11 on the 11th

Before we say goodbye to March - a quick tribute to the belle of the March ball...

Post swim hair, hot chocolate and croquet on recent camping trip.

This girl turned 11 on the 11th.

We went in to lockdown with a freshly minted 10 yr old - getting tweeny, but still very much a child - but in a year we've developed a tall, leggy, adventurous, hilarious, mature and even funnier big girl and I'm here for it.

She had a small party at the beginning of the month. Our lockdown has been so hugely eased and our numbers so very low at the moment, that it felt like a golden moment to seize - and so we did. 5 best friends, watermelon, cake and the neighbours pool - it made her so happy and also a wee bit nostalgic ('Remember when swimming with 5 friends wasn't a birthday treat Mum, when it could just be a normal Saturday?')

Crown Cake for a Crown Birthday

This child - with her hilarious comedic timing which has us all in stiches, her growing interest in food and trying new things, her beautiful singing voice, her deep love for her little cousins, her persecution complex that we favour her sister (we've taken to playing an imaginary tiny violin every time she mentions it - to her credit she thinks it's hilarious), her ability to still occasionally cause a massive scene about very little, her still-favoured panda bear stuffy that she sleeps with every night, her growing interest in the world and deep (sometimes difficult) questions about race, crime, sex and world events.

She's a keeper, our little star. 

camera roll: May

Lol, these camera rolls get later and later each month ...

I started May with a day trip to Joburg. My first for the year - quite something after my bazillion trips up there last year.

It was nice to be back in the Big Smoke. A quick productive day of business and straight back home.
I was on a recce trip for a job which was due to happen there this week - but a few days after the trip it was postponed to August! Already my notes from this trip seem as hazy as this skyline ... eek.

It was my birthday - did I mention that? And what with going away and then losing my MIL and generally blah-ness it all become very disjointed and bitty - which was kinda crap but kinda great in that I kept being surprised by it - like this unexpected beauty gifted to me from the boot of a car at a kiddies party one week day afternoon ...

... I have always wanted this (can you tell by my face?) - telephone wire coat rack by Heath Nash. I have literally lusted after it for years. And dear friends remembered and said to each other 'Zahida was always really good at presents, we need to hit this one out the park' and bandied together, and DID.
The ribbon on a gift like this, is the knowledge that you are known, that your people get you.
And that was what I really needed this birthday.
That, and a telephone wire coat rack by Heath Nash!
That, and the reminder that regardless of everything - it is beautiful here.

But the hero story for May - the most wonderful (and oh thank god happy ending one) was this:

In the same week that my MIL died, this little old lady pulled a number on us too. Stopped eating, drinking - didn't leave my bed for 2 days. We were ... distracted, I'm ashamed to admit, so much else going on, and by the time we got her to the vet I was lambasting myself for being a bad mummy but when he got her out the carrier he was genuinely surprised that she looked so 'fantastic' for a kitty her age, and I felt hopeful. Khoki is 19 this year, but still soft as a kitten, strong and feisty.

She over-nighted at the vet, on a drip, the same night my MIL passed and I lay awake fretting - for Husband to lose his mum and his beloved cat in the same week seemed too cruel for words.

But she made it!

It's first stage kidney disease, it will take her eventually, but for now she's back - demanding and cranky as ever - and every night when she snuggles down between us (having yowled at us since dusk to come to bed) , I offer up the closest thing I have to a prayer - a message of gratitude to the universe - to her - thank you for staying with us a little longer. For all my concern for Husband, I don't think I could bear this loss too right now.

And then autumn, waning in all its beauty ... my mum bought this little broom and wheelbarrow for my little nephew to sweep the vine leaves on her stoep - but Stella clearly decided she's by no means too big for that herself yet ... segued into winter ...

... and the cubble got real :-)

8

In the midst of all of that, my baby turned 8!

Stella is an oddball, we know this, so I wasn't so surprised when this was her requested birthday theme ... [insert hysterical laughing emoji]

She built the character from various Lego minifigs and we added the blood and bats etc in Pic Monkey - all under her strict direction.
She handed the invites out at school one morning, a few to kids whose parents I've not met before, and I waited to see how they'd be received. Happily well, by most, with just one little friend being 'unfortunately unable to attend' according to her mother and 'I can't come because I'm not allowed to go to parties were there is evil' according to the little friend herself [insert eye rolling emoji]. Cackle.

It was a much smaller affair than usual. Last year's Pandamonium almost killed us, and in the present circumstances I just couldn't muster the requisite energy for a repeat performance, or even anything close.
With our youngest's just 2 days apart Zahida and I would always plan their parties in consultation - firstly on the date so as not to clash, and then always on ideas and details. We did them very differently, but we both enjoyed party-planning and flexing our creative muscles together, I missed her so much while planning this one.

We did a couple of themed foods ...

Vampire bunny cupcakes - you decide whether those are bloody fang bites or bleeding eyeballs.

And vampire bunny jam sandwiches ... 

And then the cake, which in our history of birthday cakes pulled the biggest stunt on us - the idea was half cutesy bunny / half vampire terror but the intricate fondant face we'd tirelessly built the night before melted off overnight, necessitating husband perform emergency facial reconstruction surgery with the last bit of icing and whatever tools he had to hand just minutes before singing Happy Birthday. I think he did a pretty good job considering.

The beautiful birthday girl plus clean-up crew in the aftermath. She did feel the loss of the huge fiesta we usually pull off, 'I missed that there was no running around in the dark Mum', but had a good time regardless and I hope one day will look back and realise what a tough time it was for us.

Stella is 8 and from here on out it feels like we're officially in the Next Stage. No more smalls in this family. It really, really does happen so fast.

easter happened

I was woken Easter Sunday morning by a small child shaking me.

'Pinkie-swear Mummy, pinkie-swear you're not the Easter Bunny.'

Hungover AF (we were in Hermanus, with friends, we'd celebrated a 50th the night before, there'd been a very excellent Taiwanese whiskey), I groped through my remaining brain cells.

'Pinkie-swear Mummy!' 

Little finger crooked in my face, big earnest eyes - this was serious.

I examined my conscious, and made a hasty decision. Actually yes, I could pinkie-swear I wasn't the Easter Bunny.

Was I fluffy? No. Did I zoom around the world planting chocolate eggs? No. Was I a fictional being? No. Although the whole experience did feel a little out of body tbh.

I wrapped my little finger around hers and shook it. 

'Pinkie-swear', I croaked.

The situation was nearly as awkward as a bell jar crammed with bunnies.

None-the-less, back home Easter happened in a far more adult and tasteful fashion.

7

By last Saturday evening the bags under my eyes were almost as deep as these panda's. We had a house FULL to the brim with friends, flowing freely with G&T's and laughter and wet swimwear and sticky floors and toys everywhere and not a crumb left to eat or a clean fork or glass or mug in the place.

PANDAmonium!

Black & white food (kinda - chocolate brownies are dark enough right?) and ice cream cake and a black rice salad (which I'm still craving every day since) and more and more and more.

MASSES of people (our guest list seems to keep getting longer - a nice kind of problem to have), most of them of the just-above-the-waist-height variety, and lots of love and the sweetest, dearest birthday girl.

She was such a star, this baby girl of mine. In the days after the party I got many messages remarking on how polite she was, how engaged and thoughtful, how considerate.

These make a mama's heart sing.

But that heart does feel a little sore too. I know from her older sister that this year, 7 to 8, is really the last of the little girl years. A lot changes in the next 18 months and very soon I'll be in this space lamenting my lack of smalls, and celebrating my two very big girls. One more year with a soft-cheeked cuddler, who still (just) fits on my lap and requests a 'bednight' story and can't quite reach the bowls on the top shelf.

I plan to make the most of it.

this time I took the girls

Johannesburg in May seems to have become a thing, a thing I do most every year. This time I took the girls.

Crazy static plane hair

They were such excellent travellers.
I bought Frieda a book at CT Airport and she basically read all the way from there 'til we got to our friends house, only stopping when feeling a little queasy (we decided reading while landing was not a good idea).
Stella and I played travel dominoes and chatted and ate chips. And laughed at her crazy static hair.

From OR Tambo Airport we took the 'Cow' train to our home for the weekend, bathed in lush, gorgeous, winter light.

Johannesburg is so pretty this time of year.

A birthday party for a special little boy, rough and tumbles in some of the City's beautiful parks. Pizza and bubbly (so much bubbly), sushi and chocolate cake.
A lovely weekend in a beautiful home.

I'm not sure whether the mythical Joburg lived up to the girls' expectations, this place their Dad and I go to for work, and sometimes play. I don't know if they expected more, if they thought it would be different, but I do know they had a great time, as did I with them.

I do know that they were wonderful travel-mates, and I feel more than a little sad that I can't take them further afield right now - they would love it so.

6

The child who for nearly 2 years insisted she was a boy, wore pink to her 6th birthday party.

The child who every year until now has managed some epic meltdown on the morning of her big day (the most memorable being the time she locked us all out in the garden minutes before everyone was due to arrive), spent weeks colouring and cutting folded paper tigers for all her friends, and then handed them out with pride at her party.

6 has brought peace. In fact it's been here for a while.

A peaceful, content, busy and active little person.
She's settled into 'big school' with seamless ease - making new friends and producing beautiful works of art. She's learnt to whistle, but not yet, alas, to tune. She knows herself, does Stella, she knows how to claim space when she needs it, to stop eating sweets when she's risking discomfort, to sleep when she's tired.
She knows herself, her limits and her preferences, very well. And I think that's a pretty good place to be when you're 6.

Happy birthday little tiger.

babes in the wood {catch-up post}

Just before Christmas the girls and I got out of town for a few days with two of my girlfriends and their kiddies.

This is what girl camping looks like - cheese, crackers, fruit and bubbly!

Platbos is a small slice of Afro-montane forest a couple of hours drive out of town. Real forest mind you - old man's beard swathed about, fairy nooks, tendrils of mist and gnarled faces in the trees. A cool and quiet place in which to rapidly gear down from the madness of the last few months.

Very peaceful.

Until we lost Stella and her little friend.
For 25 minutes we walked and called through the woods - Frieda's face tight with consternation that she'd let her sister out of her sight, me modelling a courage and calm that came only from the necessity of being the Grown Up.
I honestly didn't think any harm would come to them (actively ignoring the many signs about wild bee colonies), but I knew that the longer they were alone the more upset they'd be getting. Poor wee things.

This little forest - so peaceful, evocative of picnics and fairies and mythical sprites, quite quickly became a darker place - the quiet suddenly seeming a little menacing, our calls of 'Stellllaaaaa' quickly absorbed by the dense undergrowth. Thoughts of bears and witches, every mysterious story ever heard of children disappearing in the wilderness ... amazing how this material rests in our subconscious, just waiting to be awoken.

And then we heard from camp, faintly on the breeze ... 'Found them' ... and there they were, tear-stained and wide-eyed, drinking hot chocolate and trying to find their smiles. Stella rushed to me and clung on, waiting 'til I walked away from the group before letting out a sob.

The recovery was swift, and soon they were out exploring again - staying well close to Frieda this time (the big sister who can read signboards).
I think they'll remember this always though, as I remember similar moments from my childhood - being alone, out of sight, facing adversity, and realising ... there won't always be a parent about.

Baby steps, little wings, safe adventures, nurturing instinct, listening to one's heart, examining one's environment - these are the crucial lessons of childhood. And parenting!

christmas

Similarly to last year, I loved watching my children this Christmas.

They're good kids. 

We had the pep talk - not too heavy - about appropriate gift receiving behaviour. Reminders about thank yous and subtly-handled disappointments, about avoiding comparative analysis of received gifts and the definition of compromise (you know, that thing where no one is happy?).

They're the only children at both our annual family Christmas gatherings. Christmas without cousins is weird for me. But they are surrounded by adoring aunts and uncles - adults who are happy to spend time with them and listen and play - there is something kind of wonderful about that.

Stella is so independent now. She takes herself off when the adults get boring. Makes up her own games and rituals wherever she goes, claims her space. She has the sweetest thank-you, and she's generous with it. She spontaneously hugged a couple of relatives who'd she only smiled at shyly last year. She wore a pink floor-length princess dress of Christmas day. 

The length is note-worthy as she also wore no knickers.

She seems to currently be a Fruitarian.

Her favourite presents: a soft toy tiger, the robo-puppy above who is already driving us all mental with his barking, a volcano kit (the mould is setting as I write this) and a 361 part Lego Technic set. 

She aced the set in about 6 hours over 24 (starting on Christmas night and completing it at about 3pm this afternoon). It is recommended for ages 9-16. 

Charl sat with her, supervising gently, but she placed 95% of the bricks, 'reading' the instructions herself for every step.

Frieda read the whole of that book today. She's also read most of her new recipe book, Comfort, and made us a couple of simple dishes. She's been watching Jamie Oliver and Nigel Slater at my Mum's house and the recipe book, plus some fun dessert glasses proved to be a well-received Christmas present.

She entertained the crowd (us, my parents, a few close family friends) on Christmas Eve with her no hands pants routine (she's pretty good!) and was just hilarious.

Yesterday, as my sister-in-law put her famous Christmas dessert on the table, Frieda grinned and mouthed to me across the table; 'There's layers to this shit player, Tiramisu, Tiramisu' - she cracked me up. We do love this video too much at the moment, but it's got some sass ....

My sister-in-law does Christmas very prettily (and her tiramisu is gorgeous).

As are my girls. And Christmas. And holidays.

paddling out

Last weekend Frieda broke out her paddle-ski for the first time this season. A gift from a dear friend, her board took him to the SA championships many years ago, now it has retired to the lake, to be paddled around by small children hoping to spy coot chicks and other interesting water creatures.

I carried it down to the water for her and she hopped aboard - no life-jacket required this year - and confidently stroked out into the late afternoon sun.

After a while Stella asked if she could have a go - a first time request.

Firmly strapped into her life jacket (although she is becoming a very capable swimmer), she got her balance and managed to wield the heavy and ungainly paddle with no small measure of skill.
She very quickly set out into the middle of the lake - all on her own.

We started untying the pedalo. Calmly cooing encouragement to her as we hurriedly readied ourselves to launch and follow.

On Friday I had my 3rd upcoming event confirmed. That's 3 contracts I've currently got going.
There are another 2 waiting in the wings to be imminently secured.

Our completely amazing and reliable nanny/au pair quit at the beginning of the month. (She was offered a chance to manage a small office - orders, book-keeping etc - a position she's totally ready and capable for - I'm so happy for her. Sob.)

I'm taking all the work.

I'm blithely and confidently paddling out into the middle of the lake - trusting my skill, hoping my balance will hold, hoping the paddle doesn't become too heavy for my arms.

By the time we caught up with Stella she looked very small indeed, drifting far off shore - she was sitting still, one hand trailing in the water, seemingly enjoying the sunset and the water lapping gently around her.
It was only as we drew alongside and she turned to us that we saw the big heavy tears rolling down her cheeks, and realised her stillness concealed pure trembling fear.
Out of her depth and terrified.

Let's hope no one finds me in a similar state in a couple of weeks time.

love has no labels

This kid has issues.

(So has my 1970's kitchen but let's just look past that for now - we've managed to for 3 years ...)

My small girl, who has spent much of her short life rejecting labels - she's a boygirl then a girlboy then a boyboy then a 'girliegirltoday' - also has a problem with the physical kind. This girl hates a label.

Too scratchy, too silky, too big, too small - ALL LABELS MUST GO.

To get her to try a thing on while keeping labels intact in case of a size change is a negotiation. I generally cut swing tags off regardless as most stores will accept returns without them attached, but actual care and brand labels have to stay on 'til we're sure we're keeping things, and that's never easy.

Pajamas her sister happily wore for years come out of the hand-me-down suitcase and must instantly be purged of all labels, hang tags, loose threads etc before worn.

Shoes must be practically turned inside out for that one sneaky 'made in sweatshop' tag which might be lurking in the instep.

A beanie with a cool surf badge must be unpicked and exorcised of any branding before worn.

I was casually telling some friends about this recently when one of them asked if I was taking her to occupational therapy for the issue.

OT? The issue? No I most certainly am not, and actually I'd never even thought of doing so.

Immediately of course the voice of parental questioning and doubt piped up: 'Why not? Shouldn't you be helping her fix this problem?'
And then my real voice promptly drowned that the hell out -

Just like we've given her perfect freedom to explore her gender labels in a safe and supportive environment, I'm just as happy to tolerate this little personal hangup too. So she doesn't like labels, so it's a pain in the ass - this is not an issue, this is not a debilitating handicap (are we allowed to use that word these days?) which will impact on how she operates in society. This is not a problem.
This is a personality quirk and by god those are for celebrating in this rapidly homogenising world we live in.

I will not add another weekly appointment to her life - one for which we will be perpetually late and she'll probably have to wear shoes (sans labels of course) and will cut in to her valuable 'playing with her cheetah family' time.
I will not make her conscious that she has something which needs 'fixing' or shine a negative light on a personal preference she has.
I will not spend time and money to make her just like everyone else.

We know someone, an adult, who will not eat RED food for god's sake. Let's save the valuable OT appointments for that level of quirk if we must!

Maybe I'm wrong, maybe as an adult she'll have wished we'd taken her label thing more seriously. Maybe she'll become a merciless serial label killer, maybe she'll be a seamless technology millionaire, maybe she'll become a nudist.
Maybe she'll just be an ordinary person with a few cute quirks/annoying habits.

Oh wait, she's that already.

You've all seen this video right?

25 things about right now.

1. These 25 things lists are really the best way to clear the blogging log-jam. Sometimes weeks of half completed drafts clog the system, becoming irrelevant or stale, causing a blog doldrum. A nice fat post of bits 'n piece is the way to get it all flowing again.

2. This analogy suddenly strikes me as rather gross.

3. Moving swiftly along ... we've been sick. Again. Still. I can't even keep track.

4. But I think we're finally all better and for the second day running everyone is at school or work! It's a miracle!

5. In between all that somewhere we went camping!

And found a little bit of summer. 

6 - 11. About camping:

• Some members of our party left town at 07:20 in order to maximise their weekend away.
• Their departure group text woke us up. We are not those people.
• We're more about the journey you know? So had a lovely slow drive up there, stopping for lunch and sight-seeing ...
• ... and arriving just in time to have our children whipped away for a walk down to the river, giving us an hour of quiet bliss to pitch camp and drink wine. Win.
• The highlights package: Frieda - paddling up river and building a fort on a deserted beach with a bunch of kids she'd never met before. Stella - doing an epic mountain walk with her Dad involving rope climbs and lost waterfalls. Me - tubing down rapids! Through some thorn bushes! Husband - wowing fellow campers by producing kerrie vetkoek (from scratch!) round the campfire.
• We laughed a lot.

12. And then we came back and were sick some more.

13. While we're on Stella, can we talk about 5? I've just remembered that 5 is the most magical age. And with this little star who gave me so much hell for a couple of years, it is proving to be particularly delicious. I find myself panicking a bit at the thought that I've only got 10 months left of having a 5 year old. Ever!

Stop! In the name of Schnauzer-Panda-Hoodie-HandmadeBow-Pink-Sneaker-Love!

14. I suspect however that any emotional hysteria of late must be blamed entirely on the fact that I TURN 40 IN 7 DAYS TIME!

15. Seriously, I knew I should have done this last year.

16. Should I also chalk it up to a mid-life crisis that I think this outfit is really cool, and kinda want to wear it every day?

17. Okay, not so much the shorts over leggings thing, and I can't wear recreational camo anymore (because war [see? 40. emotional]), but I really love those boots and I've already bought the sweater!

18. If channeling a stylish 20 yr old black guy isn't some form of weird turning-40-white-lady-shizz then I don't know what is really ...

19. On the subject of living vicariously ... have I mentioned my Instagram habit? Yeah, I'm a late adopter (because old), but I'm rapidly making up for lost time.

20 & 21. Two things I love about Instagram: pictures + words are so much more interesting than just words (are you reading this Twitter?) and, I like the boys. There are really cool, interesting men on IG expressing themselves visually and like, sharing man. It's a beautiful thing.

22. The hardest part about Insta is not just posting pics of my dogs all the time. Because dammit my dogs are cute.

#bullterriers

#lovedogs

#omfgthecutest

23. Here's something I did post on Instagram recently, a perfectly wrapped gift for a friend. I do love me some good gift-wrapping. And it seems I've shared the gene.

On the right: my gift to a friend. On the left: Frieda's Mother's Day gift to me.

My legacy is complete.

24. And finally, AWEtumn has not disappointed.

25. Every year I seem to forget, and every year it is the most wonderful surprise to remember, that this is in fact my favourite season.

There. That feels better.