For some reason this socio-phobe has been feeling uncharacteristically lonely and in need of company (outside of my immediate family) for the past few days.
I can't explain it. Maybe it's the feeling of celebration and joy prevalent this time of the year. Spending too much time on Facebook, where people are expressing the joy being derived from togetherness with family and friends, has definitely played a role.
I've also been feeling rather nostalgic- longing for the good old days when I actually enjoyed being out and about among people.
I think Mo hit the nail on the head when he identified part of the problem as being a longing for a simpler more carefree time. A time when my biggest concern was meeting curfew for fear of being grounded by my dad- and even that had been strangely exhilarating.
The fact that my older three kids have been spending a few days with my mom has left me with fewer things on which to focus. Even clingy Aisha has been strangely independent of me for the past few days, preferring the company of that freakin' annoying purple dinosaur. The relentless sound of Barney tunes seems to keep the child hypnotised, though she occasionally leans down to offer her stuffed toy Barney 'a great big hug and a kiss' as per the theme song.
So here I am sitting, feeling ridiculously sombre. Ridiculous, because I know that as soon as someone should invite us to spend a day with them, I will most likely wish they hadn't, and will once again prefer to spend time in my own company (and that of my immediate family).
Having written the above earlier today, I am quite surprised by the fact that we have been asked to accompany some people for a day out- and I'm really excited! Could this be the beginning of me turning into a normal well-adjusted sociable individual? For my husband's and kids' sakes, I hope so.
Saturday, 24 December 2011
Wednesday, 21 December 2011
Fancy-pants holiday?...I think not
This is the first time in years that we have, by this time, still made no definite plans to go away for the holidays. But Mo is however still determined to ensure that we go somewhere- even if it's just somewhere nearby; even just for a few days.
So I've been observing him poring over websites and advertisements, stressing about which places have the best amenities and more importantly, which have the most varied activities for the kids.
It's not that I think the kids will not enjoy quadbiking, pony rides, fishing etc. It's just that I don't think that they really need it in order to have an amazing time.
Growing up, we went to the same holiday resort every single year. Both my brother and I got to take a friend/cousin to keep us company. The place we went to was nice enough- we stayed in a two-bedroomed little house, which had all the basic amenities. There were tennis courts, swimming pools and there was a games room, which had badmington and table tennis.
My family made full use of these facilities- my dad, brother and I would swim laps daily and my parents became extremely competitive against each other on the tennis courts. But it was playing table tennis that the entire family enjoyed the most; and in which each one believed that he/she out-performed the other.
We really didn't need more than that to derive the ultimate enjoyment and pleasure from our holidays.
One year my dad decided to take us to a more expensive seaside resort. This place boasted luxurious accomodation, numerous pools, gym, fancy restaurants, squash courts, etc. But because it was more expensive than our usual holiday destination, we were unable to take along our friend/cousin as a companion. The atmosphere was also very different to our usual holiday destination; and we did not really spend much time together enjoying shared family activities.
I was absolutely miserable the entire time.
Looking back I realise that one of the reasons was that I had no one my age with whom to share all this. The varied selection of activities on offer meant that we actually ended up not doing much together- my brother preferred to play squash, while I preferred to gym.
Our usual holiday destination, although much cheaper, had served its purpose more than adequately- it had provided us with the activities in which we had all loved to participate; in an environment which we found comfortable and welcoming.
In addition, we had met so many wonderful friends. Every year was a bittersweet experience- as we would make new friends, with whom we'd promise to keep in touch, but whom we knew we would very possibly never see again.
My kids are even more easily satisfied than what I was. We too have been holidaying at the same place for the past few years. Our accomodation usually depended on our budget for that trip. There's usually the fairly luxurious flat with a shared heated pool for residents of those flats- for when the budget allowed. Otherwise a cheaper tiny rondawel/hut more than served its purpose (shielding us from the elements, place to sleep, place to dump our bags, have our meals and have our family bickering in private).
Never has the fact that we were housed in the smaller, less fancy accomodation in any way lessened the kids' enjoyment of their holiday. In fact, I'd say being forced outdoors added to the fun. The rondawels are situated on green slopes; their degree of lushness being dependent on the time of year. Since there is not much space to laze around in the tiny rondawels, the kids have often found themselves spending many pleasurable hours chasing guinea fowl, dodging termite mounds, admiring various other species of birds and inspecting the white-shelled snails.
Thanks to Shakeel's extremely fertile imagination, he- on more than one occasion- has managed to convince his sisters to help him to look for snakes, which he is convinced are lurking beneath each rock.
The kids, who love animals, also spend much of their time playing with and feeding the stray cats, which means that very soon we are usually feeding an entire colony of these strays.
I think that whether we get to go on some adventurous getaway or not- the kids will enjoy themselves by virtue of the fact that they have each others' company. They bicker and fight constantly, and I have already, much to their amusement, lost track of all the punishment I have meted out to each one respectively, because of their constant fighting. They nag often, about being hungry, about being bored etc etc.
But it's playing together wherever they find themselves, that they enjoy the most. Whether we are out on holiday or simply at home, they usually find activities to keep themselves occupied.
They have just emerged from a time-out, which followed a massive argument over whose chores had been easiest- and it's as if their earlier fight had never happened. They are currently in the kitchen making popcorn together- and laughing themselves silly at something stupid. Although another argument is very likely to ensue soon- about who generated the most mess during the popcorn-making and who is therefore responsible for the most cleaning, one can be sure that they will bounce back from that too- just to find another activity to keep them occupied and happy.
So I'm not really too panicked about finding the perfect place to spend the holiday. Because their pleasure and happiness this holiday has very little to do with how fancy their surroundings, how varied the activities on offer, and how lavish the holiday accommodation- and more to do with those with whom they are spending it.
And now that I hear the next argument starting, I must admit that a lovely private getaway-for-one seems like a fabulous idea.
So I've been observing him poring over websites and advertisements, stressing about which places have the best amenities and more importantly, which have the most varied activities for the kids.
It's not that I think the kids will not enjoy quadbiking, pony rides, fishing etc. It's just that I don't think that they really need it in order to have an amazing time.
Growing up, we went to the same holiday resort every single year. Both my brother and I got to take a friend/cousin to keep us company. The place we went to was nice enough- we stayed in a two-bedroomed little house, which had all the basic amenities. There were tennis courts, swimming pools and there was a games room, which had badmington and table tennis.
My family made full use of these facilities- my dad, brother and I would swim laps daily and my parents became extremely competitive against each other on the tennis courts. But it was playing table tennis that the entire family enjoyed the most; and in which each one believed that he/she out-performed the other.
We really didn't need more than that to derive the ultimate enjoyment and pleasure from our holidays.
One year my dad decided to take us to a more expensive seaside resort. This place boasted luxurious accomodation, numerous pools, gym, fancy restaurants, squash courts, etc. But because it was more expensive than our usual holiday destination, we were unable to take along our friend/cousin as a companion. The atmosphere was also very different to our usual holiday destination; and we did not really spend much time together enjoying shared family activities.
I was absolutely miserable the entire time.
Looking back I realise that one of the reasons was that I had no one my age with whom to share all this. The varied selection of activities on offer meant that we actually ended up not doing much together- my brother preferred to play squash, while I preferred to gym.
Our usual holiday destination, although much cheaper, had served its purpose more than adequately- it had provided us with the activities in which we had all loved to participate; in an environment which we found comfortable and welcoming.
In addition, we had met so many wonderful friends. Every year was a bittersweet experience- as we would make new friends, with whom we'd promise to keep in touch, but whom we knew we would very possibly never see again.
My kids are even more easily satisfied than what I was. We too have been holidaying at the same place for the past few years. Our accomodation usually depended on our budget for that trip. There's usually the fairly luxurious flat with a shared heated pool for residents of those flats- for when the budget allowed. Otherwise a cheaper tiny rondawel/hut more than served its purpose (shielding us from the elements, place to sleep, place to dump our bags, have our meals and have our family bickering in private).
Never has the fact that we were housed in the smaller, less fancy accomodation in any way lessened the kids' enjoyment of their holiday. In fact, I'd say being forced outdoors added to the fun. The rondawels are situated on green slopes; their degree of lushness being dependent on the time of year. Since there is not much space to laze around in the tiny rondawels, the kids have often found themselves spending many pleasurable hours chasing guinea fowl, dodging termite mounds, admiring various other species of birds and inspecting the white-shelled snails.
Thanks to Shakeel's extremely fertile imagination, he- on more than one occasion- has managed to convince his sisters to help him to look for snakes, which he is convinced are lurking beneath each rock.
The kids, who love animals, also spend much of their time playing with and feeding the stray cats, which means that very soon we are usually feeding an entire colony of these strays.
I think that whether we get to go on some adventurous getaway or not- the kids will enjoy themselves by virtue of the fact that they have each others' company. They bicker and fight constantly, and I have already, much to their amusement, lost track of all the punishment I have meted out to each one respectively, because of their constant fighting. They nag often, about being hungry, about being bored etc etc.
But it's playing together wherever they find themselves, that they enjoy the most. Whether we are out on holiday or simply at home, they usually find activities to keep themselves occupied.
They have just emerged from a time-out, which followed a massive argument over whose chores had been easiest- and it's as if their earlier fight had never happened. They are currently in the kitchen making popcorn together- and laughing themselves silly at something stupid. Although another argument is very likely to ensue soon- about who generated the most mess during the popcorn-making and who is therefore responsible for the most cleaning, one can be sure that they will bounce back from that too- just to find another activity to keep them occupied and happy.
So I'm not really too panicked about finding the perfect place to spend the holiday. Because their pleasure and happiness this holiday has very little to do with how fancy their surroundings, how varied the activities on offer, and how lavish the holiday accommodation- and more to do with those with whom they are spending it.
And now that I hear the next argument starting, I must admit that a lovely private getaway-for-one seems like a fabulous idea.
Sunday, 18 December 2011
Water babies
A few days ago Mo announced that he had an appointment in Gansbaai this morning. Since it is a two-hour drive to the little town, he thought we could all tag along- pack a picnic basket and the kids' bathing costumes- and make a day of it.
But it was not to be. Due to circumstances beyond our control, we had been unable to accompany him, which meant that I spent all day home alone with the kids. But I was not as perturbed at the thought as one might have expected- the two and a half hour drive to Gansbaai with Aisha screaming in her car seat had been a far more daunting prospect.
If I had been at all concerned about how to keep them entertained for the entire day, I needn't have been.
My four kids love water. Give them access to water (whether in the form of a swimming pool, beach, dam, pond or puddle), and they are able to keep themselves busy for hours on end.
Since we do not have a built in swimming pool, their father bought them a 4m (diameter) x 1m (height) plastic pool last year. It was heaven (for me). Apart from the perpetually wet floors covered in wet towels, the fact that they were always happily entertaining themselves (and then-one year old Aisha) worked out very well for me.
But since Mo had, by the time he left this morning, not had the opportunity to set up the pool, which takes an eternity to fill with water, the kids had to find another way to cool down. I had faith in them- I was certain that they'd find some or other water source to keep them happy.
And soon their shrieks of delight could be heard, along with the sound of splashing water. Just to be sure that they weren't cooling off in drain water, I went out to check and found all four of them splashing about in two-year old Aisha's tiny little splash pool.
Believe it or not, that kept them busy for the entire afternoon.
We had a little lunch picnic in the back garden. Since Mo was not home, my healthy eating regime could be enforced unopposed. Lunch consisted of grilled chicken and potatoes, accompanied by a mixed vegetable and summer fruit salad. Had Mo been home, he would have insisted upon additional carbs in the form of garlic bread, rice or a french loaf.
My response to their question, "What's for dessert?" was met with howls of laughter when I told them that I would be serving them an assortment of sliced fruit.
Later after they had all bathed, there were still complaints about the heat. Since I had expressly forbidden them from re-entering Aisha's little splash pool, I should not have been surprised when I found them splashing about in the pond/water feature in the front garden.
Now at 20:20 in the evening, after having reached a negotiated settlement- they are once again being allowed to play in Aisha's splash pool (despite my earlier prohibition)- but are only allowed to wet their feet. The negotiations had started with them proposing the waist-high submergence of their bodies in the water, so with the finally-agreed-upon foot-wetting, I'd say I had fared pretty well in the negotiations, wouldn't you?
But it was not to be. Due to circumstances beyond our control, we had been unable to accompany him, which meant that I spent all day home alone with the kids. But I was not as perturbed at the thought as one might have expected- the two and a half hour drive to Gansbaai with Aisha screaming in her car seat had been a far more daunting prospect.
If I had been at all concerned about how to keep them entertained for the entire day, I needn't have been.
My four kids love water. Give them access to water (whether in the form of a swimming pool, beach, dam, pond or puddle), and they are able to keep themselves busy for hours on end.
Since we do not have a built in swimming pool, their father bought them a 4m (diameter) x 1m (height) plastic pool last year. It was heaven (for me). Apart from the perpetually wet floors covered in wet towels, the fact that they were always happily entertaining themselves (and then-one year old Aisha) worked out very well for me.
But since Mo had, by the time he left this morning, not had the opportunity to set up the pool, which takes an eternity to fill with water, the kids had to find another way to cool down. I had faith in them- I was certain that they'd find some or other water source to keep them happy.
And soon their shrieks of delight could be heard, along with the sound of splashing water. Just to be sure that they weren't cooling off in drain water, I went out to check and found all four of them splashing about in two-year old Aisha's tiny little splash pool.
Believe it or not, that kept them busy for the entire afternoon.
We had a little lunch picnic in the back garden. Since Mo was not home, my healthy eating regime could be enforced unopposed. Lunch consisted of grilled chicken and potatoes, accompanied by a mixed vegetable and summer fruit salad. Had Mo been home, he would have insisted upon additional carbs in the form of garlic bread, rice or a french loaf.
My response to their question, "What's for dessert?" was met with howls of laughter when I told them that I would be serving them an assortment of sliced fruit.
Later after they had all bathed, there were still complaints about the heat. Since I had expressly forbidden them from re-entering Aisha's little splash pool, I should not have been surprised when I found them splashing about in the pond/water feature in the front garden.
Now at 20:20 in the evening, after having reached a negotiated settlement- they are once again being allowed to play in Aisha's splash pool (despite my earlier prohibition)- but are only allowed to wet their feet. The negotiations had started with them proposing the waist-high submergence of their bodies in the water, so with the finally-agreed-upon foot-wetting, I'd say I had fared pretty well in the negotiations, wouldn't you?
Friday, 16 December 2011
Week one survived- yay!!!
Miraculously we've managed to get through the first few days of the holidays relatively unscathed.
On Tuesday, I held a brief family meeting, outlining my expectations of them- to be met before I came out of my room in the mornings (since they get up at an ungodly hour every morning). The list included:
- brushing teeth and hair; and general grooming
- getting dressed
- tidying the rooms in which they spent time
- packing the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher
- sitting with their Arabic studies, with the older sibling helping the younger. I test each one on their daily lesson later on in the day.
But very often it is the sound of shouting and arguing accompanied by shrieks of pain that brings me running out of the room just in time to break up an argument or brawl. The disagreements usually emanate from the division of labour- with each one believing that he/she is being unfairly burdened by doing the bulk of the work.
"Why do I have to do EVERYTHING?!!" moans Shakeel after having picked up just three of his clothing items off the carpet in his room. "Can you see, Mommy? Tharaa's just sitting there- DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!!"
"I'm not doing nothing!" she shouts angrily. "I'm picking up the toys from under the bed." And then under her breath (but still hoping that he will hear) she mutters, "Stupid dumbass."
Which is when I am forced to step in.
Reluctantly. It's freakin' morning. I haven't even had my cup of coffee yet and I now I have to become creative, which is what meting out punishment to three perpetrators with very different personalities usually requires. Firstly, I have to figure out what currency I have, i.o.w. what is the item/activity which means enough to her so that, if deprived of it, she will feel really crappy.
With Shakeel, that decision is easy. Take away his Playstation and he's devastated. Deprive him of a visit to his friends and it's as if you are depriving him of life-giving oxygen.
With Tharaa it's far more complicated. No matter what I deprive her of, she just shrugs her shoulders with a nonchalant, "Okay, that's fine," which leaves me feeling frustrated for not having selected the correct currency to deal with her. The problem is that either there is very little about which she feels passionately OR she is really shrewd and she hides how much she really likes something to ensure that it never gets taken away from her as punishment.
So it's early morning and I'm already being faced with such a difficult decision (namely, what can Tharaa's punishment be). Which is when I decide that this is all B.S.- my parents didn't have to face such dilemmas- one klap (smack) and it had all been taken care of.
But since I'm not too certain about the legal ramifications of giving your child a klap under our new dispensation, I'll just say that I went 'old school' on her butt- and leave it at that.
They usually don't stay angry at one another for too long. Because soon after they're done tormenting each other, they start to torment me.
"Where are we going today? Are we staying home all day? Take us to McDonalds!"
On Wednesday I reluctantly took them to McDonalds. 'Reluctantly' because I'm the mum who usually moans about healthy eating and reduces my kids to tears by dishing vegetables onto their plates with each meal.
But I could no longer fight them, so off we went to the land of processed meat and fried foods. To appease my conscience I spent the entire meal nagging at them about how unhealthy the food was that I was being forced to feed them. Hopefully they did not listen to me or take me seriously (as is usually the case)- or I could possibly become the main topic of future therapy sessions.
We are off to a picnic in Greenpoint Park later today. The kids have been bouncing off the walls with excitement since 7:00 am.
Urgh, I have to go- I think I hear a fight breaking out over whose turn it is to tidy away the shoes.
On Tuesday, I held a brief family meeting, outlining my expectations of them- to be met before I came out of my room in the mornings (since they get up at an ungodly hour every morning). The list included:
- brushing teeth and hair; and general grooming
- getting dressed
- tidying the rooms in which they spent time
- packing the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher
- sitting with their Arabic studies, with the older sibling helping the younger. I test each one on their daily lesson later on in the day.
But very often it is the sound of shouting and arguing accompanied by shrieks of pain that brings me running out of the room just in time to break up an argument or brawl. The disagreements usually emanate from the division of labour- with each one believing that he/she is being unfairly burdened by doing the bulk of the work.
"Why do I have to do EVERYTHING?!!" moans Shakeel after having picked up just three of his clothing items off the carpet in his room. "Can you see, Mommy? Tharaa's just sitting there- DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!!"
"I'm not doing nothing!" she shouts angrily. "I'm picking up the toys from under the bed." And then under her breath (but still hoping that he will hear) she mutters, "Stupid dumbass."
Which is when I am forced to step in.
Reluctantly. It's freakin' morning. I haven't even had my cup of coffee yet and I now I have to become creative, which is what meting out punishment to three perpetrators with very different personalities usually requires. Firstly, I have to figure out what currency I have, i.o.w. what is the item/activity which means enough to her so that, if deprived of it, she will feel really crappy.
With Shakeel, that decision is easy. Take away his Playstation and he's devastated. Deprive him of a visit to his friends and it's as if you are depriving him of life-giving oxygen.
With Tharaa it's far more complicated. No matter what I deprive her of, she just shrugs her shoulders with a nonchalant, "Okay, that's fine," which leaves me feeling frustrated for not having selected the correct currency to deal with her. The problem is that either there is very little about which she feels passionately OR she is really shrewd and she hides how much she really likes something to ensure that it never gets taken away from her as punishment.
So it's early morning and I'm already being faced with such a difficult decision (namely, what can Tharaa's punishment be). Which is when I decide that this is all B.S.- my parents didn't have to face such dilemmas- one klap (smack) and it had all been taken care of.
But since I'm not too certain about the legal ramifications of giving your child a klap under our new dispensation, I'll just say that I went 'old school' on her butt- and leave it at that.
They usually don't stay angry at one another for too long. Because soon after they're done tormenting each other, they start to torment me.
"Where are we going today? Are we staying home all day? Take us to McDonalds!"
On Wednesday I reluctantly took them to McDonalds. 'Reluctantly' because I'm the mum who usually moans about healthy eating and reduces my kids to tears by dishing vegetables onto their plates with each meal.
But I could no longer fight them, so off we went to the land of processed meat and fried foods. To appease my conscience I spent the entire meal nagging at them about how unhealthy the food was that I was being forced to feed them. Hopefully they did not listen to me or take me seriously (as is usually the case)- or I could possibly become the main topic of future therapy sessions.
We are off to a picnic in Greenpoint Park later today. The kids have been bouncing off the walls with excitement since 7:00 am.
Urgh, I have to go- I think I hear a fight breaking out over whose turn it is to tidy away the shoes.
Tuesday, 13 December 2011
Of superheroes and fairy princesses
Yesterday was day 1 of the month long holiday (not counting the past weekend). Much to my surprise, the day progressed rather pleasantly.
This undoubtedly had much to do with the fact that two of their cousins, Zarina (6) and Amaara (4) had come to spend the day. The two darlings had arrived, dressed as fairy princesses, which pretty much set the tone for the morning.
My daughters love dressing up in princess dresses. The problem is that they don't distinguish between occasions which call for princess dresses (such as parties) and those that do not (like a trip to Pick 'n Pay or the butchery).
About a year ago we spent a Sunday afternoon in Canal Walk mall, doing shopping and running other errands. Nuha, as was quite usual at the time, was wearing a princess dress and tiara. A little girl looking confused, asked her mum, "Mommy, why is that girl dressed like that? Is she a princess?".
"No dear , she probably just came from a costume party, isn't that so?" the mum replied, directing the question at me.
"Yes, she did, " I lied, nodding as I tried to appear convincing and hoping that Nuha wouldn't speak up and expose my lie. I know it was silly to lie, but that response had just seemed more normal than
"No, she dresses in a princess frock, with tiara and princess jewellery whenever we leave home."
But not only do the girls enjoy dressing in costume. Shakeel, at age 12, still runs around in his Superman costume (which includes his cape); jumping from the filing cabinet onto the bed, pretending to be a superhero.
So it was perfectly natural that, once the cousins arrived in costume, my kids would throw on their slightly-worn-due-to-overuse costumes.
The morning was one of princesses, fairies and superheroes; of magical spells and gallant heroism.
Although part of the afternoon they spent playing Playstation, the bulk of their remaining time together was spent building an imaginary vehicle (a car?) using all my sofa cushions. By this time I had stopped nagging them to tidy up after themselves; and had just resigned myself to the fact that that the house would remain a pigsty until bedtime.
(Please excuse the very poor picture quality)
After the cousins had been bidden farewell, I was under the mistaken impression that my lot would calm down and perhaps just go and read or draw quietly. But I should have known better, especially when Nuha quietly slipped into the kitchen to collect three colourful plastic cups. By the time I realised that they were up to no good, not only were they soaking wet, but the washing hanging on the line was too!
But I forgave them when I heard the excited giggles- and besides they were keeping clingy Aisha (2) busy so that I could get supper done.
All in all, the first day of the holiday had not been as traumatic (for me) as I'd thought it would be.
This undoubtedly had much to do with the fact that two of their cousins, Zarina (6) and Amaara (4) had come to spend the day. The two darlings had arrived, dressed as fairy princesses, which pretty much set the tone for the morning.
My daughters love dressing up in princess dresses. The problem is that they don't distinguish between occasions which call for princess dresses (such as parties) and those that do not (like a trip to Pick 'n Pay or the butchery).
About a year ago we spent a Sunday afternoon in Canal Walk mall, doing shopping and running other errands. Nuha, as was quite usual at the time, was wearing a princess dress and tiara. A little girl looking confused, asked her mum, "Mommy, why is that girl dressed like that? Is she a princess?".
"No dear , she probably just came from a costume party, isn't that so?" the mum replied, directing the question at me.
"Yes, she did, " I lied, nodding as I tried to appear convincing and hoping that Nuha wouldn't speak up and expose my lie. I know it was silly to lie, but that response had just seemed more normal than
"No, she dresses in a princess frock, with tiara and princess jewellery whenever we leave home."
But not only do the girls enjoy dressing in costume. Shakeel, at age 12, still runs around in his Superman costume (which includes his cape); jumping from the filing cabinet onto the bed, pretending to be a superhero.
So it was perfectly natural that, once the cousins arrived in costume, my kids would throw on their slightly-worn-due-to-overuse costumes.
The morning was one of princesses, fairies and superheroes; of magical spells and gallant heroism.
Although part of the afternoon they spent playing Playstation, the bulk of their remaining time together was spent building an imaginary vehicle (a car?) using all my sofa cushions. By this time I had stopped nagging them to tidy up after themselves; and had just resigned myself to the fact that that the house would remain a pigsty until bedtime.
(Please excuse the very poor picture quality)
After the cousins had been bidden farewell, I was under the mistaken impression that my lot would calm down and perhaps just go and read or draw quietly. But I should have known better, especially when Nuha quietly slipped into the kitchen to collect three colourful plastic cups. By the time I realised that they were up to no good, not only were they soaking wet, but the washing hanging on the line was too!
But I forgave them when I heard the excited giggles- and besides they were keeping clingy Aisha (2) busy so that I could get supper done.
All in all, the first day of the holiday had not been as traumatic (for me) as I'd thought it would be.
Monday, 12 December 2011
Children flee the clutches of desperate clingy mum
I awoke this morning feeling complete. Everything that had been missing for the past three days had been restored- and I was at peace.
My uncomfortable feeling started on Thursday afternoon, when Tharaa asked if she could spend Friday afternoon at her friend's house.
With the exception of Friday evenings,which we spend at Mo's sister's place,and Saturday evenings, which is spent by my mum; Mo, the kids and I usually spend all our time together outside of school and work. Whether it be at movies, picnics, going for ice-cream or just spending time at home- we are always together.
Our relative isolation is more a result of circumstance than choice. We do not live in a neighbourhood where I'd feel safe to let the kids ride their bicycles and go out and meet other children. Also, their school is situated in the city, so school friends come from all over as a result of their parents working in the city. Their exposure to their school friends outside school, therefore necessarily results only from organised play dates. These do not take place very often.
To date, this situation has not really been a problem. Generally the company of their siblings has sufficed and they have never really needed other children during the school holidays (although they adore spending time with their cousins twice a week).
This situation suits me well too, as I get to have them around all the time. It is especially beneficial to me, since the older two are there to keep the younger two occupied.
So this weekend, I felt as if part of me was missing. Immediately after their school's early dismissal at 11:30 am on Friday morning, Tharaa went to her friend's house for the whole afternoon. Shakeel, Nuha and Aisha spent the afternoon at home with me and although I spent the afternoon playing, chatting and arguing with them, I couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that something was missing. I knew that I was being completely unreasonable- spending a few hours away from home is completely normal, I knew; but I selfishly wanted her home with us.
It turned out that I was not the only one who felt her absence. At dinner, Nuha and Aisha couldn't stop talking about their sister, trying to guess what she'd be doing if she had been there.
My happiness at having her back home was short-lived, because I knew that Shakeel had been invited to spend the weekend at his friend, Caleb's house. I absolutely hated the idea of him being gone for two whole days.
Our rule is that other than organised karate club/school camps or sleeping over at grandparents, we do not allow our children to attend sleepovers. To ensure that Shakeel would not miss out on a minute of the fun (and to stop his incessant begging), his amazing dad said that he would fetch Shakeel at 23:00 on Saturday night and would take him back at 07:00am the following morning.
Although Shakeel initially agreed, we knew that, come Saturday night, we would still have to deal with begging and complaints. The begging came in the form of an SMS from Caleb, which read,
"Sir, can shakeel please sleep over because we really want him to sleep (sic) and so does he. Also its a wast (sic) of time and petrol and money, so please think about it please ... Caleb"
To which Mo responded
" I appreciate your concern for my time and money, but Shakeel knows the rules. I will fetch him later tonight".
Shakeel woke his poor father up at 06:45 on Sunday morning.
"Daddy, I'm going to be late!" he complained, as his poor father tried to catch his last few minutes of sleep. Late for what? Thoughts of violence passed through my mind, as Aisha stirred and moaned in response to having her sleep disturbed. Interrupted sleep inevitably results in a unstoppable tantrum. Luckily for him she went back to sleep.
When we collected him at about 17:30 yesterday late afternoon, he could barely keep his eyes open. We headed off to our usual Sunday evening prayer meeting; where I experienced more than the usual feelings of peace and gratitude, which usually wash over me at these gatherings. I was so deeply appreciative and happy that my family was back together once more.
I know that I am probably coming across as way too clingy (and maybe a bit loony), and that I probably am. It's just that I know that our family as we know it, is bound to change at some point, as everyone starts to go his/her own way.
Is it so wrong that I want to ensure that we take advantage of every second we have with one another in the meantime, before the inevitable happens?
My uncomfortable feeling started on Thursday afternoon, when Tharaa asked if she could spend Friday afternoon at her friend's house.
With the exception of Friday evenings,which we spend at Mo's sister's place,and Saturday evenings, which is spent by my mum; Mo, the kids and I usually spend all our time together outside of school and work. Whether it be at movies, picnics, going for ice-cream or just spending time at home- we are always together.
Our relative isolation is more a result of circumstance than choice. We do not live in a neighbourhood where I'd feel safe to let the kids ride their bicycles and go out and meet other children. Also, their school is situated in the city, so school friends come from all over as a result of their parents working in the city. Their exposure to their school friends outside school, therefore necessarily results only from organised play dates. These do not take place very often.
To date, this situation has not really been a problem. Generally the company of their siblings has sufficed and they have never really needed other children during the school holidays (although they adore spending time with their cousins twice a week).
This situation suits me well too, as I get to have them around all the time. It is especially beneficial to me, since the older two are there to keep the younger two occupied.
So this weekend, I felt as if part of me was missing. Immediately after their school's early dismissal at 11:30 am on Friday morning, Tharaa went to her friend's house for the whole afternoon. Shakeel, Nuha and Aisha spent the afternoon at home with me and although I spent the afternoon playing, chatting and arguing with them, I couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that something was missing. I knew that I was being completely unreasonable- spending a few hours away from home is completely normal, I knew; but I selfishly wanted her home with us.
It turned out that I was not the only one who felt her absence. At dinner, Nuha and Aisha couldn't stop talking about their sister, trying to guess what she'd be doing if she had been there.
My happiness at having her back home was short-lived, because I knew that Shakeel had been invited to spend the weekend at his friend, Caleb's house. I absolutely hated the idea of him being gone for two whole days.
Our rule is that other than organised karate club/school camps or sleeping over at grandparents, we do not allow our children to attend sleepovers. To ensure that Shakeel would not miss out on a minute of the fun (and to stop his incessant begging), his amazing dad said that he would fetch Shakeel at 23:00 on Saturday night and would take him back at 07:00am the following morning.
Although Shakeel initially agreed, we knew that, come Saturday night, we would still have to deal with begging and complaints. The begging came in the form of an SMS from Caleb, which read,
"Sir, can shakeel please sleep over because we really want him to sleep (sic) and so does he. Also its a wast (sic) of time and petrol and money, so please think about it please ... Caleb"
To which Mo responded
" I appreciate your concern for my time and money, but Shakeel knows the rules. I will fetch him later tonight".
Shakeel woke his poor father up at 06:45 on Sunday morning.
"Daddy, I'm going to be late!" he complained, as his poor father tried to catch his last few minutes of sleep. Late for what? Thoughts of violence passed through my mind, as Aisha stirred and moaned in response to having her sleep disturbed. Interrupted sleep inevitably results in a unstoppable tantrum. Luckily for him she went back to sleep.
When we collected him at about 17:30 yesterday late afternoon, he could barely keep his eyes open. We headed off to our usual Sunday evening prayer meeting; where I experienced more than the usual feelings of peace and gratitude, which usually wash over me at these gatherings. I was so deeply appreciative and happy that my family was back together once more.
I know that I am probably coming across as way too clingy (and maybe a bit loony), and that I probably am. It's just that I know that our family as we know it, is bound to change at some point, as everyone starts to go his/her own way.
Is it so wrong that I want to ensure that we take advantage of every second we have with one another in the meantime, before the inevitable happens?
Friday, 9 December 2011
Don't grow up yet- I'm not ready !!!
Last week at the mall I noticed a mother reach out to put her arm around her son (who might have been Shakeel's age). The child's reaction was firstly one of brief panic, as he looked around to see who was looking. He then pulled away from his mother and tried to walk ahead of her. The mother reached to pull him back and this time aggravated his embarrassment by trying to kiss him.
"Stop it Mom. Not here," he groaned. I was quite amused by this interaction, until I saw the mother's face. Her expression was clearly pained and it was evident that she was feeling really hurt by her son's reaction.
Immediately I felt an empathetic bond with this woman. I would be heartbroken if it were Shakeel pushing me away.
Shakeel is 12 years old, but in many ways he is still a little boy. When had a few friends over earlier this year, I was astounded by how child-like Shakeel still was in comparison.
There was Caleb, the cute little boy, who spent most of lunch time on Mxit with his girlfriend. The confident little boy could not understand why I'd have a problem with Shakeel dating, saying it was natural- and he had no problem sharing his opinions with Shakeel's parents.
By lunch time I was reeling with shock at all the information I had gleaned from spending time around these boys. The topic of girls was high on the agenda. Oh my goodness, had I been so out of touch? Is this what my son was talking about at school? Was he interested in some girl about whom I had no knowledge?
From a distance I watched him interact within the group. He and his best friend at the time were comfortable as part of the group, without really engaging in the discussions. Instead they amused themselves with wrestling each other, each trying to shove an insect down the other's back.
Still I needed more information, so I did what any good mother would- okay, whatever any disgustingly shamefully paranoid mother, desperate to access information- would. I sat outside the room door and listened. Topics ranged from Playstation games (which is when Shakeel became very vocal) to teachers' quirks and yes, girls. I held my breath as I waited for Shakeel to add something to the conversation.
I was starting to feel weak (not breathing for extended periods can do that to one), but I needed to know what was happening in the room. Very very slowly I pushed open the door, which had been slightly ajar and peered in.
The boys were sitting on the bed having this very animated discussion. Shakeel and two friends were sitting slightly apart from them playing his beloved Playstation. I slowly retreated unnoticed and after sitting at the door for a while longer, left to report my findings to his horrified father (it turns out that he was not as pleased at my reconnaissance mission as I was).
I am pleased to report that subsequent intelligence-gathering missions undertaken over a period spanning a few months, have yielded similar results.
Shakeel is still physically under-developed compared to many other boys his age. Our family doctor, having examined him recently, estimated that he's only likely to hit puberty in about two years time.
Shakeel has expressed his love for dinosaurs since he could formulate words. Nothing has changed- just now he is in the process of preparing a very impressive Powerpoint presentation about the Age of the Dinosaurs. He is still determined to become a paleontologist. He recently challenged an authority figure who said that a pterodactyl had been a flying dinosaur. He interrupted the discussion (respectfully, he insists) to point out that a pterodactyl had in fact been a flying reptile, though commonly mistaken for a dinosaur. When I asked him if he might be mistaken (since the person had refused to accept my son's wisdom on the matter), he looked at me as if I'd just doubted whether the sun rises in the east.
Just to be certain, I googled it- he had been right. Never again will I doubt my son's knowledge of dinosaur trivia.
He is passionate about Dragonball Z and has been since he was just a little boy. It's probably the main reason he loves karate so much and his passionate and vigorous performance of his kata probably is merely an imitation of Goku as a super-saiyan.
I know I might be coming across as a mother in denial about her son growing up- desperately trying to convince herself of the fact that he is just an innocent little boy. But this is not so (okay, maybe just a bit).
I am in fact merely trying to capture what I can of the last few stages of my first-born's childhood before he hits dreaded puberty. I want to remember forever his first smile, him chasing the birds down the hill at our little place in Bo-Kaap. I want to hold onto our moments watching the Tellytubbies, his first fascination with dinosaurs, his love of animals, him growling like a lion (annoying an elderly lady into reprimanding him) and his loyalty to his little friends. I want to remember the joy he brought my late father and how he got my father to chase him through the waves at Camps Bay wearing jeans and shoes (about a week before my dad's unexpected death). And how he and my dad fed the birds at Hout Bay.
I want to remember him accepting his role as the big brother after Tharaa's birth. His first day of school when I cried more than he did. How he, at not-even-three years old comforted me the day I fell on my coccyx. His love for his granny, which made him cry for her every Saturday when we left her home. I want to remember him proudly sporting his hat, loose fitting shirt covering a tight white T-shirt, above-the-ankle length trousers and, most importantly, one glove; imitating his mommy's 'hero' Michael Jackson after MJ's death.
In recent years he has become so responsible- when I issue an instruction to all of them, he is usually the first to respond.
I don't want to lose our current relationship- how he still comes to me unexpectedly to plant a kiss on my cheek; how, for no reason at all, he throws his arms around me, giving me the biggest hugs, when walking past me at home.
His intelligence, his kindness, his morality, his sensitivity, his humour, his wit- I can go on and on about all his qualities which I so deeply admire about him, but I will never be able to capture in words how blessed I feel to be his mother.
And now I'm bawling.
My fear about him hitting puberty is that we will lose the bond we share. I am afraid that we won't communicate the way we do now- and that I won't be able to get through to him any longer. I fear losing my influence over him (even though that has already started happening) and him becoming unwilling/ unable to see reason (as is so common with teens). I dread the day the opinions of his peers become more appealing and influential to him than those of his parents.
Mostly, I dread the day I am replaced by some girl as the most important woman in his life.
I hope that once he reaches that stage of his life, he retains all those characteristics which I so deeply admire about him. I pray that he is guided by the values according to which he is being raised, especially when facing difficult choices and potentially harmful situations. I pray that despite the emotional turbulence he is likely to face as an adolescent, he is guided by common sense and rationality.
I hope that he does not shut me out of his life and includes me in this journey by being open about the changes he experiences. (Well, maybe not ALL the changes [shudder]).
But in the meantime, I shall be savouring every second I have with my kids before they are affected by the madness which comes with adolescence. Who knows- perhaps they will be more willing to share these experiences with me if I embrace the process instead of viewing it as impending doom. Thankfully, I still have some time to work on that.
"Stop it Mom. Not here," he groaned. I was quite amused by this interaction, until I saw the mother's face. Her expression was clearly pained and it was evident that she was feeling really hurt by her son's reaction.
Immediately I felt an empathetic bond with this woman. I would be heartbroken if it were Shakeel pushing me away.
Shakeel is 12 years old, but in many ways he is still a little boy. When had a few friends over earlier this year, I was astounded by how child-like Shakeel still was in comparison.
There was Caleb, the cute little boy, who spent most of lunch time on Mxit with his girlfriend. The confident little boy could not understand why I'd have a problem with Shakeel dating, saying it was natural- and he had no problem sharing his opinions with Shakeel's parents.
By lunch time I was reeling with shock at all the information I had gleaned from spending time around these boys. The topic of girls was high on the agenda. Oh my goodness, had I been so out of touch? Is this what my son was talking about at school? Was he interested in some girl about whom I had no knowledge?
From a distance I watched him interact within the group. He and his best friend at the time were comfortable as part of the group, without really engaging in the discussions. Instead they amused themselves with wrestling each other, each trying to shove an insect down the other's back.
Still I needed more information, so I did what any good mother would- okay, whatever any disgustingly shamefully paranoid mother, desperate to access information- would. I sat outside the room door and listened. Topics ranged from Playstation games (which is when Shakeel became very vocal) to teachers' quirks and yes, girls. I held my breath as I waited for Shakeel to add something to the conversation.
I was starting to feel weak (not breathing for extended periods can do that to one), but I needed to know what was happening in the room. Very very slowly I pushed open the door, which had been slightly ajar and peered in.
The boys were sitting on the bed having this very animated discussion. Shakeel and two friends were sitting slightly apart from them playing his beloved Playstation. I slowly retreated unnoticed and after sitting at the door for a while longer, left to report my findings to his horrified father (it turns out that he was not as pleased at my reconnaissance mission as I was).
I am pleased to report that subsequent intelligence-gathering missions undertaken over a period spanning a few months, have yielded similar results.
Shakeel is still physically under-developed compared to many other boys his age. Our family doctor, having examined him recently, estimated that he's only likely to hit puberty in about two years time.
Shakeel has expressed his love for dinosaurs since he could formulate words. Nothing has changed- just now he is in the process of preparing a very impressive Powerpoint presentation about the Age of the Dinosaurs. He is still determined to become a paleontologist. He recently challenged an authority figure who said that a pterodactyl had been a flying dinosaur. He interrupted the discussion (respectfully, he insists) to point out that a pterodactyl had in fact been a flying reptile, though commonly mistaken for a dinosaur. When I asked him if he might be mistaken (since the person had refused to accept my son's wisdom on the matter), he looked at me as if I'd just doubted whether the sun rises in the east.
Just to be certain, I googled it- he had been right. Never again will I doubt my son's knowledge of dinosaur trivia.
He is passionate about Dragonball Z and has been since he was just a little boy. It's probably the main reason he loves karate so much and his passionate and vigorous performance of his kata probably is merely an imitation of Goku as a super-saiyan.
I know I might be coming across as a mother in denial about her son growing up- desperately trying to convince herself of the fact that he is just an innocent little boy. But this is not so (okay, maybe just a bit).
I am in fact merely trying to capture what I can of the last few stages of my first-born's childhood before he hits dreaded puberty. I want to remember forever his first smile, him chasing the birds down the hill at our little place in Bo-Kaap. I want to hold onto our moments watching the Tellytubbies, his first fascination with dinosaurs, his love of animals, him growling like a lion (annoying an elderly lady into reprimanding him) and his loyalty to his little friends. I want to remember the joy he brought my late father and how he got my father to chase him through the waves at Camps Bay wearing jeans and shoes (about a week before my dad's unexpected death). And how he and my dad fed the birds at Hout Bay.
I want to remember him accepting his role as the big brother after Tharaa's birth. His first day of school when I cried more than he did. How he, at not-even-three years old comforted me the day I fell on my coccyx. His love for his granny, which made him cry for her every Saturday when we left her home. I want to remember him proudly sporting his hat, loose fitting shirt covering a tight white T-shirt, above-the-ankle length trousers and, most importantly, one glove; imitating his mommy's 'hero' Michael Jackson after MJ's death.
In recent years he has become so responsible- when I issue an instruction to all of them, he is usually the first to respond.
I don't want to lose our current relationship- how he still comes to me unexpectedly to plant a kiss on my cheek; how, for no reason at all, he throws his arms around me, giving me the biggest hugs, when walking past me at home.
His intelligence, his kindness, his morality, his sensitivity, his humour, his wit- I can go on and on about all his qualities which I so deeply admire about him, but I will never be able to capture in words how blessed I feel to be his mother.
And now I'm bawling.
My fear about him hitting puberty is that we will lose the bond we share. I am afraid that we won't communicate the way we do now- and that I won't be able to get through to him any longer. I fear losing my influence over him (even though that has already started happening) and him becoming unwilling/ unable to see reason (as is so common with teens). I dread the day the opinions of his peers become more appealing and influential to him than those of his parents.
Mostly, I dread the day I am replaced by some girl as the most important woman in his life.
I hope that once he reaches that stage of his life, he retains all those characteristics which I so deeply admire about him. I pray that he is guided by the values according to which he is being raised, especially when facing difficult choices and potentially harmful situations. I pray that despite the emotional turbulence he is likely to face as an adolescent, he is guided by common sense and rationality.
I hope that he does not shut me out of his life and includes me in this journey by being open about the changes he experiences. (Well, maybe not ALL the changes [shudder]).
But in the meantime, I shall be savouring every second I have with my kids before they are affected by the madness which comes with adolescence. Who knows- perhaps they will be more willing to share these experiences with me if I embrace the process instead of viewing it as impending doom. Thankfully, I still have some time to work on that.
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