Pizza Face. Contraception. Hormones. Tampons.

If you are easily grossed out, just stop reading now. Simple.

For the rest of you..

So you remember this post about my pizza face, right? My very wise doctor prescribed Tetralysal, a capsule I was to take daily, and some gel (can’t remember the name for the life of me) which I was to apply to the infected area twice a day. She believed my pizza face was most likely due to my hormones going wonky, and suggested we switch up my contraception from the injection to the pill. I didn’t want to be on the injection for the rest of my life anyway, I initially went onto the injection because I was so terrified to fall pregnant again and I knew it was the closest thing to sterilization – which would have been first prize had my gynae agreed.

So I started the pill in December.

I’ve always believed that “being hormonal” is a woman’s excuse for being in a bad mood. I don’t remember experiencing mood swings when I was on the pill, pre-kids? I seriously don’t? Yes, we’d laugh and joke about it being “that time of the month” to excuse biting off my husband’s head in an argument but I can’t say my hormones used to wreak havoc on a monthly basis. Woah, fast forward 5 years. From the second week of going on the pill, I could physically feel myself going through stages of.. of.. of… WHATEVER the pill does to you, or rather what a woman’s body goes through monthly! I can’t even give it a name! That lower back pain, that dull ache in your belly – it felt like high school all over again. And THEN.. the mood swings! Crying for nothing, yelling at everyone, wanting to be left alone in the fetal position on my bed FOREVER. All this, and then the following week having to deal with actually getting a period!! OH MY NERVES!!! After almost 6 PERIOD FREE years (remember I was almost back to back pregnant, and you don’t get your period on the injection), can I just say that it was the most unpleasant experience EVER. No wonder 12 year olds are traumatized by their first time!

Oh, even before all of that. HOW has the pad/tampon industry BOOMED in the last 6 years! Standing in the bloody Pick n Pay aisle trying to find the right size, absorbency, colour? Who needs a pretty flowery box for something that is essentially a PLUG? Pads! Big, small, wings, wingless, day, night, happy, sad, young, old – there’s a pad for everyone! I stood in that aisle for over 15 minutes just trying to navigate my mind around the wonder that is sanitary protection.

Then remembering to take this blinking pill every day. I am the type of person who takes 124 days to finish a daily vitamin with 30 pills in the bottle. Do the maths – I am bad at remembering to take medication. So far I have been pedantic about it because I cannot risk falling pregnant again. Pre-menstrual, I looked so bloated I thought I was preggers, I rushed to check my pack to make sure I hadn’t missed any days. Then I remembered bloating was just another lovely by-product of being a WOMAN with a menstrual cycle.

For all the negative side effects of the injection, I must say I didn’t experience ANY of them, all this is very new and scary for me.

Also. How the heck are girls doing this discreetly at work? Especially when you sit faaaar from the toilet like I do? I tried to think back to how I used to do this. I can’t remember. At all. Do you know how many people stop me on the way to the toilet invariably to ask me a stupid question. There I stand with my arms crossed, my tampon burning into the palm of my hand like a hot potato. Please don’t drop it, please don’t drop it, please don’t drop it. So must I take my handbag to the toilet? Then everyone is like “hey, you going to lunch at 10am?” or “hey, why you going home so early?” Tried to put it into my bra the other day and I looked like I had a deformed nipple.

And the pièce de résistance: having to explain what the heck I’m doing when I have small people in the bathroom with me. Just close the door and leave them outside, you say. Clearly, you don’t have children. For those who have been reading for a while, you know that I have two very inquiring minds in my midst. They are not easily thrown off the trail, they are like dogs with a bone, gnawing away until they get to the centre of the problem. What is that? What is it for? But why? How come? And I don’t know about you, but I cannot think of any way to cover up this story. You know how you can sidestep / conjure up / LIE to your kids about certain topics which they have no business knowing? Well I can’t think of ANYTHING that would simplify this awkward story for them. And I am NOT about to embark on any journeys with birds and bees and a 3 and 4 year old. Thank you very much. I hate answering their questions with NO, NOTHING, MIND YOUR BUSINESS – or the like. I’ve always believed in answering any questions as honestly as possible, and as age appropriately as possible. But THIS topic. Yoh. I’m stumped.

Good golly.

I CAN report that my pizza face has cleared up. Silver Lining. Bar some scarring, I’m glowing. Oh no, better check that glow out? Hope it’s not a pregnancy glow? My paranoia is off the charts! Can you tell? And I get to do this  until the grand old age of menopause. YAY!

The first report is good.

Today at drop off, Hannah’s new teacher casually asked me if I do extra work with her at home. I replied that yes I did do extra work… when I was feeling particularly saintly (not often enough, in other words). She went on to say that as the youngest in the class (like Liam she is a year younger than her classmates) Hannah is pretty “sharp.”  I said oh, that’s good and hurried off to work.

But it’s all I’ve thought about today. Hannah is sharp. I think Teacher meant that she is doing well, that she is on top of things, that she coping. Right? And as a mother, I can’t explain how this makes me feel. We all want the best for our kids, we want them to succeed, to have lots of friends, to come home with A passes. That’s what we hope and pray for, isn’t it. But it doesn’t always turn out like that. Everyone of us have “issues.” Some are more concerning than others, some need therapy and some don’t. Some issues we can get by with, and others need to be addressed. Some issues can resolved, and others we have to live with for the rest of our lives. Some issues are manageable and others need a lot of time, money and energy to work with.

While I haven’t picked up any glaring issues yet, my kids are too young to identify their “issues.” I only became aware of, and dealt with, a lot of my issues as an adult.  Some I’m still dealing with. Just being a human means you have issues, I assure you! But today I am thankful just for that glib comment that was made by Teacher. Hannah is doing ok. Any mom can identify with me on this one, it’s like a release of a breath being held for too long when someone says that your kid is doing ok.

I am a worrier. I get anxious over anything and everything. I’ve gotten better as my walk with God has grown, but still I worry. Being a parent is not good for a Worrier. There is ALWAYS something to worry about. ALWAYS. So when someone comes along and says something positive about your kid, even the littlest thing, it’s GOOD.

Hannah is doing ok.


So. About Rocky our new Dog…

Let me start by saying this. Dogs are a lot more like humans than I thought. There I said it.

I’ve always been of the firm believe that animals are animals and should be treated as such. I roll my eyes when I see people carrying their dogs in little hand bags or wheeling them around in prams. I scrunch my nose in disgust when I hear people talking about how their dogs/cats  sleep on their beds and sit on their furniture. I tremble in hair-raising-fear when people discuss dog poo. Baby poo stories are cool, but when my work colleagues discuss dog poo I feel physically ill. I mean really, animal excrement is like poison, I don’t want to see, touch or hear about it. Ever. I am most unsympathetic to people who have sick animals. My friend Kim can relate – she had the most unfortunate experience of dealing with her kitten that had contracted some life threatening disease and after expensive treatment which included drips and staying at the vet for however long, the thing still died. My words to her were something along the lines of “don’t worry, you can get another one.”


So Rocky came home on Sunday. And this little thing is so cute. I cannot believe I am about to do this… but… I’d like to compare him to an 18 month old. OH EM GEE, I just compared a DOG to a HUMAN. He is exactly like an 18 month old though – the good, the bad and the ugly of an 18 month old human.

The bad:

The crying, whining and tantrum throwing. He is an outside dog, and as such, must STAY OUTSIDE. The first night he cried hysterically for about 20 minutes and then settled down. He woke up twice during the night for a little cry and then went back to sleep. He doesn’t know me, he doesn’t know I have the iron will of a mother who has tried (in vain) to sleep train two humans. I WILL NOT BREAK. You can cry, stand on your head, chase your tail, whatever  – you will learn to sleep through the night! And night two was much better! The whining and tantrums – YOH! The crying at night I expected, shame it was his first night away from his mother, I get that. But yesterday morning, Rocky threw a tantrum of note when I shooed him outside so that we could get done for work and school. He didn’t have a little cry, this dog was HOWLING, throwing himself against the door and scratching his little nails to the paw I am sure. I was like “HEY, ARE YOU THROWING A TANTRUM?!” Then he looked up at me with those big eyes (just like my babies used to) and I felt my insides quiver with what felt like tenderness but I quickly recognized that ploy from having a clever 18 month old who tried to manipulate me and I scolded him and left him to tantrum.

The ugly:

Well, I thought my potty training days were over. Cleary not. He has been very good, on the day we fetched him he waited until we got home and dashed out of the car to do his business on the lawn. But this morning, he was pottering around the house while we were getting done, and then he started whining and I didn’t know why and he was looking around in confusion and jumping on the spot and THEN I realised what was happening and I rushed to let him out but it was too late… arrrgghhh.. a POO on the passage floor. Now I have wiped poo off the floor before, scrubbed poo stained underwear and followed my nose to find a blob of baby poo behind the couch (this was Hannah’s preferred spot when potty training) but I never thought I’d be picking up dog poo off my wood laminate floors. Just gross man, gross.

The good:

Oh golly he is cute. And cuddly. And playful. And lovable. He loves to be the centre of attention, he loves to be made a fuss of, and loves to be loved. JUST like an 18 month old. He follows me around the house, right on my heels, and the minute I sit down he wants to hop on my lap or he drops to his back and demands a tummy rub. He doesn’t know his own strength. I remember 18 month old Liam pounding 3 month old Hannah and we’d all jump up hysterically to stop him. Same thing. He nibbles at the kids, and jumps up at them, almost bowling them over, and scratches them unintentionally. And he just can’t understand why they yell at him when he hurts them by mistake. He is terrified of the big dogs. We attempted to walk him yesterday, not a moment out of the gate and the neighbour’s dog went biserk when he spotted Rocky. Rocky shot between my ankles and pulled me back towards home. Poor thing! He gets bored of his toys very quickly just like an 18 month old. Did you have an 18 month old who preferred the TV remote over Fischer Price? Yup, that’s Rocky. He prefers to chew on my big toe, or ruffle a shopping bag, or rip a newspaper into a million pieces than to play with all his cute puppy toys.

So while I still don’t get people who’s pets are their lives, I can see how a pet becomes part of the family. I can see how easy it is for the lines to be blurred, I didn’t think I’d ever let a dog waltz around my kitchen (and he does the cutest thing: gets a fright every time he spots himself in the oven door and then stares for ages at himself with his head tilted to the side in confusion!)  but here we are. He will NEVER sit on my furniture or jump onto my bed, but I can already see that he’s getting way more human privileges that I ever thought he would. Because little puppies are just like humans! Probably nicer than a lot of humans too. Ha.

Play dates and arts and crafts…

Two weeks ago, we had the pleasure of play-dating with Marcia and her family. Of course I felt like I had already known the kids and D for years! That’s what blogging does, doesn’t it? I know more about my mommy blogger friends and their families than I do about some of the people I do life with everyday. They are a beautiful family with a beautiful home and we had a beautiful time. Time went sooo fast, I feel like we didn’t cover half the news we needed to catch up on, hey Marcia?

For those of us who know Marcia, we know that she is probably THE most organised, and the most “prepared” person we know. I mean she is the queen of “organised.” She runs a tight ship at home – she runs it well and it shows. C and K are so well mannered, and so polite! They are children I would gladly invite over to my house ANY DAY. You know there’s some kids who you’d rather play date with at a neutral area like Papachinos or something, because you just KNOW they are going to wreck your house (bless them), well these twins are not those kids.

So anyway. Marcia put me to shame when she brought out her arts and crafts for the kids. She had made individual packs including a book, stickers and the works. If you want to win over my kids, bring out the fancy pens and the stickers. They were sold. All I heard about on the way home, and the next day, and the next day, was how great aunty Marcia’s colouring pencils and stamps and glue and stickers are. I felt rather ashamed when I looked at our old ice cream container which houses our writing material. Thanks Marcia. Ha. Here they are busy crafting:


Anyway, I was inspired. These are the kinds of people I need in my life.. people who inspire me! So I went off to Waltons and to the Crazy Store yesterday and for less than R150 I redid our art station. I got two plastic cutlery holders (couldn’t find a single one big enough) and filled the compartments with the things we need. I only have a picture of this one because the other is still being filled. The other one holds the glue sticks, real old fashioned HB pencils and these super cool roller stamp thingies. I haven’t unveiled it to the kids yet, I am waiting to use it as a bribe actually, ha. Ok not a bribe, but as a reward perhaps. I’ve had a few behavioural issues as they adjust to normal life after the holidays and being spoilt by aunts and grannies, so yes they need to be coerced into towing the line again. And I think this will do the trick. The other trick I learned is that I don’t have to bring out EVERYTHING at once, I mean a 4 year old does not need 4 shades of a blue colouring pencil . So I’ve only taken out a few of the items from every box, and still have enough to replenish as and when I need to.


A good time was had by all!

ps: all this time I honestly thought Marcia pronounced her name as MAASEEYA, only to discover she is actually MARSHA. Well the kids are STILL calling her aunty MAASEEYA, even after correction… sorry about that M!

Having a moment with your child

As my children grow, I realise that our “moments” are becoming less and less. Yes, there’s still hugs and kisses and “I love yous” but I’m talking about those moments where you have this child in your lap or in your arms and the two of you  really have a MOMENT and you are physically pained by the love that you have for this person. When they were babies, we had lots of moments but that’s because they didn’t really have a choice. As they grow up and become more independent, we still have our moments but more often than not, it’s me begging for a moment – “come here and give me some love pleeeeeeease.” More so with Liam. Hannah is a very loving child, her love languages are touch and affirmative words. She’s all about the luurving. She will seek you out to have a moment, she will want a moment even if it’s not convenient for you. This child lives for moments, I love her! Liam cannot be bothered. He is busy; he is at this funny (not funny-haha, funny-irritating) boy age where it’s all about who can laugh the loudest, shout the loudest and fart the loudest. And big-massive-loud guffaws at the latter. It’s almost like living with a college boy. I do try to have at least one moment a day at bedtime where I tell them very seriously how much I love them – Hannah takes this moment very seriously. Liam takes this moment to make jokes.


This morning I started my usual routine of gently coaxing them out of bed while getting myself done. I generally do this by yelling down the passage. “WAKEY WAKEY EGGS AND BAKEY.” And as usual the response this morning was the same as every morning. Nothing. Usually, I carry on getting dressed, applying my makeup, packing my lunch while continuing to yell “UPSY DAISY, TIME TO GET UP.” Nothing. And as the morning wears on, and time gets a-ticking, my yelling becomes more agitated until it’s something more along these lines: “LIAM AND HANNAH GET OUT OF BED BECAUSE WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE AND IF WE ARE LATE I AM GOING TO BE ANGRY.” Even this elicits the same response. Nothing. So I carry Hannah through to my room, I put the TV on, and this usually rouses Liam who comes stumbling through and that’s how we get going.

So today I carried Hannah to my bed and she promptly got under the covers and carried on sleeping, I went to fetch Liam because not even the TV was able to rouse him from his slumber. (Sidenote: I love how my children FINALLY love their sleep. They sleep until 8 or 9am on the weekends, its bliss.) And Liam wrapped his arms and legs around me and when I tried to put him down onto the bed he held on tighter. So I sat down and put him on my lap, and his eyes were still half closed and he was all beautiful with sleep like only babies and small children can be, and he took his thumb out of his mouth and looked up at me and smiled and said “good morning my lovely potato head” and he put his thumb back in his mouth, and found the tag on his vest (I love how he still strokes silky tags while sucking his thumb – because that means he is STILL a baby to me!) and lay his head on my chest and we had a MOMENT. I just held my son and he LET me, and I told him how much I love him and he told me how much he loves me (without any jokes or silliness). For the longest five minutes. And then he let me dress him for school. Something which has become off limits to me. Both he and Hannah just want to dress themselves, and I must not interfere. Which is great, I love that they are growing and can do all these tasks themselves, but today I enjoyed getting him dressed. Then he pounced on Hannah with his loud raucous laughing and she got up crying because he is so blinking wild, this boy child of mine. And that killed the moment I tell you.

But I had my moment! It got me thinking about how our “moments” will probably become less as they grow older? Especially with my son. Don’t’ get me wrong, I’m happy with hugs and kisses and “I love yous” because for a kid, that’s usually enough. They don’t need time to stand still, Hosanna playing in the background  while everything goes into slow motion while in a tight embrace with their parent, come on, that’s for crazy people. But everyday gives me an opportunity for a moment and I hope I am quick to recognise it and USE it while I am still able to. Even if it’s under duress. Even if it means pinning down a 16 year old Liam while his crazy mother gets her moment. It gives living in the moment a new meaning, doesn’t it!

When’s the last time you had a moment with your child?

Another one bites the dust. Good bye family xx

So I’m losing another sibling to Australia. Last Friday my brother and nephew boarded a flight to Sydney. Forever. Today the rest of the family (my SIL, niece and nephew) leave. As you know, my eldest brother and his family have been in Oz for many years, and now my other brother goes to. Boo hoo.

I think it’s amazing how small the world has become. I think it’s awesome that we have the freedom to live where we want to live, to do what we want to do and not be restricted by age, the colour of your skin or how many degrees you have. It’s amazing to be alive in a time where the world truly is your oyster, and for that I am grateful. However. It is sad. Goodbyes are always sad. No matter the water under the bridge, no matter that there’s Skype to keep in touch… when I think that it will be a loooooong time before I see them again, it makes me quite sad. Especially for the cousins.

But I wish them well! I hope that this adventure will turn out to be the best thing that’s happened to them! Can you imagine being able to just start over? It’s like getting a second chance at life!

So au revoir family. Until we meet again. xxx

My two big brothers xx
The Andrews Clan


Our family is growing…

Well that got your attention didn’t it.

I think I blogged about our desire to get a dog over a year ago and that desire has finally come to fruition. Let me explain that the delay in getting a dog was all on me. The thing is, I know that bringing home a new puppy, is pretty much the same thing as bringing home a new born baby. There’s pee, poo, crying, sleepless nights and general mayhem as the family adjusts to having a new element. ALSO, the expense of having a puppy is (so far) comparative to that of having a new baby, it’s ridiculous! Then there’s duties that need to be drafted up – who will feed this new addition, who will bath him, who will pick up the doggy poo? Who will take him for walks, and play with him? Sounds just like having a new kid, doesn’t it? I WANTED a dog, I just didn’t want all the other chores that go with having a dog. Mainly because I know all those chores will come down to me. With hubby away, and the kids still too small to really be held responsible for anything, this dog is MY problem. Yes, of course, I am going to get the kids involved from day 1. Throwing pellets into a bowl, and making sure the water is always full is a simple task for them, picking up dog poo will probably be the most exciting part of their day and taking him for walks while he is still little enough for them to walk HIM versus HIM walking them in a few weeks (he’s going to be a BIG boy)  – ALL this stuff is still fun and exciting for 3 and 4 year olds to do. But I still have to monitor and make sure and pretty much do it myself while allowing them to THINK they are actually doing it.

So late last year when we had that little breach in security and someone got into Zoleka’s room, we upped the security by putting burglar guards on the few windows that didn’t have and we decided there and then that a dog was no longer an option, it was a necessity. We are the only house on the street without a dog – and not surprisingly the only house that had someone rifling in their garden, after checking with our neighbours and neighbourhood watch. A dog doesn’t prevent crime, but it is a deterrent. Also, the kids have been whining for a dog. Hannah LOVES dogs, Liam likes the IDEA of a dog, but is actually terrified when confronted with one. So last week we met with a breeder and I have to admit that I think I could have actually taken 3 or 4 of these little things home. They were all sooooo cute! But this little one sort of chose us, he was all up in our faces, Hannah picked him up and I don’t think she put him down until we were ready to leave. He is JUST like a baby, loves tummy rubs and being held in the crook of your neck! Me thinks he is going to be a needy little fella – exactly what I didn’t want, but you’ve got to see him… you can’t help yourself, he is seriously sweet. I am not an animal person, I like my pets outside and doing animal things, I don’t believe in treating animals like humans. But guys. This dog. I don’t know. He may change me.

So without further ado, I introduce to you Rocky. Well I think his name is Rocky. Currently it’s the only name we all sort of agree on. I want to call him Mufasa, Hannah wants to call him Bingo, Liam wants to call him McDonald and hubby wants a name that sounds like he is a beast, a killer, a dog you do not want to mess with. Anyway, I digress.. here he is!

 rocky 2

rocky 1

rocky 3

I was concerned about getting a Rottweiler, they just seem scary and unfriendly, particularly if you have small children. But so far, they (these dogs) have proven me wrong. We met two grown Rotties over the holidays, big and scary looking but playful and rather sweet. Then Mrs FF really put me at ease because she has two Rotties and she loves them (she did tell me many other horror stories about how they dig up irrigation systems and are TOO playful but I will turn a blind eye).  And then of course we met Rocky’s parents when we visited the breeder. They are big and scary looking alright, but surprisingly gentle. Hannah was all over them as big and scary as they were. Liam… not so much. He did eventually warm up and even picked Rocky up, check this out:

 rocky 4

 So we pick him up on the 26th January, he will be weaned, cleaned, dewormed, poked and tagged and all those other things. Can’t wait! Look out for many more tales about Rocky. Hope I won’t have to call these tales the “Rocky Horror Show” that’s all.

Hair stories continued…

While in Durban over the festive season, I decided to go for my annual grooming session so I booked an appointment with my mother’s hair stylist. This raised many concerns for me:

  1. She is a white lady and I am always concerned that white people (bless them) will NOT be able to handle this mane of mine. It takes a certain kind of elbow grease to blow dry this kind of hair and the white stylists I go to are always so gentle and afraid to burn the scalp. This is probably because their usual clientele don’t require them to exorcise (no that wasn’t a spelling error) their heads of hair. I need my hair yanked and pulled from the roots to get the desired effect. Which is why I’ll probably be bald by the time I am 40. No doubt.
  2. I hadn’t trimmed my hair for over six months so I knew the damage was bad, but I didn’t want to take too much off my length, and most stylists are quite scissor happy.
  3. I was in Durban. One should not even contemplate going to a stylist and paying good money for a hairdo when one is in Durban. The humidity is no joke, it sends your hair straight back to it’s roots – and my roots are big and bushy.

Anyway, I figured that it was my last day in Durbs and I could resuscitate a blow dry gone bad from humidity when I got back to Jozi. Also, I knew that the cost of a wash, cut and blow in Durban was probably half the price of the same in Jozi. So off I went. Let me explain that I arrived with my hair in a wild knotty afro, it was full of sea salt, sweat and a product build up from two weeks of swimming, tanning and basically sweating in the Durban heat. I had worn my hair in a topknot for my entire time in Durban, to the point where my husband asked me if I was going to do something about “that” (pointing to the lopsided bun on the top of my head) any time soon. The morning of my “do” I first had the urge to wash it and at least make it look half presentable – kind of like the women who quickly tidy their houses before the domestic help arrives so that they are not judged by the state of their living area. Then I thought, no man, chances are I won’t ever see this lady again, and I will probably give her something to talk to her regulars about for DAYS.

When I saw Lina I was like wehhhhhhh, this small lady is NOT going to be able to work with this ‘fro. She is half my size, small and petite and looked like she was lacking in the elbow grease department. I apologized profusely to the lady who washed my hair, explaining that my hair NEVER looked this bad (lies) and that it was only so knotty and dirty because I was on holiday (lies) and that I usually looked after my hair really well (lies). She was like ja ja ja… in that knowing voice.

I go to the chair after a beautiful wash and massage and Lina comes over to have a chat. I pull out my iPad and go through a visual presentation of the kind of cut I wanted. Lina was probably rolling her eyes behind my head. After my presentation she started to play with my hair. We got chatting about the usual stuff hair stylists discuss with their clients.. are you married, how many kids, where do you live. Then she asked me where I worked. When I replied that I worked for a certain beauty company which owns a number of world famous professional hair brands, she piped up: “Well you are certainly a bad ambassador for the company, your hair is in a terrible condition!” WAaaaaaah! She showed me with her fingers that she would need to cut off at least 8 cm worth of hair – that’s how far up the hair shaft my split ends went. I told her to keep calm, take it easy and put the scissors down. We came to a compromise and she started cutting.

So. Time for the blow dry. I had two ladies blow drying my hair simultaneously. This was a first for me. So Lina and her assistant blow dry at the same time. She starts in the front, and the other lady (I forget her name now) started at the back. They blow dried my hair in under 10 minutes FLAT. Remembering that I have a lot of hair and it is still quite long – passed my shoulders, this was awesome to watch. But better than that, they blow dried my hair like real pros. It was soft and glossy and the cut was PERFECT. I could have walked out happily at that point. Then she asked if I’d mind if she put the flat iron through my hair because she wanted to make some curls just to show me the full effect of the cut. I was too impressed at this point to disagree. She worked the flat iron through my hair and the result was awesome. I was very happy.

 Now for the best part. The total for a wash, cut, blow AND flat iron, for long hair was TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY RONDS. R220! The blow driers were whirring and the music in the salon was loud and people were talking, so I thought I hadn’t heard correctly, I said “excuse me?” And yup, she confirmed the price. SCORE!

 Now for the second best part. My mother and I decided to do some shopping so off we went Gateway. I was shaking my mane to the point of inducing whiplash, prancing around the mall like a Lipizzaner, proud as punch of my new hairdo. We had plans that evening to go down to the beach to celebrate a friend’s birthday. As the minutes went on, I felt the size of my hair start to increase. Almost like how scones rise in the oven. By the time we arrived at the beachfront restaurant my beautiful hairdo had turned into something from the 80s. It was like a horror movie. That beach air, the humidity and the fact that I had insisted that Lina WAS NOT TO PUT ANY PRODUCT on my hair, meant that I was looking like a Lipizzaner gone bad. Thank goodness my friend had a hair band in her bag and before we had even take our seats, my hair was back up in its topknot.

What I learned from this experience:

  1. In the words of Michael Jackson “it don’t matter if you’re black or white” – Lina proved to me not to judge a book by its colour cover and that elbow grease comes in all sizes.
  2. Visit Lina every time I go to Durbs – at that price and with her ability I have no excuse. Truly.
  3. Don’t EVER. EVER. Mess with the Durban humidity. It will beat you.

(So I’m back, I was busy with a 6 month writing project which kept me pretty busy and away from my little blog. One of the things Julia mentioned here was her fear of how writing for a living could take you away from writing for yourself, and I truly feel like that’s what happened. TOTALLY. Anyway, side project is done, so expect to see me a bit more over here.  Also, I am so behind on my reading – haven’t read any blogs in AGES (oh please don’t look at me like that, reading blogs is considered READING, ok?) so forgive me for the lack of comments. BUT I’m BACK! xx) 

The hula-hooping-swimming-girl-child

So the little girls in Hannah’s class love to hula. Everyday they’re on the playground fighting over who’s turn it is to use the hula hoops. Never mind the fantastic play equipment, the fresh outdoors, the freedom to run around after being held prisoner in the classroom – all they want to do is hula. I crack myself up for minutes while doing the school run, spying on them from the foyer window, their little bodies contorting  – some with rhythm, and others (shame) who just can’t get it right. HILARIOUS, I tell you.

Anyway, Hannah couldn’t hula for months, and I couldn’t help her at all. I cannot believe that I CANNOT hula? I was so good at it as a child and now I simply cannot keep the darn thing up. Why? I have even downloaded hula hooping tutorials, watched a gazillion Youtube videos on how to hula – I just can’t do it!! I mean I have MOVES for goodness sake, how come I can’t move my body in a simple circular motion in order to keep a piece of plastic on my hips?

Ok. This is not about me.

So early in December we were in Sandton City with my parents, they had set up a festive kiddies section and Hannah zoned in on the hula hoops. This little thing just got it! Like on the spot, she started hula-ring and that was the end of that. Or rather that was the start of her relationship with her hula hoop. She is so darn good at it, she can go for over 2 minutes and she only stops then because she is bored of it, not because the hula hoop falls.. It’s mesmerizing! Liam still can’t hula and he is most frustrated / irritated that his small sister can do something that he cannot. We console ourselves by watching amazing Youtube hula hooping videos. So I was forced to buy her a hula hoop – let me tell you, a hula hoop is not the easiest thing to store, especially if your child wants it near her all the time. It doesn’t fit into the cupboard, it doesn’t stand upright in the corner, it’s like trying to find a big enough space for it to balance somewhere in her room. And she likes to carry it with her everywhere in case she gets a sudden urge to hula. Quite frankly, it just gets in the way. And it IS NOT allowed to be outside, unless she is outside. The queen of the hula and her demands.

Just look at this kid. Like seriously. How good is she? Watch this video on silent please. My ear-breaking chanting is ridiculous, even to me. I was excited, what can I say! I’m just glad I managed to capture this milestone! And it makes me laugh every time I look at it, I’m sorry to say but watching someone hula is not the most flattering of movements. Like even if you’re in the circus and wearing a sparkly outfit.

And the next day with her own hula hoop…

And then I simply cannot resist… here’s a killer-funny video of Liam NOT being able to hula. WAAAA! You’re welcome for that laugh! I swear he doesn’t get his rhythm-less moves from me!

I am also proud to note that my Hannah is finally swimming without her armbands. My sister and family have moved to Port Shepstone and we spent hours in the pool during the holidays. I left Hannah for one day with my sister and I came back to find her swimming unassisted. What a good teacher my sister is! Of course she is as proud as punch (Hannah, not my sister); I am just relieved that we have our last and final family member who can navigate themselves safely around a swimming pool. I’ll just keep practicing with her now, building her confidence and improving on her breathing. When do you start sending children for actual stroke correction and the like?

School goes back tomorrow, I feel sorry for poor Teacher who’s ears will probably bleed and fall off from all the stories she is sure to hear from all the little ones who have done BIG things over the holidays. Well done Baby Girl, another two milestones smashed!