Fishing with the family

Like many children, Shakeel (18) has always loved dinosaurs. He became fascinated with them when I'd read dinosaur books to him before he'd even started creche. He'd wanted to become a paleontologist since before preschool and his ambition remained unchanged until about two years ago when, sadly, he decided that he should be more practical in his choice. I'd always loved the fact that he'd still held the same boyhood dreams as when he was 4 years old - it made me feel that my little boy was still in there underneath this newly-emerging manly exterior. My heart broke when he decided that there might not be as much scope for paleontologists as there would be if he studied marine biology or zoology (you know, animals that were not yet extinct). 

As a whole though, Shakeel still clings passionately to many of his boyhood interests. His love of the series River Monsters, led to an obsession with fishing. Sadly, he did not have anyone around who was capable of or knowledgeable about fishing, so that had to take a backseat. Until now. 

Recently, I too have been yearning for my childhood pastime. I don't know how much I actually know about fishing - back then we used handlines which we simply cast into the water after baiting our hooks. I don't know anything about rod fishing, where the best fishing spots are or what types of fish can be found in which waters. As a child, I just went where my uncle took us and did everything my more experienced cousin did.

So although I have done a bit of fishing, I don't know if I have enough knowledge or skill to take Shakeel fishing by myself. It would be easy enough to find fishing spots using the internet, but I don't know if there is more to fishing than what I remember.

Thus, imagine my excitement last week when my brothers (let's call them Ish and Shado) and cousin, (we'll call him Daly), announced that they would be taking their kids fishing in Kalk Bay. I promptly invited myself along, as that would serve as the perfect maiden fishing trip, since we would have the guidance of Daly and Ish, both of whom have quite a bit of experience.

Daly, Shakeel and his friend Caleb used rods. The rest of us (including my mother,  Shado, the kids and I) used hand lines. Poor Ish, who is the more experienced of my two brothers, spent the afternoon patiently attaching lines to rods, baiting hooks and disentangling lines for everyone. 

Snacking - apparently a very important part of my girls' fishing experience

Tharaa (16) contemplating life (maybe)

Shakeel and his childhood friend 

Windswept Aisha (8) with granny in the background

Mommy, Nuha (12) and I taking a break next to the lighthouse

My mother sat peacefully with her line cast, just pulling it up to rebait every 15 minutes or so. Shado, the jokester, teased her saying that she was just sitting there to feed the fish.

                                       

Mommy fishing with a hand line / feeding the fish

I didn't tell him that I was doing the same thing. I felt the fish tug at my line, but did not care to pull up - I was just enjoying the experience of having my line in the water while childhood memories washed pleasantly over me.

Only my nephew Jami managed to catch something, but it had to be released since it was so small. Irrespective, the day was pleasant and what's more, it completely reawakened my love of fishing and made me even more determined to nurture Shakeel's love of the 'sport'.

The ties that bind - missing my dad so much

Recently I met a relative of my late father's. He and my dad had been really close in their youth, but had lost touch over the years. He therefore had so many stories and insights into my dad's early life - valuable little titbits which I devoured greedily, while trying to hide my desperate need for more information. I wanted anything - no matter how small. Every morsel he shared, though it might have seemed insignificant to anyone listening, served to make me feel closer to my dad in some small way. It also made me miss him even more.

As anyone who's lost a loved one might know, the pain never truly goes away. It merely becomes a dull ache which lingers below the surface, ready to rip through the protective barrier of one's consciousness, triggered by even the most remote stimulus.

The smell of Clearasil, the whiff of a stranger's deodorant in the shopping mall, sitting by the ocean, penny polonies, a history textbook, leg of lamb, table tennis, a chess board - all capable of transporting me into his presence for just a fleeting moment before reality comes and wrenches him away from me again, leaving me gasping with disbelief at the intensity of grief I experience at losing him all over again.

So coincidentally, while searching for something on the internet, I came across a saying of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) in which he answers an inquiry about how one can show kindness to one's deceased parents.  “ Praying and asking forgiveness of Allah on their behalf, fulfilling their promises, respecting their friends, and fostering their ties of kinship…”

I realised that in the case of my father, this was indeed true. My dad would have loved me to stay in touch with the people whom he held dear. Then on Thursday my cousin let me know that her mum, my dad's sister, had undergone an operation. She said that I should pop in just to see how her mum was doing.

No one makes me feel closer to my dad than his sister does. They'd been close in age and held similar values, beliefs and early childhood experiences. Like me, she continued to grieve his loss years after he had passed. Every Eid we'd talk about him and I'd have to fight back tears while I listened to this woman whose pain and longing were as intense as my own.

Aunty S is however also one of the most inspiring and positive people I know. Despite the pain I know she experiences from her arthritis, I have never heard her complain. On Saturday, she entertained us with her own brand of self-deprecating humour which I have known since I was little - humour borne from her own humility, which - since it focuses on her self-confessed 'negative' traits - does not provide one with an accurate reflection of the awe-inspiring woman sitting before one; that is, until she starts to talk seriously. This is when the intelligence and wisdom of this amazing woman becomes apparent; how, through her spirituality and faith, she is able to remain positive and contented despite adversity. 

My dad and my aunt

So, on Saturday I left my aunt the way I usually do when I see her - feeling inspired, positive and contented; able, once again, to focus on and appreciate the wonders I have in my life (instead of just focusing on the challenges as I recently have been doing). I also felt inspired to focus on the positive traits of others instead of harping on their faults. All these little 'lessons' she delivered to me - inadvertently - not through judgement and condemnation (because that is just not who she is), but through a few hours spent joking, chatting and laughing.

I undertook to visit again, all the while aware that this might not be soon - and although I really hope to keep this promise, I am comforted by the fact that, should I not be able to do so - because she holds no grudges - I will be welcomed with open arms whenever it is that we do see each other again.

Just give me a moment to mourn before I embrace the change

Today is Shakeel (13)'s last day of primary school.

The atmosphere this morning was sombre. Unfortunately my kids seem to take after me; focussing on the end of an era instead of the beginning of a new one.

I know that the time will come when I'll start getting excited about all the change we're about to experience. Right now I just want to mourn the end of an era.

I wish I was the type of positive person who could embrace change. Change scares me. I bitch and moan about my life at times, but I really love the status quo. I fear what lies ahead.

My kids attend a school in the city centre, so they don't really get to hang out with their school friends outside of school. They therefore spend all their time with one another - playing, laughing, fighting, arguing, competing etc. They put on plays and shows to perform for us. They choreograph dance sequences.

As much as they fight, they are really really close. I am so afraid that that is about to change.

This is the last time all three older kids will be at the same school. The last time they'll share their common experiences at the end of the day; the last time they'll be able to relate as closely to one another's experiences at school. Mention the name of a certain teacher and they all shudder. Mention the name of the school clown and they all giggle. No more afternoon banter about kids and teachers who form part of all their lives.

Next year Shakeel will have his own friends, his own teachers and his own experiences. He will no longer care as much about what happens at his sisters' school - his focus will be on his own experiences. Gone is that common experience further cementing the bond between the 3 of them. I'm so afraid of how that will affect their relationship.

Shakeel will, for the first time, have school friends in our neighbourhood. Does this mean that he will now be spending time with them that he would previously have spent with his sisters (and me)? I know that it's way past time that my son should be enjoying his own relationships outside school. But I worry about what that means for his relationship with his sisters. And with me.

Tharaa (11) will probably join her brother at the same high school in a few years time, but Shakeel and Nuha (7) will never again be at the same school. Despite the 6 year age gap between them, they are really close. Does this mean that is about to change?

This morning I'm sad for Shakeel; for the fact that he is saying goodbye to the teachers and friends and the life he's had for the past seven years.
I'm also afraid of how this change will affect the close bonds within this family.

And, as if that is not enough, this is the last school day I spend with my baby - my darling little angel - Aisha (3), since she will be starting creche at the beginning of next year. And just as I'd anticipated, the tears started pouring as soon as I wrote that sentence. I'll deal with this issue another day - I just don't have the strength for that intensity of emotion this morning.

As I waved goodbye to my older 3 kids this morning before heading back inside for my breakfast, I realised that it is the last time I'll be doing that. Next year, I'll probably be dashing out the door dragging along a screaming Aisha (or maybe I'll just lock us both in a room where nobody can reach us to separate us - but, like I said, more on that another day). I'll probably first drop Shakeel at his new high school while trying to placate my darling baby babies. I wonder how well I'll navigate the traffic on the Koeberg interchange through my own blinding tears.

Did I mention how much I hate change?

And now for the rational part of this post. I realise that out of these endings, many new beginnings will be born. I realise that children are resilient and will adapt to their new circumstances (probably better than I will). I realise that these changing circumstances will probably affect the dynamic of the relationships within this family, but that that is not necessarily a bad thing. And that the loving bonds that exist between my kids are strong - that changing the dynamic of their relationships will not necessarily mean that they will no longer be close.
　

I realise all this. I understand that change, though uncomfortable (and sometimes even painful) is necessary for new opportunities and positive growth.

　

And I will embrace this positivity (and inspire my kids to do the same). But not just now. Now I just want to pause, remember and reflect through my tears. I want to mourn the passing of the way things were.

　

And then when this moment has passed, I'll spend the rest of the day savouring every precious second with my baby; doing all the things she loved doing while we were at home alone together for the past three years.

　

 ''Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore." -Andre Gide.

"Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together." -Marilyn Monroe.

'' Fear, uncertainty and discomfort are your compasses toward growth." - Unknown

Quotes obtained here
　

　

　

Enjoying the classics

I remember my 7th birthday party. I had been so excited to share my latest obsession with my friends and cousins- the movie The Sound of Music. I didn't even care when everyone got up and started to play hide-and-seek while I sat alone and watched the movie alone for about the 100th time.

I remember tagging along with my dad when he visited Videorite in Wynberg - just so that I could convince him to hire the movie yet again. I don't know how many times I watched it, but it was enough for me to memorise most of the lyrics of all the songs.

I was ecstatic when our strict scary music teacher introduced the songs of this movie's soundtrack as part of music classes. Despite her tendency to beat the living daylights out of us if we set a foot wrong (or sang out of tune), I still have fond memories of those classes.

I even watched Mary Poppins in the hopes of seeing more of Maria, since Julie Andrews plays the lead in both movies. But alas, Mary Poppins was nothing like Maria - she did not even look much like her! I was disappointed - I spent years hoping that they'd make a sequel (like Rocky kept doing).
　

Now, decades later, my kids are completely obsessed with both movies. One knows that the kids are home from school as soon as the sounds of ''The hills are alive'', ''My favourite things'', ''Eidelweiss'' (from The Sound of Music) and ''A Spoonful of Sugar'', 'Chim Chim Cheree'' and ''Feed the Birds'' from Mary Poppins can be heard floating down the passage. 
　
The only problem is that my kids are even more sensitive than I was and worry even more than I did. So Nuha (7), although she enjoys The Sound of Music, became very concerned when she saw the end of the movie and bombarded us with an unending stream of worried questions.What is war? Who was Hitler? What if the Von Trapp family didn't make it to safety? How can we be sure?

　
And this is why they do not really enjoy Annie much. The thought of orphans in an orphanage being ill-treated by the awful Miss Hannigan (played by the inimitable Carol Burnett) is just too much to bear. Not even the catchy tunes and agile dances detract from the sadness and misery which they associate with the fate of the poor orphans. Not to mention how paranoid the movie makes them by awakening their deep-seated fear of losing their parents. It's much too depressing to watch that movie with them.

　
Right now, I am listening to the kids playing inside and every few minutes one of them will break into song (singing a song from these movies). I wonder if these movies will still have appeal in another 20 years time when my kids, themselves, could possibly be sharing them with their kids. I'd like to think so.

　

Ever wonder what curly red-haired Annie looks like today?

Image obtained from here

Tick tock - a cry baby's countdown

Last week Tharaa (10) reminded me of something I'd been trying to forget. ''Mommy, I'm so excited for my school camp next week''.

Oh no. I am such a wimp about my kids spending time away from me. I pine, I weep and feel sorry for myself. Shakeel (13) has been on two of these school camps already. I remember his first time two years ago - I'd stared after the departing bus, eyes brimming with tears, lip quivering uncontrollably, snot suspended threateningly, trying desperately not to start bawling in front of the other parents, who calmly waved to their kids and then proceeded to chat to one another as if it were just any other day. I'd waited until I got into the car before bawling like a baby, sobbing madly at the cruelty of the school for ripping my baby out of the arms of his needy clingy adoring mother.

Then Tharaa asked, ''Mommy, will you cry for me the way you did for Shakeel?'' Yes, the fact that I'd been avoiding the thought of her leaving was an indication of how I felt. But suddenly I felt pressured. What if the morning of her departure arrived and I couldn't cry? What if I felt sad, but only burst into tears once she'd left - would she feel unloved? What if I had grown emotionally since Shakeel's last camp - and am now a normal well-adjusted mommy, no longer emotionally dependent on her kids? (And now I'm trying to ignore the rude laughter in my head).

But I needn't have worried. In fact, my concern should have been that I'd, once again, be threatening to embarrass myself and my daughter. Each time I looked at her as she excitedly queued and chatted with her little friends, I had to clench my jaw and pinch my thigh to distract myself from my threatening tears. ''Stop being such a baby,'' I rebuked myself, but the wimp in me ignored the reprimand and proceeded to tear up, smiling bravely at my daughter, who I am sure, no longer wished for her mommy to express her love through her tears, but by not embarrassing her.

Eventually the bus left. I swallowed the lump in my throat and smiled at parents' jocular comments to one another. ''Be normal,'' I warned myself sharply, '' for just a little while longer''. This time the wuss in me complied, docile and defeated. Resigning myself to the fact that my kids are growing up and embarking upon their own adventures without me. Trying to be happy for them so that they needn't feel guilty for abandoning me. And counting down the hours until the return of my baby - and the restoration of my incomplete and temporarily dismembered family.

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.

A bird + a painter + four fish + the six of us = 1 family

I can't believe that I've never formally introduced the other members of our family (other than the six of us).
About two years ago we brought home our quaker parakeet for the first time. Shakeel (12), who was a huge fan of the Percy Jackson book series at the time, named him Titan.

Titan has assimilated into the family beautifully. He has firmly claimed his place as the ruler of the backyard. Unfortunately for me, despite all my attempts at gaining his affection, the darn bird seems to hate me. He tries to bite me at every opportunity. Since his cage is open all day, he is free to roam about the yard as he pleases - which I'd forgotten one day as I was hanging up the washing. All I remember about that moment is an excruciating pain on my foot - the little monster had left his cage and walked all the way across the yard to pierce my delicate flesh with his razor-sharp beak. Tears of pain sprang to my eyes immediately, as I shrieked - which just made him lunge toward me for a second bite.

I have no idea how to gain his affection. When the kids were at school and Mo at work, I was often the one to take his cage out into the sunshine, open it (daringly) to give him his freedom, fill his water and food bowls, and even fill one of the doll's toy baths for him in which to splash, should he so wish - and all the while, he'd be doing his utmost to bite me. 

As much as he hates me, he loves Mo. He becomes so excited when he hears Mo's voice after work. Mo is the only one to whom he will go without biting. He even kisses Mo on the mouth! He follows Mo's instructions to dance and will imitate certain words which Mo taught him.

Last year John was hired to give our home a long-overdue paint. We had never met him, but he had come highly recommended. While working here, Mo learned that he was homeless, so he allowed him to move into our separate entrance. John has been living here ever since. In exchange, he helps around the house doing some gardening and has started to become involved in Mo's sideline business - panelbeating and spraypainting motorcycles and vespas.

John is extremely creative and a real jack-of-all trades (which he and Mo have in common). He also shares Mo's creativity and skill, and coupled with Mo's innovativeness, I believe the two of them make a formidable design team.

While walking through Stodels or the nursery at Builders Warehouse, Mo would often say how sure he was that he could build one of those beautiful rock ponds from scratch. So Mo formulated the design and carefully decided on the appropriate materials to use for this exercise. Using John's skill in the building industry and Mo's skill at colour-matching (due to his spray-painting sideline), they managed to build two very realistic looking garden features.

This rock-like flower box (seen in the background)

And this fake rock feature with pond

 

In the pretty rock pond, there are now four little goldfish, named Gotenks (named by Tharaa after Dragonball Z character), Aquamarine (named by Nuha after the mermaid in the movie of that name), Kakarot (another DBZ character named by Shakeel) and Barney (need I say more).

 

In addition, the new domestic worker just started about a week ago. While she is a very welcome addition to the household, I wouldn't go as far as referring to her as part of the family just yet. But I'm sure that this sunny cheerful woman too will acclimatise in no time and become part of our crazy lovely family.