why? K: you’ll scare everyone! (obviously not a fan)

keira, what is your school called? keira “Monster stories!” (instead of Montessori).

PS Has anyone else told their 5 year old off for squeezing a tube of cheese on their sisters head? no? oh.

I know we’re all supposed to work on our bucket lists at some stage before we die. And who doesn’t have one, even if it’s not vocalised as a bucket list, but a dream list or a wish list or holiday list. My bucket list currently is not for when I die. Its for when we leave SA. And time is running out. At the end of the year we will be moving to a small little island off a much bigger island. Far from SA. Far from my friends, my family, my life as I know it. So I decided to make full use of this year to get in the things I wanted to do before I left SA.

I started off by walking the Otter trail. I am by no means fit, so I trained a bit before we left. Walking up and down the stairs in our house. Walking in the forest with a 10kg back pack. Injuring the nerves in my toe (yeah, just one toe. go figure) . And it was well worth it. If you live in SA, and you haven’t done the Otter yet, it really is time to get off the couch and into the forest. My advice, take three strong and capable men with you. Tell them you’ve injured your toe and have a doctors note to say you can’t carry more than 10kg. (ok, so that last part was a fib. She did joke about writing me the note, but I declined it. So I didn’t actually have the note. Not quite. But I could have.). Then get the men to carry your supper stuff for 5 days. Ensure one of the men loves cooking and would rather starve or eat forest mushrooms, before eating 2 minute noodles (you can tell he doesn’t yet have kids). Get him to plan the menu (including smoked eggplant and tomato curry; sausage stew and moroccan beans; burritos and red peppar salsa. marshmallows and chocolate). Ensure the second man has a wife (she will ensure he has chocolate). Swap a back massage for the chocolate. Ensure third man loves you enough to carry your spare shoes (in this case my hiking boots were hurting too much so I swapped to takkies).  And then you walk. 5 days. noone else until you get to the huts. Peace and quiet and birds and buck. The only problem with taking 3 men is that they spent 75% of the drive from CT to Natures valley talking about cars. And then just when I thought they had got it out of their systems, they spent a whole lot more on the trail talking about cars. I had to talk about sex just to change the subject.

The second thing on my bucket list has been a hot air balloon ride in the winelands. So I took hubby out for an early birthday present to Paarl and at the crack of dawn we took our first balloon flight.  And after going up and down for a bit to find the right winds, we gently floated around for an hour or so. We landed in a farmers field, and he, his wife and kid came rushing out to us. After chatting to the pilot, other passengers and ourselves for a while, they invited us back to their house for coffee. If it hadn’t been for a breakfast that was waiting for us at the Grande Roche hotel, I think we all would have said yes. This experience taught me a few things – one; field mice are very active at 6am in a dark field. And you certainly see lots of them before you start setting up a balloon. Two; there are so many wonderful friendly people in South Africa. And time is just to short to get to know them. Three; you need to do something new every once in a while to actually feel alive.

the third thing on my list has been to start horse-riding with Talia. And that I started today. The plan is to pick a hobby or a sport that Talia and I can do together. Almost a mommy / daughter thing. Talia’s favourite sport is currently horse riding, so after talking to her about it, I started lessons today. It’s not that I’ve never ridden before (I have done pony rides) , but I’ve never been taught the right way to hold reins, bridle a horse, tell a horse to stop etc. This way Talia and I can do out-rides together. I don’t know how long she’ll want me around, but at age 5 she seems to think this is a fabulous idea.

For the rest of the year, theres the Drakensberg, Garden route, Outdshoorn and JHB that we need to get to. 8 months just doesn’t seem long enough. And it’s not like we won’t be coming home, we will, at some stage. But I want to remember SA and all the good things about it. Especially when I start to get homesick or lonely. Then Talia and I can go for a ride and be happy.

You know that sinking feeling when you realise you haven’t thought about supper yet and it’s 4pm. the kids have just gotten home from various after school activities or playdates and are in no mood to be pleasant little angels or even almost normal socially trained individuals. Instead they are showing their meaner streaks by teasing little sisters, or biting older ones. Or both. There’s much screaming and calls for mommy to sort out the impending world war 3′s in the playroom. And the idea of now taking them out into a place where other humans may be, and specifically having to walk them down a sweet isle to get to a till, just fills you with dread and a cold sweat down your back? Yeah, I know you’ve had those moments too. Well I’ve come across a service called Daily Dish. And it’s fabulous. Daily Dish will plan your meals for 4 days of the week, deliver all the ingredients in nicely measured little packages on the Monday, with a quality recipe in a little plastic sleeve, and all you have to do is cook them.   Fresh healthy meals, where you don’t have to think about what to cook, where to get the ingredients and when to go shopping.

I’ve been trying them out this week and have had mixed success with my girls – the Chicken stirfry went down really well. As did the spicy lamb cutlets (I left off the chilli on their dressings). They weren’t impressed with the vegetable curry last night, I thought the “cauliflower rice” idea was a great way to eat a curry without having carbs (I made them mash potatoes instead as they need their carbs).

The things I love about the service:

• All ingredients are pre-weighed and ready to just throw in to the dish. This saves time, but also money. I never buy dried dill. If I had to buy it for just one recipe the rest would have died a slow and lonely death at the back of my spice cupboard. Major waste there.
• I also never go to a butcher for my meat, all bought from Woolies or Pick n Pay. This way the meat is better / fresher
• It is just so absolutely convenient
• No fussy meals, each takes about 30min to cook (more if you have to negotiate with little terrorists trying to blow up your bathroom with soap bubbles)

In the future, when the service has grown, I believe they will be buying the ingredients from individual wholesalers – like that “little place down the road that grows mushrooms” or the organic market at that farm that does great veggies”. I think this may work out to be a truly healthier option. I don’t know about you but I do not have time to go from place to place buying the best ingredients.

My concerns with the service is that is doesn’t give you the option to not take the pre-packed spices (i have some of the spices, which means doubling up on spices I have currently) nor does it have a fussy kids menu. I think I’ll be suggesting those to the owner next time she delivers my box of goodies.

www.dailydish.co.za.

(PS did I mention I am not involved in this business in anyway, nor am I getting any commission I just thought its a service that most busy women will love! View it as my social project for this week, make your lives easier. You can thank me later)

Yesterday I went on a treasure hunt. We found a kitty. And I lost some grumpiness.

I was sulking yesterday as my hubby has left on yet another business trip. Talia however was delving deep into her creative genius. She drew herself a treasure map. popped it into an envelope, sealed it then posted it to herself. Retrieved it from the postbox and came running in all excited. So we followed the “clues” on the map. It led us to the fairy garden at the bottom of our garden. There we came across a little mottled brown and black cat. She looks about a year old, so I’m guessing she’s our neighbours cat that is finally exploring our garden now that it’s no longer protected by our fierce and grumpy Bobi cat.  We decided she must be the treasure we were seeking and spent about an hour playing with her. I forgot all about being grumpy.

Thank you Talia for taking me on a trip out of my mood and into the imagination of a 5 year old.

As a mother, you know the feeling of wanting the best for your child. You may want her to be bright, or sporty, or arty or funny. You may want her to be sociable, or a leader or an independent spirit. Your wishes depend so much on your own values and your own experiences, the good and the bad.

When I was pregnant with Talia, before I knew about the clubfoot, I remember lying on the couch, in the sun, with my hand on my growing belly, and thinking of the things I wished for my child. My main wish was that she would be happy and always feel loved. And in the same thought, I knew she would be special. I sometimes wonder if that was a thought, or if my thought had turned into a wish.

When we found out Talia had clubfoot, I was devastated and, in true fashion of all parents who have something to grieve, I looked to blame something. I wondered if my thoughts on her being special when I was pregnant had somehow attributed to the deformity. Had made her special. Had made her different.

Now at the age of 5 1/2, it amuses me to listen to people talk about her. They always seem to start off with , “well Talia is a special case….”. Are thoughts meant to follow you around like this? Talia’s hair is a special case (she has a gene mutation), when it comes to activities like her swimming or gym, she’s a “special case”, when her teachers talk to me about her, she’s a “special case” and when it comes to her feet, “she’s a special case”.

On her feet at least, I am hoping that we have reached the end of our clubfoot journey. Although I say this with hesitation, because we thought we had done so at age 4. However after the last few months, of consultations and conferences, of casting and operations, and casting again and exercises, of walking in AFO’s (Ankle / foot orthoses), and of not walking at all… it seems that Talia’s special feet are now perfect. She will always have a strange bump on the top of her feet where they moved the tendon (it has to go on top of something and not around it), which will mean buying shoes may be an issue. She will always have scars on her feet from the op’s, but they will fade and since we didn’t have to do the bone op, she shouldn’t have any arthritis at a young age. She will always have strange tendons on her ankles, that we will need to ensure “don’t slip”. She may never walk like a model but the difference is remarkable as it is. She can run and jump and hang upside down like a monkey at gym. She can do forward rolls and almost cartwheels. She can swim and horse-ride.

And most importantly, she can walk. Normally. And how special is that?

Talia: why cant you drive after wine? why are tree trunks brown? why doesnt daddy like filling in forms? (all within 3 sec). wow, this kid asks a lot of questions.

Talia: (with a lot of shock in her voice): Apparently Pizza’s are unhealthy!” (almost as bad as finding out that Santa and the tooth fairy are one in the same, and strangely resemble mom an awful lot!)

keira (on listening to the conversation about eating children on the radio) “but you cant eat children. they are dirty and full of germs!”

keira, what is your school called? keira “Monster stories!” (instead of Montessori).

keira: mommy please phone Oupa and ask him to send Bobi back. (on the death of our kitty. Oupa died in July last year)

keira: mom, I love you one much (holding finger up). daddy, I love you two much (two fingers).” too much?” I ask.” No mommy, this two, not that too”. (two fingers up again.) (seems my two year old knows the difference between 2 and too. now to teach her how to quantify love. any suggestions?)

I wrote this post when Talia was just 8 months old:

my daughter is such a girl…

March 28, 2008 in UncategorizedEdit this entry