They shoot horses that have what I have

While I was off galavanting in my nostalgic sandpit, my hubby and kids stayed home and got on with things. Part of getting on with things for my dear darling spouse was to undertake his yearly dose of tonsillitis. Without fail this poor guys tonsils flare up at least once a year, and usually at the start of winter. His was a delicate year, ok? So be nice.

Now, as awful as it may sound, I was sort of relieved not to be around when his inflammation got underway. Relieved but dreadfully guilty too - just so you don't think I'm a terrible wife. But I figured that two weeks of me avoiding his sicky germs, a doctor's visit and a course of anti-biotics would have sorted the dear man out by the time I got back to him.

Of course, when I returned, little conversation was spent on the state of his tonsils. An epic match of tonsil-hockey, however, made for a memorable reunion. Ok, ok! So I know you don't peep into my blog for all the juicy little details (you don't, right?), so I'll leave it there. The point is, that four days after my return to glorious South Africa, my husband's nasty little gremlins have spread down my throat and planted a cactus patch somewhere between my tongue and my voice-box. Also, it would seem, they are painting out the inner walls of my nasal passages with copious amounts of gremlin lava. Bottom line is: I've got a bad cold and feel completely sorry for myself.

The kids continue with their verbal diarrhoea (I swear that is how we are supposed to spell that word in South Africa - 4 years of Nursing Science at a renowned South African university can't be wrong!), but it's the mental constipation of their utterings that is rather tough to bare with in my morbid state. On the upside though, I can deal with even silly prattlings, because my ears keep blocking up, shutting out even the highest, squeakiest whine. Hhmm, this head cold thing could have it's advantages after all...

Becoming Mum

Everybody freeze! Stop world! Halt time! Nobody move! I need a moment here.

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I said don't move!

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Ok.

It's official.

I've become my mother.

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Just breathe.

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Cold winter air is sneaking through the branches of the trees in my garden and stroking my children's noses, fingers and toes with long spindly icicle fingers. My kids are running around having a complete ball - absolutely oblivious to the attentions of Jack Frost (my mother indoctrinated me with warnings of him from the time I knew how to undo my buttons). My children too have heard of Mr Frost, but they think he's something more visitorish like Father Christmas, instead of the bogeyman-like intruder I have desperately tried to convey him as. Why? you ask. Well, that's what my mom told me...

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But, the real nail in the coffin is this: I have just called my kids (still having fun in the garden) inside to put their jerseys on.

"But Mommy," they implored with rosey cheeks and shining eyes, "we're not even cold!"

Without thinking, the words flew out of my mouth. I couldn't stop them. They were formed and created before I even realised I had said them. "You will put your jerseys on because I am cold," I shuddered the moment the words left my mouth. That's so my mom.

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So, please, I really just need a moment to deal with myself.

Home again, home again!

My adventures are over, for now. I have returned home to my beautiful family and reality has kicked in, as of 6pm last night.

I wanted to tell you all about the loooong flight home, about the picnic in Johannesburg surrounded by Egyptian geese (how ironic!), about the corrupt airline official at the airport, about the marvelous welcome home. But what stands out for me more than anything else right now is how NOISY it is to be home.

At first I thought it was just because they were all excited to see me. The babbling and sharing of news. The singing of the latest song. The "Mommy, this!" and "Mommy, that!" The non-stop commotion! I'm suddenly quite lethargic! And I have realised that it's not actually because they have more to tell me because I have been away. It is just how my kids are. They have always been this way, and I have only now realised why it is that I am tired ALL the time!

After 24 hours of being back home I have come to understand why it is I was feeling so completely finished just before I left on this trip. It is emotionally exhausting having to pay attention to little voices ALL day long! And not only pay attention, but respond appropriately, because if I don't, they accuse me of not listening to them. 

For some reason my kids feel it is necessary to fill any gap of silence with a question, a song, or a whine. I, on the other hand, would love to be able to fill a question, a song, or a whine with a gap of silence. Too much noise makes me restless. Overstimulated. Edgey.

Driving home from a little family reunion this afternoon, I thought I might put the radio on to avoid the endless barrage of questions coming from the backseat (am I a bad mother?) The Pussy Cat Dolls started pelting out their high energy hit Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Ok, so not the most peaceful music to drive to, but it did briefly interrupt the verbal diarrhoea emanating from the backseat.

I became aware of a little voice singing along to the music - word for word! I was horrified - my 5 year old was spewing forth dubious lyrics! I switched the radio off fast and gave her a quizzical glance over my shoulder.

"That's my favourite song, Mom" was the reply my raised eyebrow elicited.

Now that the radio was off and silence tried to infiltrate the vehicle once more, my children started up their chattering to ward it off. I gave up. What a choice to make: loss of peace and quiet versus the corruption of my children's minds with tarty music. I settled for the former. This time.

Tale of a Taxi

So. At the risk of alarming you, I'll just come out and say it so it's out there and before I even say it, just know that everything is fine. I'm still alive and kicking. Well, alive anyway.

Yesterday I nearly died. I completely took my life into my hands and placed it, without much thought, into the grimy paws of a TCN taxi driver. What on earth was I thinking? I should have at least asked to see his driver's license before seating myself in the Taxi-To-Hell-As-Long-As-We-Don't-Get-Lost-Along-The-Way-In-Which-Case-We-May-End-Up-In-Zimbabwe-Which-Is-Probably-The-Same-Place-So-Buckle-Up-And-Let's-Go!

As the door closed behind me, a fly that had been flapping around some long-forgotten crumb on the carpet, flew up to the dashboard and took a look at where we were going. I tried to wave him out of my line of vision.

The engine started. The driver looked nervous - had he not expected something? I tried not to read anything into the slight look of panic in his eyes and the beads of sweat growing on his forehead.

We jerked abruptly into motion. My head hit the back rest. I put my hand up to give it a rub and had to pull strands of hair out of the velcro-like pillow cushioning the headrest. I didn't dare turn my head to have a look at what other organic things might be trapped in the tiny hooks. My eyes were locked on the road ahead. Our turn approached in abrupt jolts. We passed it. Also in abrupt jolts.

"That was our turn," the driver was informed. His trembling knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. The fly started to flit nervously around the radio controls. The driver actually tried to do an instantaneous u-turn (in a one-way only road) to take us back to our turn. The action was called to a halt when a large car zoomed past on the right. He found a detour to take us back.

My neck was starting to ache from the stop-start driving. The fly was also looking a little worried.

We were heading for the highway. I suddenly felt very anxious. I braced myself. The driver seemed to develop instant highway dread, and slammed on the breaks. The fly found himself flat up against the windscreen. I tried to exchange glances with my fellow passenger in the back seat, but she was prying the driver's seat out of her eye.

The driver worked up his courage and stepped on the accelerator. We shot out into highway traffic. The fly flew to the window and banged his little fly fists against the glass, begging to be released from this capsule of death.

I realised that I had been holding my breath when I started feeling slightly woozy. I gulped taxi-tainted air deep into my lungs and turned to check out the driver. Was this guy actually for real?

The driver had his eyes closed and seemed to be murmuring something under his breath. He was praying. That's when I realised I should probably be doing the same thing.

I closed my eyes. My life started unfolding in a movie-like manner on my mental screen. The thought struck me, somewhere between watching a kitten being born and a traumatic dentist visit, that neither of the people in the front seat of this vehicle had their eyes on the road. I pressed PAUSE and looked up into the glaring red break lights of an SUV. My gasp woke the driver from his supplications and he slammed on the breaks. Again.

The fly had given up and was lying on his back on my lap, wings crumpled. That, or the impact of banging into the windscreen for the umpteenth time had rendered him spiritless.

Fortunately our destination was just off the highway. When the driver pulled into the parking lot we threw open the doors and tumbled out into the dust and dirt. It took all my presence of mind (of which there was very little by the time our trip was over) not to kiss the ground in absolute gratitude.

As the vehicle pulled away, I had to steady myself when I noticed the dents and scratches that the body of the car sported. I don't think any of those blemishes were thanks to our little adventure around the block. A fly landed on my shoulder. I waved it away.

All I can say is that, on any normal day, I am grateful for being able to drive myself around.

Defending the Blog

It has come to my attention that some people are not happy with the recent state of my blog. I have received complaints about how sparse and uninteresting it has becoming over the last week.
I shall now defend myself and my blog:
Firstly: I'm on holiday! I'm resting and and reviving and regenerating so that by the time I return to my precious family I will be energetic, enthused with vigour and ready to do supermom-type stuff.
Secondly: I'm living with other people at present. Now I know how entertaining it's been (for me) to write and (for you) to read about all the goings on in my little unkempt abode. But it would be kind of rude for me to start writing about other people's STUFF (and trust me when I say I have some serious competition on this level), and other people's PILES (although I have a feeling this may be an infectious condition that you get from your visitors, because if I survey the room I am currently sitting in, about three of the five piles I can see belong to yours truly!)
Next: I currently find myself in a country that regularly gets doused in a seasonal sandstorm, so anywhere I look I see dust (for lack of a better word). There's dust on the streets, dust on the trees, dust on the cars, dust on the stray cats, dust on the people. All this dust sort of affects the levels of inspiration an aspiring blogger can muster up. I mean how stimulating can a greyish sky be, really?
Also: back home I enjoy the mental debate triggered through people-watching. Here people-watching is a tricky activity. Firstly it's pretty hot outside, so the number of people I'm likely to see just by looking out the window is minimal, so I would have to set off to an airconditioned mall to discover some homo-sapiens to research. When I do find a group of people going about their daily business, it's pretty difficult to be inspired much as everybody wears exactly the same thing and, when it comes to the women, well, I can't tell you much about them except that they mingle in groups of floating apparitions and that's about as much as I can see. Being covered head to toe in black makes further investigation very tricky.
So please parden the lack of exciting information or entertaining life quirps at this point in my vacation. If it makes you feel better, I will hopefully be resuming the good ol' blog you've been familiar with pretty soon. So please bear with me.