New Mantra

Repeat all day.

Every day.

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A new start

My parents returning to South Africa feels like, what I think must be, Empty Nest Syndrome.
Something out of the fabric of my home life, has been removed.
And I don't like it.

They sort of moved into our new house with us, and now they've gone.
We'll have to figure out our new space and way of life without them, all over again.

My eyes are puffy from all the crying yesterday and even my contact lenses were cloudy this morning (why is that???), but we have things we have to do to keep us busy, and I'm grateful for that.
Cleaning does wonders for an over-exerted mind and heart.

And I have a new book to occupy my mind:  Hella Winston's Unchosen, all about rebels in the Hasidic community.  
Right up my alley.

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Sayonara, old farts

Doomsday, the Netherlands.

My parents left this morning for South Africa, where they'll be touching down in Johannesburg this evening at 21h00.
A night in a hotel, then on to Port Elizabeth tomorrow morning.

I'm distraught.
Sad.
Grieved.

That KLM-plane at the back took them away, and I watched it all the way until it finally disappeared behind the grey clouds, wings shimmering in the half-sun.

Now we're home again and it feels empty.
I liked the togetherness-feeling, knowing they were just down the garden path.

Just breathe in, and breathe out again today.
It was never going to be a good day anyway.

Never.




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Fragile white domes

Hydrangea aborescens

Gor-ge-ous.

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Ain't they lovely?

Because I think they are!

Son#1 had a good birthday, and he liked all his presents.
May the gods bless Lego and Books.
I finally have the nerd-child I so longed to have. 

Seven years ago, I had just given birth after a looooong ordeal to an enormous, nearly 11-pound, black-haired boy with a grumpy disposition.
It was an ordeal, his birth:  Both mother and child were shocked.

What a unique creature he's turned out to be - intelligent and original.
Hope we haven't squashed his spirit in the process of getting him to his 7th birthday.
Because he's lovely, perfect in every way, an interesting creature.
And we love him.

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How-to Guide: Surviving the kids' summer holiday

Give them cake

 

and then

Drink.

A lot.

(But keep in mind I'm an economic alcoholic - it doesn't take much for me to be fairly happy with the world - sadly, about 2 glasses of wine. Thrifty is my middle name.)

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C'est Le Weekend: Joy and Sadness

Son#1 turns 7 years old today.
Seven.
That's old.
I have an old kid.
(Still coming to terms with motherhood it seems).
That's the joy-part.

On Sunday my parents are leaving for South Africa again, after 3 months of being with us.
I think I might embarrass myself at the airport with all my crying.
Wish they didn't have to go back.
Wish they could make a life for themselves here, closer by.
That's the sad-part.

I understand that life is like this, good and bad together, but I wish there was a lot more good than bad.
Sigh.



 
 

Will I turn my hand to do it

I could get an allotment from the municipality in the next village, if I wanted to.  
There are two plots available.
And they are huge.
HUGE.

So huge that one could have a vegetable patch of significant size PLUS a patch of grass with play equipment for the kids.
And sheep.

And it's very cheap.

I'm in two minds about it at the moment.

What if I won't be able to combine it with the boys and work as well?
Knowing how exhausted I was this past year with an overload of work and stress, I'm not sure that I should take on another project like this...  although I know that the benefits of having an allotment, being more self-sufficient, working with my hands and being outside will inevitably be good for me and the boys.  
Might even get the husband to join in. 


Plus I'm worried about all the spiders that cover the planet.
Do I want to meet them in person?
Mmmmm.
Conundrum conundrum.


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A Day of Play

Luckily.
Luckily for me, the husband told me that we sucked as parents and that we should do better.
Be better.

So I turned the corner, at least for one day, to try not get angry when the beastie boys break the one thing after the other, when they run into the house with muddy feet, or if they don't listen or fight (red flag, red flag).

I dragged Son#1 and Son#2 off to Roosendaal, about 40 km from our house, but worth the drive, to a huge outdoor playground, Vrouwenhof.

 
It was great!  The boys played for hours (4 in total!!), and I actually managed to finish an entire page and a half in a book inbetween looking up to watch Son#2 going down slides that are higher than our 3-storey house.

There is a huge terrace where you can order snacks and drinks, and even take your picnic blanket and eat your own stuff on the lawn.  All for €2,50 per kid.  I got to play for free.
Son#2 even made canonballs from sand which he hoped to harden in the sun.

 

Now another day has dawned and I wonder what I'll be doing today.  
Oh well, we can only watch and see as the day pans out.

Have a good one!


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Clever

A good idea to keep all the stuffed animals floating around our house in one place.

 

Now only to find one that can contain 2 overly-energetic boys.

Mmmmm.

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Brutality

Sunday sort of went from Bad to Worse.
Everything from breaking scissors (never knew I had it in me) to cutting my hands to knocking the one thing over after the other.

I was Not Nice.

Son#1 had verbal diarrhea, Son#2 ran around screaming Stupid Mommy everytime I looked in his direction, and Son#3 felt, well, like me.  
Lots of crying.  
Mmmmmm.

And I know why I was Not Nice:  Sometimes you're just done with Caring.
Yesterday, I didn't feel like remembering to buy milk or is there bread in the house, what will we have for dinner or are there enough nappies, and I certainly didn't care to change any.

Eventually I blamed the husband for everything as it didn't seem reasonable to blame the kids or myself.
That didn't pan out so well.
(Note to future self:  Try different approach)

Had to say sorry.
You know.  
Two syllables.  
As in [sɒrɪ].   

I went to bed thinking that at least tomorrow, this awful day will be over and done with, which made me feel better.

And I bought myself sunflowers.
From a farmer.
With a big dog.

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Blimey!

All this blooming rain has left one of my tomato plants covered in a fine, grey mould. 

What to do...

Any suggestions???

Chuck the whole thing away?

(heartbreak, heartbreak)

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Return to the source

Amsterdam.
Mmmmmmmmm.  I don't know what to make of it.

It was good going away for the evening, and it was good to stay in Amsterdam for a change.

The hotel, Dikker & Thijs, was good, central, large rooms, and coffee & tea making facilities which ring my insomniac-bell to accompany my nighttime reading.

We started off at Felix Meritis, which is just lovely.
Quiet.
Stark and bare.

They had beer.
Nice ones.

Then to the Van Gogh museum, and I happen to like the fact that Vincent van Gogh couldn't decide on a particular genre, and was a bit of a non-fitter-inner like me.
Searching for his place in the world his whole life (and I sincerely hope I won't end up like him, although an asylum in the South of France is sounding more and more appealing).
The husband wasn't impressed though.

Then stroll stroll stroll through the city, walking to the Jordaan (an area in Amsterdam with old labourers' homes) for dinner.

Tin Pan Alley it was - salad and tuna steaks with noodles and vegetables.
South African wine.
Lots of it.

A tipsy stroll back to the hotel.
It was far.

Sleep. Just a bit.

Breakfast at Bagel & Beans on the Keizersgracht, then a visit for more coffee with French/Dutch friends Marc & Edith.
Tram to the Rijksmuseum.
Saw the Night Watch.
Check.

And home we went.
Glad to be back.

Amsterdam is an odd conglomeration of people.
They all have their own outspoken opinions.
Elbowing each other out of the way to make space.
And as lovely as it is, I don't feel the need to go again in a very long time.

But it was lovely to get away, our last opportunity to do so for a loooooong while.




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C'est Le Weekend: Amsterdam Amsterdam

So we are dumping the kiddies with my parents and departing, quickly, to Amsterdam.  

On the agenda:

• Park at the Park&Ride and go into town
• Drink something nice somewhere
• Check into the hotel
• Go to the Vincent van Gogh museum (where I haven't been in 10 years) and it happens to be open until 21h00
• After this, have dinner somewhere
• And a canal cruise (cheesy tourist-thing to do, but hell, we never get to do these things)
• And, I almost forgot, stay out late because we can

Saturday:

• Have breakfast outside of the hotel, after a long walk that makes us hungry, like wolves
  
• Go to the Rijksmuseum where the good husband has never been
• Lunch 
• Drive back to the chaos at home, down south

Cannot wait!


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Villa Augustus

Recently, I read an article somewhere on a place called Villa Augustus, almost smack bang in the center of Dordrecht, which is about 20 minutes from our home.
Together with my parents and the boys, the split second decision was made to go, so we drove to Dordrecht and boy oh boy, was it worth it.

Lovely.

 
It has a HUGE market garden, restaurant, a shop where you can buy crockery and veggies straight from their soil, a bakery and even a hotel.

Enormous grounds, all orderly and well-kept, edible things growing all over the place, not struck down by disease like some of my edibles, and a lovely cafe and restaurant.
When (not if) the big lottery bucks come my way, I'd like a garden just like this.  
What a dream of a place.

Pity about Son#2 running rampant in the restaurant though.
Could have throttled him, the little monkey.  Bless the creator of the tiny playground on the side of the building.

The whole place seems as though someone's been allowed to let all their creativity rip and They Had A Ball.  

Villa Augustus even has evening soirees in the summer months, string quartets, the works.

Bought nice odd-coloured tomatoes, French varieties too, which we'll be having in a salad tonight.  Yum yum, with basil.  And courgettes, with attached flowers.

I feel decidedly like Arnold Schwarzenegger when I say this, but it's true:  I'll be back. 

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My hormones made me do it

I haven't been quite myself since my last (and final) pregnancy.  My weight won't come down again, my mind is foggy and I can be a cranky old hag if things don't go my way.
I'm blaming my hormones (and general bad habits, but it is easier to blame the hormones of course).

After Son#2 asked me today when the new baby will be arriving - talk about kicking me when I am down - I've decided that enough is enough.  My stomach is getting so big that I sometimes (almost) trip over it.
So much for my plans to be a svelte and sultry goddess by the summer (which, thankfully, hasn't arrived yet, hahaha, praise to you 15-degrees-days-of-summer!!!!).
My fibromyalgia has also turned into fibromy-HELL-gia, and I'm tired of feeling sorry for myself and being in pain 24/7.   

What if, what if my diet and bad habits are not really helping me along towards feeling healthy and good and hormonally balanced...  Just imagine...

Am turning it around.  Starting today!  
Fruit & veg, thy be my mainstay!


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Words to live by

Reminds me of my of safari in Africa. Somebody forgot the corkscrew and for several days we had to live on nothing but food and water.

- W C Fields

Oh for the sweet love of wine.


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Amsterdam at the end of the tunnel

My parents will return to South Africa in two weeks.
We'll just have to abuse their overnight-babysitting-services as often as we can until then.
Well, only once really, the husband and I are going to Amsterdam on Friday.

Will be good, I'm sure.
Paris and Luxembourg are too far for one night, and I don't feel like going to Brussels, so Amsterdam was a good option.
Nice museums, cool little restaurants, canals, boats and hopefully dry weather.

Meanwhile this week will be spent in a flurry.  The summer holiday is going too fast and my nitwit mind is still clinging on to work for dear life.  
I'll have a burn-out by the end of July at this rate.  
Let go, Yo, let go.

I have to clean my studio so I can start painting, have to take all my mispurchases  (yes, that's a new word) back to Ikea so I can have money in my purse again, and then try and not kill Son#2 who is naughtynaughtynaughty.
Praise our lucky stars for a mild-mannered Son#1 today.

And tonight I'm cooking the stuffed tomatoes again, it was just too damn delicious.

Have a good week!


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Drinking alone

So Sunday turned out to be a bit sunnier than I thought it would.  
First of all, the sun eventually came out and stayed for a while.
Then seeing our incarcerated nephew was bliss - he looks fairly happy and OK.
Then I started cooking while Son#3 slept and the husband took Thing#1 and Thing#2 to try out their skateboards on the bike path.
Lovely stuffed tomatoes, yum yum, had to stop myself from shoveling the filling into my wide open mouth instead of filling the tomatoes.

We also tied up the roses, dead-headed them, cutting back foliage to give the box hedges room to breathe and grow again.  
My hydrangeas are tired from all the rain, their heads hang low:  they've surrendered to his Holiness H2O.

And whilst cooking, I had glorious wine and got, might I admit, a tad inebriated on cheap white wine.
I'm no connoiseur, but that doesn't matter.
If it's nice, it's nice.
 

Utopia, Youtopia

The word 'utopia' literally means nowhere.
Did you know that?  
And because it is such a subjective term anyway, shouldn't it just be YOUtopia?  
Because you ultimately decide what is your ideal world?

I've been thinking of my demise a lot lately (midlife crisis, midlife crisis), also because Son#1 constantly asks about death and why I want to live.  (Strange boy).  
What would I want in my life in order to be left with a feeling that I have lived fully?
So far the list includes:  

• My family
• Painting
• Writing
• Pottering about in soil, growing things, living off the land 
• And the sea

Strangely yet logically, most people's utopias include self-sufficiency, freedom from government, good weather.

On this oh so gloomy Sunday (and can I just mention that I cannot possibly stand one more drop of blooming rain), our recently-institutionalized-nephew is coming for a quick visit, we are chucking crap away, and shoveling merde around the house into for-now-unused cupboards.

Am gloomy.
Need sunshine.
And a holiday somewhere far, far away from our daily grind.
Somewhere warm, not Western, with Thai food.
Lots and lots of hot, Thai food that burns the living crap out of your taste buds.

Hope your Sunday is awesome.
Utopically so.

Map guide for Paris

A devout bibliophile.
I adore books (understatement of the year) and will think of any excuse to spend my limited funds on buying yet another book on any given subject.

But this is really the only and final guide you will ever need for Paris.
The one and only!

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C'est Le Weekend: Sur la Plage

To my chagrin and amazement, I've actually come to love some of the spots in the Netherlands.  
It's not all bad, you know. 
This immigration-thing can muddle the way you look, could look, at your 'new' life and surroundings.  New being 'new' as it's been ooohhh, 11 years that I've been living here now...
And then there is the inevitable choice:  Do I keep choosing to perceive it as negative, or could it also be o.k.?

Last night, taking advantage of a non-raining day (I know!!  A Miracle!!!) we took my parents and our herd of buffaloes to the beach, at Dishoek, a spot we love for its simplicity and lack of pretentious beach watering holes.
Just beach, beach huts and a simple restaurant with yummy stuff to eat and drink.
Vlissingen in the distance, the Belgian coastal resort of Knokke far off across the water. 

Of course, His Gorgeousness graced us with his wonderfulness.

And the huge boats cruised past the shore while the husband played with Buff#1 and Buff#2 in the sand.

A beach walk.

Playing here and there.

And then on our way back to the car, with beautiful and interesting views.

In bed by midnight.
Life can be good if you want it to be.


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Words to live by

One is happy once one knows the necessary ingredients of happiness: simple tastes, a certain degree of courage, self denial to a point, love of work, and above all, a clear conscience. 

- George Sand

(and George was actually a she - Amandine Dupin!)

It's the courage-part and the love of work-part that I have trouble with.  Not that I'm lazy, but I would like to have more control over what I spend my time on.

Life will always be up and down, happy and sad, good and bad.

Roooooll with the punches, Yo. Roll.  There isn't much else.

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Sell you to the circus

You're almost ready!

Naaaah, just kidding.

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Natural Mullet

This child brings me happiness beyond what words can describe or capture.

The furrowed brow, the serious eyes.

No-one will take my ball.

You gimme Love love love love, crazy love.

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A day in the life

It's 9 a.m.
We've been up since 4 a.m. when Monster#1 and Monster#2 came to our bed for some quixotic reason.
Luckily they've been trained well:  They wake the husband and not me.
They've learned what Mama's wrath can be in the middle of the night.

The husband and I went to the movies last night:  Our idiot brother.
It was lovely and uplifting.
We came home late and I only went to bed at around 2, having missed my first sleep time-slot, and then having to wait for another one to come around.
4 a.m. is quite a bummer then.

Meanwhile Son#1 and Son#3 are sick, so am I.
Son#2 is just being an evil little dragon, spewing swearwords and insults and screaming 'No' as often as he can.

As I write, the boys are fighting, as they've been doing the entire morning.
A door post just fell on Son#1's head.
The charms of living in a 350 year-old house.
He'll live, I suppose.

My only ambition today is to actually get out of my pajamas, and most importantly, brush my teeth.

Living the high life.


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What could possibly be wrong with weeds?

I think they're beautiful.

They're just better at surviving!

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Leaving on a Jet Plane

Yesterday we left in the early hours of the morning, driving to Schiphol to drop off my uncle for his flight back to the United States.

After saying a sad goodbye to him - we're all sad to see him go - we went up to the flight deck and tried to spot his plane.

Of course the Master of Destruction wanted to make himself heard.
They won't be allowing him onto a plane anytime soon.

Sigh. 


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(Feeling like) An Ass

Well, there you have it!

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Outing

The Museumkaart saved the day, again.

While we left Son#3 to spend the day with his grandparents and my uncle, the husband and I took Son#1 and Son#2 to Tilburg's Natuurmuseum Brabant.

It doesn't disappoint at all:  Brand new dinosaur exhibit, cheapish coffee with cake and an entire section devoted to procreation, just up my little puritanical heart's alley.

The Dutch don't mince their words, and with Son#1 able to read by now, it brings up questions that my prudish mouth can't seem to answer.
For the moment, he quite happily believes that humans lay eggs.

Sigh.

All in all we had a good-ish afternoon, were it not for the husband's and my own tiredness and crabbiness.

Then the disappointment that I didn't magically win the lottery, leaving me to blow away all those magical dreams that I had spending all that money in ways that would make me happy and bring me some peace-o-mind.

Oh well.
Better luck next time!

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Good parenting attribute #1

I'm so getting one of these.

Perhaps two.

Absolutely essential, I'm telling you.

Am seriously considering marketing this apparatus on a grand scale.

 Will catch on like wild fire!


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Done and dusted

The Plum Gin has been jarred, and it's a beautiful end-result.  
Just three more months and I can strain it and then gulp it all down. 
Dash of tonic, twist of lime.
Yum yum.

This weekend my parents are returning from a trip to France.  Looking forward to seeing them again as I've missed them terribly.  Will be awful and quiet and lonesome here when they return to South Africa at the end of the month.
But everything ends eventually, good and bad, and it's the 'good'-part ending that has me feeling blah.

Trying my best in the meantime to forget about the work that I'm returning to in 5 weeks' time.  
Just want to focus on playing with the boys, spending time with the husband and my parents and getting my house in order before the battle of the new academic year starts all over again.
Mmmmm.
Methinks I might be elbow-deep in a midlife crisis.

All boils down to joy and how you get to have more joy in your life.  
Wish money didn't play a role in it, because I could happily potter around in my garden and wait for kiddies to come home from school and read all the books my little heart desires, instead of working.

But it doesn't work that way, and that is making me a bit peeved today.
Breathe in, breathe out.
This too shall pass, right??

Think Plum Gin and warm fires in the fireplace and sleeping babes and baby animals.
Mmmmmm.


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New Project: Plum Gin

Plums are in season, and I saw a post on 66squarefeet.blogspot.com on Beach plum gin, which is pink and looks lovely.  

Lo and behold, after a bit of research on the internet, I came across a recipe for plum gin, and by golly, I'm going to try my hand at it!  (Let's see how many 1950's idioms I can stuff into one post).

Tonight I'm going to prick the fruit and stuff them in a kilner jar or two with some sugar for the next 2-3 days, shaking it about until the sugar dissolves.  Then I'll put it away for about 3-4 months, and by October we should have a smooth Plum Gin to herald in the autumn.

Yay!
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C'est Le Weekend: The good mother

I try my best.

I try to be loving and kind and fair and not to knock their little spirited spirits down.

I try to compliment and not to scold too often but they do choose the oddest actions sometimes like filling a tennis racket with rocks and chucking it on your brother or wrapping Son#3 in a blanket and trying to roll him around or throwing glass Christmas decoration balls in shops thinking that they must surely bounce, which they don't.   

So I keep trying my best to love them to the very best of my ability and not to screw them up too badly, because inevitably, I will.  

And no, those aren't strawberries hugging that ball, those are thistles.  
The good mother should also work at being a good gardener, methinks.


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The slow grind

Today is just one of those days where I am tired beyond my years.
It's also that time of the week where I'm getting a bit fed-up with Caring For Kids.
I don't want to do anything today, no changing nappies, no making lunch, no enforcing of good manners and sociability.
I want to go back to my bed and just breathe.  Nothing more than that.
No thinking either, please.  

Work is still not finished.
I have an over-eager new colleague who is phoning me - tonight - to discuss changes to my courses that he would like to make.
I just want him to go away and let me finally start my summer holiday and forget that work ever existed.

It's been a very tough year.  
A Very. Tough. Year.
And I need a break now.

Please Lottery gods, be kind and merciful.  I need funds to go on holiday and hire a nanny.




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