bye-bye

So ... this is goodbye.

Multiple reasons, including:

... I was starting to feel pressurised to post here, even when I wasn't inspired to do so. And that's no way to feel about one's own blog right?

... this blog was a fantastic outlet for me, to inspire myself and share the fun, while doing some heavy primary parenting of my two small girls. Now they're getting more independent, I'm starting to do more and more 'real' work, my me-time is starting to get more precious.

... I'd like to spend what writing time I do have (ha!), writing for print.

I'm actively trying to lessen the digital 'noise' in my life. I'm unsubscribing from blogs and newsletters, switching off Twitter (I'll never give up Pinterest though!), and generally trying to quieten my life.
While it simultaneously gets busier.
Does this make sense?

Anyhoo, thanks SO MUCH for all your loveliness here in the last few years. I've had such sweet comments and interactions, and not one single troll!
People are lovely, you are lovely and life, generally, is lovely!

I'm going to leave the blog up and open for a while, but will eventually shut it down completely. If you'd like to know if and when I write in other places, send me a mail [ cisforcapetown at gmail dot com] and I'll keep you posted.

Thank you, and goodnight!

patchwork

The girls and I got invited to this lovely children's production at the Baxter last weekend. 

We've long been fans of Pedro The Music Man, and the promise of 45 minutes in darkened aircon during this radical heatwave was deliciously inviting.

The girls sat up front with hosts of other smalls - including 3 sets of twins! - on comfy cushions, right at eye-level to the action.

Such a simple stage - the 3 players dressed in comfy white, a scattering of cushions (some of which talk!), a wee bed, a fresh cotton sheet flapped and waved most gracefully (I felt my head nodding at the thought of curling up under it), a wonderfully imaginative and animated dressing gown, and all accompanied by Pedro's signature so simple, but so effective, musical sounds.

The play is very much geared at 1 - 4 yr olds. My entranced nearly-7 yo loved it too. No one doubts the value of kids being exposed to theatre, live performance, but when they're seated so close they can really read expression, feel emotion and see the performer's hands at work ... there's a magic in that they just won't get anywhere else.

Let's support children's theatre! 4 days left to see Patchwork!

on wheelchairs*

*or, 'rolling on someone else's wheels', except that was too obscure ...

In the past MONTH of being incapacitated by this sprained ankle, I've twice visited a mall and borrowed a wheelchair to get around.

Obviously I looked just like this ...

(the cast of Push Girls - a reality show about sexy young things with spinal conditions)

Anyhoo, being in a wheelchair is ... educational. And something I now feel everyone should try and experience.
Go to a mall, claim whatever fragility is required, and spend an hour cruising in a wheelchair. Then take it back, walk back out in to your life and be grateful.

My Mum left me in the grocery store for a bit. Shopping basket on my lap and a short shopping list, I was dizzy with the freedom of being alone in public for the first time in weeks.
But ...

The bread I wanted was down an aisle too narrow to get through. The affordable cream cheese was too high to reach. The milk with the desired expiry date was too far at the back of the fridge. The veggie bins were too high. Ditto the crackers, and the tampons, and the wine.

People were kind, the shop staff offered to help before I had to ask, and kindly fellow shoppers didn't mind passing me things. But I had to ask, autonomy was not an option, and asking someone to pass you a specific box of tampons, 'No, not those ones, the blue box, yes the ones for medium flow', is not ... ideal.

People were happy to move to the side to let me pass, once they'd established where my voice came from ('Sorry, I'm down here'), but always with an overly-apologetic gaze, and cringey sympathetic eyes.
'What could be wrong,' I'd see them think, 'she looks so young (cough cough) and fit.'

I didn't need to draw money, but a friend who spent the last few weeks of her pregnancy in a wheel-chair pointed out that all the ATM's were too high for wheelchair users too.

It was such a small experience, I didn't need to negotiate bathrooms or public transport, but it was an enormous eye-opener.
People are in wheelchairs for  hundreds of different reasons. The majority I'm sure are completely capable of looking after themselves in every other way, but even the most 'conscious' environments are really hard to operate in.

Lesson learnt.

wa'shi gonna do?

'Mum, can I play with your pretty tape?'

Words which could make a washi-lover nervous.

But clearly sticking the pretty is not really the goal here.

Much more fun to make patterns, colour-coordinate, build towers ...

... and of course knock them down!

Clearly washi is an important educational toy, I should probably get more right?

this kid

A year ago I was in turmoil with this little person. And so I'm here now with the proof that 'this too shall pass' is the singular most valuable parenting phrase EVER COINED.

Sunday is nearly 4. She's grown like the proverbial weed (the latest spurt being 3 cm in 2 months!) - and not just physically.

There was a moment a few months back when I realised that every day there were moments of potential conflict (put on shoes, get out car, have a wee, eat your supper - all of these the very trenches of parenting warfare as you know), where I was holding my breath, braced for the inevitable mortar fire, and ... not getting it.

'Okay' she'd say, neatly stepping over my jaw (hanging on the floor in disbelief) and complying.

Steadily we've been able to untangle the complex knots of expectation, manipulation, exasperation and emotional damnation and just conduct our relationship like two normal family members. Or maybe it was just me who had to do that, she just ... grew up.

She's learned to laugh it off. She can handle some light teasing. She knows (quite expertly in fact) how to offer an alternative solution if the one at hand doesn't quite suit her. She strikes a mean bargain. She's irresistibly cute.

She is nearly 4. Life is sweet. I'm so glad she's growing, but could she stop growing? Because, ridiculously, as predicted by me, I miss my soft-cheeked babachoo too ...

putting my feet up

I've been on crutches for 2 weeks now. A silly misstep off the stoep, twisted ankle, pain, strap, bruising, immobility.
It's all really rather silly, but not without benefits.

I have to keep my foot up. I can't drive, or carry anything substantial, or tidy up much, or cook anything too complicated.
I have to sit down as much as possible. I have to read stories rather than play wild games. I have to write, rather than do errands.
I know you're all hating me a little bit, and that's ok.

But the main unexpected and welcome result is how independent my children are getting. I was just wondering around Christmas time whether I'd fallen into that classic loving parent trap of doing too much for my girls.
You know when it's just easier to do it yourself? When it's less messy to fill juice bottles without insisting they do it themselves, when it's less argumentative to put away their washing rather than get into a number about 'not being the servant'?

But now ... I just can't. And ergo, they just have to and, surprise surprise, they're ok with that. Crutches are undeniable, my disability is plain to see.
Need a clean t-shirt from upstairs? Off you go.
Need a snack? You know where the cupboard is.
Need something from a high-up cupboard? Get your sister to help you or wait until Dad gets home.
Sorry.

4 and 7 this year. They're getting more independent all the time and this little boost, early on in the year, is not a bad thing at all.
At R25/week rental from the pharmacy, I may just keep these crutches around for a bit after I'm done using them - cheap at the price for the lessons we're all learning.

And lest you think I'm being bone idle, the little embroidery above. As I said, there's definite benefits.

the 46 brazillionth post ever on how to display kiddie art

We haven't done organised crafting for ages ... have we outgrown it? Probably more to do with the fact that our art room has been a revolting, disorganised, uninviting shambles for months, a state I finally remedied these past holidays. 

And jeez did I unearth a lot of art.

Although not crafting as such, we always have paints available on a table in there and over the last while the girls have filled page after page with lovely colours and textures, all left on windowsills to dry and never thought of again.

I tell myself the process is more important than the end product but I still hate throwing these creations away. 

Add to them the mountains of stuff which came home from school at the end of last term and ja, a lot of art.

The pick of the crop I stuck up on one wall, a towering monument to my small people's creativity.

and yes, that's a crate of booze next to the wheel-less trike, because boozing and crafting
go very well together don't you know

And the enormous pile of abstract paintings I sorted and hole-punched with a 2" punch and artfully arranged in a frame I had hanging around (ha ha).

I'd love to do a massive one, in a white frame, but it's a start and I've no doubt those girls will produce much more material for me to use in the future!

talking to kids

A while back I linked to this wonderful, insightful piece by (the always wonderful and insightful really) Rebecca from Girls Gone Child.

She calls bullshit on teaching your kids not to talk to strangers and I couldn't agree more. Go read the piece, I want to say everything she says and she writes it so much better than I could.

A few weeks ago I met a Mum who was anxious about talking to her young kids about any of the 'dangers' of the world and how to protect themselves. She knew it was regarded as highly irresponsible not to, especially given our country's crime rate, but she couldn't bring herself to shatter the peace and trust her children still had with the world.
I was that Mum some years ago, who of us want to talk about evil with our kids?

But I found an approach which is working for me, I'm teaching my girls to trust their gut. And the more I've committed to this approach, the more my eyes have opened to the opportunities to talk to my kids about keeping themselves safe.

We got this book out the library recently.

And when we got to this page, I saw the opportunity for a Conversation.

After lengthy discussion (every page has options of what you'd rather eat or wear or be - great book) it was unanimously decided we'd all rather be lost in a crowd.
And so I asked, 'If you were lost in this crowd, who would you ask for help?'

We talked about who looked as if they were in a hurry, and who looked a bit grumpy or distracted. We talked about who would be most likely to be able to help a lost child.
Lady with the baby came out tops. Followed closely by the Granny.

Life lessons. Without having to get into any unpleasantness. Trust your gut, be sensible, live, make friends, talk to strangers, learn from books.
These are things I can teach them.

'like walking in a dream'

Sadly when we got home yesterday I discovered that half the photos I took of the Starke Ayres Nursery Christmas decorations were on some weird setting which made them all look like they'd been drawn by a 2 yr old on acid.

As if the decor itself wasn't magical enough.

Friday said it was like 'walking in a dream'.

I have to say I know of no other place in Cape Town which has quite as many fantastical Christmas decorations.

If you do please share!

The Rosebank nursery has their Christmas display up until the end of December. If you can bear more twinkly lights and if you believe me that they're much more impressive than these few photos show, take your kids for a visit. It's pretty special.

Merry Christmas everyone!

hand -and foot- painted t-shirts

They painted these.

I can't help but love Friday's (happy) 'Self with Jewels and Rain'.

And no surprises from her sister either, who methodically and with a plan, did feet on the back, hands on the front, coordinating colours all precisely placed.
She's her Daddy's girl sometimes.

The paints were given to us by a dear friend, who's going through an awful time.

Whenever the girls wear their t-shirts I'm reminded of how blessed I am. It's a good time of year to be reminded of that.