Moving On

In four weeks time, we are moving house. Stated like that it sounds so simple. In reality, however, it is anything but.  (Having said that, I have this amazing ability to turn the simplest things into the most complex, stressful, complicated events. I cringe when I think about what I will do with moving house!!)

Honored with a place right at the top of the list of the most stressful events in life, right after death (I'm never sure if this is my death or someone else's!!), is moving house. I have quickly come to realise that moving has a way of forcing you to deal with all sorts of issues. Physical, emotional, tactical, logistical, the obvious issues, and those that blindside you - coming out of nowhere and sending you reeling. Issues that have been safely compartmentalized, and tucked away for aeons suddenly rise up like Mount Everest, with sanity on the other side.

One of the most daunting tasks ahead of me during this process is one of both a physical and emotional nature. Unfortunately it is a task I have to perform before I can even think about packing a box. I am a collector (read hoarder). I am intensely sentimental and hyper-sensitive about things from the past. I have what I think is a normal, healthy attachment to these things (others might disagree and say it borders on unhealthy-obsessive-bag-lady tendencies, but who listens to that niggling voice in your head anyway!).   I have a collection of letters (written on actual paper - not electronic!) from my school days. Notes passed in class between my oldest BFF Jennifer and I. We are still firm friends today, and reading these takes me straight back to those carefree days of crushes, parties, school disco's, first boyfriends, clothing crisis's, and exams. There is no way I can part with them. Moving on.

I have cartons and cartons of old photos from my parents youth right through to my own kids. In boxes. Unsorted. Again, I can't part with these. Moving swiftly along... Up in the rafters in the garage is a suitcase of old baby clothes from my kids, cartons of school work (from my school days and from my kids), and picture frames - TONS of them. Outdated and empty - but maybe one day they will be revived and given a new lease on life? And magazines. I have no idea why I thought that by storing literally hundreds of magazines I would one day find the time to sort and file the relevant things in them  - the obvious reason why I kept them in the first place! I could go on, but as I list my "collections", the knot in my stomach grows, and that voice in my head gets louder and louder!

The emotional issue I have with decluttering before I pack needs to be dealt with. I keep these things for reasons. I don't live in the past, but I like to visit from time-to-time. However, I have decided that I need to purge and cleanse before moving. Be selective and  chuck. For me this is huge.

This need to cling to the past, the comfort zone of what we know, has been passed onto my daughter, Kirsten. She has had a hard time getting used to the idea of a new house, a new room, a new area. She has moments of panic when out of the blue the tears start and she asks "Mom? Can my snow globes come to the new house? And my books? And my curtains?" Seeing her battling with this has forced me to address my own fear of leaving the past behind. Stepping out of my comfort zone. Helping her through this as sensitively as possible will be a good exercise for both of us.

Logical issues (being logical is not in my nature!), are another hurdle I have to overcome. I have this tendency to be impatient (*blush*), and need to be firmly in control. I want things to happen how and when I want them. One thing moving house has taught me (in unavoidable neon lettering!), is that I am not in control of a lot of the when's. When the transfer happens, when the exact occupation date is, when my new curtains will be ready, etc etc. I am out of my nicely controlled comfort zone here!!

The physical issues about moving are staring me in the face. These boxes are not going to pack themselves! Before making a start, however, I need to update my WILL DO List. Maybe if I commit to categorizing my photo's and filing my recipes and sorting through my kids old artwork from school (boxes and boxes of it!), I will do it. Or maybe I will trawl Pinterest for How-to-Organise-Just-About-Anything ideas to get me started. Maybe then dealing with my moving issues won't be such a Mount Everest for me. Maybe. I'm Just Saying...
 

Will Do!

I have read so many blogs and articles lately where the focus has been on "Bucket Lists". There have been Bucket Lists for school holidays,(which I admit had a certain appeal after a few "you are  both going to boarding school!!" days these holidays); Bucket Lists for adventures; Bucket Lists for the next three months (90 things in 90 days); Bucket Lists for before you kick the proverbial bucket; and my favourite from my good friend Bernadette (http://b4forty.blogspot.com/). Bern had an "I'm almost forty, and I still haven't done all those wild things" moment, and created her own form of Bucket List. Her journey through this list has been hilarious, and so admirable. She has literally put her money where her mouth is, and has documented her escapades for inspiration.

To be honest, I have always found the idea of a Bucket List to be a bit morbid. What happens when you get to the end? Is the whole concept not temping fate? I am such a believer in fate, so the thought of waving the red flag in front of the "OK-I'm-done-with-my-list-now-grim-reaper" scared the hell out of me. And then the antithesis: how many of us are really going to walk the entire Great Wall of China? Or cliff jump off some remote Death-by-Stupidity cliff face? Or write a Pulitzer Award Winning Autobiography? Or even organise our CD collections by genre and alphabetically??? So by committing ourselves to a Bucket List, are we not setting ourselves up for inevitable failure? Or is that too cynical an outlook?

Lately, however, I have found myself in quite a dilemma. I am a HUGE procrastinator by nature. I tend to put off doing things until I absolutely have to. And then work frantically under pressure. I am also big on lists. Having lists keeps me focused and on track. And I have dreams. Big "one day when" dreams. Dreamer plus procrastinator does not bode well for making "one day's" a reality.  So do I give into the modern trend of creating my own Bucket List? Somehow, though, I just can't shake the ominous feeling of impending doom if I do.

It is now two weeks into the school holidays, with another two still to go. On my list, stubbornly unscratched off, remains my twins' birthday party to organise; a house to pack up for our impending move; promises to teach Kirst to knit properly & Dyl to snake-board (yes, I CAN!!); thoughts of pre- cooking suppers to freeze for the start of the new term;  my running career to resurrect; my new business to set up properly; my recipe collection to organise and my wish to do more writing.  And this is just my To Do List!

I have decided that the only way I am ever going to see the other side of my "chore list", and create space for my "One Day When" dreams, while side stepping the morbidity of a Bucket List, is to create my own version - my Will Do list. The caveat is that it will be bottomless in practise, and the whip-cracking-motivation is that it will be public. Its time for me to put my money where MY mouth is, and commit to some of my "one day's". Nothing as mundane as categorising my CD collection, and nothing as eye brow-raising as tattoo's.  Who knows? Maybe as I work my way through this process my goals will become more adventurous and brazen! And mixed with my everyday "To Do" items, the scratching off of completed tasks will spur me on! Someone very clever once said that goals not written down are merely wishes. So watch this space, I am putting pen to paper... I'm Just Saying...

The Men in my Life

I would not be where I am, or who I am today were it not for the influence - be it intrinsic or implied - of the men in my life. I have always considered myself to be an independent, strong I-can-do-it-by-myself-I-don't-need-a-man type of girl (thanks mom!). And I still believe this. But there are significant men who have left an indelible footprint in my life. Father's Day was a day of reflection on these amazing men.

I grew up without a dad. He died when I was only six years old - younger than my kids are now. Although he is not physically in my life, he is forever in my heart.  Six was too young for actual memories, and I sometimes think that what I do remember of him is prompted largely by photographs.

I have this image of him being this larger than life figure (he was a very tall man - clearly my height is no reflection on him!). He worked in computers (possibly where my love for all things techno comes from!), and I remember him bringing home reams of computer paper (boxes of perforated sheets - it was the '70's!) for us to draw on. He was also a Police Reservist in his spare time. In the late 1970's / early 1980's in JHB this was quite a terrifying part time profession to be in. It was deep in the days of apartheid, where the "dompas" controlled who was out on the street after dark, and  I vaguely remember my mom worrying relentlessly when he was called out on night duties. Luckily for us, these dark days in SA's history are far behind us. The pictures I have of him in his uniform portray him as a formidable figure, strong and dominant, with kind eyes. His eyes are probably what I remember most. I have his eyes, and so does my son.

My Mom and Dad had a special kind of love - love that lasts forever. His death did nothing to dilute this love she had for him, and it was felt everyday by my sister and myself. It left a lasting impression on me - that was the kind of love I was going to have.

And I do. Life hasn't always been plain sailing. It has been full of ups and downs, days of absolute adoration, and days of sheer hell, where holding a pillow over his face didn't sound like a bad idea! But 17 years later, I am still with the love of my life, my soul mate. Warren and I met in 1995 - a HUGELY significant year - SA won the Rugby World Cup, and I realised that along with my induction into this sport by my rugby mad in-laws, my life had changed forever. We were so young when we met. Still at 'Varsity, still living at home. Although it took him 6 years to propose, I think we both knew from the start it was meant to be. We went though all the important firsts together -  first jobs, moving out, first homes, first bonds (!!), babies, life . And we learnt from each other along the way. I would not be who I am today if it weren't for Warren. He is strong, determined, passionate about all things in life, highly motivated, kind, generous to a fault, and single-mindedly focused on his family. And I could not ask for a better father to my kids, or life partner for me.

My son is the littlest man in my life. He is very much like me in image and in his insecurities and anxieties, and like his dad in temperament. He is an amazing little boy - full of passion for life, incredibly determined, with a bottomless hunger for facts and information. Like his dad and I, he loves history and reading. He is also techno mad (he very quickly figured out how to bypass net nanny!). He torments his sister (my gorgeous, I-am-stronger-than-boys daughter!) relentlessly, but loves her whole heartedly and unreservedly. I have learnt  so much from Dyl. Patience, determination, resilience, complete unconditional love, that drawing a picture with actual sounds makes it come alive, the more friends you have the better your games are, and that cuddles and kisses all over your face instantly make you feel better. I have every confidence that Dyl will grow into a man I will always be proud of, and will keep teaching me life lessons along the way. I hope I can keep up!

Life has a funny way of shaping us. We can either choose to ignore the lessons, the hints, the big flashing signs, or we can embrace them and become richer for it. I for one, am far richer having these these three strong men in my heart. Squashing down my over powering independent, stubborn streak, I can acknowledge that I am a better person because of them. So, I'm Just Saying...Thank You.

Kiss and Tell

Should good girls kiss and tell?

I have been doing some intense research this weekend for a feature article in Cosmopolitan on a subject I have always blushed discussing... SEX. And not just sex, but on whether the bombardment of erotic literature and TV programmes into everyday life has changed the way women not only view, but enjoy, sex.

Let me state outright, that this topic pushed me to the limit of my comfort zone. I had to shake off all of my previous notions and trappings of what was or wasn't considered a "lady-like" discussion.

What surprised me more than my eagerness to tackle this topic, however, was the large number of ladies who were more than willing to share their stories with me. Clearly, "close your eyes, grit your teeth and do it for queen and country" was not the norm!! And the most verbal? Those girls who were no older than 21 or 22. Boy did they know their own minds, and boy were they eager to share and even offer advice!! This is certainly a head strong, independent, knowledgeable, open, and spoilt-for-choice-in-the-toys-and-gadgets-they-own-department, society of young women. Not only were they not shy with opinions and experience, but they were extremely comfortable discussing them. But I digress.

Should good girls kiss and tell? Topics that were once taboo, or at least spoken about in hushed tones behind closed doors, are now being bantered around not just book club discussions, but openly in all forums. Watching Game of Thrones, Californication, reading 50 Shades of Grey, the sex pages in Cosmo, has become as common place as watching CSI and reading Jodi Picult. Is this necessarily a bad thing?

We have always been told the that good girls don't discuss such topics, that only bad girls have an opinion on sex (in fact that only bad girls enjoy sex!). In MY opinion (and I'm Just Saying), views such as these are as ridiculous as the age old "children should be seen and not heard" . In doing my probing and asking of incredibly personal questions this weekend, I have formed the strong opinion that good girls not only DO kiss and tell, but SHOULD kiss and tell! How liberating! From car park gossip to book club babble, we as a, well, as a sex, have earned the right to openly read  50 Shades, as much as men have claimed the right to read Penthouse and Hustler (which they read purely for the stories I'm led to understand!).

Before I get painted with the proverbial Scarlet Letter, I will climb off my soapbox. As long as its safe, and sacred, and done with love, its about time us "good girls" became courageous in kissing and telling. I'm Just Saying...

Happily Ever After

“So babe, should we do it?” Just like that. My marriage proposal. No sky writing, no down on one knee, no mumbled, gushing declarations of how wonderful I was. But after waiting patiently for six years (yes, six!!), my “YES!!” was uttered (read: screamed) with no hesitation. And so began my happily ever after. My fairytale wedding (pre-empted by an epic hens night – complete with a classy stripper hired by my mother-in-law), a move into our first home, and our first “child”, (Sarah the epitome of a mixed breed New South African dog), arrived. And life was complete – perfect in the way Good Housekeeping depicted it would be.

Then reality came thundering down. 

Believe me, I love my husband like nothing on earth, and I love being married, but it is by no means the bed of roses all those single girls think it is. Firstly, there’s the whole cooking thing – every single night! (No more eggs on toast if thats all I felt like!) And the actual housekeeping. I married a true South African male – “Babe? (I asked) Have you seen the iron?” “What does it look like”, he replied (in absolute seriousness). Then there’s sport. Every single rugby match is THE match not to be missed. I like watching Patrick making history on the field as much as the next girl, but EVERY match? And shopping – where I thought I might have a lifelong shopping buddy with on tap credit, I instead had a member of the censorship board watching (and commenting on) my every move. 

Given the choice, though, I wouldn’t change a thing. There is a unique bond that develops with that partner you have chosen to spend your life with. Knowing exactly what you love, (and how you love it!), building and sharing a history, a life.  Yes, I wouldn’t change a thing. Being married makes up for all the ups and downs. And to be honest, what I don’t get from him I get religiously from, well, from my bookclub! I'm Just Saying..

Are you a Good Role Model?

What do we teach our kids? Speaking from experience, the age old adage "Do what I say and not what I do" springs to mind. This has never really been much of an issue for me before (after all, isn't it my prerogative as a mom to have my kids obey me no matter what?!), but lately, in the light of some of the questionable actions by those in positions of power in our country, the quick and lasting judgements we pass on them, and the scathing and disappointing opinions we form of them, I started to think about the message I was sending to my kids. And I squirmed.

Eat all your vegetables. An easy one, you might think, and one that is logically a sound instruction. Unless I don't eat all of mine. While spewing forth about the virtues of carrots making you see better in the dark, beans making your teeth squeak, and broccoli giving you bigger brains, I push my butternut around MY plate, and eat only what I like. Great message to my kids!!

You have to eat ALL your breakfast. Again - a good one. I can wax lyrical about the benefits of a good breakfast for as long as my kids stand still to listen, but if I do it while glugging back two cups of coffee and rushing out the house, the message seems hollow.

Early school nights and NO electronics in bed! Even as I write this I am blushing. The early nights I can certainly lead by example, but the no electronics in bed? I fail dismally! Thanks to my ipad (my third appendage), I am either pinterest'ing, facebook'ing, twitter'ing, blogging or reading from my kindle app. Until I fall asleep - never as early as it should be. 

As Warren curses in a moment of losing his temper, or I curse at that highly irritating driver on the road (pick a lane and drive!!) I hear myself saying "and don't think you kids are allowed to use language like that." Mixed messages? Oh yes!

But its not all bad. My kids do learn from my positive behaviour as well (I just hope these lessons last as long!). They watch while we donate to charity, while we help out friends and family, while we give one hundred percent at whatever we do, be it work or sport, while we are supportive of each other, and they watch how we demonstrate our love. But is this enough?

I don't think so. And while it may be easier said than done, I am going to make a concerted effort to eat all of my vegetables (even the ones that make me gag!), eat breakfast properly, go to bed with no electronic diversions, and bite my tongue and grip the steering wheel when I feel the urge to unleash my road rage. 

Franklin P. Jones said,  "Children are unpredictable. You never know what inconsistency they're going to catch you in next." Bearing in mind the sponge like quality and unnervingly long memories my kids have, I will either have to pull up my socks, or be more creative with my inconsistencies!! I'm Just Saying...

Mom

A widow at a young age, with two daughters aged 4 and 6. Moving home, moving province, to settle in a new town, leaving the familiar behind, but doing what she knew to be best. Settling kids into new schools, encouraging new friendships, creating a new life. Standing on her own, financially and physically. Starting again, determined, focused on the future, with an unwavering set of priorities. All the while mourning the loss of a husband, a soul mate. 

Fast forward 30 years. Both daughters married, four grandchildren (with another two on the way!), a move once again to a new life, a new way of living. Rediscovering herself, and enjoying different things,new hobbies, a new circle of friends. A proud, content woman, socially a source of strength to those she loves, a strong support to her family, an indisputably amazing mom, a wonderful gran. That same set of priorities - namely her family - as steadfast as ever.

This is my mom.  My mom has taught me many critical life lessons. As with most kids, the value of these lessons only really becoming intrinsic in my adult life, and in my own role as a mother. Unfortunately, as with most things in life, the lesson learnt is often only recognised by the necessity for it.  

Strength in the face of adversity. A big one, and one that was certainly learnt through watching my mom as she single handedly raised two girls, through the tumultuous school years, the social challenges only those teen years can bring, through University and marriages (not to mention the more than a few boyfriend issues we gave her to deal with!). She never gave up, never gave in. She remained firm in teaching us what was right and wrong, and when adversity arose (which it did), she kept her back straight, her head held high and remained unwavering in her principles. This lesson is a big one. One I hope my children can one day say I taught them. 

Absolute and unconditional love. There is no book that can teach you how to actively practise the depth of love a mother has for her children. I was lucky growing up. In everything she did, in every decision she made, in every "no you may not" and "yes you have to" she demonstrated the sheer depth of her feelings. At the ripe old age of 36 I can appreciate the lesson in this journey. To be selfless, to be motivating, to encourage, to teach. To support, guide, step up and step back, to know when to hold hands and when to push. I am lucky that she is my mom. But I am equally as lucky that she is grandmother to my kids. 

So to my very special mom, I'm Just Saying... Thank you. And I love you. Happy Mothers Day <3