The Drop Off Zone….

Well tomorrow we head off into the drop off zone! I’ve packed and marked and repacked again and again. Nothing left to do except cook all his favourite meals. Our main meal is at lunch and today I’ve made roast lamb, roast potatoes, veg and vanilla icecream for puds. We leave at at half one tomorrow. Boo Hoo.

I’m actually feeling fine. I think having a doctor sit across from you and tell you that your daughter is cerebral palsy sort of shifts things into perspective. Sending my excited (normal) little boy to hostel, where he’s going to a good (normal)school, have lots of fun, learn new sports, play and bond with lifelong friends doesn’t seem so bad? does it?

Aidan’s tuckbox is awesome. Fizzers, oreos, biltong, droe wors, chips, ceres fruit juice, tex bars, smarties etc it’s so cool. I’ve put all “mini” treats in there. Enough for 40 portions. They’re allowed tuck twice a week and allowed to choose 2 things. So that makes 2 x 2 x 10 weeks.

He has new linen, duvet covers, good quality sheets(he’s my child after all), pillow slips. All in funky bright stripes. I’ve used Ouma’s old feather pillow and told him that Ouma’s his guardian angel and when he gets sad he must know that she’s watching him. (he loved that and laughed and  fell on his pillow and patted it and said hello Ouma) These kids, so funny and filled with little quirks.

Aidan has a new uniform from new blazer, shirts, stationery, shorts, track suit and so on and so on. about R4000 worth. Bloody hell. John and I went quiet weak at the knees!

New, New Balance tackies, two new pairs of summer PJ’s, new jocks,  new black crocs (regulation, don’t judge me), school shoes, school bag and a shite load more.

So think of me tomorrow. I’ve planned not to cry, thanks to my little white pill from Dr M.

Will I miss him? ummmmmmmmmm yes! what do you think? I’m not made of stone

The final countdown…

Well the countdown has begun, only 6 days until we drop Aidan off at hostel. Thankfully he is very excited and well,  we’ll go with that. Reality can settle in when he’s lying on the single bed listening to the sounds of 7 other Grade 2 boys breathing in the dark, in the dorm. Except I’ll be 65kms away watching the 8pm M-Net movie on Sunday night trying not to cry. I pray for God’s protection over him.

Boo hoo.

An end of an era. No more jettsetting at a moments notice. No more taking a weeks leave at anytime for a break.

We’ve hit school rules. School regime. Sport. Meetings. A teacher I don’t know from Adam that may or may not give me the time of day.

Oh well, we all have to grow up sometime. New friends to make. New memories to enjoy.

I got quiet a lot a flak this holiday from people who disapproved of me sending Aidan away to boarding school so young. What the fuck am I to do? If that’s the closest decent school, then that’s the closest decent school!

Having kids requires, patience, stamina and a sizable pair of balls.

Life and all the baggage with it…………..

This week has been hectic once again. Still no end in sight. My ironing lady burnt herself over the weekend and hasn’t been at work. So Tiffa is doing the ironing and washing with the longest of teeth and a dropped lip.

Life goes on, VAT is due, framing jobs piling up, kids homework to be done, gardening to be done, Molly’s therapy, house to run, staff to sort out and the list goes on and on.

Feel a little out of control. This morning I have to take the kids to a school outing which is lovely but takes up a whole morning of my time. My folks arrive tomorrow afternoon and Friday morning I leave for my fly fishing weekend for 4 days.  I’m looking forward to it but a bit filled with trepidation as I’m totally out my comfort zone.

Oh, for a bit of peace and quiet. And solitude. (by the way, I know one shouldn’t start a sentence with And, but I am a fan of poetry by AA Milne, and well… anything goes.)

 

Manic Mama’s

Let’s talk about Manic Mothers. Who fits into this slot?

Let’s discuss:

1. Mother’s who can’t believe no-one loves their kids as much as them. They appear incredulous at your lack of unadulterated adoration.
2. Mother’s who refrain from speaking to someone else should their viewpoint be different to theirs e.g; about schooling, nappies, breastfeeding, Thrass, Letterland or whatever the frack blows their Kook hairs back…
3. Mothers that tell continuous, never-ending, shit-boring stories about how fabulous their darlings are.
4. Mothers that use their kids to write lardy-dar facebook statuses about their children’s current brilliance /SLASH/ charm
5. Mother’s that stalk teachers. If you phone the teacher more than once a week, YES, you fit into this category
6. Mother’s that only talk about their kids and NOTHING else.

A.S and M.A.

You two are NOTHING like this. It’s refreshing to speak to you as you have a range of many vast topics. You embrace differences in opinion and ideas in life. Well done. This is a mighty fine achievement. You’ve passed my test and I’ve put in you in the front of my friendship queue. Good on ya gals…..

To the rest of you….try harder please………………

later biatches……

Eastern Cape farmers…..

I’m suffering from a bit of end of term fatigue.

Thank goodness it’s one more week. I feel like I  have my fat ass glued permanently in a car seat. It’s the traveling and the childish chattering that makes me tired. God knows, my one child doesn’t speak words, so I appreciate every word that gets uttered from Aidan’s lips, but fok, it’s tiring.

And….the other mommies small talk. Jong, sometimes I don’t want to. And I know sometimes they don’t want to either. But you’re there, thrown together for two hours at tennis, or half an hour at swimming, or cricket, and well you do……coz, as John always says: “What must I do. Roll snot balls?” No, I don’t want to be accused of rolling snot balls. God forbid. Gah!

So you chat about school. And you chat about husbands and you chat about living on a farm as a woman.

 About how sometimes you feel emasculated. (I know emasculated is a phrase for men…but you know what I mean.) by emasculated I mean…Eastern Cape boys are very chauvinistic.

 If you gasp at this and say: “I’m from the Eastern Cape and I’m not chauvinistic!”, then darl, I’m afraid you’re gay. Because they all are. They may try to think they’re not. But you see, their mamma’s train them from little. Thy shalt expect lunch at 1pm sharp. Thy shall have sandwiches and cold cool drink waiting for you next to the flask of hot coffee at 3am when you go and hunt. Thy shall drop thine clothes onto the floor and someone will pick it up after you. It’s the unspoken law here in these here parts.

At braai’s, the women sit on one side and the men on the other. I don’t know why. It’s an unconcious shift. It begins all mingled and ends all segregated. I’m one of those that are happy in the sisterhood coz I have sisters and girl cousins. I’m used to it. But I know it drives others insane.

There’s something hot about an Eastern Cape farmer. All that masculine testosterone. No apologising for their masculinity. Mud and dip/doses spilled on their shorts and farm shirts. The smell of lanolin from wool on their hands. Masculine and no apology for it. No contrition for who they are and regret for the kind, honourable men they’ve become.

Because as much as you run the house coz you the woman…… they make you feel cherished, and pretty, and dainty and honoured. They stand back at doors for you, they offer all the women a drink, they pay for your meal, they apologise for swearing in your company, they hold you in the palm of their hands.

and you know what?……it feels nice…

Kids ALWAYS let you down……..

This morning was my turn to take the kids to the school from the Boom-gate.

So there I was trying to remain calm amongst 7 rowdy children. Aidan’s birthday is coming up, so he was the main attraction this morning, discussing cakes and games amidst 7 screeching and excited, high pitched enthiusiastic and animated voices.

 Then I heard this little voice saying: “Yes Lara, I don’t a want a boring present again, from you, like last year!”

 I slammed on anchors, whipped my head around and boomed: “Aidan, that’s very rude. It’s not about the presents, it’s about all your friends sharing your birthday with you!”

Whatever……but I had to make a stand. We all know, the bigger the present the better….

But anyway,  I was so embarressed. I’m blushing with shame even as I’m writing this  5 hours later. Kids ALWAYS let you down….

Harping on about boarding school again……….

Aidan adapting slowly to school. Cried the other night coz he misses grade R very much and Grade 1 is a lot of work and they don’t play as much. (get used to it, I wanted to say..but didn’t)

Bit unnerved at not sending him to the same school as the others. Even though it was the same last year but am SO not ready for boarding school yet. So panicking a bit at the change, and have I made the right decision?

The other will be exposed to all boys, cricket and more independence. Aidan will be exposed to me, smaller classes and  better academic exposure. I want to get the best grounding academically for the foundation phase. He will be doing tennis and swimming. Still one wonders? You see I have the confidence to make this decision because I went to a farm school too. We had a ball and it gave me a good grounding for school later when I went to boarding school.

I know I keep harping on about this and beating the same drum…but this to shall pass. (you gotta love a well-known over-used cliché).

It is frikkin hot today and it’s only 8-30am. I have a framing appointment at 9-30 and then when that’s over I’m hitting the pool lounger, seriously……..it’s the only place to be on a day like this.

Finished Charlie and the Chocolate factory last night. We are busy reading the book to Aidan. I couldn’t wait to read it again and so I finished it in the bath late last night. Only trouble is, I’ve got to still finish reading the book to him when I’ve just read it……….urghhhhhhhhh boring.

later buggers……..

A deer in the headlights…

Basically, I’m run off my feet at the moment. I feel absolutely shattered. And happy. I’m ticking tasks off the list as I go. Still have plenty to do and I’m still frazzled.

Tomorrow we’re off to Josh Groban. I’ve left John and the kids. He has three parties to go to. Phewww, so pleased I’ve escaped having to go those functions.

Then Monday it’s the city for a GREAT big shop. I’m convening the Golden Age and have to buy ingredients for 120 people. So much to still do for that. Then after that, three more functions next week. Then the following week will be tackled closer to the time.

Some fucker has decided that the coastal schools have to go back a week earlier than normal. This is putting me out big time. We arrive back from holiday and then three days later school starts. That means I have to buy stationery and uniforms next week. Thank goodness my Christmas shopping is done.

My little chap had his prizegiving today. They put on a Nativity Play and the kids recited poems and gave orals. It was so sweet and my heart filled with pride, absolute love and happiness. Such a happy moment for me as a mom.

We put up the Christmas Tree today after going into the veld to find and chop down a tree. Awesome looking tree.

later buggers………… 

 

A bee in my bonnet…

I’ve had a serious bee in my bonnet the last week or so, a bug that’s flown up my backside…so too speak.

When I’m depressed it consumes me, the drama Queen that I am. I throw myself on the ground thrashing and beating my hands against the floor. But this time I was in a bad way. Not bad…throw myself off a bridge bad, but just enough to make me cry and feel symptoms of light headedness and a thumping heart.

 Two Saturdays ago I was chatting to one of the moms, Susan, whose kids also go to Molly’s school. Moll’s is cerebral Palsy if you didn’t know and her  playschool is 50kms away in another town.

I hardly know anyone and have only met three moms in the ten months of her being there. So this mom, Susan, was telling me who her friends were, after I’d asked her. She mentioned the one group as the “Birthday party” group. That’s when it hit me. Like a ton of bricks. That’s when the pity-party officialy started.

 It hit me that Moll’s hasn’t been asked to one birthday party from any child in the school the whole year. Molly is one of two disabled kids. She’s been to lots of party’s this year. But local ones. But it made me so miserable to think that no-one wants to invite my darling little girl. The nanny that goes to school with her, assures me that Molly has lots of friends and they all rally around her. But why doesn’t anyone ask her to a party? The little ignorant fuckers!

Let’s make one point very clear right now. Molly doesn’t give a hoot. You see, she loves school. Adores it. She doesn’t know any better about the parties. But I know, and it burns my ass! I’m always incredulous when people disregard Molly. I see her as someone remarkable, full of character and totally ALL THAT and more!

So, let’s hold  thumbs for 2012 that when I open her school bag, I’ll find nestled amongst spilled Oros, dry curling up sandwich crusts, soggy tomato, an awesome thick envelope with an invitation for my precious petal to join one of the ‘ignorant little fuckers’ at their party. Huh, they should be so bloody lucky!