It all started with a singing elf!

Let’s face it, we all tell our kids “white lies”… The tooth fairy exchanges money for teeth, Father Christmas brings presents, Mommy isn’t fat, she’s cuddly etc etc.  As parents, we also use these mystical figures to bribe and threaten our kids.  “If you don’t brush your teeth, the tooth fairy won’t give you very much money when they fall out” and “If you aren’t good, Father Christmas won’t bring you any presents”.  In our household we also use “elves” to keep the kids in check, especially around Christmas time.

It all started very innocently enough.  A year or two ago we were driving and the kids were fighting in the back (as usual).  While sitting at a robot, the kids suddenly screamed “there’s an elf, there’s an elf”.  And yes, there WAS an elf, disguised as a “street/robot performer”.  So, not one for letting an opportunity slip by, I said “Now you see… there are elves EVERYWHERE and they tell Father Christmas if you’ve been good.  So you BETTER stop fighting or he'll tell Father Christmas.” 

The Singing Elf

December rolled around and suddenly elves were everywhere – which to be honest really did work in my favour.  Elves were "watching" at the grocery store, in the malls, at the garage, at pretty much every robot...  my kids never had a chance to be naughty !  It was pure Bliss!

Anyway, Christmas came and went, Christmas presents were shoved in the cupboards and forgotten about... life moved on. 

However, one day in March we went to the Company's Gardens to feed the squirrels.  We were happily feeding the critters when all of a sudden the kids screamed "There's an elf... there's an elf".  WTF?  An elf in March... there was NO WAY I'd be able to convince my kids that elves were already out and about.  So I decided to investigate - secretly hoping it wasn't really an "elf".

But true as nuts it was.  There snoozing (recovering from a hangover) in the sun was a "homeless elf" - red hat and all.  Crap.  Besides explaining why elves were out this early, I also needed to explain why the elf looked the way he did.  Hungover. Homeless.  Sleeping with a Christmas Hat on.  Right!

So I lied - as only a mother can.  I explained (very quietly) that he was indeed an elf, BUT, he was lost (I'm pretty sure that the dude was "lost" in some way or another.)  I said that he was still trying to get home after Christmas, had clearly "lost his way" and was taking a nap.  The kids kind of bought my story, but then Josh suggested we wake him up and show him the way home.  At this point, I suggested The Husband show us the way home!!

So yes, I tell my kids lies... and I secretly cross my fingers each time I do and hope that I'm not doing any permanent damage.  I simply push back the image of a 20yr old Government Shuffler lieing on a therapist's couch oneday(Christmas Hat on Head) saying... "It all started with a singing elf at the robot ..."

Paaa Rum Pum Bloody Pum!

It's only 5 days to Christmas.. no wait, make that 40 days until a big fat jolly man dressed in an ill-fitting red suit tries to squeeze himself down 6 billion chimneys in 24hrs. I know its cliched to say that Christmas has lost its true meaning... but really, we are more than 5 weeks away from Christmas and already I am all "Christmassed out".  I'd like to find the little drummer boy and stick his drum so far up his stable that not even the 3 wise men will be able to find it - star or no star.

I planned on writing a post entitled "A Very Merry Home-Made Christmas" about my plans and reasons for making Christmas presents this year.  But the more I thought about it, the more I realised the REAL reason(s) behind why I'm taking a stand this year and not buying (literally) into the whole hoopla that is the festive season. 

For the last couple of weeks HeWhoCanDoNoWrong (HWCDNW) has been collecting and playing with empty boxes.  Old party pack boxes, cereal boxes, shoe boxes and even a huge big "moving" box that he found at school the other day!  Now I'm thinking why do I need to go out and buy some fancy expensive toy when for the last few weeks he hasn't looked at his 100 bakugans, his 5 ninja turtles, his Ben 10 watch, 1 million cars, blocks, bats, balls etc.  What I really should be doing is popping down to the delivery section of any major retailer and filling my boot with empty boxes.  I reckon that his presents could be sorted out in under 30 seconds and I won't even need to venture into a shop at all - BONUS!

I'm also not sure why most of us spend all year trying to loose weight "for summer" only to eat the equivalent of a weeks worth of food in one sitting. In general a fancy Sunday meal would consist of a roast chicken, potatoes and 3 veg.  Dessert would be ice-cream and if I've been particularly industrious, perhaps a baked chocolate pudding.  But come the 24th/25th of December, for some reason we think that our meal needs to consist of 3 types of meat, a vegetable in every colour, potatoes, rice, salad, tiny dinner rolls, stuffing, crackling and sauces in a variety of flavours...  We all say we'll eat the leftovers, but let's face it, there are only so many gammon sandwiches one can eat before you literally and figuratively start looking like Miss Piggy.

....and don't get me started on crackers - which if you think about it are really just toilet rolls filled with the biggest load of crap covered in shiny paper.  Oh yes, I forgot, it also goes "bang" if you pull the little piece of paper sticking out the end. Buying crackers also means that you get lumped with 8 ridiculous Christmas hats made from dyed crinkle paper... which on our sunny hot Christmas day means that half way through your meal you have bright red sweat running down your face. yip, all I wanted for Christmas for a red-stained face. 

Crackers!  Why on earth do we pay over R100 for wrapped up whistles, miniature playing cards (WTF must one do with those), spinning tops, fake teeth and a bunch of jokes that seriously only losers find funny.

I need to take a break now because my blood is beginning to boil and my heart is racing and I haven't even got to Christmas Lists yet..... 

To be continued........

Oops I did it Again!

A year ago I bravely wrote about how I bunked the annual school sports day and spent the morning breakfasting with my FriendWithALife(FWAL).  It was then that I decided that I am involved enough at the school and I REALLY don’t need to spend the whole day at a Sports Day to show I’m a good mom – I had a life after all.

I also bragged about the fact that there was “no way in hell” I would ever be a class rep again.  It’s a thankless job and as a working mom, I really can’t do it effectively (not that there’s a whole lot to do but anyway……)  So I am proud to announce that this year I wasn’t a class rep – I was a CLASSES REP.  Yes, I was the class rep for BOTH my children’s classes. Does one get a bigger sucker than me?  My FWAL would answer -  "Hell, no!"

But how could I not?  I mean we all know the awkward silence that follows when the teacher says “.. And now onto the last point on the agenda - class reps!” Suddenly every mommy needs to check her cell phone, bag, the moon outside, the lint on her shirt, pretty much ANYTHING.  A deathly silence descends. The teacher looks pleadingly at each mommy.  The mommies look pleadingly at each other.  The Daddies look.. oh yes, there are no daddies there, these meetings are usually only attended by the mommies!  So after 10 hours of painful silence, I crack and admit defeat -  “OK OK I’ll do it, I’ll do it... stop torturing us with the silence!”  And at that moment the other 17 moms (clearly all torture-proof ) look at each other, smile and mouth “sucker!”

In my defence I became the Grade 0 rep by chance – the teacher chose the kindest, nicest, most willing, prettiest mom (well that's what I tell myself anyway).  My FWAL is happy to shatter this illusion by telling me straight that the teacher simply chose the biggest sucker. It's at times like this that I wonder why I'm friends with her?? But then again, we all need friends who keep things real.

But back to being a class rep.  I didn’t think it would be a problem because the Grade 2 teacher announced proudly that there would be “No Mother’s Day Tea” this year. 

At our school the Mother’s Day tea is a big fundraiser.  Each Class (i.e. class rep) gets to organise a table – it’s a super grand themed affair.  But like most things, it gets a bit competitive and each table needs to be bigger and better than the next.  With about 60 tables in the running, you can just imagine the lengths some moms go to.  In the end, decorating the table becomes the class's (read: class rep's) responsibility and historically decorating a table costs about the same amount as feeding a medium size family for a year and I'm not that keen on investing in "another family"!  But with the tea out of the picture, the whole class rep thing seemed pretty doable and relatively inexpensive.

2 of the GORGEOUS tables at the 2010 Mother's Day Tea

I sailed through 3 terms relatively stress free terms.  Apart from 1 kitchen tea, 2 birthday parties, a Grade 0 fun day and 2 cake sales, I was managing just fine.  THEN I received a note that all class reps must attend a Sports Day Meeting – WTF?

As luck would have it - I mean this is ME after all, my group of moms got tasked with co-ordinating the refreshment table.  And "refreshments" - I discovered -  involved a whole lot more than just getting hold of (AND SELLING) a million and 1 cold-drinks.  "Refreshments", I learnt included tea, coffee and hot chocolate (and all the paraphernalia that goes with that.. sugar, spoons, cups etc), it's iced tea, it's water, it's juice boxes and ice lollies that need to stay FROZEN for a good part of the day. Man, did I luck out on this one!

But this gets better.  At the first meeting, I said that I could bring a table and perhaps ask one of the teachers for a camping fridge.  So it looked like I was involved... but I wasn't involved INVOLVED.  Any hoo... a few days later I get an email and I discover I am tasked with ... FINDING A COLD-DRINK SPONSOR/SUPPLIER AND ORGANISING DELIVERY AND COLLECTION OF THE 1 Million and 1 COLD-DRINKS.  WTF??????? As I've said before, I must have been very very bad in a previous life!

But long story short - the cold-drinks got sorted (by some stroke of major luck I managed to get a huge sponsor and the whole refreshment table was organised!) So the lady who was co-ordinating our group was so impressed with me, she said I didn't have to do anything else.... I had done enough!!  (Technically all I had done was send an email, but I wasn't about to protest)

However, this year, instead of being able to nip away and breakfast all morning - I had to work at the damn table.  So I sent my FWAL an sms asking if she'll do a shift with me.  Her response " #$%^ off".  So I said "please, I have to work a shift - let's just do a shift together".  her response - "Talk to the hand".  So I replied I'd buy her breakfast if she worked the freaking shift with me... She finally agreed.  In fact I hadn't specified what "breakfast" entailed and I had half a mind to just buy her a pancake from one of the stalls.... but I didn't!

So ja, I've learnt my lesson.  I really have.  I can honestly say "I will NEVA volunteer to be the class rep again".  I've even enrolled in a "Silence Handling" class so that next yr when the teacher uses her special silencing skills at our meeting, I won't succumb - yes, folks next year I'll be one the moms mouthing "SUCKER"!

An Attitude of Gratitude!

For a while there I thought the Universe was out to get me.  I don’t really enjoy my job, my knees hurt, I need to lose about 20kg, I feel cramped in my house, I wish we had a pool, there’s no time to go to gym, my kids fight, I never have time to blog….. I’m a nice person dammit!  Throw me a bone once in a while, Universe!

I took a “personal day” yesterday.  Which when you work for yourself, really just means a day without getting paid, but I needed to just spend the day in bed feeling sorry for myself.  I did just that for all of 2hrs.  Then a colleague from work said that I should follow my own advice and read a few pages from “The Secret”.  I am a huge fan of “The Secret” and am always telling everyone to just put things out there and everything will work out.  Yet, I don’t always follow my own advice.

So I took out my book, randomly opened it up and read 5 pages (as instructed by my friend).  What I read (obviously) was EXACATLY what I needed to hear. I immediately took a big girl pill (not my daily “happy pill” mind you), put on my big girl panties (figuratively and literally) and faced the world – and by world, I mean I went to Café Rossini for a Latte and their delicious cheesecake!

But nevertheless, I decided to put an end to my pity party, because after all, I was the only one there and how much fun is a party for one?  I decided to make a list of the things I am grateful for…. (Part of what I read yesterday was on Gratitude – I can blog about this at length…. But I’ll leave that for another time.)

So to start of my journey of having an “Attitude of Gratitude” here are a few things I am grateful for:

My Family:  The kids might fight, BUT at least I have kids – There are many child-less women out there who would love to hear the sound of fighting kids.

The Government Shuffler and HeWhoCanDoNoWrong

My Husband: He puts up with all my crap and even though there are times when I say he does "Nothing" - he and I both know he does "EVERYTHING" and more!

The patient Husband and I

My Job:  At least I have one. AND…. It’s beyond beyond flexible – I have the kind of flexibility any working mom would give her packed lunch for.

My Health:  My health might involve carrying a few (ok more than a few) excess kgs, BUT I am relatively healthy – apart from my crappy knees.

My Knees:  While they are crappy and hurt – at least I am able to walk (even if with a little bit of pain).

My House: It might not be a mansion, but it keeps us all safe and warm and let’s face it – a smaller house is FAR easier to keep clean and tidy!

So for now I am going to focus less on what I don't want and don't like and focus more on what I do want and do have.

This blog is dedicated to my two very special colleagues who created an inspirational space for me to work in when I came back to work today!

Kneed Knew Knees!

So I ran (ok walked) the Outsurance 10km Gun Run a couple of weeks ago.  It was hard; in fact 2 weeks on, I am still waiting for the feeling to return to my legs.  My knees are still not fully functional and when I walk up/down stairs I look like a geriatric double knee-replacement candidate.  But it was all for a good cause, so worth it.

I didn’t realise how far removed I was from the whole running scene until I was dropped off near the Start and discovered I had no watch on.  Not only that, I also had no “energy sachets”, no money and no cell phone.  In a nutshell… unless I completed the race and walked the 2km back to my brother’s flat where my car was parked, I was pretty much screwed!

My “far removed” status was confirmed when I ambled over to the Starting Line.  There I was in my loose fitting tracksuit type pants (which if I’m being honest here, more often than not double as pyjamas).  I was also wearing a Woolies shirt I bought in 1997 when I first joined the then Health and Racquet club in East London.  This particular shirt has seen 14 years of action (a.k.a sweat) and is still going strong, so serious props to Woolworths quality!  The only semi decent “professional” looking thing on my person was my shoes (and funky Addidas socks that I won when I wrote my Shape article, which I hope you all read…. But I digress….) Needless to say amongst all the brightly coloured hot pants, tanks and club colours, I stuck out like the proverbial (badly dressed) sore thumb.

I got there early which meant I had to listen to Liezl van der Westhuizen try and pump up the crowd for just on 60 (long) minutes.  She is annoying at the best of times, but first thing on a Sunday morning, is really asking a bit much. I tried to psych myself up and joined the masses at the starting line, which turned out to be a big mistake.  I am not sure what it is about me, but for some reason I attract random people who feel the need to engage in conversation with me while touching parts of my body to emphasise their point.  In this case, the guy did A LOT of emphasizing. 

South Africa was playing Australia in the quarter finals on this particular morning and my touchy friend took great delight in telling me he antagonizes people, on purpose, by saying he supports anyone playing AGAINST SA ???????  His stories required a lot “emphasizing” and I was seriously concerned that I’d be spending the 10km walking alongside touchy toucherson.  Since he is a cyclist he told me (in way too much detail) why men’s legs look better shaved.  I think he saw my “seriously freaked out” face after he pointed out the 10^th pair of unshaven legs and suddenly we were back onto how pathetic the Boks are. I was neither interested nor concerned about either topic.

Eventually he wondered off and thankfully I was able to start my walk alone.  There is just "something" about the camaraderie of a race.  Whether it’s a fun run or a serious race like the Comrades, the atmosphere of a race is seriously awesome – even for a hacker like me.

The Gun Run is a really cool race to take part in.  The 10km course is flat, scenic and a simple stroll from start to finish.  I would highly recommend it to anyone who is able to walk/run 10km.  My only complaint would be that there are relatively few supporters (compared to a race like the 2 Oceans)… so it does get a little lonely if you are walking on your own.

I like walking with 1 or 2 spare water sachets in case the water points run dry and the strollers like me end up having to drink from dripping public taps.  Along the route I suddenly heard a voice calling “Auntie”, “Auntie”… it took me a while to realise that a little boy in a wheelchair was calling me.  So I happily turned around, greeted and waved.  Then he started shouting “Auntie… water”, “Auntie … water” – as first I didn’t understand what he was saying and since he was “challenged”, I thought perhaps he was just shouting random stuff.  But then I realised he wanted my water sachet.  I must be honest, at first I was torn.  But seriously, how could I possibly deny a wheelchair bound little boy my water sachet.  So I gave it to him and continued on my merry way… until I felt something wet on my back and squeals of laughter.  It was then that I realised, my precious water was being squirted AT ME!!!  I considered grabbing the half full (empty??) sachet from his little hands… but seriously, how bad would that have looked!

At around the 7km mark I happened to pass my brother’s flat (where my car was parked) and I seriously (seriously - seriously) considered packing it all in and watching the end of the game.  My knees were aching, my toes were burning - pretty much everything hurt.  But since I was walking for a cause AND I was being sponsored per km I walked and walked and walked.   In the back of my mind though I kept thinking that while I only had 3km to go until the end, I still had the 2km to walk back to my car.  So in total my “race” still had 5km left.  If I had planned better, I would have walked with a cell phone or money to be able to summon someone to come fetch my tired ass at the end.  But alas.

Organisers of the race should know that it is SERIOUSLY demoralising to see people already walking BACK to the starting area (car park) on the same path that is being used by runners who are still trying to finish the race.  It’s painful – trust me. 

I eventually finished the race and started my (long) walk back to my car – finish medal in hand (well, considering I had nothing else with me!!) I’m not going to lie, I was in serious agony and then low and behold halfway back my left knee just buckled, wobbled and seized.  I was in such utter and complete shock, the only word that escaped my mouth was a very soft (albeit high pitched) “oh!”

So phoneless/penniless me stood frozen to the spot wondering how the %^%#$ I was going to get home.  Luckily I saw a girl chatting on her phone a few metres away, so I hobbled towards her.  I explained my situation and even though this wonderfully friendly girl offered to drive me to my brother’s flat, I said that all I needed was to make a call.  But my ordeal wasn’t over.  She handed me her BlackBerry and I entered my brother’s number… what came up on the screen was “afecdgfsvr” – WTF?? So, thinking I’d broken her phone, I turned to her and said “I think I’ve done something wrong”… she just laughed and said “So you don’t own a BlackBerry”… I just smiled.  I really wanted to say “You think, Einstein?”  But she was helping ME, so I really wasn’t in a position to be snippy. 

My brother rescued me and drove me back to his flat.   I managed to hobble in and was grateful to finally sit down.  In hindsight I should have just driven home without going up.  My brother had just returned from honeymoon, so lucky me (and my painful knees), I had to sit through 600 photos of them in Bali. Trust me; one can only say “wow… that’s a nice picture” so many times before it starts sounding downright insincere.  I mean the only thing more painful than viewing someone elses holidays snaps is, well, come to think of it... there is NOTHING more painful!!   (Just kidding guys…. I loved looking at your photos and can’t wait to see the one THOUSAND wedding photos… F.Y.I: Please make sure your wedding photo party has (lots of) wine!)

The GORGEOUS couple

The tooth fairy and other lies we tell!

He Who Can Do No Wrong (HWCDNW) lost his first tooth today.  It's been loose for a couple of days now and I've been itching to rip it out.  Loose teeth, hanging nails, scabs etc drive me nuts!  I need to pull and pick - gross I know, but a fact's a fact.  When I lie in bed with my kids and I feel a loose piece of toe nail against my leg, I immediately reach down to pull it off.  Most of the time they squeal like stuffed pigs, tuck their legs under them and don't let me near their feet even if I PROMISE I won't pick ever again!  But I don't let it go there... I'll generally sneak into their room at night and rip the offending nail off while they are semi-conscious.  Don't judge! 

Needless to say I FINALLY managed to pry the loose tooth out of his mouth this afternoon - after much coaxing, bribing, negotiating and if I'm being brutally honest here, a little rope and duct tape!  Don't judge!

He ran straight to his sister to show off his tooth.. and somewhere between my room and the lounge (a relatively short distance), he lost the tooth!  As you can imagine, pandemonium broke out!  We searched high and low and for those who have been in our house will know that we're not talking about acres and acres of floor space!  But the tooth was gone.  Crapsticks!

So... while HWCDNW was sobbing in his room, I did what any mother would do.  I opened my cupboard and took one of the Government Shufflers old teeth (saved in a little pouch in my vanity box) and loudly proclaimed "I FOUND it!"  It just seemed like the lesser of 2 evils - a heartbroken 6yr old compared to recycling a tooth!  Don't judge!

I figured since the whole tooth fairy thing is a lie ANYWAY... pretending I'd found the tooth, really didn't seem like that big a deal.  Only problem is that now I really hope we don't find the original tooth!!

I've lied before when it comes to the tooth fairy.  A while ago the GS put her little tooth under her pillow and the next morning we all awake to a shriek and her proclaiming the tooth was still there and there was NO MONEY!  Crapsticks!!  The Husband and I had to think fast.  While I pretended to look around, he emptied his wallet and then conveniently put the money under "Barbie's Pillow" - silly fairy!!  She must have misheard (or been drunk) when Emma said she was putting her tooth under HER pillow!  Shew.. that was a close call! 

So fingers crossed The Husband and I will remember to take the (recycled) tooth and replace it with money tonight.  We all know how 2nd kids get the short end of the stick when it comes to childhood memories.... fewer photo's, not as much video footage, hand-me-downs, less extravagant parties.... the list goes on and on!

... and just to add even more lies to the mix, I happily told The Husband just now that the title of my post was "The tooth fairy and other lies we tell" and then realised the GS was sitting right next to me!  She looked at me and said "What??  Is the tooth fairy a lie?"  Crapsticks!  So I said " No man silly..... I am just writing about Joshie's tooth and then some other lies..."  Emma:  "Do you lie?"  The Husband "No mommy just means jokes.."

Crapsticks!

On being a Sockey Mom!

Yip, I never thought I’d say it, but I’m a Hockey Mom.  Bear in mind this mustn’t be confused with a Soccer Mom.  A Soccer Mom spends her days driving kids around in a big 8-seater mom’s taxi filled with kids, clothes, empty Mac Donalds wrappers and various lunch box lids and cold-drink bottles! Hmmm….. ok, on second thoughts, let’s just say I’m a Sockey Mom.

Now the reason why this is such a big deal is that while I always assumed I would be spending Saturdays standing in the pouring rain cheering on He Who Can Do No Wrong (HWCDNW) – I never thought I’d be doing it with the Government Shuffler (GS) – what with her 2 left feet and all. 

I must admit I forced her to do a sport – yes, I know I know.  I simply said it was the school’s policy that everyone must do 1 summer sport and 1 winter sport (which really is not such a bad idea considering most kids spend their days watching TV and playing play station games… but that’s a topic for another blog).  So in summer she did tennis, which she only tolerated because her wonderful teacher, Teacher Sheree, was the coach.  But hockey has been a different story. 

I wasn’t sure it would be for her.  She hates running, doesn’t have the greatest ball skills and in general just isn’t that into getting all sweaty.  So, frugal (cheapskate) me, borrowed a hockey stick and shin pads from my Friend With A Life (FWAL).  Thus, my only investment would be a ball and mouth guard. But the GS has surprised me… she is a really good hockey player – REALLY good.. AND she LOVES THE GAME! This might just turn out to be “her thing”. (So now I might need to invest in a stick, ball and the correct hockey uniform!)

I’m fortunate enough to be able to watch her games and slowly but surely have turned into “one of those moms”.  You know the type… the psycho crazy lady shouting like a fish wife from the side lines.  It doesn’t really matter that I don’t technically know the rules of the game (altho I played at school!).. but hell, I do a pretty good job coaching from the side lines (Don’t we all!).  “Defend defend” or “Take it up” (I particularly like that one because it just sounds like I know what I’m talking about!)

Last Friday she had a hockey tournament which involved playing 8 mini games.  Obviously I was there like a bear with my wellies on.  Which brings me to another point – I specifically bought the damn things because of the “CT Winter rain” and thanks to fickle Mother Nature, I’ve literally worn them once in the past 3 months…. So, with rain predicted (and a rainy previous day), I decided that it was definitely a “Wellie Day”. 

So Friday was spent in iffy weather shouting the odds along with a host of other parents, who like me, thought their child was the next big hockey sensation and well onto their way to getting their SA colours one day.  Hmm.. Mental note to self, I’d better find out what the national hockey team is called. We have the Springboks, we have the Proteas… perhaps the hockey team are the Secretary Birds?? 

In my defence, while being a (very) vocal supporter of the under 8 girls hockey team… I haven’t yet crossed over to the “dark side” of Soccer Momdom. I have friends whose sons play rugby and that (excuse the pun) is a whole other ball game when it comes to matches and the moms who support them.  I’ve heard stories of moms (obviously from the other team!) shouting at refs, fighting with coaches and in some cases even taking on poor little barefooted 8 year old rugga players!

While I don’t think (fingers crossed), I’d ever go to “there”… I must admit one does get pretty into these school matches and who knows what might happen if a ref ever penalised my super-star daughter for breaking one of the rules (which I technically don’t know!)

But when all is said and done, I am just really pleased she has found a sport that she loves.  Which just goes to show, as parents we really do know what’s best for our kids. If I hadn’t “forced” her to play a sport… she would never have realised just how much fun hockey is, she would never have experienced the spirit and camaraderie of a team sport and she certainly would never have seen just how crazy her mother REALLY is!

The Concert Conundrum!

Benjamin Franklin once said that there were only two things certain in life: death and taxes. I'm guessing that school concerts were not de rigueur in the 18th Century otherwise Ben's famous quote would be: There are only THREE things certain in life: death, taxes and school concerts!

Lights, Camera, Action!

Now I love a good show as much as the next parent.  Watching my (very talented!) children perform on the stage is awesome... watching 785 other kids perform...... not so much! Even worse still is generally your offspring appears on stage for all of 10 seconds usually wearing a mask, silly ears or holding a million branches (unfortunately there is always 1 child that must be "the tree"). 

And slipping away is not an option!  Schools are clever in this way.  They generally have a Grand Finale where EVERYONE must make 1 last appearance on stage at the very end of the show!!!  What a waste of time - I mean how easy is it to find your child amongst 785 other faces all adorned with masks, silly ears and in one case - branches!!  (At least his mom will know where he is - being "the tree" might not be such a bad idea after all!)

Nevertheless our school is having a concert this week.  Now usually they stage a 2 night 3 hour production every other year.  Two years ago, my daughter did a 10 second number in the first 5 minutes of the show and we were left to watch 785 children we didn't know do amateur dramatics for another agonising 2hrs and 55 mins.

This year we were pleased to hear that the concert would be split with some grades performing on one night and others performing on the next - so there was no need to attend 2 nights or in our case watch 1 night but still take our kids through on the next night. But as fate would have it (I must have been very bad in a previous life), my kids were performing on separate nights!  Oh the Joy!  Two nights of entertainment!  But then we heard there was a twist.  Our ticket would get us into 4 shows as the concert this year was not 1 big production on a stage but various little shows in different venues. 

So now I have a choice.  Do I watch my child's show 4 times (in-a-row) or do I watch it once and then watch 3 other grades? (i.e. kids I don't know)  Do I watch my child's show twice and then pick 2 other grades???  Do I watch my child's show 3 times and then find 1 other grade to watch?  Or do I just have root canal?

... and then, I am faced with the same dilemma the next night! 

However, He Who Can Do No Wrong (HWCDNW), is one of the ring masters in his show. So he has some lines!  I have heard "Roll up roll up roll up get your tickets reeeeeady" so many times now, I feel like getting my tickets ready and shoving them up his nose!  In my quiet moments I even find myself softly mouthing "The circus magurgus the cream of the cream... the circus magurgus, the circus supreme....."  WTF?

Anyhoo.. the concert forms part of the school's cultural week, which in itself is actually pretty cool.  Since the Government Shuffler and her two left feet aren't exactly in the running (no pun intended) for the Victrix Ludorum trophy one day, this week is right up her alley!  In addition to all the concerts, artwork is also going to be displayed.... and sold!

Now once before I wrote about the copious amounts of artwork that get sent home each week (free of charge!).  In fact the art is made with paper bought from school fees, donated buttons, feathers, bottle caps, old boxes and other recyclables.  But during this special week, artwork isn't just sent home free of charge as per normal... nope - you need to buy it!  Worse still, when you do purchase your child's artwork (and who isn't going to) they put a SOLD sticker on it!!!!!  So by Friday it's going to be glaringly obvious which parent hasn't coughed up R20 bucks for a drawing of a owl/pirate/underwater basket weaver that technically you've actually already paid for in one way or another!!!

But I understand that this is all to raise money for the school and the kids are all excited to have their 15 min (10 seconds) in the limelight! So I'll be there on Wednesday AND Thursday with money (hip flask?) in my pocket ready to splash out 20 rands on a picture of an owl... no wait, sorry a pirate... ugh....I see it now - it's an underwater basket weaver!

In Praise of Groupon and Love Handles!

We all know I love a bargain! Hell, I got caught by the Dead Sea Spell Casters last year.  Put me in front of a “50% off”, “a two for 1 offer” or a “free gift with purchase” and I’m sold!  In short, I am a marketers dream!  As I said before, Ad Agencies are in business because of suckers like me. 

… and now Groupon(My City Deal) has come along!

Bargains actually get delivered DIRECTLY to my Inbox – daily!  Sometimes twice a day!  And if I go onto the site, there is very often an “extra deal of the day”!  The founders of Groupon knew that with suckers like me out there that they were on to a good thing.  I don’t necessarily need to eat all you can eat Sushi, but hey, if it’s 50% off why not??  I never really thought of driving all the way to Camps Bay for a back/neck/shoulder massage… but when you’re only paying R190 and they are throwing in a facial – hey, I’m there!  A cut, colour, foils, blow dry and treatment – R150 – sign me up!  My hair may not need cutting or colouring, but hell, at that price, I’ll cut and colour weekly!  Yes, I’m a Groupon Groupie!

I have now also recruited my friend-with-a-life (F.W.A.L), who dare I say is becoming an ever bigger Groupie than me.  I think she has enough meal vouchers to eat out for the rest of the year ….. at 50 to 70% off mind you!  Think of all the money she’ll save!  But then again, when it comes to Groupons, The Husband always reminds me of the money I would save if I DIDN'T buy them!  Now that would be a bargain….. What does he know!

My F.W.A.L and I recently bought a Groupon to go for a massage and facial at Aquasia Spa in Camps Bay.  Since that is on the other side of CT for us Northern Suburbers, we decided to make a day of it.  Unfortunately we didn’t have a Breakfast Groupon (bad planning), so this time around we'd have to pay full price!  Oh the Horror!!

Now initially I thought since we were paying a discounted price, the service we would receive would be “discounted”.  But not so… I received what was probably the BEST facial I have ever had in my life!  PLUS, the therapist (Michelle) did something that I have always said I would do if I owned a salon…. She massaged my hands while my face mask was on – complete indulgence!

During my back massage Michelle did something that sparked a light bulb / Aha moment for me.  I now know why I have Love Handles. They play an integral role in Michelle's decadent treatment.  At one point she “massaged” / “squeezed” my love handles (ok, ok,  my excess tummy fat) and it was HEAVENLY!  Far from feeling self-conscious that someone was actually grabbing and twisting parts of me I usually try and force into control top underwear, I actually felt proud that I was enabling my therapist to do her job effectively.  How would she be able to do that part of the treatment if I was all skin and bone?  Now if ever there was a silver lining, this was it!

We then proceeded next door to a quaint little restaurant to have brekkie.  While sitting there I thought to myself this must be what an authentic Italian Trattoria feels/looks like.  But then again, what the hell would I know – I only have 1 stamp in my passport and it’s from Namibia!  But then my widely travelled F.W.A.L said that the restaurant was exactly like the little bistros in Italy and she should know – she has more than 1 stamp in her passport!

Besides an awesome atmosphere and yummy food – Maranellos seems to be where the locals gather to chat and catch up.  Everyone seemed to know everyone! By the time we left, the lunch time crowd was arriving and with that the most delicious pizzas started coming out of the kitchen.  So right there and then we decided we’d just have to come back and try them  - soon.

So what did we do… we decided we'd book another amazing special Aquasia was offering (this one includes a mani/pedi) and we plan on timing it to coincide with lunch at our new favourite restaurant. 

So thanks to Groupon, we have a new fav Salon AND place to eat…. Now if BP or Engen would just throw us a bone (or a Groupon) then we could drive there at a discounted rate as well !

The Motherhood Totem Pole

Motherhood is hard. I'm not going to lie.

Let me just start by saying I love my children very much and am so glad that they are in my life – it’s just that every now and then, I wish I could briefly “return” them in exchange for a few minutes of peace and quiet. 

As a mother, your needs are relegated to the bottom of the totem pole.  In fact, they don’t even see the light of day and make up the underground part of the pole - and as you know, the underground part of the pole is the stable grounded force that keeps the whole damn thing from falling over.  In fact, the deeper the pole is embedded into the ground, the stronger the totem is.  A Mother's needs get buried deep under homework, laundry, dishes, play dates and groceries in order to make the rest of the totem pole (a.k.a The Family) strong. 

Now I know I have a lot to be thankful for and that there are many childless women out there who would happily be at the bottom of the totem pole if it meant having kids.  But at this particular point in time, this is my reality and my reality is taking its toll! Every now and then I’d like to see what’s happening above the ground!

I bumped into a friend (and fellow blogger) recently and in the 30 seconds that we chatted I managed to achieve 2 things: Firstly, I completely ruined her day by telling her she looked exhausted (as the mother of 3 kids under 3… I guess that’s to be expected, but I’m sure she doesn’t need to be constantly reminded that she looks like she’s functioning on autopilot). 

Secondly,  her exhausted face and a comment she made, became the inspiration for this blog, because I realised then, that I am not alone… There is  a whole army of tired moms out there who are plodding through life, putting off dreams, wearing yesterday’s clothes and facing each day with a smile (often with the help of some meds) in order to raise what will hopefully one day be happy, well-adjusted productive members of society.

Anyway, my blogger friend agreed that she was tired and then proceeded to tell me that the only reason why she was working (in addition to raising 3 young children), was so that she could afford to build her own treatment facility one day.  Because it was either a treatment facility that she had some input in designing or the state run Valkenberg Psychiatric hospital!  Oh boy, could I relate! (her fabulously funny blog can be found at: www.lumpyporridge.blogspot.com)

But how does a mom ever “win” ? The vicious cycle of motherhood is that if you don’t work, you get bored, life revolves around the kids, you become stagnated and moan all day about the “career you might have had!”.  However, if you are a working mom, you are stressed, life revolves around deadlines (yours and the kids), you never seem to have enough time and you moan all day about “how when you grew up, your mom didn’t work and it’s unfair that you have to.” Aaarrrgghhh!

Even though I work a very very (very) flexible day and am in a position that any working mother would envy – I’m not particularly happy!  I am not living my passion and that is stressing me out.  But on the other hand, I receive an income, I have really flexible working hours, I come and go as I please, there is very little stress involved, I can work from home – there really isn’t any reason to complain.  Yet, I still do?  Is it perhaps just a woman thing?  A mom thing? 

I think our “moaning” isn’t really moaning at all, but just a desperate need to have someone acknowledge and validate that we do a shit load in 24hrs.  As involved as The Husband is, I don’t think he realises what stresses me out isn’t the BIG things, like dinners, getting the kids to school on time, Homework etc etc.  It’s the “little things”: like remembering to pick up the hockey uniform that arrived 10 days ago, faxing off an application for chronic meds (I’ve had the script in my bag for 8 months), signing the excursion indemnity form, play date collection times, undone hems, Friday tuckshop money , informing after-care that the kids won't be there and myriad of other mundane things that crop up ALL THE TIME.  It’s the little things.

I think when moms “moan” in the parking lot after school, it’s not so much that they are complaining; more that they are hoping to find a kindred soul who can identify with forgetting to order the school diary, give cake sale money and perhaps must also still collect last year’s concert photos from the secretary!!

Yes, I can sing too!

Every wedding needs a wedding singer and not necessarily a professional one!  In my heyday, I sang at weddings.  Granted, I wasn’t paid and technically wasn’t ever really formally asked to sing, but I would nevertheless entertain the crowds with what was at the time – firm wedding song favourites.  Naturally I didn’t do this alone, I had a cousin who was always very happy to assist – I won’t mention any names, but you know who you are, Michael Borgstrom. 

Every family wedding needs a family member to add that something special to the festivities – an anecdote that will keep the family grapevine going until the next wedding -  I am happy to provide that service!

My concern right now (other than my brother and his fiancé not being too charmed about my plans to serenade them) is what to sing and what to wear. At my previous gigs I sported the barefoot, sauce down the front of my frock look, basically a slightly dishevelled (drunk??) look.  But that was like 15 yrs. ago – I’ve grown up since then, so I’m thinking I should at least wear shoes this time around!

Song choice is also pretty important – at this stage I’m known for giving a not too perfect rendition of “Boesman Land” and “Ek en my Meisie”.  But I’m thinking that perhaps it’s time I mixed it up a little… I’m not sure.  Maybe a little Lady Gaga? Or stick to what I know, but with a modern twist… “Kaptein span die seile” perhaps?

Let’s face it, weddings are fun! Personally, I have a ball.  I gauge how good a time I’ve had by the state of my dress and feet!  If both are fairly dirty, I know I had a pretty good time.  It’s all good fun though; at least it’s only my shoes I end up taking off and not my dress!  At my sister’s wedding, an uncle and I had such a good time that we tried unsuccessfully for ages to find our car in an almost deserted car park afterwards (this was seriously a case of the blind leading the blind – or perhaps the drunk leading the drunker!!).  But what with my singing and his Chinese dancing, what can you expect! FYI - It’s not a huge co-incidence that my wedding singing partner in crime is the son of my late car-finding uncle (RIP Uncle Dennis). 

Although I didn't sing at THIS particular family wedding, it is very clear I am having a fabulous time!

So not only do I have the stress of making 150 cup cakes, losing about 20 kg (as I’ve said before I’m not going to be the fat sister), I now also have to find shoes that can come off easily AND a sing-along wedding song (or 2) that I can perform….. and people say it’s only the bride that stresses before a wedding!

Hormones, Skinny Jeans and Rosemary's Baby!

It had to happen; there is no longer just 1 hormonal woman in the Beckley household.  The Government Shuffler (like Snow White) has 7 new friends - Irrational, Teary, Moody, Irritable, Cheeky, Volatile and my personal favourite Dik Bek.  Up to now, these 7 visitors socialised almost exclusively with me.  Mind you, thanks to meds, Irrational seems to have become a bit like the jailed uncle everyone loves, but nobody talks about.

As an introduction let me just explain my most recent visit from Irrational and Teary.  A few days ago The Husband found me sitting on the bed with Teary.  He asked what was wrong (has he NOT learnt anything in the last 10 years???).  I said I had nothing to wear (nothing fits) but of course since Irrational was also visiting I added that I was also tired of not having space in my cupboard for my clothes. 

This was a little too technical for the Husband (it was early after all) – he wasn’t sure what the EXACT problem was – did I have clothes or didn’t I?  And if I didn’t have clothes… where did the space problem come in.  WTF???  Was he NOT listening….. I HAVE A CUPBOARD OVERFLOWING WITH CLOTHES THAT DON’T FIT DAMMIT – THEREFORE, I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR AND NO BLOODY SPACE!!  At this stage I think Volatile and Moody also decided to join the party. 

So having recently had my share of crazy visitors, I was a little unprepared when they started visiting the GS.  She woke up on Saturday and I immediately realised Dik Bek had slept over.  Dik Bek was soon joined by Teary and Irrational.  We were under attack – the Hormone Brigade were all systems go and closing in fast!  By this stage, I decided to invite Gat Vol to join the party (it was inevitable).  I needed to sort this situation out once and for all.  So I sat the psycho 2^nd Grader down and in a calm controlled manner said that there was only one way to solve this problem – Cake and Retail (C & R) Therapy.  DUH!

Ja, ja – I know, Oprah would have had a happy cadenza (and then joined us for cake!) and Dr Phil, would tell me to get real – but hey, they weren’t dealing with the 8yr old version of Rosemary’s baby.  So with Teary and Dik Bek in tow, the GS and I got into the car and did some pretty impressive low flying to the mall.  The only thing worse than dealing with the spawn of satan at home is trying to deal with it in the confines of a moving automobile. There is no easy way to escape! 

Now, granted the handling of this situation won’t put me in the running for “South Africa’s Next Top Model Mother” (Thanks Tyra) but come on girls, a little cake and retail therapy never hurt anyone.  Or did it?  While trying on skinny jeans (GS) and control top underwear (me) – I suddenly realised that maybe C & R Therapy wasn’t such a good idea after all.  Come to think of it, wasn’t that how I ended up with an overflowing cupboard full of clothes that don’t fit??????  Ooops!

But a good time was had by all.  Armed with bags of snazzy clothes (GS), sensible undergarments (me) and tummies full of Wimpy waffles (both of us) and coffee (me) – we headed on home.

Aaaah...life is good again - after cake and shopping!

When we got home, I was a little surprised to find the locks had been changed and we now had an extra security door – but I nevertheless persevered and eventually managed to get in to the house – with a little help from the Cape Town Fire and Rescue Service. Once inside, I had to coax the Husband out from under the bed and eventually managed to talk Josh out of the cupboard.  I convinced them that Chucky’s Bride was in a better mood and that the modelling show was about to begin – featuring the GS at least. 

I, on the other hand, decided not to subject the boys to even more trauma - seeing me in my control top undies and support bra, might just have pushed them over the proverbial edge!

Bring on the Government Shuffler’s teenage years!!



2 birds, 1 Savanna... I mean Stone

Ha!  The Husband was wrong after all.  My-Friend-With-a-life and I made plans to meet at 1pm today for gym and ta da... we kept our appointment !  We met, (at the Keg) and proceeded to work not ONLY our jaw muscles, as the Husband had predicted, BUT our right arm muscles AS WELL - so there!!!!  .... and he said this gym contract was going to be a waste of money!! That'll show him!

Yes boys and girls, I dutifully packed my gym bag and had very (very) good intentions of going to gym at 1pm - that is until I got an sms saying "Running late, shouldn't we meet for a Savanna instead" - now I ask you, what the hell kind of question is that??  Gym? Savanna? Gym? Savanna?

... and the LOSER is........

Now I've taught my children about "peer pressure" and have often used the tired old expression "if your friend jumped into the fire, would you join her?" - well when I was asked that question as a child I knew the right answer was "NO" and I've taught my kids the same thing.  BUT it's a whole other ball game when the question becomes "If your friend decided to drink Savanna instead of going to gym, would you join her?"  I mean, what should I have said, No??

Besides, despite what you may think, a fair amount of exercising was done in the 90mins we were at the Gym(Keg).  I mean, do you know how many times you lift your arm when drinking 2 Savanna's?  That's a whole lot of bicep curls right there!  Then laughing for 90mins gives your abdominals and core one hell of a workout.  Naturally we couldn't drink on empty stomachs, so we had a healthy Salad (with bacon, avo and feta).  Last but not least, my right foot and left hand had to do some serious maneuvering when I went racing off to the school to make sure I fetched my kids on time - I didn't want to be THAT mom (...the one who picks up her kids late because she's stuck at the Pub!)

So all in all it was a good session.  I'd had a kak day and while working out might have relieved some of the stress I was feeling, meeting up with my-friend-with-a-life enabled me to kill 2 birds with 1 ... I'd like to say stone, but we all know I really mean Savanna!! 

Besides the fact that certain muscles (mainly in the jaw) were active for an hour and a half, a good chin wag (moan) is far more rewarding (and cheaper) than therapy!

I was Free...... a Free-Wheeling!

It's been 3 weeks since I lasted posted on my Blog - Saturday the 16th of April to be precise.  I clearly remember wanting to post something on Sunday the 17th and was very chuffed that I was about to blog 2 days in a row... but then "something" happened (life?), combined with a trip to East London, followed by a string of public holidays and here we are 3 weeks later and still no post!  So I'm going to continue (and expand on) the post I planned to write 21 days ago - BUT believe it or not there have been some developments in this arena, which if you know me, is a HUGE achievement. But let's start at the beginning.

3 weeks ago:

I went out for a cycle.  Yes, me, I took my newly acquired bike and went out on the open road.  Granted, the bike had been sitting in our lounge for a few weeks and since I wasn't one to look a gift horse(bike) in the mouth, I decided to take it out and show it who's boss.  So I went out on a quiet road frequented by many many many (serious) cyclists.  

As I set off on the crisp Autumn morning, I felt like a million bucks.  The mountains and vineyards were the perfect backdrop as I cruised at a fairly impressive pace and I found myself thinking I had finally found "my sport" - this is something I could do and potentially do well!  Thoughts of the Cape Argus, Cape Epic and other extreme cycling events were swimming in head - I was on top of the world..... for a while.  Then it suddenly dawned on me that part of the reason my speed had been so impressive was that I was going downhill and that at some point I'd need to get all the way back up if I ever wanted to see my family again. 

Even though at this point I really felt like I could cycle the 17km's to Stellenbosh, I did the sensible thing and pulled into a wine farm (no, not for a tasting) but to turn around.  It was then that I realised just how steep the hill was and that going back up was going to be no picnic - which made me wish I had packed a picnic because the trek home was going to be a long one! 

But I took on the challenge and started digging deep, however, after about 100m, I had to admit defeat and did the only reasonable thing, I hopped off my bike and started to hoof it!  It was at this point that I was exposed to just how friendly the cycling fraternity is.  Every (and I mean every) cyclist that passed me, asked if I was ok.  Now I'm all for friendliness and roadside comeraderie (in fact that's one of the main reasons I ran the 2 Oceans half marathon years ago), but when you are panting like a 60 pack a day, 80 year old asthmatic with 1 functional lung, saying "yes, thank you, I'm ok, just taking a little break"... can come out as  "leave me the $%^# alone, can't you see I'm %^&*ing tired".  But no, everyone needed to make sure I was ok! 

Eventually I decided it was easier to cycle (albeit slowly) up the hill than it was to try and explain why I was walking, bike in hand.  It was no small feat making it up the hill, in fact, I must have provided some comic relief to some early morning commuters.  But I managed to make it home... just.

Nevertheless, I was proud of myself.  I had taken the bike out, had really worked hard (well as hard as one can when freewheeling down a hill) and made it back alive, if a little (alot) out of breathe.  I was keen to see just how far I had cycled, so later that afternoon, when the feeling returned to my ass, I took my car out and measured my route.  I was a little destraught when just around a corner, I suddenly saw my winefarm turning point and realised I hadn't actually gone THAT FAR afterall... WTF??  In fact, it was exactly 1.8km to the bottom of my hill... so my route had been a  GRAND TOTAL of 3.6km - again I say WTF?  Had I known it was so little, I think I might just have gone into the wine farm for some tasting to make the trip worth my while! 

Anyway... the exercise bug has bitten and that combined with the fact that I don't plan on being "The Fat Sister" at my brother's upcoming nuptials (in fact, screw Pippa Middleton, soon there'll be a facebook page dedicated to MY ass), it is all systems go with a new excercise and eaten plan.  Like the  saying goes, I am not just turning over a new leaf, but pretty much an entire forest!

I have subsequently joined the gym where my friend-with-a-life is a member. The sceptic Husband doesn't have much faith in this venture and is convinced the only muscles that will benefit from this 12 month contract will be those in my jaw! 

BUT more about my gym experience tomorrow... as well as why I have a 12 month contract instead of the more economical (if longer) 24 month contract.

Bake, Baker, Baking Burn.. I mean Bern!

Since wearing the multiple hats of mom, policeman, cook, negotiator, employee, wife, class rep and taxi-driver didn’t seem like quite enough, I’ve decided to add another one to the mix, just for fun, after all you can never have too many hats.  So I am now the proud owner of a WEDDING CUPCAKE BAKER hat!

I mean, it really was a no brainer considering my baking background.  The fact that I almost poisoned an entire class of Grade 0’s with my expired cupcakes a few weeks back was just a small glitch in my otherwise (non-existent) baking career!  But I’m getting ahead of myself, let’s rewind to how I ended up adding this hat to my ever growing collection.

My brother got engaged recently – I’m not going to say it’s been a long long long (long) time coming, but will say that his fiancee has pretty much had about 8 (long) years to plan her big day.  So when the question was popped, she hit the ground running and within a few days all the important things were sorted – wedding venue, church, dress, photographer and wedding party.  However, there was still a vacancy in the wedding cake/cupcake department.

Naturally when they came to visit we talked about all things wedding and the topic of the cake came up.  The bride-to-be mentioned she was thinking about cupcakes and somehow (and I really don’t know how), I ended up offering to perhaps (depending on my sample being approved) make the cupcakes for the wedding?  WTF you may think?  That’s pretty much what I think whenever I hear the words “wedding cupcake” and the first thing most people say when they hear I’ve offered to make them for my brother’s wedding - A wedding that, if I know the bride and groom,  is going to be pretty classy, elegant and upmarket.  I'm not entirely sure how my ready-mixed (potentially expired?) cupcakes are going to fit into this elegant affair.

But, what most people don’t know is that I have a secret weapon.  I may not own an icing pump thingy (I usually use a syringe to ice my birthday cakes) and have yet to make a decent batch of icing (expired or not) BUT I do have a weapon in the form of my friend-with-a-life. She who taught me the art of enjoying a guilt-free day scoffing breakfast and cappuccinos while all the other moms sat watching school sport for 8hrs!!   So now my wonderful friend-with-a-life has offered to help me with this project too – bless her brave heart! 

This is the same friend who feels so sorry for my husband having to eat the food I cook that she sends weekly recipes to me so that The Husband can experience what a real fresh home-cooked meal tastes like.  But at this junction let me just add that this is someone who cooks coq au vin, red wine chicken, and lamb shank for “normal” supper.  Seriously?  I think I would only consider dishes like that if the Queen was coming over and even then I think I’d need some serious convincing to not just serve her fish fingers and smash!  So when said friend offered to help with this project I knew I was in good hands…. because anyone who uses home grown herbs and makes their own pies, must SURELY know a thing or two about baking. 

But then again, I’m counting on her knowing more than just a thing or two.  I emailed a baking friend of mine who actually BAKES cakes for birthday parties as a hobby and she was horrified to hear what I was planning.  Considering that she wouldn't even bake for her own sister’s wedding, I suddenly thought that perhaps I had bitten off waaay more than I could chew (or bake in this case). She thought I was “very brave” (but I think that was her way of saying “very stupid”).  Nevertheless she has sent to wonderful websites and recipes and hints, all of which make me realise that baking 160 cupcakes for the most important day in someone’s life is actually a fairly serious, pretty daunting task!  Who would have thought?

So right now my life revolves around finding (and perfecting) the simple, yet fancy cupcake… well that and the kids, school, work, class rep stuff, wifely duties, housework and my new found cycling hobby (more about that tomorrow)….

So, come the 17^th of September, I’ll either become a minor family baking sensation or the family-member-nobody-talks-about-in-polite-company!  Happy Baking!

Cupcakes from a colleagues daughter's wedding