Braving icy weather and blue bottles

I think Mo and I are realising that we won't be spending the weekends/ holidays during the upcoming winter season holed up indoors, slowly sipping hot cocoa and watching action movies/comedies. After one hour indoors we would already have refereed six arguments (which might or might not have turned physical) and meted out punishment so often that it would be impossible to keep track of.


This became evident on Easter Monday. So, instead of subjecting ourselves to that torture, we decided to spend the freezing day outside at the beach. I know - the beach would not ordinarily be the first place one thinks of visiting in icy winter, but I try to avoid malls as much as possible. I really prefer to pile on layers of clothes and have them run around outside - snot frozen to their faces - than to have them walk around mindlessly - hypnotised by the bright lights - in a mall.

So off we headed to Hout Bay. We decided to have lunch at Snoekies. But so did the rest of Cape Town, it seemed. After waiting for our food for what seemed like forever (not because of poor service, but because of the mass of like-minded people who had descended upon the place), we headed off to the beach to enjoy our meals in the car.

The tide was low - revealing all the sea life which the previous high tide had spat up onto the shore. Among the masses of sea weed, numerous blue bottles could be found. I'd been stung by these buggers numerous times during my childhood, so I was on the alert all the time to ensure that the kids stayed far from them.

After satisfying their hunger the kids leaped out of the car to search for the best place (meaning - far away from the scary dogs) to build their sandcastle. The spot they chose was up on a tiny hill about 14 meters from the water's edge.

Because their sandcastle required the use of wet sand as well, the kids trekked to and from the water's edge carrying handsful of sand. Not the best place to build a castle, but at least they felt safe from scary dogs and I felt safe from blue bottles (although the previous high tide had washed some about 12 meters onto the shore).

Shakeel (12) on one of his journeys from the water's edge to collect wet sand for the castle

Since the kids had taken off their shoes, their protective resourceful dad cleared and marked a path for them, removing all blue bottles from within its area. Whenever a wave brought in more blue bottles, he made sure that he cleared these from the path of his little builders.



Mo clearing a blue bottle -free path for the kids



Nuha (7) hard at work, while Tharaa (10) takes a well-deserved break

Shakeel (12) and Nuha (7) collecting wet sand from the water's edge for their castle

Me- too cold to move

Bossy-boots Aisha (2) probably barking orders at her sisters

 A freezing day at the beach- will definitely do it again!

Challenging the waves on a rainy day

On Sunday last week Mo and I were planning to spend the lovely rainy day indoors with the family. By lunch time however, the kids' arguments and nagging were driving us nuts.

Mo suggested that we take the kids to Sea Point, taking along our home-made lunch to be enjoyed in the car while watching the waves.  I had made mince curry and bought roti, which was easy to convert into a lunch 'to go' by simply rolling the steaming fragrant curry in the roti's -  forming a curry wrap called a salomie.

When we arrived in the car park overlooking the sea, the kids could barely contain their excitement, as the roar of the huge ferocious waves filled one with awe and exhiliration. So after managing to take a few obligatory bites of their carefully-prepared lunches, they dashed out of the car and onto the promenade, where some families were enjoying lazy icy walks, while trying to stay out of the way of the hard-core fitness junkies out for their daily run.

Shakeel (12 at the time) and Tharaa (10) took a few tentative steps toward the railings, before realising that the section beneath the railings was extremely slippery. The thunderous terrifying roar of the ocean was sufficient to cause them to come to their senses and step back a meter or two. They were beside themselves with excitement.

The rapidity with which these gigantic waves approached the land caused them to crash over onto the promenade and sometimes even onto the parked cars! 

I couldn't resist stepping out of the car and into the rain. The thrill, the excitement, the inexplicable allure of perceived danger - absolutely irresistable.

A calmer moment of the sea- capture from the safety of the car

I carefully peered over the edge at the swirling frothy waters beneath. Fascinating. Beautiful. And for some reason - mouthwatering.

The spray as it hits the wall

The kids were absolutely drenched. Even 7 year old Nuha put aside her fear of a potential tsunami long enough to participate in the game of chasey which her siblings were playing with the waves.

Shakeel, resourceful as ever, retrieved a towel (in which his resourceful mommy had rolled the salomies to keep them warm) from the car - using it to protect himself from the spray. Very soon the towel, too was sodden.

But soon Nuha injured her foot in the game of chasey and ended up sitting in the car weeping pitifully. Her unsympathetic siblings carried on playing unperturbed by their little sister's injury.

Soon after Nuha's injury we left for home. But not before stopping off at McDonalds for an ice-cream - the perfect medicine to assist Nuha to overcome the pain of her injury. As usual, it worked like a charm.

''And where was two-year old Aisha all this time?'' you might be wondering.

Exercise and writing - our first new winter indoor activities

One of my concerns this past holiday was how to limit my kids' screen time. They were limited to two hours of screen time (which included TV, Playstation and computer) per day. This allotted time was usually staggered throughout the day.


While they managed to sneak in extra time on some days, on others they would spend most of their allotted time playing outside / on family outings.


Before Mo took leave last week, the kids and I spent our mornings in gym - with the older two on the cardio circuit with me, while the younger two played in the gym's designated play area. Since 2 year old Aisha is not at school yet, the experience of being in a public play area with other children was a major source of excitement.


On Tuesday I bravely (and, as it turned out - stupidly) agreed to allow them to swim at the gym. So after I'd had my workout, we collected the younger two at the play area. While Shakeel (12) waited for us at the pool, Tharaa (10) helped me to get the younger two ready in the ladies' changing rooms. They giggled with much amusement as I tried to squeeze my darling Aisha (2)'s giant head into the tiny swimming cap.

The kids thoroughly enjoyed their time in the water. I readied myself to dive in at a moment's notice, should either of the younger two experience difficulty. Aisha stayed on the wide step at the edge of the pool, while 7 year old Nuha bravely swam a strange, but cute combination of doggy paddle and breast-stroke down the length of the pool. Since she is not a confident swimmer yet, I walked alongside her while Tharaa stayed with Aisha.


Shakeel and Tharaa, as usual, were competitive and noisy and I constantly had to remind them that this was not our local public pool. They swam laps - each trying to beat the other's time.


It was all going swimmingly - until Aisha started to cry, saying that she was getting cold. I panicked, because I knew what was to follow. I ordered the others of the pool, but as usual, they begged to be allowed one more lap. As I spoke, they dove underwater, pretending not to hear me. Until I said, ''Guys, Aisha is about to have a tantrum''. Which is when they swiftly leaped out of the water and into the changing rooms before she emitted her first piercing shriek.


I'd clearly not thought ahead when agreeing bring the kids swimming in cold weather all by myself. Although the indoor pool is heated, it was icy outside, so I could not leave until they had showered and dried their hair. Aisha became increasingly tired and agitated, moaning and then screaming all the while. I got stares from the other women in the locker room - not all of them understanding. A young lady flashed me a sympathetic smile as she, no doubt, witnessed the perspiration dripping from my forehead.


With a frozen smile I dragged screaming Aisha past the lounge area, in which the well-groomed toned bodies were enjoying their morning coffee (or more likely herbal teas). Never again, I promised myself.


At home we spent the cold days indoors. I gave the children writing exercises to do, having gotten the idea from a homeschooling mother of eight kids. This amazing mommy blogger (who blogs at this address ) gave this advice on how to tackle creative writing. So borrowing this idea, I decided to make writing a holiday activity. Admittedly, this was initially not received with overwhelming enthusiasm, but after a few minutes the noisiness died down and the only sound that could be heard, were those of fervent pencils scratching paper. What added to their excitement was the fact that I'd asked them to do a dramatic reading of their writing - and oh, how they love being dramatic!

Despite some of their initial complaints, I could not stop them once they'd started writing. Following the advice of amazing mommy blogger mentioned earlier, I did not focus on spelling and provided the correct spelling of words only when asked.

They were, themselves, surprised at how much they had to write (even on topics about which they had initally felt they had nothing to say). Very often one simply just has to start writing - and the ideas will flow.

The dramatic readings were just as I'd imagined them to be. Shakeel hid his discomfort and shyness with displays of over-the-top theatrics. Tharaa marvelled at how well her brother expressed himself in writing (and I too was really impressed).

Tharaa's delivery of her reading was more understated, but dramatic. I was amazed at her language usage and the way her sensitivity reflected in her writing. As I had expected, she read out her piece with confidence.

Nuha, who is usually quite shy, surprised me with her willingness to stand in front and read her one-page essay (while often getting confused at her own unique spelling). I was amazed at how much detail she recorded in her writing - this tendency enabled her to flesh out a topic about which I'd thought she would not have much to say. She read her piece earnestly and seriously, but oh-so-adorably!

Then it was two-year old Aisha's turn. She stood in front of us, holding her page of scribbles and started to 'read'. Her delivery was dramatic - arms flailing wildly; facial expressions showing her passion. The random words, which she had strung together to form meaningless sentences, were spoken with expression - her voice deepening and lilting as required by the context of her gibberish.

This year I am determined to use the icy weather to its best advantage. Winter need not be a season of gloom. It can provide families with the opportunity to become creative, as they try to find stimulating and exciting ways to keep themselves occupied indoors. More importantly (for me), spending this time indoors (while creating indoor fun) can foster a feeling of closeness, togetherness and warmth - which is the perfect antidote to the chilly winter weather.

First day back at school blues (mine)

Once again, as many stay-at-home mums heave a collective sigh of relief, I sit here sniffing into my tissues; missing my babies.

I've brushed hair, handed out lunches, checked signed reports, given giant bear hugs, planted a million kisses on cheeks - and waved a sad dramatic good-bye.

I miss them so much.

Last night I brought up the topic of homeschooling with Mo. What if we hire a retired teacher to assist me with the classes? Wouldn't we still be saving money if taking into account school fees and transport costs (I was grasping at straws; trying to convince him). Why subject them to potential peer pressure, bullying and negative influences?

Why couldn't they just stay home with me?

I miss them. I miss them. I know it's pathetic, but I really miss them.

Despite the constant bickering during this holiday that had me pulling at my hair; despite the constant mess that had me yelling and screaming.

I'm a sad pathetic mommy - whose life is way too wrapped up in those of her kids.

Not to mention a scared mommy - as I wait for two- year old tantrum-throwing Aisha to awaken. No Shakeel (12) to rush into the room first thing in the morning to marvel at his little sister, no Nuha (7) cause her first morning giggles and no Tharaa (10) to help her and comfort her like a little mommy. But fear of dealing with Aisha's moods alone is not the reason I'm missing the other kids so much.
I swear its not. Okay, maybe it is - a bit.

I step into their rooms which they have tidied all by themselves this morning. (They had taken my growling and threatening of last night seriously). My sweethearts!

Okay, I know that this is probably the most annoying post to which I've ever subjected anyone - so I'll stop. While I chew on my nails waiting for Aisha to awaken.

Enjoying Deer Park serenity and side-stepping poo in Sea Point Park

On Thursday afternoon we took the kids to Deer Park . As always, I was in awe of the breathtaking scenery - not only of the Park itself, but even as we drove through the leafy suburb of Vredehoek, above which Deer Park is situated.

Since I'd been too lazy to pack a decent healthy lunch, our picnic lunch consisted of a lovely greasy meal purchased at the KFC in Gardens.

But we did not laze around for long after spotting this fellow crawling across the lawn. As cute as he was, I could not shake the feeling that he was crawling up my thigh.

The kids wasted no time before going off exploring.

It is remarkable that the serenity of this relatively unspoiled lush Park can (unbeknown to many) be found within such close proximity to the city centre.

Cape Town CBD in the background

The plush suburb of Tamboerskloof seen to the right

We made our way to the lazy little stream (the amount of water and flow usually depends on how much rain there had been). Despite the fact that there was not as much water as there usually is in the wetter months, the kids enjoyed themselves immensely (I have mentioned in previous posts how my kids really need little more than a puddle of water to keep themselves amused.

 
Aisha wasted no time before shedding her clothes.
  

Shakeel spent much of the time moaning at the fact that I would not let him bring home a tadpole to live with our goldfish in our little rock pond.

Soon Aisha could not resist dunking her head in the water.





And then the bigger girls too couldn't remain fully clothed



Once we left Deer Park, we headed to Sea Point park for some fun in the sun.

What a lovely day we had enjoying some of the gems our beautiful city has to offer.

Aloe boobies

I have had a really difficult 36 hours. On Sunday afternoon, without much fore-thought or planning, I decided to wean Aisha.

I know that this is way past due - she is already 2 years and four months old and breastfeeding at this age seems to be unacceptable. Initially, my main concern was our religious ruling on breastfeeding children beyond the age of two, but we were reassured by our Imam that it was perfectly acceptable to breastfeed beyond this age (obviously within reason).

So I relaxed, and continued to enjoy bonding with Aisha this way. She absolutely loves her boobies, using them mainly for comfort and not really for nutrition at this point. Many a tantrum has been averted simply by flashing them - it is incredible to watch how her face changes from outrage and frustration to sheer happiness within seconds. I love watching her face as she breastfeeds - the contentment and joy warms my heart. Recently, when she catches me watching her face intently while she's breastfeeding, she will give me a thumbs-up signal. Really funny and cute.

Recently she fell off a high fold up chair, as it crashed to the ground. Her forehead hit the ground, as she had fallen head-first. The shock of the fall had her in a state of hysteria. It was absolutely amazing how she calmed down instantly after she'd lifted my top to seek comfort from her boobies. After a few minutes the violent sobbing was replaced by gentle peaceful breathing.

I didn't breastfeed this long with my other three kids. There had not been a need for a weaning process, since all of them had just naturally moved on to the bottle. If anyone had told me that such emotional turmoil would be the result of weaning this one, I might have stopped sooner.

A while back I started to do a blog post on the sadness I was feeling about the prospect of weaning her. I researched other such cases on the internet, but did not find anyone who was suffering to the extent that I was. I felt alone and weird - and like a weakling. But I could not finish the post, as it became too painful. I kept bursting into tears.

I feared the prospect of weaning her. I knew that the sadness would escalate into full-blown grief. Nobody could relate. Other mommies who had weaned kids, who were born more or less around the time Aisha was, laughed when I told them how sad I was feeling. (In their defence, their laughter was not mocking - they were merely responding to the jovial joking tone in which I mocked my own silliness- in the hopes that someone would say they understood and that they were feeling the same).

My sadness can be attributed to the fact that it feels as if the bond between us will break. Our relationship will change - she will need me less. But more importantly - much more importantly - I'm heartbroken about the fact that I will not be able to provide her with the comfort I used to. I feel as if I will be robbing her of something which gives her so much joy, contentment and solace. Since she does not take the dummy/pacifier or bottle, there is no substitute which I can offer her.

I chatted to moms about how they had gone about the weaning process. I got advice which ranged from applying Mercurochrome to the nipples (to resemble blood), chocolate (to resemble poo) and bitter aloe (which apparently tastes so vile that the horror and disgust is said to linger long after the child has tasted it). Most moms recommended the bitter aloe, swearing by its effectiveness. But when I raised the topic with our family doctor, she reiterated what I'd thought - this method was cruel. She suggested that I explain to Aisha that she was hurting my boobies and try to get her to see the reason behind the decision to wean. I knew that there was no way that would work.

But I tried it - I told Aisha that she was hurting me, which upset her, making her cling to me even more.

A few weeks ago I, once again, found myself around other mums who had weaned. My embarrassed admission that I had still not weaned was met with shock, surprise and the usual advice. As usual, nobody could understand what the big deal was, making me feel really alone - and annoyed at myself.

On Sunday afternoon, without prior warning and very much on the spur of the moment, I decided to apply some bitter aloe to my nipples. My heart broke as I did it. Very dramatically, I kissed and hugged Aisha just before I did it - it truly felt as if I was saying good-bye to her (or at least to my breastfeeding baby). I had a lump in my throat the entire time.

I called her over and offered her her boobies, which she willingly took. Nothing could have prepared me for her reaction when she tasted it. She looked shocked, she panicked and then gagged. She started to rub her tongue with her sleeve, desperate to get the taste out of her mouth. I panicked - what the hell had I done??? I was such an idiot! A cruel stupid people-pleasing idiot!!! How could I have done this to my baby? And why? Simply because I was feeling the pressure from other people. I hated myself - I truly hated myself. I still do.

I quickly applied toothpaste to her tongue. Eventually she calmed down - but she was clearly affected by the experience. She kept repeating to her older siblings ''Kakka (Yucky) boobies'' and pointing at me. She was uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of the night.

During the middle of the night, she awoke as usual for her boobies. Unaware that the taste could not simply be wiped away, I offered them to her. She started to cry - for about an hour. It was not her usual middle-of-the night tantrum. She was crying bitterly. She was angry. She sat up and started to suck on her hand. Then I started to cry. I sobbed and sobbed, feeling helpless and full of regret. I could not console my baby at all. She pushed me away when I came near her, whimpering, ''Kakka boobies, kakka mommy''. I reached out to touch her, but she pushed my hand away, saying, ''Kakka mommy's hand''. I was heartbroken, but I deserved it.

Mo brought me a facecloth to attempt to remove the taste once again. I rubbed and rubbed until my nipples were raw. Then he gave me some golden syrup to rub on my nipples - in an attempt to undo the damage I had done with the aloe. Hesitantly I did so ( I realised that the harm done by a bit of sugar did not outweigh the harm that I had already done to the child). I offered her her  sweetened boobies, but she pushed me away. She eyed me suspiciously, crying all the time. I wept along with her.

I told her that her boobies were tasting better now - I put a tiny bit of the syrup on her lip to illustrate what they tasted like now. She swiped my hand away. After another fifteen minutes of crying, I picked her up and quickly put the sweetened boobie in her mouth. She did not resist (I'm not sure if it was from exhaustion).

Although she has been back in her tantrum phase for about two months, she had always been pleasant, funny and lovable in between her tantrums (of which there would be about two or three a day - which includes her middle-of-the-night tantrum).

Yesterday was a complete nightmare. Although she took her boobies the morning, she kept talking about the kakka/yucky boobie experience. She was quiet, angry and aggressive all day. The number of tantrums were too numerous to count. She was particularly aggressive toward me, which was strange since I'm usually the one who comforts her and calms her down. I felt depressed, powerless. I missed my happy baby. I felt as if I had broken her.

Last night's middle of the night tantrum was particularly bad. She did not want boobies in bed (which is VERY VERY UNUSUAL). She wanted to fall asleep with her head on my shoulder, which under any other circumstances, would have made me so happy - but this was because she still did not trust that I would not give her yucky boobies again. She fell asleep on my shoulder after screaming for more than an hour.

She awoke again at about 06:00, insisting that I apply 'medicine' to my boobies - she was referring to the golden syrup which had fixed them when  they were kakka/yucky. I complied with  her request and asked if she wanted her boobies. She didn't - she had simply wanted to ensure that her boobies were no longer yucky.

This post has been written over a half-a day (due to lack of time to sit and write it in one go), and at this moment I am feeling so much relief. She has just awoken - happy. However, being the idiot I am, I forgot that I had applied the golden syrup at 06:00 am, so when I offered her the boobies, she shrank back with panic at their unusual (albeit pleasant) taste. But, it doesn't matter - for now she's smiling again. I hope and pray that she remains happy for the rest of the day.

Which still leaves me with the problem of a possible weaning method. But I shall worry about that another time - right now I'm just happy that she's happy.

(If anyone has suggestions regarding methods of weaning, please feel free to share it. I will really appreciate it)

Tharaa powers up to become Super-saiyan

Since he was a toddler, soon-to-be 13 year old Shakeel has been obsessed with the Japanese cartoon series Dragon ball Z. As a result, his adoring and admiring sisters now share his passion.

Here is an example of Gohan powering up to become Super-saiyan (which will enhance his strength and power considerably).

Image obtained from http://www.giantbomb.com/gohan/94-443/

I was really impressed when 10 year old Tharaa captured a pic of herself becoming a Super-saiyan (using the Playstation controller).

I tried to capture the same event with my little camera.

Granted, my efforts were far less impressive than those of my multi-talented super-saiyan's.