So Close

Highly Addictive Personality

I am not sure whether this leans more towards my OCD tendencies, or the highly addictive side of my personality, but I always do every thing intensely and in excess. It must be exhausting being my friend / mother / sister / husband / child. It is exhausting being me sometimes.

When we all did casual drugs, I always had to have MORE, get MORE wasted. When I went to gym (a distant memory), I got totally hooked and went for hours a day, sometimes even twice a day. When we were younger, I always ate all my sweets up at once. Gobble gobble gone. Annoyingly, Sister Mel used to save half of hers and then eat the rest in front of me later on when mine were gone. I swear she used to get an indecent amount of pleasure out of that.

When I was in Grade 10 I decided I would see what it would be like if I actually opened a book to prepare for an exam, and from being hidden in the middle, I came in the top 10 in the grade. The next year I went back to not caring. Always more, most. Best / worst.

Well, I am addicted again. My sister, the person who probably knows me better than most, spotted it. I suppose it was hard to miss. I brought my laptop to a fashion show / morning tea event at her church. (What! I thought that if there was a break in proceedings, I could get a bit of work in!)

I am addicted to work at the moment. More specifically, my new project Nurture. It is all I want to do – I LOVE it. I am up late at night, after the kids have gone to bed, working, and then I especially wake up early in the morning so that I can get a few hours in before they wake up. Workworkwork. It is completely intimidating for my partners. Emails at all hours of the day, multiple projects on the go. Go go go.

It is not even just Nurture, I am on such a high at the moment, I feel as if I can take on the world. And I have just launched a new project as well!

Poor Rose, she came inside the other morning at 7 and I had already done a load of washing, packed stuff in the dishwasher, tidied up….I love living on this nervous energy I have, I love the buzz. But I know it must be a pain too. I’ve tried relaxing, but relaxing makes me anxious. I find relaxing to be a terrible waste of time. (I spent my 24 hours away working, and it was DIVINE! I got so much done and I felt so great afterwards. Working is my way of relaxing)

Apparently there is a thing called moderation. I’ve heard about it, but I’ve never actually seen it person.

I hereby nominate my husband as Employee of the Month

As you will know from reading my blog, I am not shy to say when my husband is being behaving like an industrial strength enema. While it doesn’t that happen often, when it does it can be particularly unpleasant for all concerned.

But credit where credit is due, the man has been a super hero for the last while. I am having lots of fond thoughts about him. 

A more cynical person might assume the reason for all these fond thoughts is because he has been away for most of the week on business, and I have just come back from 24 hours of fabulous ME TIME, but they would only be partly right. (Absence really does the heart grow fonder!)

Truth is, he is being a total winner at the moment, and not only I have nominated his as First Runner for the Employee of the Month Award – August 2008, I thought it only fair to tell all of you as well.  I came home this morning to a tidy house, fed children and happy faces.  I am rather fond of that chap.

As a reward for his outstanding contribution, he will get a beautifully framed certificate to display in his office as well as a bloody good shag. 

I am so excited; I think I might have just peed in my pants a little

What is more delicious than a romantic weekend away at a luxury resort? What is more exciting than a shopping spree with someone else’s credit card? What is even better than finding a forgotten hundred bucks in the pocket of an old pair of jeans? 

I’ll tell you what is better than all of that, and more….. A night away ALL BY MYSELF!! That’s right my dear friends, a full 24 hours ON MY OWN.

I am so excited, I can barely contain myself. 

I found a little boutique hotel five minutes away from home, which BY CHANCE just happens to offer spa treatments as well. I have a massage booked for 2pm, but other than that, I am going to spend the ENTIRE day, all by myself, bra-less, in my comfy pants and sheepskin slippers . I am going to pack a picnic basket with tomato chips, dip, biltong, chocolate, wine and other delicious snacks and spend the entire day at my laptop, catching up. I am going to soak in a hot bath for an hour, read a whole magazine from start to finish, drink more than TWO glasses of wine, and fart in bed to my heart’s content. Besides getting up to pee at least once, maybe twice at night, I am going to sleep through the entire night lying spread-eagled diagonally across the bed. No snoring husband, no calling kids. But best of all, I am going to do all of this on my own, in absolute silence! 

I can’t WAIT!!! 

My husband’s online addiction

The whirring of the computer gives him away. He is online again, surfing those sites. He tilts the screen away from me so that I can’t see what he is doing, but I know that look in his eye – part lust, part guilt. Full on longing. 

As image after image downloads, I see his eyes dart furiously across the screen, looking, lusting, searching. Searching for what? He knows he can’t ever get it, but perhaps the thrill lies in the fantasy, the wild dream of what could be.

“Why do you do it to yourself?” I ask. “You know how I feel about it; you are only making it harder for yourself.” He says I don’t understand, I’ll never understand. It’s a male thing, he tells me. It’s part of their DNA. No matter how much they love what they have; there is a part of them that always wants more. 

He says it is harmless, he is just looking. It doesn’t mean anything, he says, but how can I be sure? How do I know he won’t take the next step? How do I know that in a moment of weakness, all that lusting and longing might turn into action?

I’ve told him I will leave him if that happens. We are NOT getting a new car, we can’t afford it and we don’t need it, I don’t care how much of a bargain it is. Damn you Autotrader for feeding my husband’s car obsession, damn you! 

A lawless society

I was listening the radio the other day (as one does) and the chap on the radio was talking about South Africa and what a lawless society we are. I thought to myself, ‘yes it is true, THEY (the unnamed masses) really are a lawless bunch’ but then he carried on talking about how pervasive it is in our society. It is not just the (many) rapists, murderers and petty criminals we have, it is all of us. And much to my shame, I have to admit he is right. South Africans, in general, have little respect for the law. We all blatantly ignore the speed limits, with absolutely no compunction. We talk on our cell phones while we are driving, even though we all know it is illegal. Someone called into the radio yesterday to participate in a debate and mid sentence he stops and says “oops, hold a second, cop coming, ok gone, as I was saying…” and carries on as if nothing is wrong. No one bats an eye.

Now I know these things are not necessarily hugely criminal acts, but they are against the law.  What does that say about the psyche of our society if we unashamedly break the laws in our every day lives all the time?

People don’t pay their TV licenses, they use illegal software, they buy pirated DVDs from the side of the road, all while complaining about THE CRIME IN THIS COUNTRY, and yet are we any better?

Look, I am as bad as the next person. While I don’t use illegal software or buy pirated DVDs, I do drive over the speed limit and I talk on my cell phone while driving all the time. How does that make me any better than the other people who break the law?

Is it a South African thing? Are we especially bad here, or is it like that in your country too? My sense is that in most of the traditional developed nations people seem to have a healthier regard for the law? What is it about South Africa that we do our own thing regardless of whether it is illegal or not?

Bad dreams for big people and little people too

What do bad dreams mean? Lately I’ve been having lots of really complicated, horrible dreams. Not scary or sad, just complicated crap. I seem to take everything that has happened in the day and create a long, complicated story that leaves me exhausted in the morning. Such a load of crap!! So involved, with such ridiculous plots. I know I am a little stressed and overextended at the moment, do you think it could be that? I have enough complications to deal with during the day! The last thing I need is to be sorting out complex issues in my sleep.

Then, and I sincerely hope totally unrelated, the kids seem to be having bad dreams too. I’ve noticed a steady increase in bad dreams for them. I’ve heard of night terrors, and this is not that. They don’t wake up screaming, they just call out in their sleep. Usually along the lines of “no Kate, that’s my toy” or “Adam, stop that”. They aren’t upset by it, and remember nothing in the morning, but every time one of them cries out, I jump out of bed. 

So between my dreams, their dreams and Marko’s snoring, I am not exactly what one would call ‘well rested’.

What’s the deal with the dreams? Anyone able to shed any light?

Just about sums up our marriage perfectly

Marko and I are both having leftovers for supper tonight.  Nothing I cooked (obviously), but a little something each of our mothers cooked themselves and sent over for their darling child.

Me = spicy lentil and mushroom soup
Marko = tamatie bredie (a traditional Afrikaans tomato and mutton stew)

Poor guy misses his mother's cooking terribly.  Actually, he probably just misses having anyone cook for him at all. Ah well, can't be good at everything you know!  (We are still figuring out what exactly I am good at.  As soon we figure it out, will let you know)

True love (I am talking about the dummies)

Only five months to go until you are four years old and it is time to throw the dummies into the sea for the baby fish.  Enjoy the last few months my babies, its all down hill from here.

(Adam is kneeling on a chair, which is why he looks taller. They are exactly the same height.)

Emotionally spent and vaguely dissatisfied

As you will know from previous posts, the biannual Woollies sale is a Big Big thing in our lives. ‘Our’ as in Sister Mel and I. Our genetic make up (German Jewish from dad’s side and poor Dutch from my mom) means that there are few things that excite us more than a BARGAIN!

Like a first date with a long desired lover, the Woollies sale promises untold excitement for Sister Mel and I. A delicious thrill builds up inside while we plan and strategize for days before the big day. Emails and text messages fly back and forth.

Right.... Woollies plan:
Wake at 6.30, dress for comfort and speed.
Ensure husband is up and clothes are out for the kids as well as lunch made.
Drive to closest Woolies.
Be at the door before they open and ensure you only have your Woollies card in your pocket and not your cumbersome bag.  Cell phone too so we can roger each other.
Head straight to kids sleepwear.
I want:
2 pack PJ's for both girls age 5-6 and 7-8
1 extra PJ's for Becks
1 gown in 7-8
1 boys gown in 12-13 or if not that size, 13-14
Spencers if they have in above sizes
Slippers stokie style in size 10 and size 1
No broeks (broeks = afrikaans word for panties)
Socks in 9-12.
Bellbottom trackpants in 5-6 and 7-8
Long sleeve thin tops in 5-6 and 7-8
Anoraks
Wellie boots if they have size 10 and size 1

Homeware
Queen size fitted winter sheet
Single bed fitted winter sheet x 3

Mail me your list and then before we pay we can phone each other.    Pay on a sep slip so easy to return.

Roger, over and out.

The morning of the sale, we were both up at sparrows fart. Sister Mel sent me a text message as support and motivation “"Dont forget to stretch. 2nd place is another word for LAST. GO GO GO!" I didn’t even need it though, I was ready – leg warmers, leotard and sweatband on.

Off I went, bowl of muesli and sister’s list in the hand, breathing in and out in short, sharp breaths.

Arrived at the doors at 07:26 to find they had opened the doors at 07:25! FUCKERS!!!

Doing my best not to panic, I grabbed a shopping cart and headed straight for the kiddies section. Elbowing a few fellow shoppers out the way, I proceeded to methodically work my way through the age 5-6 girls stuff. Lots of nice (nice = warm and comfy) things for Kate. Hardly anything for Adam. He got 1x pair of revolting Hulk pants in age 3-4, and 1x hideous silky boxer shorts (he loves the feel of the silky nylon material). I then marched across to the homeware section and found lots of winter sheets, duvet covers etc. By this stage my cart was just about full and I decided to take a little stroll through the women’s clothes to see if there was a bargain buy or two for me. I grabbed a pair of pants here, some broeks there. Each time moving my full cart along side me. As I was about to pile on the last pair of reduced-by-50%-camo pants, I noticed that my shopping cart was GONE! GONE!!!

I instantly broke out in a cold sweat. Perhaps I just forgot where I left it last! I went back to the broeks section, not there! I walked up and down the aisles (perhaps someone had just moved it out the way), not there! By this time, I wanted to cry. Sister Mel phoned for a conference call and inventory update, but I was too upset to speak.

I walked that ENTIRE Woollies store flat, three times, looking for that slutbitchwhore who STOLE my fucking shopping cart, but it was no where to be found. All that time, all those potential bargains, wasted.

I was a broken woman. I half-heartedly grabbed a few items (1x cheese grater that I don’t need as I have one already, but it was 50% off, 2x single sheets and 1x pair revolting purple velour sweatpants) and made my way to the till.

My head hanging dejectedly down, I wondered past the last known location of my missing cart and noticed that there seemed be an abandoned cart lying there. It wasn’t mine, but I had noticed on the 75^th time I walked past looking for my cart. I decided to leave my name and number on a piece of paper on top of the shopping. “Dear Asshole, You’ve obviously taken my fucking shopping cart by mistake. Thanks for FUCK ALL. Love Tertia”. No, I wrote “I think you might have taken my shopping by accident. If you did, please could you give me a call on xxxxx”.

I waited in the queue for 20 mins to pay for my pathetic few times and drove home. Exhausted.

Five minutes from my house, I get a call. “Hi, is that Tertia. This is blind-as-a-bat fellow shopper here, I think I’ve taken your shopping my mistake” YOU THINK!!!! She said she would leave the cart in the corner of the store for me to collect. 

I contemplated just leaving the stuff there, but the Bargain Buy side of me won. I turned around, and drove allllll the way back, got my cart, stood in the queue for another 20 mins and drove allll the way home again. I got home at 11am.

That’s right folks, I had just spent 3 and a half HOURS buying things I don’t really need or want, but never you mind, IT WAS A BARGAIN.

Like a much anticipated first date with a long desired lover, the reality was once again far less satisfying than the fantasy and as before, I was left emotionally exhausted and vaguely dissatisfied.

Thank god the Woollies sale only happens only twice a year, I don’t think my nerves could stand it otherwise.

(and if only that was the last word on the matter. I got home, had a cup of coffee and longed for a cigarette. I then typed up an entire blog post detailing my disastrous morning, and I lost the entire fucking thing. Right there and then, I decided the words “Woollies Sale” would not come out of my mouth for the next 48 hours for fear that I might have a nervous breakdown. It took me two days to recover, which is why I didn’t update my blog yesterday)

Drinking in front of your children

Funny that, it was only after your comments yesterday that I realized that for some people consuming alcohol in front of children could be problematic. Hadn’t ever thought of it that way. I had a moment where I thought “omg, perhaps it is wrong” but then I realized that I was perfectly ok with drinking wine in front of the kids.

As I was explaining to Sister Mel this morning, to my kids, wine is like chilli – something that mommies like, but that tastes yuck to kids. I’ve let them have a sip of my wine before, to taste it, and they thought it was absolutely revolting. Wine is like the sweet chilli sauce I put on my sandwiches, like the peppadews I eat in my salads and like the olives I snack on out of the jar – mommy likes it, but tastes very yuck to children. It is such a non-issue in our house.

My parents never really drank when I was growing up. My dad still doesn’t drink, but my mom is now as fond of wine as I am. I have never seen my parents drunk, and I intend that my children never see me drunk either. I think being fall down drunk is quite revolting actually. Yuck. Tipsy  =  fine. Fall down drunk = not so fine.

There is a difference between enjoying wine as a way of life and being a drunk, and like everything else, moderation is key. Too much of anything is not good, whether that is eating, drinking, smoking or whatever. But just because something has the potential to be abused, doesn’t mean we should hide it away from our children. There are many people who abuse food, but you wouldn’t think of not serving food at a party.

It is very far ahead, and it will probably be one of those “when I have a baby / child / teenager, I will never rock him to sleep / buy sweets just to shut him up / XYZ”, but I would like to think I will have an honest, open relationship with my kids where I say things like “I can’t forbid from doing something ‘just because’, but I would really like you not to, here is why….”  But then again, what do I know. If this parenting thing has taught me anything, it is that you can never say never.  We just take one glass of wine step at a time, and hope we aren’t fucking it up too badly.

PS Do you know, my kids have never seen anyone smoke a cigarette!! Isn’t that amazing. No one in my circle of friends, neighbours, family etc smokes. How weird is that. Quite cool actually. Probably makes up for the fact that their mother and grandmother are permanently on the sauce.