Slipping in unseen

I have a picture in my mind, of a teenager slipping quietly into a dark house, tiptoeing up the stairs, and trying not to be heard on their late way in. I feel like that! I want to tiptoe quietly and silently back into my blogging life, unheard and unseen. Kinda funny, as most bloggers want to be seen.

But today, not me. I want to write, crave the need for it's release...and so I tiptoe up the stairs, and slip silently into my writing seat, and wonder how I can possibly begin to tell you where I am, and where I have been. I thought the chapters of my strange story, were somehow done....but I was wrong.

Life takes the strangest turns... as you will see.

Out of the mouths of babes

Well yes, hello again - after a long break. If you are still checking back for posts I really must say a big thank you for your loyalty.

Here is my peace offering.

Two stories about Eric. His innocence and way of summing up a situation just makes that saying so true: out of the mouths of babes...

A few weeks ago, he was spending the weekend with us. Early one morning he came running through to announce, "I saw a bird".
Being the only one he can converse with so early in the morning (everyone else is still sound asleep), I murmured: "Really? Where did you see this bird?"

An indignant sigh, and the placing of hands on hips said more about his disdain for this question, than any words could have conveyed, "Through my WINDOW!"  Unsaid words hung in the air: do you really mean to tell me you can't figure out where I saw that bird?

Trying to regroup, I made another attempt:
"Oh, so what colour was this bird?".
Another sigh (you really are daft so early in the morning, Aunty Yvonne): "he didn't HAVE a colour, he just had lots of speckles."
His little hands fluttered in the air around his neck, making poking gestures to indicate "spots" - without colour.
"He was looking for water", Eric added helpfully.
"Uh huh! What did you tell him?" I finally got out past the huge giggle in my throat.
"Well, there isn't water outside my window. I told him...go THAT way".
The THAT was punctuated by a hand gesture, where Eric threw his thumb over his shoulder in a gesture you make to flag down a passing car for a lift. That gesture and moment were so fleeting and then gone, much like the bird itself, there for a moment and then just living in your memory. We laughed until the tears ran down our cheeks. He hadn't merely pointed a finger in the direction of water, but with real attitude, thrown a thumb over his shoulder, to indicate the direction the bird should go. Some of the same disdain remained, a silly bird, and a silly Aunty Yvonne: these people and birds need HELP.

My second story happened during the Easter weekend. Werner and I happened to be in Cum Books - Christian book store. We had Eric and Carissa with us. The store was hung full of banners showing a cross and a crown of thorns.

Eric stood for a long time looking at that crown of thorns. Finally, he turned to Werner and said: "If you put THAT on your head, you will have one heck of a headache".

The Devil wears Prada!

If you haven't gathered this before, I am so not "in" on fashion. One of the Prof's pet hates about me, was that "I would not suffer for fashion" - his words, not mine.

In that vein then, my following story.
The kids spent last weekend with the Prof and Cream  Puff. Being driven by "looks" as always, the Prof thought it a good idea to educate the girls into areas in which my expertise was obviously lacking. The following discussion turned around high heel shoes and went something along these lines:

The Prof told Marinda: You know, high heels really makes your calf muscles stand out, and you should learn to walk on high heels as a matter of course - and not just at year end functions.
That last bit was a direct dig at me, because I would only ever wear high heels to the year end function!
"So", he continued, "wear high heels, because it will make your husband's heart beat faster."
At exactly this point Marielle wondered in on the conversation and wanted to know what it was about.

Marinda turned out this very priceless comment: Dad was just explaining to me, that if I want to "keep" my husband one day, I will have to wear high heels.

Apparently  at that point, the Prof decided not to say another word.

Out of the mouths of babes? Well done my girl, well done.

10 and a HALF

Eric and Carissa spent the time between Christmas and New year with us. Amongst the hard stuff - there was cute stuff too. The "10 and a half" was cute. But wait. Let me start with the hard stuff and move to cute.

When we got the children, we picked up problems on day 1. Cream Puff apparently doesn't "DO" bedtimes. So, you may ask, what  DOES she do? Well apparently, she goes to her room when she is ready to retire, locks the door, and leaves the little ones to amuse themselves until they fall over. "Falling over time" for Carissa seems to be a 1 am in the morning. Sounds like child abuse to me.
SO... this presented boundary problems in our house - because our house rules say - bedtime - at 8pm, latest 9 pm during holidays. We bashed heads a few nights over this issue with them, until they came over to our way of thinking. Ha - more because we stopped naming the time - than because we were so clever. LOL.

The 2nd problem had me feeling like a class A witch. Eric is a very bad eater. He looks at food and decides: I don't eat that. Mostly I ignore him and get on with life, but one particular evening, when Werner had made lovely food that the kids all loved, it stuck in my craw. He would not even taste it. I looked across the table and said quietly: Eric if you don't eat that, you are not getting pudding either.
He looked at me with big beautiful eyes that said: O - I have heard that one before. My mommy threatens me with that all the time.

Dinner dragged to a close, with his plate being untouched. We cleared the table, and took out 1 pudding bowl too little. Those big eyes turned to disbelief as we had pudds and he had none. Later that evening, he told Cream Puff about it - I didn't get any pudding because I didn't eat my food. Don't know what Cream Puff told him, but in an attempt to get sympathy from her, he told her- and daddy doesn't put me in bed nicely every evening.

Werner threw his toys out the cot at that one. He told Eric to stop talking nonsense to his mother.

Well, the up side of the story is that after that episode - he tried to eat at least some of the food we prepared.

Now the 10 and a half. It began with Eric. He started to use it as a phrase for everything denoting "much". Eric would you like to go swimming - yes - like 10 and a half.
Eric, are you hungry -like 10 and a half. (Which of course is most of the time since he doesn't do our food!)

We now have a new and precious expression to add to our collection: 10 and a half.

Want to end off with that. I am typing this blog from work on  the first day of my NEW job! I wrote a while back - that I was making some life changes. SARS is a thing of the past. Now I think I can say - this new place is nice, very NICE - like 10 and a half! 

Today - is a GOOD day

I am not good with dates, and remembering stuff, but THIS Day - I remember. Today is my 2412Towers day! The day the Prof finally told me the truth.
People don't like me to "remember" this day, almost as though they want to shield me from it's pain, or to say - move on past it.

But this morning, having coffee with Werner, I unpicked it a bit. Here is how I see today:
Today is a day where we celebrate the TRUTH  Day! It is like an "axis" day, where my life began turning on the axis of the day, into a new life, new beginnings and a completely new world. At the time, that turning hurt so much I thought I would not make it. Looking back, I realise that the truth made me stronger, and the view I have from my new vantage point, is so beautiful.

Who could have though, 4 years ago, that today I can stand and look back, realising it is a celebration and not a total collapse? It is a day where I can say in my heart: Prof - I forgive you. You did not realise exactly what you began that day, but what you started that day gave me a new, changed life.
It is a day where I stand in thankfulness to my Lord and say: Thank You for carrying me through all these things to a better life, and finally, it is a day where I look to Werner and the children, and say thank you to them too for the love I see in their eyes. Their love is true and holds fast. Thank you!

So...despite how it looks, Today is a GOOD day!

Boys...you gotta love 'em

Long time no see, I know. But I am working on changing my life, making things tick on over... slower. More news soon. In the mean time ...my current "hot spot": BOYS.

Yesterday, murder was an option in our house. If it hadn't been for the fact that the "little darling" was writing exams (and I hoped the exam would do the job FOR me), it would have been a distinct option. However, by the time I got home, I had settled my thoughts into a steely determination. Here is what happened.

Last week, the LD (Little Darling = Arno), had to study. After numerous, countless times of saying nicely: Arno go study, and getting the reply: YES MOOOOOOOM. The reply changed after 2 days or so, becoming: but mom I know all my work - I have been through it THREE times already.

Then the weekend arrived, along with his best friend Keagan. Keagan stayed over on Friday night, and suddenly I was counting more blessings than I had considered before: Arno could have been a twin - horror.

We had giggling boys running around, bangs suddenly going off outside, boxes of matches disappearing, the cats were terrified, the birds kept flying away every time a cracker went off...you get the picture. At one such bang I marched out and threatened in an ugly voice: one more cracker - and I'll stick it were the sun don't shine. Eish - what have I become?

In between everything else, the boys wanted to shoot the air rifle, so we allowed them some limited shooting time. Werner told me to calm down - boys will be boys - leave them alone. But, every time an ominous silence sank around the house, I began holding my breath - waiting for an explosion of some sorts.

Well, all this came to an end when Keagan went home, and Arno finally sat down to study. Sunday evening he brought his books to be tested: great was my surprise, he only knew about HALF the work. This is the work he had been through THREE times , Mom??????????????
So, there began my unhappy streak with LD.

Yesterday morning, Werner came in from outside carrying his screw driver and some other tools. The boys had "borrowed" these and then left them lying carelessly around the house. Werner is so careful with his things. The evidence of the boys' total  disregard of  property was strewn around the computer room, the left overs of toys they had shot up. An aeroplane, a jewelery case, and a radio, taken apart and what was not taken apart - was shot apart.

I felt ill with anger and disgust. These things which they so casually threw away - could have rather been given to some children less fortunate than they. Werner again calmed me down with some wisdom: leave it for now... he has exams to write.

So..... the exam didn't kill him. I would have to do my own dirty work it seemed. When the LD got into the car, he got a very quiet, low voiced lecture of steely resolve. Along with the value of property lectures, the need to apologise, I added in a few more "new standards":

• I no longer want to hear a single word about GUNS, shots, calibres, or ANYTHING relating to shooting or destruction.
• I want intelligent conversation at the dinner table: try working GOOGLE,
• I do not intend to tell you again to study or clean your room
• DON'T ask or speak about the air rifle again in the foreseeable future if you value your life

I looked at this child, whom I love more dearly than my own life. Arno - you know I won't send you away to your dad - don't you? He quietly nodded his head. "Well, I may just give you to Keagan's parents, though..." , I added as an after thought. :-)

Later,  when the worst of the shock had worn off, he cleaned the kitchen, laid the dinner table, all without being asked.
Our dinner conversation was wonderful -not a single mention of guns.

It went something like this:
Arno: Mom what does IGNORANT mean.
Me: Ummm - well it means not knowing something. It has the connotation of not wanting to know, or not knowing something on purpose.

A while of silence, then :

Arno: What does BLISS mean?
Me: Bliss means wonderful, heavenly, why?
Arno: Well what does it mean when they say: Ignorance is bliss.
Me: Son, that was when I didn't know (and didn't want to know) what you were up to on Saturday: Ignorance was BLISS.

Physco CATS - we need a "cat whisperer"

O woe is me... wonder if I can start EVERY blog post that way... every one regarding the cats anyway?

Siamese... delightful, beautiful, cute, sweet... deep, dark, not too sweet, bratty, catty...and finally - SPOILT ROTTEN BRATS??????????????

Let me explain. We now have 3 cats:

•  One was rescued off the streets. No nonsense, no fuss cat
• One is a Siamese. Paid lots of money for her, looks like butter won't melt in her mouth, and until 3 weeks ago - I thought she had the sweetest disposition on earth. Often you would hear me say "Why do Siamese cats have such a bad reputation? They are too sweet and kind for words". Yeah right - I am EATING those word.
• Lastly the "wildish" kitten who arrived at our house to prove all my theories wrong

Tuppence - (street cat), took 1 or 2 peeks at kitten, and decided to go her own way.

Misty -  (Siamese), initially peeked, then got offended and disappeared for a while. After putting some thought into this matter of:  "this new cat has taken over my favourite sleeping place (Marinda's bed), en my favourite person (Marinda)," - decided to show us how disgusted she is with the whole setup, by pulling out the fur on her back!

Don't even THINK about saying "AG Shame". She is reacting like a spoilt brat. Initially we were totally freaked by this behaviour. We carted madam off to the vet who promptly put her on "anti depressants"... what the heck? Yep - apparently they can get anti depressants for cats. Now I am wondering - who thought that up? Some vet who had a "down looking" cat?

After 1 attempt to get pill down cat, I decided - NAH - we will have to live with a depressed, physco cat. So - since the Internet tells you - don't give them attention when they act badly - we ignored the fur pulling. Since this now no longer had the desired effect, Misty decide - in that case: I will sort this problem out on my own, and proceeded to the room to give kitten a huge hiding by chasing her round and round the room.

In fact - this behaviour continued until she had chased baby to hide underneath the Wendy house - where she stayed for about 3 days with no food and water, while we were away in the Drakensburg. Now you can say - Ag Shame!

Are you starting to get a sense of how mad I am with my "sweet" cat. Well then - times it by another 10.

This gives new meaning to the expression -" I will pull my hair out"!