Wednesday, May 25, 2011

one of those

Wherein you wake up to a power failure which persists for twenty hours.

Wherein your card gets declined after a massive grocery shop due to some ineffectual bank fuck-wittery.

Wherein your body, in an unnecessary act of biological show(wo)manship, insists on menstruating even though you're not planning on ever making use of your reproductive system ever again.

Wherein you commit an act of epic parenting failure by inadvertently (obviously) forgetting to set the brakes on the pram, turning around just in time to see your precious baby lurch face-forward off the pavement, landing under her pram, onto the tarmac, right in front of an indignant woman who then berates you - as if the grazed and hysterical face of your offspring wasn't already cutting you to ribbons.

One of those days.


posted from Bloggeroid

Friday, May 20, 2011

it's my birthday & I can braai* if I want to

Steak. Mushrooms. Garlic Bread. Pumpkin.
Yin & Yang white & dark chocolate mousse.

After a birthday serenade this afternoon from this lot:

To think in another lifetime they could've all been mine.
That's enough to make one gag on one's (very, very lovely) red wine!

Happy days!


Wednesday, May 18, 2011

today we made ...

... bread

... a batch of brownies

... use of our democratic right by voting in the local government elections

... new friends

... a lot of noise

... lasagne

... it through supper and bath time (barely).

And now I'm settling in to make some art.

Today was a busy day.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

language cont.

Sunday morning. Our kitchen.

Frieda: 'Fuck!'

Me: ' ... ! ... '

Frieda: 'Fuck!'

Me, as nonplussed as possible: 'Frieda, that's really not a nice word. I don't like you using it.'

Frieda, rolls eyes: 'Jesus Christ'

.... hat?

Wednesday, May 11, 2011


We have new neighbours. A German couple with two young children. They live on a farm outside Cape Town but are here for 6 weeks fixing up the place to rent it out.
They're clearing gutters and painting and gardening and what have you. This morning, over the wall, I heard a conversation which has played out many a time in our house.

KID: 'What's this? Can I help you?'
DAD: 'Don't touch that!'
KID: 'But I want to help.'
DAD: '%!#@!'
KID: 'Waaaaaaa...'
MUM: 'What happened?'
DAD: 'Just get him/her away from here.'
MUM: 'But s/he was just trying to help.'
KID: 'Waaaaaa...'

The whole dialogue was in German. I don't speak German but that's absolutely what was said.

Frieda had a play date this afternoon with two little girls down the road. Their Dad is Angolan and speaks to them in Portuguese. Their Mum is from Holland and speaks to them in Dutch. 
Frieda and the girls spent the afternoon in their garden 'talking Chicken' and clucking Away in a Manger.

Bull terriers are known for being very vocal. There's lots of vids online of them 'talking'. Ours doesn't really do that, but backchat? Oh, she's a queen.
Shut her out, reprimand her or neglect to put the pot you just finished using down on the floor for her to lick and she'll give you a snort that's so full of disdain, so cutting, so ... bitchy that you can't help but laugh.
Then she snorts at you again.

It's a known fact that second-borns often take longer to start talking. Various theories abound, the most popular being that often their elder sibling will start talking for them, thereby relieving the need for the younger sib to express him/herself.
My theory is that parents get better at interpreting non-verbal communication the second time round.
True or not, Stella, while at 14 months is under no pressure to be talking yet, is becoming alarmingly good at relaying her needs, and wants. Or am I becoming alarmingly good at interpreting them?

'Gnh gnh gnh' - points at shampoo bottle. I hand it to her. She holds it upside down over her head. 
'Gnh gnh gnh' -hands bottle back. I put shampoo on her hair. She grins and starts lathering.

She's watching me chop potatoes. Crawls off towards the veggie rack.
'Gnh gnh gnh' - she's holding up the one potato I'd left in the rack, rejected for being too green. I smile, take it and put it to one side.
I retrieve green potato and pretend to chop it to.
She grins, but with faint suspiscion.

She crawls towards me with one sock on, the other in her hand.
'Oh did your sock come off? Give me your foot and I'll put it back.'
'Gnh gnh gnh' - she holds out the foot which is still socked.
'You've got a sock on that one, give me the other foot.'
'GNG GNH GNH' - she sticks the same foot out at me more pointedly. I acquiesce and put the second sock on over the first.
She grins and crawls away.

Language hey? It's over-rated. There's a myriad ways of expressing oneself, as many ways of understanding others. 
Maybe sometimes it just requires listening in a different way.

Sunday, May 01, 2011

sunday evening finds me ...

... slightly sunburnt from an afternoon on the beach (30 plus degrees in May!)

... digesting lamb

... creeping round the girls room with a head torch putting away clean, sun-dried laundry

... admiring (as always) husband's DIY prowess

... looking forward to another public holiday tomorrow

... eating the last of the Easter eggs (please god let them be the last)

... blogging in bed

... loving that Frieda's gotten into chapter books, we finished Fantastic Mr Fox tonight

... smiling after finding a small plastic chicken under my pillow

... being grateful