Liam and Luka's Mom

Posts

Dear A team parent

Dear A team parent I am writing to you today to tell you that I am ok, my husband is ok and my B team kid is doing fine too. We are happy, the kids are enjoying whatever activity we they are participating in today. All in all, all is well with the world. We get up, we have breakfast, we drop the kids at school, we go to work, we get home when the sun has already set. We chat, we have dinner, we talk about our days, the highs and the lows, we go to bed and tomorrow we do it all again. I don’t know where some of you get the energy to spend your daylight hours at school. It must be exhausting trying to hold down a meaningful job, raise happy well balanced kids, geared for the challenges that they will face and to still spend an inordinate amount of time at school? You must never sleep, I admire you, hats off. You are truly super human beings. I get tired just looking at the sheer volume of WhatsApp’s you manage to fire off in a day, for multiple kids in multiple

I have been taken hostage

I have been taken hostage and there is absolutely nothing that you can do to help me. It has been one thousand two hundred and seventy one days and sixty seconds and I fear for my sanity and my life. Money won't free me. I need to stick this out for another couple of years before I will escape. Only time served will free me. Come to think of it, it is more like prison! I have of course been added to class and sport WhatsApp groups by people that meant well at the start. Bearing in mind that my kids are in a decent (and rather expensive) private school, the level of questioning never ceases to amaze me and I mostly find myself sitting on my hands to not respond to the daily stream of questions. Each child has a homework book, and the new mom's in Grade 1 are the worst. it is not as if any child will fail Grade 1 if we get the maths wrong on the first day of school. The school sends out a weekly newsletter with a detailed summary of exactly what will be happe

It's your world, so live in it!

I wrote this one in 2017, a year ago and I am only getting around to publishing it now. Whilst a lot can change and has changed in a year, we still have along way to go. We went to see Johnny Clegg in his spectacular final goodbye show at Montecasino last year. What an emotional experience. We sometimes forget about the horrors of the apartheid era and what it must have been like in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s being a white man dressing up like a Zulu, performing his ikasi music. The show was quite anecdotal and reflective and Johnny describes how he met Sipho, when the latter came to Johannesburg and waited outside Johnny’s parents’ flat and asked if Johnny was “Big Ears”. You are pulled back to the dark days when black and white people were not allowed to be friends, to perform together etc. He now smiles when he tells his tales of arrest, but surely at the time nobody could have been smiling. One of the highlights of the show is when Asimbonanga is pe

On the eve of my first protest

It is the eve of my first ever protest about anything really. I am a little scared, a little excited, a little apprehensive but extremely motivated. For those not following South African politics, our President last week fired our honest Minister of Finance and the South African economy took a tumble and we were downgraded to junk status by ratings agencies. Economic and political uncertainty ensued all because of one man’s greed and corruption. Junk status has dire implications for our country and as always the people who will be most affected are the poorest of the poor. Interest rates will rise, so will inflation and food prices, jobs will be lost, the list of horrible things goes on. Ordinary South Africans have now had enough and for the first time ever people from all walks of life are united behind a common cause, to save South Africa. I have never in my 40 years on this earth been moved by any cause, not enough to actually take action, but I am afraid

I am a groupie

I was telling Gerhard last night that I bought Kayla’s cookbook, and he burst out laughing and accused me of being a full on groupie, I was upset, really, I am almost 40 years old, how can you think that I am a groupie. But as the evening progressed, I started to agree with him a teeny tiny bit, and I must admit, I have fallen for Kayla and the Bikini Body Guide (BBG) hook line and sinker. So for those of you living under a rock, let me explain. Kayla Itsiness is an Australian personal trainer with more than 10 million online followers, or Kayla’s Army as they are affectionately known. They are loyal and fierce and arrange mass meetups where they exercise Kayla style doing one of her killer BBG workouts, almost always including burpees, mountain climbers, you get the gist of it. These are known as BBG meetups and take place globally, the ultimate goal is to attract enough attention to maybe entice Kayla herself to attend your city’s meetup. I know this, because I at

Age sneaks up on us all at some point

I just realised that getting older has a way of sneaking up on the best of us and that despite our best intentions to never act or look middle aged, it catches you eventually. Case in point, where this past Friday evening was spent at a venue called “Weiveld” watching a Francois van Coke show for a fortieth birthday party. I am of the age now where nothing perks me up faster than a Friday afternoon blow-dry before I go out on weekends. Bliss having someone else blow-dry my hair. To say that I have a lot of hair is like saying that Kim Kardashian has a sizeable bum. It is a blatant understatement. People often ask me if I have hair extensions and a trip to the hairdresser takes me longer than most. I have lots and lots of thick hair, and it needs to be tamed with blow-dryers and other instruments of torture. To add insult to injury, Luka has lots and lots of hair requiring instruments of torture too and it just kills me that I now need to do multiple blow-dries in

Search This Blog