Single Moms Rock!

Yesterday was a very happy day for a friend of mine, she became a home owner. A nice neat little flat in a security complex is now hers. As part of her happy Facebook status she eloquently added that she'd kicked the single mom cliche in the ass.

And as I was cyber high-5ing with her it got me thinking about my other single mom friends and their stories. They all have different stories to tell but the effects of being a mom who has to go it on her own seems to be far too similar.

While I have no personal experience to go on I am altogether aware of the difficulties, bitterness and the utter heartache that these ladies endure. What breaks my heart is that, despite having to be the bravest people I know, I have far too often heard the lament of "Who will ever want me as a single mom..? No-one will want me.."

Why does society, or is it just women, think that because you have the sole responsibility of a child you are worth less to the opposite sex?

Yes, I understand the complications of taking on someone else's child, as in the prospect of dealing with the ex indefinitely etc... And as I'm writing this I realise I might be getting myself into hot water and treading on inexperienced ground and opening myself up to much criticism.

But the passionate point I want to make is that single moms are amazing.

Moms in general should get medals but single moms... wow. I know what its like to be a mom but I am lucky enough to have a partner who can pick up when I'm too exhausted to do much of anything, who can reinforce the boundaries I'm too tired to set (yet again), to clean yet another pair of underpants. (Okay, maybe I'm on my own with that one.)
But single mothers have to do everything. And usually seem to get no thanks for it either.

At this point I also realise that their are more single moms out there than we realise, because they are still married. Many married women still bare the unfair responsibility of being the sole caregiver to a lazy/dis-interested husband's children. Yes, I see that around me too.

My girlfriends, who irrationally seem to drop their heads ever so slightly when describing themselves as single moms, are amazing, strong women. They do not need to be ashamed or apologetic about their status. That's life, relationships sometimes don't work out, you've had the guts to get out while you can, and hopefully with most of your dignity. You are not worth less, you will find a good man, and he will love your child like his own. If you just have faith. In yourself, and in God and His perfect timing.
You are such good mothers to your precious children, why keep beating yourself up for being a supposed "failure" in a relationship that you were undervalued in anyway? There will be a man that comes along and sees you for the gifts that you and your most precious little non negotiable attachments are. Just hang in there, try be patient and get on with the business that is Life.

But also remember, my sweet peas, that you are strong fierce beautiful women that I am so proud (beyond words) to be able to call my friends.

The Griswolds strike again

"Hey Babe, don't you wanna come over here quickly? I need the use of you big manly muscles.."


We were busy in the garden yesterday. Well, I was busy in the garden and the Husband was busy sorting through the nemesis of Clean House aka our garage.


I had decided to clear some of the bedding space which was taken up by some sort of reed, pretty and abundant but with a penchant for spreading through the garden like wild fire. They send runners and sprout up everywhere. I wanted to clear some and make a spot next to the garden tap for a container garden but the reed weeds were particularly thick there.


So I enlisted Mr Muscles to help me out. He grabbed the pitchfork and was making quick work of the plants until, with his last jab, he pierced the garden tap's copper pipe.


*Water spraying everywhere.

He took it quite well.
He stood back, leaned on the pitchfork and took a good look at his handiwork and the water spewing everywhere.


Meanwhile it felt like I should be running round like a headless chicken.
"Aargh! Turn it off, turn it off, oh but it is off. Where's the mains tap? Crikey, I don't even know where that is! Is it even a tap or a switch, no it must be a tap. Is it the one up at the entrance? The one that we had to remove the handle from because the passing vagrants like to take a drink and then leave the tap running on full ball? Will it work? Argh, the cost of a plumber after hours on a Sunday! Eeep, our water bill! Just shut it offfff!"


This was all going on in my head while I tried remaining calm and collected and not getting soaked.


Thank Heaven's The Boy was having his afternoon nap or else he would have been in the thick of it doing his happy dance and having all sorts of dirty boy mayhem fun.


The Husband went to turn the main water supply off, luckily the tap outside did work and our garden geyser slowed to a trickle.


Mean while my mom in law was checking out her garage full of odds and ends and looking for clamps, or silicone or something that could be of use.


The Husband phoned our HandiMan brother in law who always seems to know how to fix everything.
He did not disappoint us.
He came on over with a bunch of tools and washers and saws etc, and got to work on our pipe.


Meanwhile Mom in Law had found a few things and handed them over to the Husband.
"No Ma, that's for a bicycle but thanks anyway..."


Sawing and filing and hammering and hunkering down in the soggy dirt ensued but HandiMan got it sorted, he was our hero, literally!


I must have looked a sight. As luck would have it, I hadn't been able to shower first thing in the morning  due to a burst water pipe further down the road (the irony is not lost on me) so my hair was scraped back into a clip and secured with an alice band - luvverly - and I was all sweaty from the garden work and blazing hot weather. 


But the HandiMan is used to us and our deurmekaar episodes and took it all in his stride.


The Darling Husband, I think, will be more reluctant to pick up that pitchfork however flattering my dulcet requests for hard labour may be.

Bugging me

It is summer in Cape Town. Hot sticky humid summer heat that draws every gogga and bug that happens to  reside in the Cape Peninsula into our room at night. Or that is what The Husband seems to believe. Truth is we've had maybe 2 mozzies buzz through our room lately but that is apparently enough for the Husband to enlist the services of an ultraviolet bug zapper light.


Positioned on my side of the room and plugged into my hairdryer's plug socket the bug light is just waiting to do its thing and the Husband gets into bed with the anticipation of hearing a few snap crackle and pops of the insect variety.


We switch the light off. But the room is still filled with the unearthly glow of ultra violet light.


"I can't sleep with this light on." I moan.


"No, no, it will be fine," he soothes.


This from a man who has to get up and adjust the blinds if they have been shut up rather than down as there will be Too Much Light coming in and he needs to have a dark room in order to sleep properly.


Back to the glowing Griswold bedroom.
Ultra violet makes light colours glow. Our duvet is white, our pillows are white, our lamp shades are white, the unused white feather boa from Christmas is, well, white.
I imagine my eyes are glowing too, and not with UV light...


"But its too light, how can we sleep like this??"


"Just close your eyes, it will be fine, the mozzies won't bother us."


He kisses me and rolls over. And pulls the duvet over his head.
Seriously?

Twinkle Toes. Hardly.

My name is Judy. Judy Garland.

No, not really. But I have taken up tap dancing classes. Yes, some of you are probably falling about laughing at that image, myself included. This ambitious decision followed my annual New Year's resolution to "lose weight/shift the baby weight/ get my ass into gear and pull myself towards myself".

Last year I enrolled The Boy into creative movement dance classes at his daycare in a bid to get him out of his shell and build more confidence. And actually just to have fun!

His dad frowned somewhat when I suggested "dance" classes, probably fueled by visions of his son dancing in a tutu as the Sugar Plum Fairy. But by that time I had already enrolled The Boy anyway. No lee way for discussion, Mr Macho Darling Husband.

His dance teacher is his daycare teacher too and she has many years of professional dancing under her enviously small belt. She suggested I try her tap dance class which she was aiming to start for moms at her studio already located on the school's premises. She cajoled me with promises of convenient aftercare for the Boy while I danced my heart out. So okay. I decided to try it out. I roped my sister in to do it with me. Her daughter, my niece, would also be keeping The Boy company while he waited for Mama to finish huffing and puffing.

So we went to tap class with the idea of getting fit and having some fun.

And we are having a lot of fun. We have just had 3 classes where we are learning the different steps - ball, heel, toes, stomps, taps, etc. We are also learning how dancing can pick your brain up too. It teaches your brain and body to balance itself by using both sides of your brain for beat counts, switching feet and general balance. It will teach us to be more conscious of our posture (as I type this I straighten myself up instead of slouching behind my desk), hopefully also teach me a bit more gracefulness (I believe in miracles).

We were kitted out with tap shoes with shiny taps. They reminded me somewhat of those foil milk bottle caps that we used to string together as kids to make tambourines. Just putting those shoes on and walking to the bar and hearing the taps jingle made me feel like I was getting somewhere.

With knees bent and clutching the wooden bar for a little help in the balance department we were taken through the steps. While these steps seemed simple and basic, I could see I had a far way to go to becoming a runaway success on stage. Not that that was where I was aiming for but I suppose I might harbor a secret desire to be a natural Grace Kelly or suchlike talented dancer.

Watching myself in the floor length mirror I watched my jelly belly wobble and quiver just like those cartoons depicting shiny red multi tiered jelly desserts. I fear dance class might just not be enough to rid myself of all that flab. *big sigh

But one of the best things you get to do in tap class (and its even better if you've been having a crappy day) is that you get to stomp the sh*t out of the dance floor repeatedly and still get applauded :)

Watch this space for more progress. Hopefully there is some...

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hi all, just testing my subscription, doesn't seem to be working :( * cross mama

The Charm Bracelet

I am borrowing another post from another blog site. I could've just shared it on my Facebook page but I really felt this was something too precious not to share. For parents with teens, this so beautiful.


Enjoy.
Taken from The Charm Bracelet, ClayJarPeople

This is a true story from “Bringing up girls” by Dr James Dobson. A friend posted it on a Facebook group wall, and I had to share. Its so amazing… I wish my folks had done this with me, and I want to do it with my daughter, should I have one eventually.

(image source)

Sweet sixteen had finally come! I never thought I’d make it. But I did. And it was amazing. My parents threw the birthday party of the century, and I has more people over than I could count. The whole day had been awesome. But as I watched the sun begin to set, I knew the best part was soon to come. It was late in the evening. Confetti had been swept up, helium balloons had started to sag, and gift wrapping had been folded neatly and tucked away for my mom’s later use. As I sat at my window studying the dusky sky, Dad peeked into my room with a smile
“Ready to go , Sweetie?” He asked.
Was that a trick question? I wondered as I scrambled to my feet. I’d been waiting for this night for five long years, and it was finally here! I was now officially allowed to date!
The plan was for my parents and me to go to my favourite restaurant on the night of my sixteenth birthday and officiate the agreement, go over standards, and discuss rules and such. And now we were finally on the way.
I sat across from my parents in a quiet corner booth. Having just placed our orders I figured it was time to get on with it. “So. I can go out with any guy I want to, right?” I squealed, hardly able to contain my excitement.
Mom and Dad chuckeled. Dad answered, “Well, we agreed to that, didn’t we?”
“Sweet!” I exclaimed, doing a little victory dance in my seat. My parents had held me off for years, but now that the time had come, they would let me date any guy I wanted! Of course they knew I had a good relationship with God and wasn’t too short on common sense, either.
“Now wait just a second” Mom interrupted with a smile. “You have to agree to a little something yourself”
I was expecting a lecture of some sort so I was already prepared. ‘”So what do I have to do now?” I asked, leaning forward on my elbows.
“Just open this,” Dad answered, producing a small white box. He gave a mysterious smile. I Hesitated a moment before removing the curly pink ribbon. I slowly opened the lid and saw a beautiful silver bracelet. But not just any bracelet. It was a charm bracelet. And they weren’t just any charms. They were gemstones, small but gorgeous. A dozen dainty charms dangled gently.
“Wow.” I didnt know what else to say. I wasn’t expecting this at all.
“Now you have to understand this isnt just any bracelet,” Mom informed me.
“I know” I said. “It is so beautiful!” I studied it closer.
There were six small charms alternating with six tinier ones. The smaller ones were a deep blue. Sapphires, I guessed. And the other six were each different. One appeared to be just a rock, one was pink, a white one, a red one, green, and…whas that a diamond!?
“This charm bracelet is symbolic” Dad explained, leaning in closer to study it with me. “It represents you and your purity. This is what will guide you through your dating relationships. Your mother and I can only tell you what’s right. We can’t make you believe it yourself. Hopefully, this will.”
I looked up solemnly. “I’m Listening.”
“This represents the first time you hold a guy’s hand”
Mom said, pointing to the gray one. “It’s just a piece of polished granite Seemingly cheap, yes, but it’s still a part of your bracelet. This is pink quartz.”
Then she gently rubbed the next one between her fingers.
“It represents your first kiss”
“This green one is an emerald,” Dad continued. “This is your first boyfriend. The pearl is the first time you say ‘I love you’ to a man other than me.”
I giggled. This was so amazing. The ruby stands for your first engagement. And the diamond represents the first time you say ‘I do’” Mom finished.
After letting it all sink in I cleared my emotion-clogged throat. “What do the six tiny sapphires stand for?” I asked.
Those are to remind you how beautiful and valuable you are to us and to God, ” Dad replied. “Now here’s the hitch in all this, the one and only rule you’ll ever have to follow when it comes to dating. ”
Only one rule. Sounded good. But little did I know…
“Whenever you give one of these actions of love – a kiss, an ‘I love you,’ a hand to hold – you also have to give the recipient the gem to match.
I must’ve misunderstood. “I have to give him the gem?”
“You have to give it to him” Mom restated.
I was silent for a while. I thought they must be joking. But they weren’t even thinking of cracking a smile. “But Daddy!” I suddenly shrieked. “These are insanely expensive! I can’t just give them away!”
He gave a soft, loving chuckle. “Did you hear what you just said?”
I thought about it.
“Baby, your purity, your heart, they’re far more valuable than a few little rocks. If you can’t find it in your heart to give away your little charms, I don’t think you should be giving away the things they represent.”
I could feel my insides melting, ready to gush out my tear ducts. On the one hand, it made me feel valuable and precious. But on the other, it made me furious. It made no sense. But it would.
A few weeks after that night, I was hanging out with my friends at the beach. Chad wouldn’t swim because I wouldn’t swim. I was more interested in reading than getting caked with sand, and he was more interested in sitting with me than swimming with his buddies. He was sweet. He was cute. And he tried to hold my hand.
I was thrilled for a nanosecond when a certain peice of ugly granite flashed through my mind and made me move out of his reach. I was severely annoyed – annoyed at my parents, annoyed at my bracelet-turned-handcuffs, but most of all annoyed at myself. I was letting a little rock dominate my romantic life.
I furiously glared at it during the whole embarrassing walk to the bathhouse But then God hit me upside the head with a shocking epiphany. I couldn’t give up my little chunk of granite. It was a part of my bracelet, which in a sense made it a part of me. I wouldn’t be whole without it. It wasn’t a priceless gem, yet it was still valuable. It made sense after that.
Kevin came along eventually. We had fun. We hung out a lot. I thought I might love him. I thought I might tell him so. I thought of my pearl. It turned out that I didn’t love him as much as I thought I did.
So my parents had been right. They couldn’t make me believe the things they wanted me to believe. So they let God and my bracelet do the word instead. Among the four of them I figured out how valuable I was. How valuable my purity was.
How not valuable guys were who were just wasting my time and emotions. If they weren’t in it for the whole bracelet, why should they get one part of it?
Nate. He thought my bracelet was awesome. So he never tried to hold my hand. He never tried to kiss me. But he asked me to marry him.
I never knew that so many years of torture could amount to so much happiness. I’d thought it was silly. I’d thought it was overrated. But now, I have never been more glad of anything in my life.
As I gave my husband the charm bracelet in its entirety. I wondered why I had found it so hard to hang on to those little rocks when it was so amazing to give them all to the man I truly love.
But it didnt end there, now our daughter wears it…