So Close

Failing at the Tupperware system.

As some of you might know, I have been trying to train my husband on the Towel System for more than 15 years. With little to zero success.  This failure has been a source of great dismay to me, but I am trying to live with the pain.  However, there is another, less common failure that I don't often mention.  Mostly because I fear the situation is somewhat hopeless.  It is the Tupperware System.  My husband has proven to be as poor in his adherence to the Tupperware System as he is to the Towel System.

As many of you will know, Tupperware is a serious thing.  The absence of a system when it comes to Tuppeware leads to bottomless lids and lidless bottoms. A bottomless, lidless pit of anger, anxiety and general unhappiness.

I recently treated myself to (a) a Tupperware clean up (which entails the difficult but necessary task of euthanasing unmatched Tupperware) and (b) a rather substantial and expensive purchase of new, matching, non-generic Tupperware.  In particular a set of special round Tupperware bowls purchased specifically for my morning cereal.  There is something deeply unsettling about eating cereal out of a square dish.  It is just... wrong.  It's not a good way to start your day.

Because Tupperware is expensive, and because one doesn't like to frivolous, I only purchased two (2) special new round Tupperware bowls for my morning cereal. I figured this was more than sufficient as there should always be one available to use (the other one being in the wash).  Which is all good and well if everyone in the house adheres to the System.  Unfortunately this is not the situation in my house.  As with the Towel System, my husband has proven to be totally untrainable in the Tupperware System.  It pains me to speak about this, but previous offenses have included using my expensive Tupperware to (a) store his DIY supplies, (b) catch tadpoles with the kids and the latest insult, (c) using one of my only two round Tupperware bowls to store his solitary piece of left over pizza in the fridge.  I just can't.  There is no respect.  There are 23329783 square and rectangular Tupperware containers in the cupboard (with lids) and he uses one of my only two ROUND cereal bowls for his one measly piece of leftover pizza.  IT DOESN'T EVEN FIT PROPERLY!!!

I know I should try to put this in perspective.  I know there are worst things in the world.  But I am really struggling right now.  I'm trying, but it's not easy.  #pain #norespect #sendprayers

 

Why you should not feel sorry for my husband

People (who haven't met my husband) often say things to me like "Wow, I can't believe the things you say about your husband on Facebook, my husband would kill me!" and things along those lines.  And by "things" they mean me putting a post up on FB saying "my husband is being a giant PITA, I might have to kill him" etc.

I think they feel sorry for my husband.  I think they imagine he is a timid mouse who is beaten down by his bossy wife who rules the roost.  That he is a sensitive soul who is surely hurt, or offended or fearful at what I write.  The truth is the complete opposite of this.  If you should feel sorry for anyone, it should be ME!!  My husband is the most stubborn, confident, strong, strict, assured, tough, un-shy, full of shit guy you will ever meet.  He is the first guy I have ever met that absolutely will NOT let me boss him around.  (Which is why I married him.) He is impossible to boss around.  Or to faff around actually.  He is not arrogant, he is just completely comfortable and confident in who he is.  And in our relationship.  He knows I think he is an ahole sometimes, because I tell him (and not just on FB).  And he (mistakenly) thinks I am an ahole sometimes too. Which he is not shy to tell me. 

If you knew my husband, and our relationship, you would not feel sorry for Marko AT ALL. In fact, even though I am a giant PITA with a million issues and it can't be easy being married to me, you would feel sorry for ME because of how stubborn and STRICT he is.   He is not an easy guy at all.  Totally untrainable actually. Example:  The Towel system.  I wrote that post two years ago.  This past week he used my hair towel as the bath mat.  HE PUT HIS FEET ON MY HAIR TOWEL.  When I moaned at him for not using the correct towel system his response was "I have my own towel system - I see a towel and I use it".  And this sums up our marriage perfectly. I am anal/OCD/full of shit and he does his own thing anyway.  It works perfectly.  

(Also: my husband is on FB, so whatever I put up about him he can see immediately. He either ignores my note or else he puts a teasing response in reply)

So please don't feel sorry for my husband. He is more than ok.  He has to be, he is married to me :)

Moving house

So, moving!  Yes, it is true. We are moving to a new house.  I haven’t mentioned anything before even though this has been going on for MONTHS already because we weren’t sure whether it would all come together. It’s been fairly stressful.  Also, I didn’t want to mention it because we are moving into the house next door! As in, literally right next door. Which sounds a little weird, right?  It’s just that we LOVE our security estate and don’t want to stay anywhere else, but we needed more space.  And the house next door is HUGE.  It has everything we need and more.  So, we are moving, yay!  Very exciting.  We have been doing LOTS of renovations and fixing over the past week or so because the house sorely needed some serious attention.  We move in at the end of the month.  We are so super excited and we are at the house every single day (a few times a day) to check on the contractors and also just to admire our new house or jump on the trampoline J  Kids are super excited. 

There are a few things I have learnt through this process which I thought I would share with you:

1.  They say moving is stressful, which is true.  However even more stressful is having to deal with the horrendous admin involved re contracts, attorneys, buyers, sellers, certificates, bond applications etc etc.  It’s like a painful jigsaw puzzle
2. Property attorneys are effing expensive and not always very user friendly.  It makes me not like them very much.
3. Marko and I are frightening efficient (anal). Everything is done 100% properly way before it is due.  Not everyone is like this. In fact, few are. It’s frustrating.
4. There are some serious bullshitters out there.  We got an offer on our house in December. From a guy who made huge promises.  Signed everything.  I googled him and saw that he is a serial, international bullshitter.  Needless to say the deal fell through, but only after he had strung us along for a month, basically wasting our time. I have strong feelings of hate towards him for conning us.  However, according to Google, he has conned far more people out of much more money.
5. Marko and I take really good care of our ‘stuff’.  You could buy a used car from Marko and EVERYTHING would be in tiptop condition.  It would literally be ‘like new’.  Our house is always clean, neat, tidy, fixed, in good working order. Other people are not like this.  Some people are VERY not like this.  It is shocking how some people live. How badly they take care of things.  How dirty they are.  But perhaps they just aren’t arsed about ‘stuff’?
6. Packing is a pain in the arse, but it is also a GREAT opportunity to do a cleanse and a purge. I am cleansing like you can’t believe.  I am giving away mountains of stuff.  We have way too much stuff.  Plus I am so very unsentimental.  It makes for some pretty significant purging.
7. It is really, really great to take the plunge and pay for an extra month’s occupation rent just to have the house empty before you move.  We have used this time to have the whole house painted, the cupboards repaired, carpets replaced, new electric wiring done, air cons put in, paving done, floors sanded, lights changed…. All the things that make a huge mess and are PAINFUL to do if you have to live in the house while they are doing it
8. Having the house professionally cleaned before you move in is a non-negotiable.
9. My husband is probably the BEST husband anyone could ever hope for when it comes to house moving / repairing / renovating.  He has managed the entire fixing up process.  Project plans, contract negotiations etc.  Every single thing is taken care of.  He is there every day, a few times a day checking on everyone, making sure everyone is doing what they should be doing.  Doing some stuff himself.  He is a machine.
10. Selling my house was a lot less painful that I feared.  I put this down to working with one of the best realtors / estate agents around.  Manja from Realtors International Durbanville is amazing.  For all the usual things like having good buyers / lots of opportunity / having a good network of associates / good staff as well, but more than that –she made whole experience of buying and selling unbelievably (relatively) painless. I never felt like it was an intrusion to have people come and look at our house.  She always did it in such a way that it was of no inconvenience or intrusion to me.  I was dreading that part, but it was such a non-issue.  And she has not stopped being helpful – she arranged quotes from professional cleaners, she gave me contacts for window cleaners, for people who service blinds etc etc. I speak to her almost every day and she just carries on being helpful to us.  Long after the deal has been signed and sealed.  And let me tell you, Marko and I (mostly Marko) are PAINFUL customers.  Painful.  Everything has to be done TODAY. He was on everyone’s case all day, every day.  I actually felt sorry for Manja. But I can see why Manja is so successful. She is just so damn good. 
11. Lastly, I have struggled with how very fortunate we are, especially in comparison to so many others.  We have so much. We are so lucky.  Through my purging and cleansing, I have given truckloads of stuff to Happiness.  TVs, beds, DSTV decoders, tables, chairs, pots, pans, toys, lots and lots of stuff.  Happiness doesn’t have a car so I take the stuff in my big car and I drop it off at her house in the township.  She has a tiny RDP house.  A tiny house in a dusty street with a thin barbed wire around it. And I stay in this huge house. It seems so wrong that the difference is so huge.  It makes me feel sick actually.  I can’t fix it all for her, but I am committed to helping her improve her circumstances, not only through donating stuff to her and paying her a really good salary, but also by upskilling her and helping her with her child who has disabilities.  I feel that we each have a moral and ethical obligation to help those who are less fortunate than we are, no matter how much or how little we have.

Only 10 more days until we move! Super excited. 

SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK

I have to tell you that my hearing problem does not go well with foreign accents.  There is a lot of “pardon?”, “sorry?” etc.

Today I went for a spa treatment to distract myself from my woeful missing bag situation.  It was a most amusing experience and I kept thinking that if my friend Melany was with me, she would be in hysterics.

Conversation:

Kind lady at spa to me:  You want (can’t hear) herbal tea?

Pardon?

Herbal tea?

Pardon?

Tea (makes drinking motion)

Yes please.  (thinking it might help with the garlic problem. Well, the internet said green tea but maybe herbal tea will do a similar job.  At the very least if it smells like it tasted (like one of those potpourri sachets you put in your cupboard to make it smell nice) then hopefully it would mask the garlic)

I go into the treatment room and put on the gown and the disposal underwear (sized extra small) and hop onto the bed which is quite large and has a leather/leatherette type covering with a disposable cover on top of that.

The massage begins quite vigorously, which is great because I am not paying anyone to pussy foot around with wimpish gentle touch.  Unfortunately with each massage stroke she does, my painted toenails squeak against the massage bed.  Rub SQUEAK Rub SQUEAK.  It was very distracting and so I thought I would ask her to put a towel under my toes.

Me: Wow, my toes are quite noisy!

Massage lady:  Eh?

My toes, they are noisy. Can you put a towel under my feet?

Your feet tired?

No, my toes are noisy, can I have a towel please

Tired?

Towel!

This part tired? (pats feet)

No, a towel please. For the toes.

Ok she says and climbs on the massage bed with me, sitting between my legs and spends at least half the time massaging my ‘tired’ toes and feet.  .  Rub SQUEAK Rub SQUEAK. SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK

I gave up on the towel idea and just enjoyed what was a VERY thorough and rigorous massage.  Where EVERYTHING was massaged expect my vajayjay and my …. Actually, it was only my vajayjay that wasn’t massaged.  She even massaged my eyebrows.

At one point she had my one leg just about wrapped around my neck with the other one wrapped somewhere around the waist area. 

Half way through she whipped the towel up to my shoulders to tell me to turn around and in doing so accidentally caught the edge of the disposable panties in her hand which meant I was very suddenly and quite surprisingly wearing a thong. Pulled up to just about chin height. There I was, having parts of my body massaged that I didn’t even know existed with my extra-small panties up my bum and my toes going SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK.  Interesting!

After the massage I had a hair appointment for a wash and blow dry. 

I thanked the massage lady and said that I was going to shower now

No, she says

Pardon?

No shower.

I must shower, I have a hair appointment.

No shower for 5 hours. Oil good for skin. No shower.

(panicking now in case I am locked in the room for five hours with someone who has just massaged my boobs and given me an accidental thong)

Oh, no! Um, I have to shower, sorry. Thank you. Bye!

And off I ran.

It was an interesting massage. Good and interesting.  Very strong hands for such a small person.

SQUEAK. 

On going deaf. (Speak up lovey, I can't hear a thing!)

I found out I was going deaf quite by accident.  

As part of the "lets eliminate what could be wrong" process, I had to take Max to have his hearing tested a few years back.  The first test we had was a general, high level hearing test.  Max sat on my lap and the tester sat on the other side of the glass partition in the sound proof room.  On either side of the room were two speakers, on top of which was a toy monkey.  She explained to Max that each time he heard a sound come from either monkey, he should turn his head towards the sound.  

We sat there for a minute or so while she adjusted her headphones and fiddled with some knobs.  And then she looked at us through the glass window.  Suddenly Max started turning his head randomly towards the monkey on each side on the top of speaker.

OMG! I thought to myself. The child obviously has bigger problems than we thought!  He is wildly turning towards each monkey for no rhyme or reason.

The tester obviously saw my panicked look and said "he is hearing beautifully and responding perfectly to the sounds".  What sounds, I said? I don't hear a thing!  "That's ok, it happens to many people as they get older" she says.  

Great.  I had age-related hearing loss.  Wonderful. Getting older is an absolute joy.

That was that and I soldiered on with my dodgy hearing.

Last year I had to have Max's hearing retested, this time by a proper hearing clinic (1.5 hours and several hundred rand later) as part of the "lets further eliminate what could be wrong" process.  This time I booked a full hearing screen for myself too. (2 hours and several hundred rand later).  Max passed with flying colours again whereas I failed fairly notably.  The official result:  "A sloping mild to moderate high frequency mixed hearing loss was obtained bilaterally". In other words, going deaf in both ears.  

Truth be told, I suspected I might have a problem.  There are certain people I just cannot hear / understand when they speak.  Before going through the full hearing screening, I thought going deaf / losing your hearing meant that everything got softer. That it was like turning the volume down. But it isn't like that, well at least not for me.  I can hear most sounds perfectly fine.  But there are certain frequencies / voices that I cannot hear at all.  All I hear is mumble mumble / white noise / static.  I can't make out the individual words.  I used to feel ashamed at how often I had to say "excuse me?" but now if I don't hear the first time, I mostly just leave it like that. If it is important, the person will say it again or I will ask them to repeat it.

The Audiologist asked which doctor referred me so that she could send the results to the doctor.  I said that I had come there myself and didn't have a referring doctor, however she could send the results to my kids' ENT, as well as emailing the report to me directly as well.  Which she did. A week or so later, I get a call from the ENT's office to say the results are with them, and the doctor would like to see me for an appointment.  "What do you mean?  I have the results myself so I know what is going on".  No, apparently the doctor wanted to see me.  Now, I really like the doctor, a lot.  We have a lot in common and have built up a relationship over the years.  So I knew she wouldn't be calling just to waste my time or money.  So I went to see her. She explained to me that my hearing loss is fairly significant for someone my age.  It is more often associated with someone much older than myself.  And it is probably nothing to be worried about, however she has a duty to inform me that there is the very small possibility that the hearing loss could be because of a tumour or growth.  

GREAT. I voluntarily go for a hearing test to see whether people are mumbling or I just can't hear and now I might be dying from a cancerous brain tumour.

She said the chances are unlikely it is anything sinister, but in order to be sure I would need a MRI to rule out the tumour issue.

FANTASTIC!  Brain cancer and a MRI. Perfect.

I went for the MRI, which is not exactly a very pleasant experience and TG it was all fine. Even though I knew it was probably all fine, I must say I did have a few moments envisioning my funeral proceedings while lying still in that horrible tube.

Bottom line - I have the hearing of an old person. To match my rapidly ailing eyesight. I AM A TOTAL CATCH!  Blind and deaf.  But at least brain-tumour-free. Glass half full etc. 

It's weird, and a little scary actually, to see how your physical capabilities deteriorate as you get older.  You can be as young at heart as you wish, but the physical body degenerates according to it's own timetable.  

Sigh. Getting older is not for sissies.  But it sure beats the alternative.

Now speak up lovey, I can't hear you. 

 

Why is it always the same moms selling the hot dogs?

I have a question for the parents of school going children re extra curricular involvement in your child's school. Or put another way: Why is it always the same parents who volunteer to cover books / work at the cake sale / sell hot dogs?

I am not trying to judge, I am trying to understand the reasons why some people don't volunteer to help out. I have thought about it, and these are some of the reasons I can think of:

1. Many parents work full day - they are simply unable to help out during the day.
2. Maybe some parents believe that the school should be doing this and not asking the parents to do it
3. Maybe some parents believe that there are enough people already volunteering to help so their help is not needed
4. Maybe you have done the cake sale thing for years / for your older kids and you feel you have done your bit already.
5. Maybe some parents just couldn't be arsed
6. ?

I have been a class rep / class mom for the past few years. This year I am only second in command, which I must say is quite lovely. Every year I say I am not going to do it again, and then every year when the silence after the question "So who is going to volunteer to be class rep this year...?" lasts more than a few excruciating seconds, I volunteer to do it.  Because I mostly like it.  I like being involved with the school, I like knowing what is going on, and mostly I love being at the cake sale and sports day so that I can see my kids. They LOVE it when their mom works at the stall because we get to have an extra hug plus hopefully a few extra sweets as well. I do realize how very, very fortunate I am to be able to do this. I don't take it for granted. 

The most frustrating thing about being a class rep is trying to get the other parents' involvement.  I understand that many parents work full time out of the home, that isn't an issue, but what is so disheartening is how some people just don't bother responding to any of your emails.  You will send out an email asking for ideas for something, and three people respond.  You ask who would like to contribute towards the teacher's gift, only a handful of people reply (even if it is just to say 'no thanks').  I get that people are busy, I get that people might not have the time or money to help out, but surely it doesn't cost anything to reply to an email? It can get quite frustrating, but I have learnt not to let it get me down.  I just carry on regardless. Luckily I have a thick hide when it comes to that sort of thing.

Last week I worked at the school for two mornings from 7:15 - 8:30'ish selling tickets to the Big Walk and then another two mornings for an hour covering books.  I think around 80 parents were asked whether they could help out.  Around 5 people agreed to help. The same mom had to work every morning for a week because no one else volunteered to help her.  I don't know, that just doesn't sound right.  Look, I don't mind doing it at all - I like helping out, a lot.  I am in the fortunate position that I am able to do this sort of thing. I just wondered why so few others do.  The class reps said she sent out an email to 20 parents. No one even replied to her email. 

I must say though - the response from the younger grade parents is usually quite good when it comes to this sort of thing.  Many more offers of help. So maybe parents just get tired of being asked for their time, money and input over the years?  Or maybe older kids don't want their parents at the cake sale? Or maybe class reps are just a giant PITA.  Oh I don't know. 

So here are my responses to some of the reasons why some parents might not get involved:

1. Many parents work full day:  My response: I understand completely.  Perhaps you could help out by sharing ideas, responding to the email, or perhaps doing a Saturday morning at the hot dog stand? 
2. Maybe some parents believe that the school should be doing this and not asking the parents to do it.  My response: I get that.  But isn't the school's job is to teach? These extra things are usually for our children's benefit. 
3. Maybe some parents believe that there are enough people already volunteering to help so their help is not needed.  My response: It is always a struggle to get enough people to help. Those people that are already helping? They are doing it because they know if they don't, no one will.  There are never enough helpers, believe me. 
4. Maybe you have done the cake sale thing for years / for your older kids and you feel you have done your bit already. My response: I get that.  You have earned the right not to have to sell any more damn hot dogs :) 
5. Maybe some parents just couldn't be arsed. My response: Ok fine, I get that too. Each to their own.  
6. ?

So I guess I am asking you the question - if you don't participate in the extra curricular stuff, why don't you? Have I missed any reasons?  What is your opinion on the matter? 

PS I do know that schools asking for extra money the whole time is a huge PITA, this is not about that aspect. This is more about participation / involvement / response. 

PPS If I could ask for just one thing as a class rep it is this: PLEASE just reply to the emails, even if it is just say 'no thanks', 'can't help' or 'nothing to add'.  It feels a whole lot better than just getting radio silence. 

Why I am not divorcing my husband

I posted a question on Facebook recently that got me into all sorts of trouble (including a stern phone call from my father to "stop putting that nonsense on Facebook").  

I asked my FB followers who had gotten divorced whether the divorce had come as a surprise to them.  Whether, looking back with hindsight, the signs were there all along.  It was a question that had nothing to do with my marriage.  Apparently a few people thought I was asking the question for myself! Um, no. If I was thinking about divorcing my husband, I wouldn't be doing my research on Facebook.

The truth was, I was in the shower, thinking about life and how happy I was, and then I wondered how many people were in that same situation yesterday, last month, last year, last decade.... feeling content and happy in their relationship, when their world came tumbling down. And then I started thinking about marriage and divorce and wondered whether one always 'knew' something wasn't right, or whether divorced came as a surprise. I was hoping that the answer was that people always 'knew' something wasn't right, because I have never had the feeling.  Sure, I have often wanted to KILL my husband when he was being an industrial strength enemy but our marriage feels right, even if it is different to the norm. (or as far as the 'norm' is displayed by many happy, lovely FB marriages).  My friends always say that Marko and my unconventional* relationship is probably going to outlast all others.

(*Unconventional in that we aren't all touchy-feely, lovey-dovey, syrupy sweet.  He is full of shit, I am even worse.  We are both odd, but we are 'our' kind of odd.  There is a saying in Afrikaans that says "Elke pot het sy deksel". Every pot has its lid - no matter how misshapen and odd the pot is. Marko is my lid and I am his).

I will give you two examples of why I have the best husband ever. 

1.  I am a pain to buy gifts for. I don't like things.  I don't like jewelry, chocolates, flowers, clothes, shoes, kitchen utensils, perfume, creams, hair stuff. I don't have hobbies and I don't collect things.  It drives my friends crazy.  I always tell them not to buy me anything, but they always feel they have to. (Side note - one of the BEST birthdays I ever had was when I asked all my friends to donate money to charity on my behalf - instead of gifts. I loved that so much, I must do it again).

This year, Marko decided to surprise me with a custom made, engraved cell phone cover thingy with my name and business logo on it. He went through a huge amount of effort to get it for me.  My previous standard iphone cover (that I loved so much, it was a beautiful colour, classy, leather and super slim) was damaged so I needed a new one.  He presented the new cover to me with great excitement.  All wrapped up in a pretty box. I opened up the box (cursing him silently as I did because I have told him so many times not to spend money on gifts for me) and my heart sank when I saw it. I hated it :(  I put it on my phone and it felt horrible. It made my phone feel thick and bulky.  I am very sensory sensitive so the 'feel' of something is so important to me.  

The next day I asked him where he had put my old iPhone cover. WHY! he asked sternly.  "Just asking" I replied.  "Do you not like the new cover I got you?" he asked with a pissed off look. I scrambled and thought and decided that the only way I know how is to be honest, so I said "no, I am so sorry, I don't.  It makes my phone feel too bulky".  So he mumbled and sulked and stomped off. I felt so bad.  And then later on, he joked with me that I had hurt his feelings, I apologized and he laughed and said he was fine, he had gotten over it already.  

The next day there was a box wrapped for me. I opened it up not knowing what it was, and inside was an exact same cover as my previous iPhone cover that I loved so much.  The same colour, everything. I didn't even know you could get it in SA as I had bought it in London.  Within a day he had tracked down the same cover locally as I had bought in London AND went all the way from work to fetch it for me.  I was so touched. 

And that is my husband. He loves me so much, even though I am a huge pain. He always tries to make me happy, even when it requires sacrifice on his part.

I can't tell you how much that meant to me.  It might seem insignificant to others, but it meant everything to me.  Seeing that new old cover in the box.... knowing that he went to so much effort for me, despite me telling him I didn't like his special gift the day before....that right there is why I love my husband so much. He gets me. He loves me, despite me being a total PITA.

2. Second example.  We are on holiday at the moment and the bed in the main room is tiny (according to our standards - we need SPACE when we sleep).  So I had the bright idea of moving a mattress into Max's room, putting him on the mattress and me on the bed.  Marko carried the mattress upstairs and made the bed up on the floor.  He then called me to have a look to see if it was the way I wanted it. I said "it looks great, I just wish I had safety plugs for the plug outlet behind Max's head".  Silly I know, because he is 5,5 years old and knows not to stick his fingers in the plug. But I am a worrier, and that would worry me a bit.  "No problem" he says, "I brought safety covers with us". WHAT!!!  We haven't used safety plugs in over 3 years and yet my husband will have safety plugs on standby on the minuscule chance his pain in the arse wife might need some. He is AWESOME. 

My husband is the type of guy you would want to get stranded on a deserted island with, start a house with, do a DIY project with, go on holiday with, travel abroad with, buy a used car from, go on Amazing Race with.  He can be a real pain sometimes (he is super strict about somethings, and has really high standards. Plus he is VERY stubborn), and he might not write romantic love letters or want to talk about feelings and stuff, but he is such a great husband for me and to me.  I couldn't have asked for a better partner for myself. He really is the 'deksel' to the very odd pot that I am.

Slow learner

10 years ago my husband learnt a painful lesson:  I can only be teased up until a point.  After that point, you proceed at your own peril.

However, 10 years is a long time. It is understandable that one might forget after such a long time.  

Tonight he was reminded.  Don't poke the bear. Unless you are at a safe distance.

RELATED:  I might be old, but my reactions are still up there. Heh. 

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Marko is a massive, ginormous tease. He loves to joke around, the fart.  I have learnt over the years to be one step ahead of him. Do not react, do not flinch.  The moment you show any weakness (annoyance / reaction / falling for it), he will be all over you like a rash.  He often catches his mother / my mother / my friends / our children. But luckily I am almost as clever as he is. 

Tonight he was in a particularly jovial mood. He was teasing me, then tickling me, then chasing me round the kitchen table.  He got closer and closer and then tried to grab me and I stuck my hand out to get away and my nail caught his eye.  Poor dear.  I did feel a bit sorry for him. (PS I won!! Woo hoo!  LOOOOOOSER!!)

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The kids are so cute, they are ALWAYS on my side.  When Marko was chasing me around the kitchen table, he called out to them to help him catch me and I said "no, help Mom, dad is trying to catch me!!" and they went running to Kate's room to get swords and weapons and protective gear to help me.  I have an army of children on my side. (Adam was in the bath at the time, although he might have been on Marko's side if he was around. Traitor)

 

Easy target

My sister called the other day and asked what I was doing. I grumbled that I was busy doing an EFT for five hundred and fifty ront to Lifeline for gift wrapping and greeting cards. But, she says, you don't like gift wrap and you don't use greeting cards. "I KNOW!!!" I replied, "but the woman on the phone told me they depend on people like me". She said that I might as well have 'easy target' tattooed on my forehead. I am SO bad at saying no. But it's so hard when people ask for help!

This was the phone call:

*Ring ring*
Me = Hello
Lady on phone = Hi Ms Albertyn, thank you so much for your generosity last year, may we rely on your generosity again this year? (similar thing happened last year. Previous gift set still in cupboard, unused)
Me = Well, I am currently supporting Meals on Wheels and other charities so I...
Lady on phone = Thank you Mrs Albertyn, we rely on people like you to support us. May I put you down for two gift packs
Me = Um, well, I think I..
Lady on phone = Thank you Mrs Albertyn, have a wonderful day
Phone goes dead

Next thing I get two (really ugly) gift wrapping and greeting card sets in the post. With an invoice. For R550. Which I paid of course, because what if I don't pay and then someone needs help and because they have no money there is no one manning the phones and then the person who needs help dies because I was too stingy to buy two really ugly gift wrapping sets. I can't risk someone dying. So instead I am R550 poorer and two ugly gift sets richer.

My sister said she is going to phone Lifeline twice and say "Hi, my sister bought two of your gift sets, so I would like to have two turns to chat about my issues". And then my sister called me a rude word that starts with arse and ends in hole.

So if you ever need help, call Lifeline. They have the funds for at least two conversations. If my sister hasn't used up those turns by now.

PS friends and family - please note you will be getting lovely wrapped gifts this year with pyramids and lions on the wrapping.

So how long do you and Dad do it for?

“Mom, what is rape*?”  asks Adam in the car on Saturday afternoon. It was just Kate, Adam and myself on the way back from the Root44 market.  A question that sparked off the most wonderful conversation between the three of us.  The timing was perfect.  The two of them were sitting in the back, me in the drivers seat, staring straight ahead and trying my best not to let the grin creep into my voice. Not at the rape question of course, but at the conversation that followed after my explanation.

I explained to them that rape was when one person wanted to have sex and the other person didn’t.  I said that it was important to remember that when you have sex one day, it needs to be something that both people agree on.  One person should never force sex on another person if the other person doesn’t want it.  And everyone is allowed to say they don’t want sex.  A no is a no.  Kate interjects with gusto: “I choose no!” she states. (Kate is determined not to have a boyfriend or get married ever because boys are gross and stupid).   I say that I am glad she says no now, but maybe one day when she is older she might want to say yes.  She says she wont. I say fine. 

Adam asks “but why doesn’t the person who wants to have sex just find another person who also wants to have sex?” Exactly my child.  I explained to them that rape wasn’t just about sex; it is about power and violation.  That rape often happened alongside violence.  Adam then said that if anyone had to put a gun to his head, he would do a karate chop and then kick them in the knee and then poke them in the eye and then he would…. “AND THAT IS WHY WE NEED A POCKET KNIFE MOM!!” Kate interjects midstream!  She just can’t let go of the pocketknife thing. 

(There was a stall at the market selling knifes and pocketknives. They were begging me to get one.  I said no, it is too dangerous.  Kate declares dramatically “We are NINE years old already mom, when are you going to TRUST US?!”)

Adam then asks “So what is it like?”  What, I ask? (still chuckling at the pocket knife comment). Sex, he says, what does it feel like?  OooKkk.  I am trying not to grin too much, thankful I am facing forward so they can’t see my smile.  Feeling a little sweaty at the thought of having to explain to my children what sex feels like, but determined to use this opportunity to gently educate them about sex.  “It feels good when it happens between two (grown up!) people who really like or love each other.”. Why do people do it, he asks, to make a baby?  I explain that people do it to make a baby but also because that is one of the ways adults show love for each other.  Oh, he says.  Kate asks:  “So, do you and Dad do it?”  EEEK!  “Yes we do” I reply calmly but having a little cringe. It feels very strange discussing your sex life with your 9 year old children.   “So how long does it last?” asks Adam.  OMG! How long does it last??! What should I say! “Well, it can last a few seconds to like, 30 minutes or so”. Kate asks:  “So not like 2 hours or something?” I am tempted to say “only in the movies” but I stick to “no, that seems a bit long, I think people would get tired by then”.  Adam asks:  “So how long do you and Dad do it for?”  O.M.G!  “All different times” I reply.  Ok, they say.  I explain to them that sex is something that should only happen between two people who agree to have sex with each other and should only happen when you are grown up, children shouldn’t be having sex.  I explain that even teenagers can have a baby if they have sex, so it is better not to have sex too young.  I tell them again that a ‘no’ is a no when it comes to sex.  I explain that sex is a private matter and shouldn’t be discussed with friends on the playground etc.  I remind them that their privates are private and no one is allowed to touch them unless they give permission. We discuss the red, orange and green zones on the body.  And then they see something on the road that distracts them and our conversation is over. 

It was such a great opportunity to talk about sex in an open, honest manner and even though it was a bit uncomfortable for me in parts (how long do you and Dad do it for! OMG!), I am so glad we did.  I have always been determined that I want my children to learn about sex and the associated issues from me, and not in a negative way on the playground. I am sure they will still get exposed to it on the playground, but I want them to hear it from me first. 

I drove home with a big grin on my face.  Such a cute, honest, real conversation.  I hope we can always communicate so openly. 

*The reason why Adam asked the question is that he overheard someone mention the word at the market we were at.