"Diary of a writer, a shoe lover, a (not so) newlywed wife and a very new mom."

Sunday, January 31, 2016

I had one of those mom-meets-mad-woman moments yesterday...

  You know, one of those moments where mom guilt and other mom judgement meet to sucker punch you in the parental gut while you do your darndest to smile and nod and be graciously ‘grown up’? One of those moments. 

Allow me to elaborate…

There I was chatting away merrily to a mom I hardly know at a birthday party when suddenly it happened – “Oh. Is that how she crawls?” she said. “Um, yeah. We call it a ‘kershuffle’, half crawl, half bum shuffle,” I said. ‘Other mom’ kept quiet for a moment, observed my kershuffler closely, frowned, an uber concerned frown, and said (in a super serious, head mistress meets carb-phobic dietician tone) “You do know how important crawling is, hey? You should really do something about it.”

Um. Yeah. The sarcasm cometh…

Do I know how important crawling is?

No. No. Of course I don’t. I’m totally 100% okay with the fact that my first born, the love of my life, has short-circuited a major developmental milestone and gets judged every time she kershuffles across a kid-friendly restaurant’s play area. In fact, so deep rooted is my first-time-mom negligence that I’ve been giving her cow’s milk since birth ‘cos breastfeeding wrecks your boobs and formula is just so expensive. I mean, seriously. Seriously?!?

I should really do something about it.

Well, yeah, maybe… but making appointments and keeping them? Soooo much admin. I mean, I barely manage to keep my monthly manicure appointment and it’s not like you’ve ever seen a bride kershuffle down an aisle. Now, where’s that bottle of tequila so that I can down it and cross the mid-line driving home?

Right, now that I’ve gotten that rather childish response out of my system, let me explain why I felt the need to write this post… 

Thursday, October 29, 2015

What's for dinner?

That. That has got to be my least favourite question at the moment. I've been trying to figure out just when it was that this question moved from mild annoyance to full-blown get-the-woman-a-martini meltdown territory and I've figured it out...
Rather than one big thing, it's an accumulation of little things.
You know, little things like...

Little Thing #1
... you were en route to Woolies, you even parked and got out of the car. You even strapped on the baby pouch carrier thingee and managed to fish a written (not scribbled) shopping list out from inbetween the wet wipes and a slobbery Sophie. You were good to go, you grabbed a trolley, you even started filling it and then, well, the angelic little cherub strapped to your leaky bosom suddenly morphed into a wailing banshee playing the bagpipes (badly). '  

'What's for dinner?'he asked.
'There's a Mimmos menu on the fridge,' I said.   

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

What a difference a year makes

and I'm not talking in an esoteric, gave up coffee, embraced juicing, 'swear by kale' kinda way. I'm talking in an HAD A BABY kinda way. Yes, grew an actual living, breathing, ten-fingered, ten-toed person in my belly*. A person who is now nine months old, still rocks the mohawk she was born with and has earned herself the hashtag #littlelenses. Not the most creative hashtag in the world for a copywriter – pretty paint by numbers – but hey, I haven't exactly been getting my prescribed 8 hours of shut eye for the past 18 months**

So, I had all these lofty ideals about having a newborn bundle of joy that slept and ate and slept and ate on a sorta 'rinse and repeat' cycle, which was going to give me plenty of time during my four months of maternity leave to reflect upon the magic of motherhood and blog about those first few weeks through baby powder scented tea breaks. Um. Yeah, right. Let's just say that – for me – the emphasis in the phrase 'maternity leave' was well and truly on the maternity part.

Thursday, October 02, 2014

Right, so where were we?

Aaah yes, my not so newly acquired baby bump. 
I say not-so-newly 'cos I am, as of today, 25 weeks pregnant and have the bongo drum playing sensations from within my belly to prove it. And, should I find myself momentarily forgetting that I am with child, said child has been known to make her presence known with a roundhouse kick to the ribs that would make Jackie Chan wince. 

Warning: This blog post contains oestrogen-fueled, progesterone-enhanced content best avoided by members of the male species.

Internal tap dancing and bladder bouncing aside, the second trimester has been a pleasure. Nope, not being sarcastic, weeks 14 to 26 have been pretty darn pleasant. While I ate my weight in easy-to-peel naartjies, drank 100% orange juice like a camel stocking up for the great trek and fantasised about 3pm power naps under my desk throughout trimester one, trimester two has been morningnoonandnight sickness free. It's also been characterised by less hormone-induced hysteria and more bursts of energy, which I have put to good use around the house. According to my sister, I'm nesting. Apparently this behaviour becomes more pronounced in trimester three (where's an 'eek!' emoticon when you need one?) The phrase, "Watch out dusty DVD drawer, mama's coming and she's in an alphabetical order kinda mood" springs to mind.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

It's been a while (again)

The thing about neglecting one's blog is that a day of 'I'll blog tomorrow' turns into weeks of it and before you know it you realise that it's been over a year, yip, an entire 12 months since you clicked on 'new post' and actually did something about it. And, well, before you have time to get completely overwhelmed by what to post and how to post it, you just dive on in and give it a go. This explains the past two long sentences – I have no idea where I'm going with this. So bear with me...

I guess a good place to start is to set the scene. Unlike the majority of last year's posts, this one is not being written by a woman working 60-hour weeks, living for wine o' clock and popping schedule 5 nerve blockers like smarties. This is, in fact, being written by a woman with a bionic spine and a baby bump. Yes, you read that correctly. And, yes, I will explain.

Friday, September 06, 2013

Yassus! It's been a while...

... and before my fellow South Africans cause themselves future irreversible forehead wrinklage in reaction to the first word of this post. 'Yassus!' is, as I learnt (amid parokolo's and calamero's), the plural form of 'Hello!' in Greek. Why Greek? Well, that's where I was this time last month... on a little island called Limnos debating quite seriously whether to top up the morning's  SPF30 application, waddle into the lukewarm bath known as the Mediterranean or vie for an ouzo over a frappé ("It's always 12 o' clock somewhere after all). Decisions, decisions... 

It was tough. At least as tough as a fortnight of siestas, lettuce-free salads and Mount Athos-framing sunsets can be. Such moments of indecision were alleviated by the presence of hubby and five of my favourite people who had kindly agreed to participate in this little escape from the places we live. If our Greek maxi-break was an episode of Friends it would have been titled: "...the one where they all beach, eat, beach, drink, beach, sleep and beach again." An 'active' holiday this was not. 

Friday, November 16, 2012

Waking up to smell the roses, or not.

Anyone who reads this blog regularly will know that I'm more desperate in the domestic department than housewife. I unashamedly admit to defaulting to the Woolies readymade section for even the simplest things, like potatoe wedges and, who am I kidding, I'm never going to find myself baking cupcakes on a Saturday afternoon "just for fun" – should you stumble upon me doing such a thing I fully expect you to stage an intervention facilitated by a chilled bottle of Springfield's Life from a stone.

Anyway, all things considered, moving into a house with grass has taken a rather unexpected turn... I feel this rather disturbing urge to walk the fine line between green fingers and manicured ones. It started back in July when I found myself dead heading a row of Iceberg rose bushes and thinking, "I really should chat to my mom about the DO's and DONT's of pruning." 

Long (fit for magazines like Good Housekeeping) story short, me and my rose bushes became quite close, holding each others' hand through winter frost, golf ball sized hail and hubby's enthusiastic nightly watering ritual with a rather highly pressurised hose pipe. It was all going so well... the phrase blooming marvelous comes to mind... buds, blooms, more buds, more blooms – and not a nasty rose munching aphid in sight. Until that morning *insert retrospective sigh here*

Sunday, September 02, 2012

Day Ten: One Picture (of myself)

No standard issue cheesy grin, no wine glass, no make up, no pretending I didn't take this pic of myself. 

Ten Day Challenge? Done.

Saturday, September 01, 2012

Day Nine: Two Songs

Oi! Talk about putting the challenge in this 10-Day Challenge... just TWO songs, seriously?

Right, rather than break into a cold sweat, thrown in the towel and demonstrate a host of other figures of speech associated with quittin' I'm going to give this a go. To have any chance of success I'm going to have to divide it into two categories – pre and post 2000.

1983 – 1999

"Eternal Flame" The Bangles
Not the über awful Atomic Kittens cover, the original 80s 'classic' that my sister and I made my dad listen to over and over and over again in the car while we perfected every off-key screech, wail and high (long, very, long) note. Why this song of all the songs that have passed through my life? Two words. My sister. It's a song synonymous with good memories, just pipping Roxette's Gotta get dressed for success at the post.

2000 – present

"Disappear without a trace" The Parlotones
This is not because I felt pressure to get all proudly South African or had a lack of options or am drawing a blank. Trust me, there's a long list of indie and brit pop/rock tracks begging to make this post.  Alas! I must choose the song that hubby and I selected as our first dance song at our wedding back in 2008. As the title may seem a little un-wedding-ee, if you're wondering why we chose it, have a listen here

Friday, August 31, 2012

Day Eight: Three Films

1. Life Is Beautiful (La vita è bella), 1997

It's in Italian. It's sub titled. It's as much a favourite for a laughter as it is for the tears. It's the film that stopped me disregarding foreign films 'cos I didn't feel like 'reading'. It's the reason I wish this was a ten films list so that I could include The Kite Runner, Mao's Last Dancer and The Diving Bell and The Butterfly.

2. My Fair Lady, 1983

Not only is this my favourite musical (I've seen it on stage several times), the film – starring the legend that is Audrey and the love-to-hate-then-love Professor Higgins played by Rex Butler – is one of those that I can watch over and over and over, much to hubby's disbelief. Between 'why can't a woman be more like a man' and the Ascot Opening Day sequence, choosing a favourite bit is a bit, I imagine, like choosing a favourite child – it shouldn't be done. 

3. The Devil Wears Prada, 2006

'I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.' 

'That's all.'

See also: Legally Blonde, Centre Stage and Coyote Ugly. Basically, I love a little Dolly Parton-esque slant on the classic Cinderalla story.