one hundred and thirty four

Jem wore the wrong uniform to school again today. Mondays are not her day. Nor mine clearly, as I had to respond to the frantic call to please bring her sports uniform. Just as I was muttering to myself about the fact that she is so irresponsible and far too old to still be so disorganised I was confronted by BigBoy on her bed wearing her bowler hat. I am  grateful for BigBoy because he reminded me that she is still a little girl. And because he made me smile, really smile, and remember how much I love the fact and always will, that Jem has always had her head in the clouds. Has always had time to stop and smell the roses. Time to put bowler hats on her soft toys. Time for things that really matter, things that bring her joy. I hope she always does. Who cares about uniforms anyway.

one hundred and thirty two

Today for a million and one and then some reasons I am so very grateful for the simplicity and stability of us, of B and I and Kate and Jem. I am grateful for the love we share. For the knowledge that we are all we need.

sistah

A friend recently mentioned how anxious she sometimes gets when she has to meet up with a whole bunch of women. Anxious about whether she’ll fit in, whether she’ll be suitably dressed, whether she’ll be accepted, whether she’ll be liked.  And not because she is insecure about who she is, but because she is an individual, she is different because she is open, she is honest, she is a strong woman, who respects others choices but won’t make them her own. I so get my friend. What I don’t get often, is other women.  Sadly, sometimes I just don’t trust women.  I love my women friends, but I do have to say I don’t often love some women.  Women are very often other women’s worst enemies.  And I know it often stems from insecurities, a need to be better, be prettier, be wittier, be more popular. Often a fear that they won’t be accepted. That they aren’t good enough. And that by putting others down, they’ll feel better about themselves. Well they are good enough. We all are. But I truly do no longer have time, empathy yes, but time no, for those women who subtly (or not) via a look or a nasty comment disguised as not, or a smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes,  let their insecurity mask their human-ness.  If there is such a word. My wish is that we can all live and let live, celebrate our differences and our strength and meet each other with warmth in our eyes. And our hearts. We are sisters, after all.

one hundred and thirty

There is very little I need in my world that isn’t chocolate. Unless it’s coffee. And love of course. Which coffee and chocolate actually are fine examples of even if only due to the caffeine and increased serotonin levels respectively. Whatever. Chocolate is my happy pill. But apparently the Australian taste in chocolate is very different to the South African. We like a creamier, less sweet, more swiss like flavour. Lindt is good, but not thick enough. Not for Jem and I anyway. Jem is particularly true to her taste. She simply refuses any. Kate and I are a little less discerning. Or maybe just too hedonistic to ever refuse. Anyway, tonight I am grateful so very grateful we discovered Aldi’s chocolate. Made in Austria. Creamy, thick, melt in your mouth, not so sweet or watery, robust, full of love. I am grateful that tonight, for a moment, we were all happy. And full of love.

one hundred and twenty nine

I am grateful for a hot shower. To turn a tap and have hot water pour out is a rare treat for some. An impossible dream for others. Yet I get to shower as and when I feel. I am  so grateful for the daily treat, for the gift of water, of hot, therapeutic water, but especially for the time. The time alone, the time out, to focus, to calm, to think, to be grateful. And to plan.

hope

Mmmmm, this is quite a touchy subject.  There have been a few moments lately when I have felt my hackles rise but true to the new me have breathed. Before responding.  Also to be honest, the response might be seen in a very defensive light, and that is not intended.  I am referring to the ignorant, misrepresented, without knowledge or understanding, generalised comments always levelled at South Africans who have apparently fled to Australia. I am over it. You don’t know me, or us. I do not need to explain myself to you or anyone else. But, my biggest failing in life is a need for fair representation for all, fair treatment for all. Failing because I always feel the need to speak up, I simply cannot let it be. So, don’t judge and don’t misrepresent and don’t hide behind your own fear. The fear that makes you ignorant and judgemental of others. The fear that makes  you need to justify your own actions and denigrate others. The fear that makes you need to feel better than others. Because you are not. Nobody is. You may still be there but does that mean you are contributing to positive change. To a better future for all. No matter the colour of your skin. What difference are you making? We took up an opportunity. To make a difference. To our children lives and to the lives of those we left behind. And to those who suffer at the hands of prejudice. Yes, we sponsor families, we support and contribute what we can to Africa financially, we care. But the important bit, is the bit we are doing for our world. For a hopeful future. By bringing up children who are tolerant, who see equality in all, who are kind, who are charitable, who share, who believe in taking responsibility for their own actions, who believe in love, who do not judge, who do not believe anyone should be celebrated or punished for others misdeeds but that we should all look to the future and be the change we so desperately crave. For humanity. And that we would do no matter where we are. How about you?

one hundred and twenty seven

 

Kate loves tea. Made for her by me.  Every night at about 7.45pm. In her K mug. Delivered to her in her room. By me. I am grateful for this little routine. It makes her still seem so little. And so needy of her mommy. I know, I know, I’m a walkover, but I just can’t resist the nightly text I get.

one hundred and twenty six

I am grateful for a sweet little button nosed cavoodle puppy called Teddy. Teddy has been on my mind since we met him yesterday, so much so that I have been googling cavoodles all day.  I am grateful because Teddy has made me realise even more how much my family needs a home, a real home that is ours, with a dog and all the restrictions and hassles that brings, but also the love and the belonging. Here for now. But Teddy had also confused me a tad, because our Teddy was going to be a chow chow. (Well, the girls and I had decided. Sort of).

one hundred and twenty three

 

I am grateful for a moment of connection. A fabulous laugh at our new morning routine (well, my morning and B’s night). A reminder that things are not always as we choose but we can make it work. If we choose to. I am grateful that we do.

one hundred and twenty two

There is something beautiful about your child’s singing. I am so grateful for whatever is right in Jem’s life that had her singing in her room with gay abandon this morning as she was tidying and opening her blinds. I am so grateful I was there to hear it. And for the fact that she can keep a tune. So grateful in fact that I’m happy to admit it doesn’t come from me.