“Currently helping my son search for his chocolate that i ate last night.”

Oh my goodness, i saw this quote and i just loved it.  I mean how many mothers out there can honestly say that they have never done this and if they do they are telling a very big untruth or the halo on their head is so huge it is in danger of crushing them flat into the ground.

How many, many times have i sneakily eaten my kids treats?  Of course when they are little it is so much easier, you can break into song or do a dance and before you know it everyone is enjoying Twinkle, twinkle little star and the crinkle of the chocolate wrapper that gave you away in the first place is forgotten.  As they get older you need to get a bit more inventive.  Going to the bathroom is a good one, then you can coincide the flushing of the toilet with the opening, munching and disposing of the wrapper into the bathroom bin.  A strategically placed cushion you can throw over the evidence if they happen to walk into the room also works and of course, confiscating whatever chocolate they are snacking on at the time because of bad behaviour and throwing confiscated item into the bin in front of them makes a wonderful and very visual lesson on listening to mom in future.  Note to self, wait until you are sure the children are properly asleep before rummaging in the bin to rescue confiscated treat and eat it that evening.

Now if you will excuse me we still have to search the bedrooms.

 

 

My spare tyre.

Now if you are mechanically minded and think this blog is going to be an informative one about car type things you can stop reading right now.  Unfortunately this blog has nothing to do with cars and everything to do with the spare tyre of flesh i am now carrying around my waist.  I mean, what is with that, i know i am getting older but it was not there a few years ago and my life style has not changed that drastically in the last little while.  I still run and cycle, eat fairly healthily and manage to keep my chocolate addiction under control most of the time.

And now that this spare tyre has claimed its spot there seems to be very little, apart from going under the knife, that i can do about it.  The blasted thing will not budge.  Low rise jeans which are pretty much what my wardrobe consist of are not really an option anymore as they squeeze the spare tyre up and out and the muffin top effect is not really one i am comfortable with.  So it is either invest in a new wardrobe of high rise jeans, long flowy type tops which do not hug and accentuate the bulge or the delightful granny type underwear that end roundabout just under a persons neck holding everything in and making it difficult to breath.

And while i am moaning don’t even get me started on bingo wings, if i had wanted those i would have been a bird.

This aging gracefully thing is not for sissies.

 

Mothers of sons brace yourselves.

I know, i know being the mother of daughters is not a walk in the park either.   I mean really, how many times can you listen to the Ice Princess (I forget her name) singing Let it Go while your daughter flings her arms around dramatically knocking over nearby household items and how many arguments can you really have about whether a leotard, tutu, tiara and pair of slippers is suitable attire to wear to school in the middle of winter sub zero temperatures. Us mothers of sons, on the other hand, think that a clean pair of underpants, matching socks and a T shirt without holes in it is right up there with world peace.

And of course there is a very good reason why men pay more insurance than women and it starts when they are pretty much knee high.  I mean why would you possibly ride your bicycle down a hill like a normal person when you can do it with no hands, standing on the seat blindfolded.  Add a ramp in and your day is made.  Why go through a gate when you can jump over the barbed wire fence next to it tearing your clothes and skin in the process requiring stitches, needless to say during after hours thereby also bankrupting your parents.  How much fun is it to put a bee in a packet, shake it around a bit, hold it against your knee and instruct your friend to try and shoot the bee with a BB gun at close range.  TRUE STORY!  My husband still has the scar on his knee to prove it.

And don’t even get me started on Mythbusters, those guys have so much to answer for.  Just the other day when my eldest was off with his friend shooting at rocks, trees, etc on the farm they found a pipe with a U bend in it.  Now a normal person would just keep walking but a boy child sees a whole world of possibilities because of course, if you put the barrel of your pellet gun at the one end of the pipe and shoot the bullet is going to follow the U bend and come out the other side.  Or it could hit the U bend, come straight back at you, miss your eye by inches and leave a nice hole in your forehead.  But mom, it worked on Mythbusters.

On the plus side, i would like to once again thank my family for the ongoing blog material.

 

 

 

Biking me.

So as a keen cyclist who, due to time constraints, can only ride in the afternoons during the week i would just like to say to the wind.

ENOUGH ALREADY !!!!!!!

Trail Running Me.

I am so happy because after my latest running injury and a few months of no time in my tackies i am finally back on the trails again.  What a wonderful feeling and what a relief for my family who have to live with a really grumpy me while i am not getting my fix.

It has also been so good catching up with running friends again and chatting about events done and coming up, one of which happens to be a Night Trail Run.  So of course i am asked will i be running it.  What!  Are you kidding me?  With my track record of falling often and painfully while running in broad daylight.  Which got me thinking which equipment i would need to even possibly consider it.

No offence to the hard core trailees out there but this could work.

And the Mother of the Year award does not go to me.

Now i love my children, i really do but sometimes they drive me to the very, very, very edge of my sanity.  When they were little arguments tended to go something like this.  He has taken my block, my car, my food, my book, the list could go on and on.  Or the more general, it is mine moan, which generally meant whatever item the other one was holding at the time.  There was also the his foot is touching me.  He is sitting on my side of the couch, the car, the bath.  He is standing in my space.  He is in my room.  He is breathing my air.  Or my personal favourite, he is looking at me.

Now that they are older arguments tend to be more job related.  Heaven forbid that one of them has hung up an extra towel or packed away just one more dish than the other.  The ‘I did it yesterday, it is your turn today’ gripe is used frequently and loudly whenever there is a hint of perceived injustice and there is much grumbling when the workload is supposedly unevenly shared.

So the other morning on the way out of the house to school it was someone’s  turn to open the gate.  Needless to say whose turn it was was up for debate and while this debate was going on the gate was left closed which meant that when i reversed out of the driveway assuming that someone was doing their job i backed straight into the gate and knocked it clean off its hinges.

Well i won’t go into too much detail except to say that i made a volcanic eruption look tame, my nomination  for the Mother of the Year award has been put on hold and the neighbours must surely think i am nuts.

GIVE ME STRENGTH!  This mothering thing is not for sissies.

Responsible Parenting.

It is nearly that time of the year again in Plettenberg Bay where thousands of visitors head to our little town to enjoy some well deserved time in paradise.  This got me thinking to an incident that happened to me last year while attempting a beach visit in silly season.  What was i thinking?

It was a beautiful day so i decided to take my two boys boogie boarding at the beach, i mean how crowded could it actually be?  Well after driving straight past Central Beach which i was not going to even attempt we headed to Solar at Robberg Beach.  After walking several km’s from the parking lot and then several km’s along the beach to find an open spot on the sand we finally found a place to sit.  I got my towel out and the boys headed off to the designated swimming area with their boogie boards where they competed with several thousand other children to catch a wave.

Now being the responsible mother that i am i made sure that i constantly watched the two dots in the waves, our sandy spot was quite far along the beach, that were my children.  Nothing could have possibly happened to them as my eagle eyes were alert and focused and doing a really good job of looking after them.  When all of a sudden two shadows fell over me and i looked up to see, yes, my own two children with their boogie boards under their arms telling me that they were finished in the water.

I have no idea whose children i was so diligently watching but their mom clearly had nothing to worry about.  My family on the other hand, not so much.

So this silly season they are both wearing luminous swimming tops or we will stay at the pool where i can be sure that the children i am keeping so safe are actually mine.  After all the beach is not going anywhere and the rest of the year we pretty much have it to ourselves.

Note to my cycling self.

When cycling in Spring Time be very aware that the bug to air ratio has significantly increased.  In  other words keep your mouth closed.  On the plus side my protein intake is well taken care of.

Dish washing me.

Now i love my husband, i really do and i am so blessed to have him as he cooks dinner pretty much every single night.  How lucky is that?

But considering that i am the designated washer upper and by that i don’t mean i pack the dishwasher because we don’t have one i actually am the dish washer i just have something to say.  How on earth is it possible for one chef preparing one meal to use so many bowls, plates, utensils and other cooking type stuff.  By the time he is done the kitchen and surrounding areas looks like a food war zone and if i lined everything that then needs washing up end to end it could possibly circle the house a few times.

If you think i am exaggerating just wait.  Yes, i actually made a list.  Three chopping boards because apparently you can’t chop different food items on the same board which of course means three large cutting knives for the same reason as well as several smaller less lethal looking sharp knives for other cutting.  Two sieves, many, many, many stirring tasting and mixing spoons and ladle type utensils, a whisker, a flipper and a few spreading knives.  Several different size mixing bowls, some pouring jugs and a few cups.   Three cooking pots and four cooking lids, now i know i am no domestic Goddess but i am still trying to work out where the fourth lid fits in or rather what it fitted onto.  The four dinner plates we actually ate the dinner off which kind of pale into insignificance next to the rest of the clutter.  And last but not least and i kid you not one large square floor tile as apparently it is a good heat conductor.  So as well as spending a disproportionately long time in the kitchen cleaning in comparison to how long it actually took to eat the meal, i also get to have a cold shower because all the hot water in the geyser is gone on washing dishes.  The mind boggles.  I know, i know there is a queue of you just waiting to take him off my hands.  Just be warned you had better stock up on dish washing liquid.

 

P.S. Love you babes, please don’t make me cook dinner tonight.  XXX