Too bad, So sad!

The playdate was over, and the guests made to leave. Said the eldest, "This wasn't a very fun house!"

Ouch! Cut like a knife, it did.

The danger of putting it off

One of the principle differences between  adults and children is the ability to delay the gratification of their needs. Er, the adults, that is. Well, mostly anyway. Children become frustrated when what they want is not presented to them momentarily; while adults generally go on seeing to the children's needs for, well, for ever and don't actually get around to addressing their own wants, desires, cravings.

But sometimes, the adults among us neglect, or ignore, our inner cravings, children or no. Take the dedicated dieter, for instance. The Dieter is a perfect example of an adult denying the longings and desires of their inner skinny person. The more the internal hungry entity screams for chocolate, the more the outer adult shuts them up with loud music, gym classes and celery. Until, one day, the two of them happen to trip up on a KitKat and land head first in a big bowl of Gino Ginelli's Chocolate Milano. And this, I believe, is the danger of postponing the gratification of the adult's needs - the longer you do it for, the harder you fall.

This is my story about my monosodium glutamate dependency:

For sometime now I have been craving the MSG fix I get only from Ster-Kinekor's movie popcorn. Sure, I have several bottles of salt and vinegar flavouring in my larder, but they just don't seem to have the same effect as cinema purchased popcorn. On researching my addiction, I came across a very interesting theory that the only "natural" foodstuff that has the same effect on the taste receptors which respond (in my case) so exuberantly to MSG, is caviar.

Seeing as I had been quietening my inner monster for some time, and not having any caviar lying about, I was desperately seeking my fix. Unable to contain the beast any longer, I arrived at the Tygervalley Mall first thing this morning to get my hit. Like a zombie I handed over the exorbitant amount of money required to purchase the staple food of most poverty-stricken African countries, and headed over to the flavouring counter, unaware of the extortion I had just become victim to.

The jar of Salt and Vinegar flavouring glowed in the reflection of the flourescent mall lights. It called to me. I could not resist it. Generously, I sprinkled the miracle powder on my popcorn. I could not bear waiting another moment, so I shoved a couple of morsels into my mouth. I was disappointed. Being the first customer of the day, I had been given an overflowing box of last night's popcorn. Too anxious for the MSG buzz to take hold, I saved the time it would have gone to complain to management, get them to make up a fresh batch and get me tripping, that I took the matter into my own hands: I assaulted the popcorn with another bountiful sprinkling of magic powder. Again, I sampled my drug. The popcorn I put in my mouth was now yellow with flavouring, and tasted super! I shook the jar a couple of times more, just for luck. I was ready to feed the beast that had been crying out for so long. 

Seating myself in the cinema (oh, by the way, I went to watch a movie by myself which I just haven't done in years and that was sort of nice), I was ready. I had my box of Salt and Vinegar flavouring with popcorn on it, and thus armed, I started to polish off my poison. The first (real) mouthful should have been the "head's up" for me, but I was too intoxicated to take note. As I brought the popcorn to my mouth, I breathed in. A cloud of flavourant settled in my lungs and I started to cough. Violently. 

The lady behind me leaned forward. "You ok?" she asked.

"I'll be fine!" I gasped. I gulped down a swig of water from the bottle I had thankfully brought with me.

I was cautious with the next handful. "Don't breathe in! Whatever you do, don't breathe in!" I told myself. It worked. For a while. After a while, however, I became so engrossed in the film, that my conversation with myself was put on hold. I breathed in. The next episode of uncontrollable coughing ensued.

The lady behind me informed me she was a paramedic and knew CPR. Just in case I needed it.

I smiled as convincingly as I could and, once again, reassured her that I would be fine. My water was finished. There was no saliva left in my mouth. It had dried up about 10 minutes into the movie. With every fiber in my being I summoned up the strength needed to bring the pulmonary spasm under control - only because it's really hard to eat when you're coughing like that.

The rest of the popcorn was consumed without incident. A cupful of flavouring had escaped the folds at the bottom of the carton and collected in my lap. It took me a good 40 seconds to dust off the evidence of my binge.

I was high by the time the movie ended (can't remember much of it, by the way, so please don't ask), and it was in this euphoric state that I headed off to collect the kids from school. As usual, I brought them home for lunch before the afternoon activities got underway.

Now most days, I join my girls for lunch, but this afternoon was different. Firstly, and understandably, I was full of starch, so not really hungry. But even taking a bite out of the sandwich that T-Bird insisted I test because she thought it was "Yucky", felt weird. I had begun to loose sensation in my tongue.

Since then it's just gotten worse. My tongue, whilst having lost all sense of taste, feels on fire. It honestly feels like hedgehogs have wrestled on it, pinning each other down in violent, scraping maneuvers. On inspection (thanks to the nurse in me), my tongue is visibly redder than usual. It looks like it might be peeling a bit at the back. And it's swollen. I think it's starting to affect my speech too. It actually hurts to speak.

So, what did I learn from quelling my inner cravings for so long? Next time that MSG ache hits, I'm opening me a tin of caviar. Dependencies do tend to become expensive habits, don't they?

All I Have Needed to Hear

It struck me like a wall of water. When I heard the words, the relief they brought was immeasurable. I could go on. I could do this. I felt like I had been waiting for these words my whole life. I was consoled. Comforted. And, as I spoke the  words to myself, I knew that everything would be alright:

"I will be here for you."

Piece of Cake!

With regards to the kids' parties (yes, I'm still going on about that!), something I take great pride in is the birthday cake. I usually commission my cake-decorating-adept sister-in-law (who has a flawless icing technique which I just can't master) to provide the flawless finish to the ceremonial pudding. 

The cake is important.

The first three themed cakes I made for my offspring, however, were as far from a magnum opus as the crayon scrawl under the dining room table (yes kids, I actually am aware that one, or both, of you has been terribly creative under there!) is from hanging in the Tate Museum. 

The first of these monumental failures was a 5 layer jelly something or other. The second cake was supposed to be bubbles. And maybe, on an abstract kind of level, they did look like bubbles. But do you even know how hard it is too make a cake look like bubbles? Try it. I dare you! By the third cake, I was starting to get into the gear of great self-caking. (That's somewhere before Home Industry Acquisition, but well after Kitchen's Wrecked; Let's Move House). The third creation was a fairy mushroom. With fairies on it. The fairies were Home Industry Acquisitions. I could see it was a mushroom, of course, but after I had received the few quizzical glances from the gathered guests, and had to explain that, actually, under this enormous dome of a cake, there is a rather thin and spindly mushroom stalk holding it all up in the air, I realized that my caking abilities were desperately lacking. That's when the sister-in-law became remarkably employable. And since then the cakes have been a pleasure (not always to make, but to serve - always!)

Which brings me to the point of my story - how hard it was for me, yesterday, to let go and let my children "do" the cake. The children competed in a cake-decorating competition which I found highly stressful (shut it, Control Freak!), but they enjoyed immensely. And they even won a prize for... oh boy... the most Cavity Causing Cake... ouch... talk about putting me in my place! 

So much for always getting it right, right?

50 Things about Me

1. For the first 17 years of my life, I was the youngest of 4 children. And the only girl. I always wanted a sister.

2. I have three adopted siblings. Two of them are girls. Both are young enough to be my own daughters. I don't really see them as sisters.

3. My middle name is Charis. Which is lovely. But I hated it while I was growing up, because my brothers often called me "Carrots".

4. I am married to my best friend.

5. Despite being a trained midwife, I birthed both my children by Caesarean Section. The first delivery was really complicated and I lost a lot of blood during the procedure. Which may explain why, on chatting with my husband later that evening, I said, "That was great! I want to do it again!"

6. I skipped a grade.

7. I can say the alphabet backwards.

8. I have spider-radar, and I am usually pretty accurate with pin-pointing the nearest spider in any given area.

9. When Nelson Mandela was president, I went for a joy-ride in his car. In my pyjamas.

10. I have swum with elephants.

11. I have a weakness for sugar. Often.

12. I am on the pill.

13. I hate being on the pill.

14. I have slip-'n-slid on the pitch cover of the University of Pretoria's cricket pitch shortly after a Highveld thunderstorm. Naked.

15. Try as I might, I just cannot eat snails. They always turn around in my throat and crawl back up.

16. I lived in Saudi Arabia for two years.

17.  I love going fast!

18. I was approached by a man and a woman at the Pretoria Zoo shortly before the Gert van Rooyen case became nation-wide knowledge. I recognised his picture when I saw the news reports on TV.

19. I suck at interior decorating and garden landscaping.

20. I have a bad habit of not completing the projects I start.

21. I worked in a frozen yoghurt shop for a year after school before I started studying. I have had my fill of Natural and English Toffee.

22. I only bath or shower in HOT, HOT, HOT water.

23. I studied nursing as a last resort. It was the only thing I could afford at the time. I paid for my studies myself.

24. I Hate (note: capital H) gyming. It hurts. It make me sweat. I would rather spend my time scrapbooking.

25. I cannot see 3D pictures - at all. I have been trying to see them since 13 February 1995, and I have had no luck. I think I must be special.

26. I have no idea how I remember the date in #25 above.

27. I once held a 7 year-old HIV patient as he drowned in his own saliva. When he took his last breath and his body relinquished his soul, I was actually aware of a little extra air in the room.

28. I can play the flute and the piano. Neither very well.

29. I have spent a glorious week on the island of Mauritius.

30. I have polycystic ovaries.

31. If it weren't for Gayle, Oprah and I would be the best of friends. I love, love, love Oprah.

32. I will kiss my own children's feet no matter how sweaty or stinky they may be. If there's a boo-boo there, I will kiss it better.

33. I still climb trees for fun.

34. I love MSG-enriched Salt 'n Vinegar flavouring. The stronger, the better.

35. I try to avoid MSG-enriched anything wherever my kids are concerned. Also: sodium benzoate and potassium sorbate. Just out of principle.

36. I have used laser hair removal. It really does work. If you can afford it.

37. I can't afford it.

38. I inadvertently killed my goldfish when I was 6 years old by lifting them out of their bowl each morning to greet them.

39. I am a stay-at-home-mom.

40. I have a money and meat inadequacy paranoia. This means that I always have to have some money and some meat stashed away for a rainy day. Currently I have more meat than money.

41. I was once drugged with apple tea in a Turkish carpet souk. It ended with me purchasing a 1m kelim for $75, which, at that time was equal to R562.50 - which was a ludicrous amount of ront for rug. So much for getting bargains in middle eastern bazarres!

42. I want to see Andrea Boccelli perform live. And even though he can't see to appreciate it, I would throw underwear.

43. I fear loss above all else.

44. I love photography and beautiful photographs. Few of the beautiful photographs that I love were taken by me. Ok, so none of them were, but I plan to take beautiful photographs in the future...

45. Bovril is the bomb. Marmite is mediocre.

46. I have breastfed somebody else's child. With the mom's permission, of course. It was a matter of life and death. Kind of.

47. I have always loved trampolines. After a good bounce, I especially love that still-bouncing feeling you get when your feet are on solid ground.

48. I saved a woman's life, who would otherwise have bled to death.

49. I am shy.

50. I have thrown myself (alright, I had to ask them to push me) off the Bloukrans bridge and in so doing, have experienced the world's highest commercial bunjee jump of 216m. I never have to do that again.