I suspect I may be receiving some hate mail soon

Yesterday morning started out like any other school morning, chaotic and not without a few tears (mostly from me).  Little did I know that a morning commute can cause such a moral dilemma.

I had finally managed to get everyone in the car, semi dressed and with school bags packed.  Just as we headed out the driveway, the oldest (bless him and his curious mind) piped up: “Is Santa real?”

I think I may have turned green and then white and finally that grey colour one turns just before one greets your breakfast for the second time around. The husband and I looked at one another in fear.  

We knew this day was coming, but who would have thought it would be so soon?  The reason we dreaded it as much is because we, ourselves, are not in agreement on this topic. 

The husband is a firm believer in all things concerning the truth and practicality, whereas I am the more airy fairy one.  I read to the kidlings and tell them stories about fairies.  We hunt ghosts that scare them at night and I can routinely be found chasing a monster from under the bed.  That is just who I am.  I am the one that has been tasked with their imagination.  For me it is important that they believe in fairies, dwarfs and all things magical, and Santa is a very big part of that. Call it my plan to keep them kids for as long as possible.  But the husband, in all his practicality (and we love him for that, because someone has to have their feet placed on terra firma) believes that telling him Santa is real is lying.

So how do we answer this fairly innocuous question, of whether Santa is real?

I said yes.

Darling husband said no.

We looked at one another.  Each hoping that T-man did not hear the other’s response.

Luckily at that point T-man’s attention waned and we left the matter there.

After the drop off, the husband and I continued the debate.  How does one deal with this?

T-man is a very practical child.  He wants to know how things works. He doesn’t like change and feels unsettled if we do not follow the normal routine. He is also a big believer in the truth.  The husband is worried that by telling him that Santa is real and he finds out the truth the he would feel betrayed. A valid concern.

This question at this particular time is actually quite loaded, since he asked, just a couple of weeks ago, whether Jesus is real.  Granted it was done at bedtime, and was possibly more a ploy to drag out the awake time than an actual question, but it caught me sufficiently unawares and took quite a bit of diplomacy.  His argument, was that Jesus cannot be seen so how do we know he is real.  Luckily I remembered the analogy about the wind and that seemed to appease him.

But now the husband is worried that if he finds out the truth about Santa he will think that since we lied about that we lied to him about Jesus too. And that is a big problem for us and the beliefs we want to instill in our kids.

So where do we go from here?

I realise that if I were to tell him the truth he would feel compelled to share it.  The result: I would be lynched at the morning drop off and T-man will never receive another party invite. EVER.

Or do I keep the belief alive and steer all questions in another direction?  

Perhaps I should ask him what does he think?  A little reverse psychology…should keep the townsfolk with their lit torches and pitchforks at bay. I like it!

What do you reckon?



Hello old friend

I am a horrible blogger.  Life just got so busy and in all honesty the things I was going through was not something I could put out there on the interwebs, because it wasn’t just mine to share. But now things are returning to some form of normalcy, well as normal as they can be in my house (read: head)

What a  rollercoaster year it has been since the last time I was on here. To start of with, we moved house.  We finally took the plunge and bought our own place.  Bliss! 

We have made news friends, some we lost, but time moves on and so must we.

We got a bit of a surprise in May…another set of little feet that can steal car keys and unpack my wallet in Pick and Pay trolleys. And this time, it is a GIRL! What a mind blowing prospect. From the time I found out I was expecting again (once the shock wore off). I was mentally preparing myself for another little boy, thinking, it is is okay, I have this raising boys thing down to an art form. We can do this.  Now? Well, now it is a whole different ball game.  

The biggest change of all is the fact that I (with my amazing husband’s support) have decided to quit my job and become a stay at home mom. Who would have thought.  


A stay at home mom? If you had suggested that to me 5 years ago I would have told you to stop drinking your bathwater.  But there it is.

In 12 days I am finishing my notice period and trading in the morning commute to town for the morning school run.

I am scared.  I am stressed. I am freaking out….just a little bit (okay maybe a lot).

What if I suck? Will I make it out alive…will the kids make it out alive?

Will one of them (or all), in 20 years time, lie on the couch in their Therapists office and pinpoint the time where it all ‘went wrong’ to the day I decided to stay home with them.

Only time will tell or perhaps the school psychologist.  But that is a problem for another day.

For now I will follow Douglas Adams’ advice…

-Don’t panic-



Wacky Wine

This past weekend I went to the Wacky Wine festival in Robertson/Asthon/Bonnievale.

It is such an amazing festival because R100 gains you entry into all of the wineries in this area and you can taste whatever you like! Also the wineries try and out-dazzle each other, there are live performances and stalls and more food and wine than what you can ever consume! Definitely a festival of more’s.

I have not been to this festival in 3 years (as there was the small matter of me being knocked up) so I didn’t anticipate that it had gotten quite so large.

So popular has it become that when we wanted to go last year, we were unable to find any accommodation, and settled for booking for this year, at the lovely Karin’s on Main in Bonnievale.  So it was with great pleasure I dropped the kids of at Grandma and Grandpa’s for the weekend and hit the R62.

Perhaps it is was the anticipation, or  my age, but I must confess I was not quite as impressed with the festival as the past times.  Our accommodation was stunning, the rooms were smartly done, the food was good and the service was homely.  The wine was as good as it always is, but honestly, after overindulging at Locnville (they were hosted at the sumptuous Arrabella Wine Farm on Friday night, we were too fragile to do any real tasting for the remainder of the weekend.

In fact when sitting down to a quiet dinner on Saturday, next to the fire, while the rain was coming down in buckets, it was decided that we are at the age where we don’t have anything to prove, we may as well crawl into bed with a book and sleep in.

So at the end of the weekend I come away with two lessons.

1.  I am way too old to keep up with the Students; and

2. I DON’T HAVE TO…it is okay if I want to rather crawl into bed on a Saturday night with a nice book, and even if the only thing I did the whole weekend away from the kids was sleep, that too is okay, after three years of sleepless nights, I earned it!


Puppies with Opposable Thumbs

I have been known to say that having a toddler is like having a puppy with opposable thumbs. Well having two toddlers is like owning a whole kennel full of puppies with opposable thumbs (oh and just to keep things interesting-there is an actual puppy in the mix that has a proclivity towards Woolworths soft and flexi leather pumps).
This weekend I  spent a very unhappy hour and a half looking for my car keys. Which, it seems, miraculously grew a pair of feet and pattered off all on its own, if the offspring’s version of events is to be believed.
I cross examined the oldest (3) and he swore up and down that he was innocent and had nothing to do with the abduction of said keys.
Unfortunately the youngest’s (1) entire vocabulary consists of “ta” and “light” so that was not going to be much help, although I did maniacally follow him around the house saying “ta my keys” which he thought was great fun.

I was so desperate that at one point I seriously considered teaching him sign language just so I can continue with the interrogation.

Eventually I gave up on the keys and decided to rather hunt for a dummy in order to put them to bed (at which point I was planning on drinking a large glass of wine-preferably in a sippy cup so that I can lie and bed and do it) and what do you know, instead of a dummy I found the keys…

Hidden at the back of their bookshelf behind their money box.

The husband of course says that this is my own fault as I never put them on the hook.  He can be grateful that he was on the other side of the safety gate when he said that.

I will never put my keys on the hook, it is just not who I am.  So please excuse me, I am off to the bookstore for a copy of  “Baby Sign Language for Dummies).


Till next time…Don’t Panic (I am convinced they can smell it) and pour some more wine!


World Forgiveness Day

27th August is World Forgiveness Day.

The aim of this initiative, according to what I can find, is to forgive the unforgivable. I am not so sure about that.

I am all for forgiveness, I try mostly, to forgive those who have wronged me, and I hope in turn those that I have wronged will forgive me.

But I have a question, when do we cross the fine line between forgiving someone repeatedly and being their doormat?

When can we say, okay this is enough, I am just enabling you to walk all over me, I am done now.

As Christians we are taught there should be no limit to the amount of times we forgive, after all we are not allotted a certain amount of “pardons”.  What my head says is something completely different though.  How does one marry the two?


I am still alive…

I have been so bogged down with depression that I scarcely have any memory of the past couple of months post birth. I have gone in to hiding, only existing.

Breathing because I have to, looking after the kids because I have to and not doing much else except sleep. That I can manage. Lots and lots of sleep.

So off I went to my GP to get a prescription that is okay to use while breastfeeding, hoping that it will sort of drag me out of this quagmire, only to find that I have lost a month.  Seriously? A whole fecking month. Gone.

So it is back to the drawing board.

I have to decide what is more important.  My mental health or feeding my son?

I am really proud of the fact that I managed to get the breastfeeding thing right this time around.  It is my little life raft that makes me feel like I am not a complete failure as a mother. Call it my mantra if you will.  So now what?

I think I will go sleep on it.


It’s been a while…

I know I have been playing hooky.

Might be a bit late, but I hope everyone had a good christmas and here’s to a prosperous year.
Let’s start this year with a bang, or rather a rub.  Just in case you need some help….

Dry Humping An Adequate Sex Alternative For Teens, Says Weird, Unsolicited Report From Department Of Interior

January 19, 2012 | ISSUE 48•03

The comprehensive dry-humping report, which nobody asked for.

WASHINGTON—According to Beltway sources, confused White House staffers arrived at their desks Wednesday to find a meticulously researched, entirely unrequested report from the Interior Department assessing dry humping as a suitable sex alternative for teenagers.

The uncomfortably in-depth 900-page document, which outlines the benefits of clothed genital stimulation versus fully penetrative sex, reportedly baffled administration officials, who confirmed they generally associate the department with its role in managing natural resources and administering programs for Native Americans.

“I find this all extremely odd, to say the least,” said White House deputy chief of staff Nancy-Ann DeParle, thumbing through a large three-ring binder emblazoned with the department’s American bison seal. “Reducing teen STD and pregnancy rates is important, of course, but this falls so far outside Interior’s purview that…well, I don’t even know how to respond to this, to be quite honest.”

“How could they possibly have found the time or funding for an in-depth study of dry humping?” DeParle added. “I’m certain we didn’t commission this.”

A copy of the report obtained by members of the press reveals it to be a heavily researched work that begins with a heartfelt, dry-sex-positive foreword by Interior Secretary Ken Salazar. Also included is a detailed history of the practice, from the Victorian-era practice of frottage—meaning “to rub”—to the modern teen trend of freaking or “sandwich dancing,” whereby two partners interlock legs and grind their genitals together in rhythm with popular music.

“The pantomiming of intercourse prior to the onset of mature sexual relationships is a phenomenon one observes in many cultures,” reads one section of the report. “It’s natural for budding, aroused adolescents to explore erogenous-zone stimulation with a partner, and when it comes to achieving physical gratification without disrobing, teens have many options available to them. Young males will even find that ejaculation is not uncommon.”

Another section, credited to the department’s Office of Surface Mining Reclamation and Enforcement, ranks the best places to engage in dry humping using a statistical “dry-pleasure coefficient,” or DPE—a new metric  the Department of the Interior developed solely for the report. The study indicates a soft couch in the finished basement of a mutual friend’s house has the highest-known DPE, making it the top location for fully clothed teens to vigorously mount each other.

The Interior Department, founded in 1849 to oversee federal land management, has never been responsible for dealing with adolescent sexuality in any official capacity.

“Comprehensiveness notwithstanding, it’s a little alarming that anyone over there knows this much about dry humping, whether anecdotally or through direct observation,” said White House communications director Dan Pfeiffer, referring to a section of the report that evaluates various ointments that can be used to treat chafed genitals following heavy friction. “For Christ’s sake, these people have 58 national parks to run.”

“And some of these studies go all the way back to 1995, so obviously they’ve been working on this for a while,” he continued. “By all outward indications, this looks to be a labor of love.”

Despite calling the report “unsettling” and “difficult to read for more than a few minutes at a time,” administration staffers acknowledged its conclusions were valid on the whole, and should be applauded for their objectivity and nonjudgmental tone. Sources said that aside from some of the more graphic and largely speculative sections on teen vibrator play contributed by the U.S. Geological Survey, much of the research might even be suitable for sex-education curricula.

Interior Department officials were summoned Wednesday afternoon to confirm authorship of the report, their first since a Jan. 6 brief on fluctuations in the seasonal wolf population of northern Wyoming.

“We’d be more than happy to further discuss any of our findings,” a department spokes­man said. “All questions can be directed to Secretary Salazar’s office.”

“But I think we’ve made our point,” he added.

Article by The Onion.

Thanks Ri for sending me this, really made my morning.