Gossip and tattle tales- justifiable or not?

A few weeks ago the older three kids were having the following conversation at the dinner table.

"Today Jenna was caught copying Angie's work," one of them said "She got into such big trouble with Ms McIntyre (the principal)".

"Today Anna was being really rude to Becky," the other added. "Becky felt sad and I could see that she wanted to cry".

 "Last week Aiden and Hayley were holding hands secretly," the third one giggled, but then added more seriously, "But then later we saw Aiden smack Hayley in the face during an argument".

And then, "I heard that Marcia's dad and Dehlia's mom were seen holding hands"- which is when their dad and I stopped the conversation.

Mo, my husband is very very strict when it comes to enforcing the no-gossiping rule in our family. This role he exercises not only with the children, but with me too (embarrassingly, I do tend to slip up now and then).

His stance on gossiping is influenced by our religious beliefs firstly, as our religion treats gossiping as a major transgression, by virtue of the fact that its effects (1) harm others and (2) can have lasting consequences, for example the tarnishing of someone's reputation.

Secondly, he also tries to discourage negative and destructive communication. There is, in his opinion, no benefit to be found in discussing someone else's business or character in their absence.

Although the temptation to share an opinion on someone else's behaviour, or to pass along a juicy piece of gossip is so great, I do share his beliefs on the issue. In addition to the above-mentioned reasons, I also find it liberating to be able to interact with people of whom I have a less than favourable opinion, without having to stress about whether they've found out that I've been gossiping about them.

When passing along this lesson to the kids though, I think we face the same challenges as with establishing a rule on tattle tales. On the one hand, while this conduct is undesirable, it is sometimes the only way we as parents get a glimpse into the happenings at our kids' school.

Referring to the dinner time conversation mentioned above, I'm not sure that one can say that all the information they were sharing served absolutely no purpose other than cheap entertainment (irrespective of their intentions).

To me some of the information was valuable since it highlighted issues prevalent in the school, of which I should perhaps take heed. For example, who would have thought that there were established boyfriend-girlfriend relationships in grade 4? I find this information to be valuable as it removed the blinkers from my eyes and alerted me to the fact that these children are aware of so much more than we thought.

In addition to providing useful insight for me, I think that the discussion also highlighted to the kids the potentially negative consequences of certain behaviour, for example, Jenna ended up in the principal's office for copying.

It also provided a way to raise certain issues for discussion within a very real and practical context. We had a discussion about the impact our comments and actions can have on someone else's feelings and how we should respect other people's feelings (in relation to Becky's hurt feelings due to Anna's rudeness).

I was able to have a more serious discussion with the older two about relationships between girls and boys; and also the very pertinent topic of physical abuse within relationships.

I am in no way justifying idle gossip and am all too aware of its harmful effects . Perhaps the preferred approach would be to let the kids relate the stories without revealing the identities of the parties involved in the story (and so doing, retain the moral of the story without compromising anyone's reputation)??? Just a thought.

In addition, stories such as Marcia's dad holding hands with Dehlia's mom would not be justifiable, as it amounts to pointless gossip. How one would get the children to distinguish between the two though, I really don't know (especially since I, myself have at some point blurred the lines by justifying gossiping when there was a juicy story I absolutely had to tell Mo). 

I recently read about a philosopher who had refused to let his friend tell him a piece of gossip unless the gossip story met the criteria of the Triple Filter Test. In terms of this test,
1) the person relaying the information had to be 100 % certain as to its truth
2) the story being told had to be something good /positive about the person about whom they were talking; or
3)the information had to be useful to the person hearing it.

Whatever approach we choose to follow, I think the bottom line is that we should aim to get the kids to be mindful of what they utter about others and to bear in mind that while physical wounds might at times heal easily, the effects of reputational or emotional damage are often more lasting.

Alls well that ends well

Sadly Tharaa's plans to take a few friends to the movies and lunch as part of her belated birthday celebration, fell through yesterday.
Though initially disappointed, she quickly cheered up when we promised that we'd go as a family instead. She was such a good sport about it- I'd really expected more sulking.

So off we went to Canal Walk mall to watch Johnny English Reborn. Now I'd love to be able to say that I only appreciate sophisticated and clever Cinema Noveau-type humour, but actually I don't have very discerning taste when it comes to comedy. While I do in fact enjoy very intelligently expressed wit and subtle gentle humour or satire, I am not above roaring with laughter at some sitcom character slipping on a banana peel. Embarrassing, but true.

So I was really looking forward to watching Johnny English. Nuha (6), on the other hand complained continuously that she did not want to watch a 'big-people' movie. But it was Tharaa's day and therefore, her decision.

I was a bit concerned about how Aisha would behave in the movie. Yes, we are of those annoying parents who take our baby to the movies with us , but unlike some of those annoying parents, we don't let her disturb other moviegoers. The moment she makes a peep (which is usually three-quarter way through the movie, just as as the good guy is about to overpower the villain), Mo or I will take her out of the movie theatre. Sometimes she allows us to stand on the entrance ramp to watch the end of the movie, while she plays quietly on the floor.

But not yesterday. "No Daddy- Out! Out da door!" she ordered him. The poor man spent the next half an hour in the foyer of the movie-theatre watching his angel enjoy sliding up and down the shiny slippery tiles.

I remember a time before the kids were born when Mo and I would turn back from the movies, as there had often been nothing new left for us to watch. Now our visits to my happy place are few and far between. We are considering using a baby-sitting service, although financial constraints might be an issue. Or perhaps we can get my mum to babysit at a discounted rate- I justify my request for a discount with my assumption that she would derive some pleasure from spending time with her noisy, messy and quarrelsome grandchildren (okay, suddenly it seems unfair to ask for that discount).

This visit to the movie with friends would have been Tharaa's third little celebration of her birthday; the first was just a little party at home and the second took place at my mum's place with her cousins. 

My question as to why the first little party had not sufficed, was met with incredulous stares from both her and her brother.
"Mommy, this isn't just any birthday. This one's special- obviously". Was I missing something? She wasn't sixteen, this wasn't her 21st, nor her crown birthday. So bravely I asked, "What is special about this birthday?"

"Mommy!" (eyeroll) "This birthday is special because I turned a double-digit- obviously".

Obviously. Excuse me for being clueless.

So now I think we have finally reached the last of Tharaa's birthday celebrations of her first double-digit birthday. I'm not complaining though- I plan to savour every second I get to spend with them creating memories; and I even look forward to her week-long celebration of her second double digit birthday next year.

Soothing sensual massage

There are certain activities in which I find it very difficult to involve my husband, Mo. They include watching romantic comedies, enjoying re-runs of my favourite sitcom ever, F.R.I.E.N.D.S., washing dishes and giving me massages.

Asking him to give me a massage is by far the best way to get rid of him. His reaction includes a widening of the eyes accompanied by the soundless movement of his lips; as he formulates his excuse, which is usually something like "let me just see if I locked the car", or “I think I forgot the baby in the car”, promising to return to grant my request. He never does.

I often suffer from tension in my neck and shoulders, which is why he took it upon himself to pop in at the little Chinese massage cubicle in Canal Walk mall to make an appointment on my behalf. I refused to let him off the hook that easily.
When I complain about his reluctance to massage me, his response is, "I was thinking- you deserve a day at a luxury spa- let me rather make an appointment for you, so as to ensure that you get the best massage possible". This has never materialised.

One morning I awoke feeling particularly tense after a terrible night with baby. I decided to put my foot down. I called him at work, and said that I would not accept any further excuses- he would grant my wish when he got home and that was that.

Much to my surprised, he obliged, saying that he would grant my wish- but only if I would allow him to use a unique new-age method, the details of which he would email me.
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He got the idea from the methods used at the Ada Barak's spa in the town of Talmei Elazar in Israel where they use small snakes for places like the face for a lighter massage and bigger snakes for the deep tissue massage.

Needless to say, he managed to slither his way out of it again.

When their right to freedom of speech ends- and disrespect begins

Shakeel (12) and Tharaa (10) have in recent months become increasingly argumentative- not just with each other (which is upsetting enough for me), but with their dad and me too. 

They challenge everything I say, which leads to lengthy arguments, which often does not end well.

Recently I told the mother of one of Tharaa's friends that we had bought a certain valuable item for Tharaa. Two days later the mom and daughter popped in at our house to borrow it. I was flabbergasted- the item was rare and valuable and not something one borrowed from other people. But I gave it to them and prayed for its safe return.

By last night the item had still not been returned and we were all feeling a bit concerned.

Shakeel: "But Mommy, you were the one who told them about it. Why did you have to do that?"

Me: "Because I did not expect them to ask for it. I would never borrow something like that from someone and I can't think of anyone else who would."

Shakeel: "But it was unnecessary for you to tell them. And why did you have to agree to give it to them. You could have said no."

Me: "That would have been difficult to do without causing offence and ruining the relationship."

Shakeel: "But still, you didn't have to cause this situation. It was completely unnecessary. If you didn't tell them about it, none of this would be happening right now".

And this interaction continued a while longer, with Shakeel in attack mode and me defending myself. Since I was already feeling annoyed at myself for having started this mess, I really did not need to have to defend myself to my twelve year old son.

And then I decided not to.

"That is enough!" I said, raising my voice slightly threateningly. "I don't want to hear anything more from you. I don't have to defend myself to you. You are a child- you have no right to attack me. You are being disrespectful".

"I'm just stating the obvious. I wasn't being disrespectful," he answered.

Oh. my. word.

I thought back to how I had been raised. I would have gotten to the second "but" in that conversation, after which my ears would have been zinging from the smack I'd receive. Aah, those were the days- before children's rights were enshrined in the Constitution and children could report their parents for abuse. Just my luck not to have had the protection of that piece of legislation when I was a child, but now having to endure its consequences as a parent.

As always, that conversation did not end well. I ended up asserting my authority as the parent and meting out punishment for his disrespect. I hate having to end a disagreement by exercising my parental authority- I would really have preferred it if he had realised that he was being disrespectful and done the right thing by himself.

As much as I complain (mostly jokingly) about the way in which the new dispensation ties parents' hands when it comes to disciplining children, I am completely aware of the need for children's protection from abuse. I am aware of (and don't treat lightly) the situations where children's vulnerability is exploited by adults.

In addition, as a parent, I do not want to get my kids to toe the line by instilling fear and by being too authoritative. I would prefer to parent within a framework of open communication and mutual respect. I do not want to teach my children to fear authority, as it could result in them being incapable of standing up for themselves.

My question is, at which point in last night's interaction did Shakeel's right to freedom of speech end and disrespect begin? 

While I do believe in mutual respect, I do come from a religious and cultural background where respect for parents is tantamount. And with me, as a mother of four, having suffered through a total of three years of pregnancy, thirty hours of labour (the pain of which is immeasurable), the excruciating pain of the early days of breastfeeding, countless sleepless nights, cleaning vomit, diarrhoea etc etc etc; hell yes- I think I deserve their respect.

The problem I face, is establishing that balance between their rights and encouraging them to assert those rights, while ensuring that they remain mindful of their need to respect us.

There is much to be said for the way in which we were raised, and I'm appreciating this fact even more as I observe the crude and often vile and disrespectful way in which children and teens conduct themselves (especially toward older people).

Yet one also has to acknowledge the merits of all the measures being undertaken by Government to ensure that children's rights are not violated. I know that if I had grown up surrounded by such sensitivity to my right to dignity, I would have much fewer emotional scars than I do today.

As far as the situation with my kids is concerned, this remains an ongoing battle, which will no doubt be the cause of much grief during the December holidays when we spend all day together.

I suppose that the best I can do is to constantly remind them of the values with which we are trying to raise them, while at the same time, enable them to derive the full benefit of the rights and advantages which life in modern day South Africa allows them. Hopefully by providing them with the best of both worlds, they will grow up to be confident, self-assured individuals who are not afraid to speak their minds; but live their lives with integrity and respect for themselves and others.

Granny spends a few days- and her unlikely return

My mother spent a few days with me to help with the kids, as I hadn't been feeling too well. Previously she had always been full of well-meaning advice when I told her about Aisha's tantrums.


"Just distract her with a toy," she'd say, or "Take her outside and show her the birds" or "just put her in the bath or read her a book" or "Read her a book while she plays in the bath".


Er, I think not.


On Monday afternoon Aisha awoke from her nap more grumpy than usual. I carried her to the living room to read her a book, when little missy decided that she would not allow me to sit down. I did not even consider giving her way because I was still feeling a bit weak from the tummy bug from which I was recovering. So she started screaming, stiffening her body and throwing herself around. I tried to steady her to prevent her from hurting herself, but other than that, I knew that there was pretty much little else I could do to stop her tirade.


My mother tried to sing to her, gave her sweets, joked with her; but to no avail. I just sat
there and tried to focus on the book I had in my lap. When she becomes this way, all one can
do is to wait for her to exhaust herself, which on one occasion took two hours!


"Give her chocolate," my mum suggested in desperation. Aisha was tensing her body and shaking as if she was getting an epileptic fit, while turning redder and redder. I did as mum suggested, more to appease her than the baby, since I knew that Aisha's tantrum was beyond the point at which she could be appeased by sweet treats.


Aisha grabbed the chocolate, holding one piece in each hand- and then squeezing. To her, the pieces of chocolate served more like stress balls to ease her frustration, as she squashed the rapidly-melting treat. I love chocolate (I mean, I really really love chocolate), so as my mum looked on in horror (no doubt wondering if the child was suffering from some kind of mental disorder); I looked on longingly, as the lovely creamy liquid dripped enticingly from her pudgy fingers onto my new duvet cover.


My mum panicked. "Her hands are dirty! She needs a bath!"


What! I thought to myself. And wash all that lovely chocolate down the drain?


This situation couldn't go on. " Come to Mommy. What can I do to help you, my darling?" I
asked her, while leaning in to hug her; very smoothly and subtly managing to dip my fingers into and lick the chocolate without my mother seeing. Pure ecstasy.


After about an hour, when she had been sufficiently worn down, I drew her attention to the squawking of our quaker parrot, which provided sufficient distraction to put an end to that tantrum.


The following one took place at 2:45 am yesterday morning. I don't remember how long it lasted (could have been about 30 minutes), but I was really lucky when I noticed that she had a runny nose and was thus able to offer her Rhinex medication, which she loves and which therefore instantly put her in a better mood.(Don't worry, I don't offer her medication just to shut her up- she really had a runny nose- I swear).


So my mum left for home last night, with new insight into her little granddaughter's scary personality and most likely feeling immense pity for her helpless daughter's plight. Sadly, I don't think she'll be back any time soon.

Feeling crappy- with no one but myself to blame

Not too long ago I did a blog post on how I was starting to exercise by walking. I also did a post on my recent discovery that I had been diagnosed as having suffered from a anorexia all these years.


I'm not sure at which point in the last few weeks I started going too far again.


Walks for three blocks at the beginning soon became brisk walks for about twelve blocks, followed by Pilates and a further rigorous exercise session upon arriving back home.


That in itself was not the problem. The problem was that old habits die hard. Once I started exercising again, I soon lost my appetite. This was aggravated by the stress of the kids formal assessments over the past few weeks.


A few days ago I noticed that I was starting to get dizzy when I stood up too fast. I thought I'd remedy this by taking some ferrous sulphate tablets. Despite this, I started to feel worse.


It was no surprise to me when I easily picked up Aisha's cold, but instead of it just ending there, I spent Friday lying down with the most terrible body cramps and headache as well. I felt weak- it was as if I was trying to move around with weights attached to my hands and feet. Aisha cried to be picked up- and I cried because I was in too much pain to do so. This was an all too familiar feeling, as I had gotten ill quickly in those bad old days, and I very often struggled to recover from a simple cold. Yesterday I was nauseous all day, although I did manage to eat a bit last night.


I think I shall be taking a break from exercising for a bit- until I feel a bit stronger. I shall also have to consciously take the time to eat- irrespective of whether I feel like it or not.

For Tharaa- on your tenth birthday

I clearly remember the first time we saw you. Looking all distorted and alien on the 3D scan. It was when we first learned that you were a girl. 
I was ecstatic. I had wanted a girl desperately.  

"Are you sure it's a girl?" I asked, not wanting to have my hopes dashed at a later stage.

"Definitely," said the friendly lady doing the scan. "Just take a look at the burger. See, it's very clear- you're definitely having a girl".

Your daddy panicked. How would he keep potential boyfriends and suitors at bay. He wanted to protect you, his little girl, before you were even born.

His protective instinct intensified the moment he saw you. You were barely a minute old, when he ran off after the doctor and nurses who had taken you away to clean you up and do the routine checks. He wanted to make sure that they would not drop you or hurt you accidentally (never mind his wife who had just been through an excruciating 14 hour labour- you were clearly the new lady in his life). 

My early memories of you were of a sweet little girl, who slept for long stretches at a time and didn't give much trouble at all. You were always your daddy's girl, clinging to him, never wanting him to leave your sight.

My fondest recollections are of you dancing. You were so graceful for a toddler. I was amazed at how you'd invent little ballet steps, which would look so authentic- as if you had been taught. You floated about the room, so light on your feet- I could watch you for hours. And your lovely little voice. I remember you singing Josh Groban songs- inventing your own words along the way.

Just before your fifth birthday, your daddy asked what you'd like for a present, and you answered, "Anything daddy, even a shoelace will do".

As you grew older, people started to notice your agility. "Why isn't she enrolled at gymnastics or ballet class?" we were asked by more than one person. You still love dancing. Like your brother, you love imitating Michael Jackson and have become a huge fan ( which shows that you clearly have developed good taste too).

You have developed a kind and loving nature, which is why you are one of Aisha (2)'s favourite people in the world. Your mischievous smile and quick wit are of your most endearing qualities. Though you managed to get through the September formal assessment without employing any of the study methods I taught you, you still managed to walk away with Special Certificates for Maths, Natural Science and English- all without losing your cool the way your mother does.

You practice your karate both passionately and playfully and are now learning the second kata, while still having fun. And your beautiful voice now constantly fills the house with your sweet rendition of Adele's 'Someone like you'.

Although you're just a little girl, I am in awe of so many of the admirable qualities with which you have been blessed. 

My prayer for you is that you grow into a pious God-conscious young lady; who lives her life with integrity and by the moral code according to which she was raised. May you always be a wonderful obedient daughter; a loving, loyal and supportive sister, cousin, granddaughter and niece and a strong pillar in the community. 

I pray for your life to be a blessed one. May God give you the strength to overcome any obstacles in your path and may He hold onto your hand tightly so you may never waver from His path. May He fill your life with love, light and His blessings in abundance.

I know that your birthday was not everything you hoped it would be. And you may not have received the fanciest birthday party or most extravagant gifts but you, my dear girl, are so blessed to have so many people who love you so deeply. 

We all love you so much, our amazing little TEN year old!!!