and sometimes a little bit silly too :)

Posts tagged ‘musings’

Bird Poop Happens…

As I’m sorting the dirty washing out for laundry day, a sock ends up in the toilet. So instead of freaking out about it (eeeeew… the toilet was shiny clean but the IDEA really grossed me out) I call my husband so we can laugh about it together… he responds in his I’M WORKING voice with “that’s not funny.” I hear the panic in his voice. He is scared to laugh at my embarrassing -whoopsies, like that would be permission to continue – an invite to life to let a piano fall on my head from the sky. He once insinuated that I make these things up that happen to me… I make this stuff up? Really?! Like I broke the same toe 3 times ON PURPOSE and almost took out my own eye when I walked straight into a rod sporting tin openers at the supermarket, or the time I slammed my own foot/hand/leg (pick a part) in the car door… Things just sort of get in my way.

It’s like a curse some days. Birds poop on me from miles above. Mosquitoes suck out 3/4 of my blood at night, and yet no one else in the house is TOUCHED. I’ll share a pizza with friends and end up with food poisoning while they are fine. MY slice had something not quite right on it…

Yes these things really happen. And why do I blog about it? Why do I tell complete strangers about my embarrassing mishaps? Well, because if I don’t laugh about it I’ll have to cry about it. And because life isn’t perfect and never goes as planned, and I have decided to embrace that. Can’t change what life throws at you, it’s just how it is. I take it as it comes. I’ve invested in band aids and I close the toilet lid when I sort the laundry.

At least my life is not boring! Visits to the ER keep me on my toes 🙂

Image source.

 

Shopping in pajamas

Thinking back to my first pregnancy I realise how naive I was. I was young (well… younger than I am today) and I was blissfully unaware of the pain, embarrassment and discomfort that childbirth would introduce into my life.  Don’t get me wrong, I would do it all over again… (Yikes, I’m pregnant so I have to do it again sometime in the near future.) I imagined myself looking groomed and peacefully nursing my little newborn as we enter this new phase of our lives.

Instead I spent 3 days in the hospital with unwashed hair, flashed my bruised boobs at more family than I care to remember while trying to feed my little black hole and basically lived in pajamas at home for about 6 weeks.

Not a pretty picture.

Haunted by a million pictures of myself in pajamas with my baby, I was ecstatic  when I stumbled upon some amazing pajamas – they look like clothes. Soft, beautiful, cool clothing that I can sleep in, walk in, live in. PERFECT.  Happily I pay the inflated price with my deflated credit card. This will come in handy for my period as zombie mom to our second baby.

A few weeks pass. One excessively hot early morning my husband wakes up and asks me nicely whether I could please go buy us bread and eggs for breakfast. He usually does this chore for us, but this morning he just really wasn’t up to it. So seeing as he always does it I felt that I just had to. He asked so nicely. Fine. OK. I need to now shower, dress, drive for 30 seconds and grab the bread and eggs. The store is about 100 meters from our home. Seems like a lot of effort for a tired mom on such a hot and lazy day.

Then I get inspired! I DID buy pajamas that look like clothes. And BONUS I’m currently wearing them. So I brush my hair, put on shoes and off I go.

I arrive at the store and immediately I feel shy. What was I thinking? I’m wearing PAJAMAS. OK no turning back. If I could survive the birth and colic sleep deprivation of my first born I could survive this. So I walk into the store like I own the place.

A lady – dressed to kill – who is in the bread isle looks me up and down. I can feel a deep blush working itself up from my feet. I walk to the eggs. Another lady looks me up and down and smiles. I think ha! Let me just get out of here before the smile turns into hysterical laughter. So I rush to the counter to pay, and of course the bread isle lady beats me to it. I try and look as cool as I possibly can, while feeling like I’m on a stage with a spotlight… in my pajamas. As she leaves, she turns around and says, “I really like your clothes, it looks SO comfortable!” “Thanks”, I say relieved, “They actually feel like pajamas.”

Image source.

Shiver me timbers!

My daughter has an infatuation with playing pirates. There’s something about hunting for treasure that just gets her excited to the point that she actually jumps up and down with joy while starting every sentence with “arrrggghhhh” and ending with “me hearties”.

My handy mom made a pirate ship out of cardboard, sticky tape, glue and paint for her favourite (and only) grandchild. Looks fantastic to say the least!

Cardboard box play

Yesterday morning I agreed to play pirates AGAIN and partake in a treasure hunt. She would hide some booty (pirate talk for treasure, in case you landlubbers didn’t know), and then make a map for me. This keeps her busy for some time, so while I wait I get some gardening time in. I decided to de-poop the yard (thanks furry kids for the stinky presents). While I’m still busy with the poop-scoop, scooping the poop, my girl starts barraging me with “yo-ho-ho, MOM mom mommy mom… I’m done, yo-ho-ho, come mom, let’s play mom… mom mom mom, come mommy, please mommy”.

My brain actually goes numb when the non-stop “MOM MOM MOM MOM” floodgates open. I get a little flustered (I am pregnant after all, cut me some slack) and I declare very voluminously: “baby I’ll be there in a minute, I’m still busy pooping!!!!” (What I wanted to say is poop-scooping but my tongue and my brain decided to just conveniently skip that part.)

In my mind the entire neighbourhood comes to a standstill.  Then I hear it… the neighbour’s young son laughing hysterically, screeching gleefully; “mommy mommy, did you hear that? The neighbour lady is busy pooping! Hahaha…”

Oh man. We just moved in, but maybe it’s a good time to move out.

*Facepalm*

Most awkward moment

This topic of course comes up in conversation on a regular basis when you are chatting with friends. Well in my case it does. Reflecting back on a moment in time when you wished the earth would swallow you whole right then and there. The beauty of this is that you can laugh about it afterwards and just hope that it never happens again.

I’ve had a bit of a lucky-unlucky streak in that department. Although my mishaps, even being few, were rather large.

These embarrassing moments are not kid related at all. It is pure adult mishap – at its finest.  My little list includes passing gas in yoga class, calling my father to RSVP for his surprise party, stepping on a friend’s broken toe and more recently creating a situation at the supermarket resulting in 7 rogue pushcarts racing down a steep incline and actually shooting through the parking lot into parked vehicles. WOW. That was a big one. This happened yesterday. I still blush when I look in the mirror.

So, I am choosing to believe that these moments create character and what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I also believe the pushcarts were out to get me, and hence will be avoiding them like the plague for a few weeks!

A simple prayer

My little princess and I take turns saying our bedtime prayers after she is tucked in.  She wanted to know how to pray… I explained that a prayer is an opportunity to say thank you for things that you are grateful for.

This is how it usually goes down:

“Dear God,

Thank you for my mommy and daddy.

Thank you for my whole family.

Thank you for all people, but not the bad ones.

Thank you for dogs.

Thank you for toys.

Thank you for curtains and air-cons and arms.

Thank you for coffee and faces.

Amen.”

The beauty and simplicity of childhood. What a way to see the world!

WHY? And other random incidents

One of the amusing – sometimes tiring – and very often embarrassing things that my girl does is ask “WHY?” at inopportune moments. These moments seem to arise often at the grocery store. The latest incident happened while I was in the process of unpacking my groceries at the pay point. My little girl was sitting quietly smiling and waving at everybody in line, and then she suddenly asked out loud; “Mommy, why does that man have a nipple on his head?” After I caught my breathe (gasp – I went blood red), had a quick look in the direction where she’s looking at (right behind us) I was at a loss of words. The “nipple” was a large wart on the person in question’s forehead, but I thought discussing his wart might make his embarrassment worse.  So I did something I’m not proud of. Instead of explaining what it was and answering seven more related questions that were bound to arise after the explanation, I bought her a lollipop and let her eat it right then and there.

That incident tops my list of memorable (or rather embarrassing) moments. Another memorable incident involves my husband, but luckily this time we were at home, so at least we could laugh about it. We were busy entertaining, and as soon as I got the chance (in the kitchen), I tried telling my husband about my day, but he was distracted and according to my standards not paying enough attention. So I poked him on the shoulder with my finger. It seems that he was actually paying attention and responded like flash lightning by grabbing my hand and biting it. We were playing of course but imagine our surprise when our little offspring runs from the room (a little bit panicked) screaming – “aaaaaaagggghhhhhhh Daddy is eating Mommy!” At least all the guests sitting in the living room thought it was very, very funny.

Back to the grocery store. This time we were waiting in line, and I guess my girl was getting bored. So my little love bug gave me a rather long, loving hug and declared “Mommy, I love how very soft and squishy you are!”

Yes, I am pregnant, but will definitely be visiting the gym soon after the baby pops.

Mall time. We were browsing through some new clothing at the kiddie section at my favourite store. My daughter was sitting in a push cart eating blueberries and drinking apple juice. She saw a dress she liked and became overly excited about it – darn Italian-use-your-hands-to-express-yourself-heritage – and dropped the blueberries on the floor. I only saw this after I had stepped on most of them and smeared them all over the white tiles. I gallantry tried to pick up the few un-squished ones, only to end up smearing my favourite beige pants with the delicious berry sludge. I grabbed my daughter and left in a hurry while she asked in her outside voice; “Mommy, why are we walking so very, very fast?!”

To get away from the scene of the crime!

Well that at least got me moving, my exercise quota for the day is filled.

Preschoolers

Preschoolers are amusing little creatures. I think any preschooler would make a great lawyer! No offense to lawyers intended, it’s just that these little people have a way of arguing around a point until your own point is virtually pointless.

Logical preschooler: Mommy, can I go play outside?

Me: No honey, not right now. You can go play after one when it’s not so hot anymore.

Logical preschooler: But I can put my hat on.

Me: No sweetie, it’s too hot.

Logical preschooler: I can put on my hat and sunscreen.

Me: No angel, still too hot.

Logical preschooler: I can put on my hat, some sunscreen and my sunglasses.

Me: No baby.

Logical preschooler: I can put on my hat, some sunscreen, my sunglasses AND I’ll play in the shade. You can relax and read your book. Now, that is a great deal, admit it Mom!

MOM 0 / PRESCHOOLER: 1

sunny day

Distractions

As a mom to a busy and creative little preschooler, I find myself distracted… quite often.

At the hairdresser recently I agreed to a haircut that was about 4 inches shorter than I actually wanted. I was admiring the leaning tower of Pisa that my daughter was building with the hairdresser’s curlers. Whoops. The resulting haircut made me look like I’m sporting a lovely wig. Oh well, only 6 months until my hair looks the way I wanted it to.

My husband agreed to put up a picture I wanted on a wall in a specific place. So first he had to remove the existing nail and fill in the hole. Then he leveled it, placed it, and asked me “HERE?!” and I agreed. What I was ACTUALLY doing was being amazed at the fact that my 4 year old was sculpting a cub from clay. And the best is it LOOKED like a cub. The result of this? A picture 1 inch higher than it should be. So I asked for forgiveness and begged hubby to move it again. He sighed. He asked me where. I showed him. He looked disgusted. The new nail should go in roughly 1/10 inch from where the original one was. “It’s the same place” he grumbles. “No its not”, I chirp back. He pulls out the new old nail, fills that hole and places the picture in the correct position. He stares at it for ages (OK it was a minute). “Looks good” he says and walks off. Phew. That wasn’t so bad. Pity about the white filled hole in the not-white-wall above the picture.

Yesterday I went shopping (OK, we went to the hardware store) and was picking doorknobs for my bedroom cupboards when my daughter developed a toilet emergency. So knowing that the closest bathroom is about 100 miles away (FINE…it was 200 meters), I grab knobs, pay and go. Good news: we made it to the toilet in time. Bad news: the overpriced door knobs don’t fit AND I lost the slip. Great.  Another fail feather in my stupid hat.

I don’t know how your day as a parent usually goes, but it turns out that this previously perfectionist pain in the butt  now suffers from serious distraction dementia caused by motherhood. My day rarely goes as planned. BUT when my daughter looks at me like I am a supermom because I saved the day by getting her to the toilet on time, then I must admit, the view from my pedestal looks pretty darn good.

Hello world! Again.

So I’ve decided to start up a blog again. Why? Because its fun. Also partly due to being harassed by someone who lives very far from me (her being in the UK, me being in South Africa). Apparently my blog was cool way back then, and deserved a second chance at life. Her being a super clever-creative-baker-mom-blogger herself, should not be argued with of course. So here it is!

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