Desperate times, desperate protesters

I was in tears today as I watched the TV coverage and looked at these images of today’s ANC Youth League demonstration outside Luthuli House in Johannesburg. The visuals of attacks on media, riot police, water cannons and stun grenades are so reminiscent of the very bad old days that I am filled with despair.

For some time I have been seriously concerned about the political and economic future of the country that I love. I am no politician, nor am I an economist, but as an ordinary South African citizen it is plain to me that the country is becoming increasingly divided as our “leaders” either ignore or exacerbate the problem.

It is undeniable that there are massive social problems that we need to address as a nation. If I, as a middle class and comparatively privileged South African, have reached the end of my financial and emotional tethers; how much worse must it be for the truly poor and disenfranchised? We are all the victims of the poor service delivery. We are all victims of the ever-increasing crime. And unfortunately, we can’t all move to the supposedly greener grass of “developed” nations.

So as despicable as I often find Malema and his methods, I have to concede that he does represent a large number of South Africans. As much as I may disagree with his methods, I must recognise that the problems he seeks to address are legitimate.

But Malema himself does not scare me. To my mind, he is a shrewd and greedy man who has been lucky enough to make a space for himself in a country beset by division. It is his supporters, who appear willing to engage in whatever violent  action occurs to them when the mob mentality hits, that truly frighten me. Not because of their tactics – which I think we can all agree are morally reprehensible – but because, to me, they represent a people pushed to desperation. A people pushed to the very limits of poverty. A people unheeded by their president and government representatives. These are fellow South Africans so desperate to find an enemy that they are willing to turn on the party that spawned them. And people desperate for an enemy are dangerous.

Today’s demonstrations scared me more than the countless break-ins and crime, more than the seemingly endless upward spiral in the cost of living. They scared me because of the attitudes and desperation that they highlighted. Perhaps the most frightening thing of all is that a large part of me understands. While I could never condone violence against anyone, I have a tiny inkling of how it feels to believe that things are not getting better. I know what it is like to fear that they never will. I understand the hopelessness. I get it. I too am tired of feeling like – despite my best efforts – the realities of living in South Africa are engineered to keep me financially and emotionally fragile.

Looking into the eyes of these demonstrators, I can’t help but wonder what will happen when we truly reach the end of our collective rope. There is so much rage and hate, so much fear and desperation; that I am no longer confident that we can overcome the sins of the past. Or the sins of the present.

Like oil and water, I fear that South Africa’s many factions will never mix without an enormous amount of agitation. I fear that Malema will get his revolution. Because what other option has been left to the millions of South African’s struggling to endure an insufferable situation?

Be Still, My Beating Heart

If you’ve visited this blog before, you know that my favourite blogger, The Gypsy Mama runs a challenge every Friday called ‘Five Minute Friday’. She throws out a prompt and the rest of us, “stop, drop and write for five minutes”. I think that I’m also supposed to do some fiddly things with link-backs, but I haven’t quite figured out how to do that.

 

The prompt for this week is “Still” and my contribution is dedicated to a man that I suspect I’ve been taking for granted lately…

 

Here it is:

Still.

Together.

Still together.

 

It’s been a long time that we two have been muddling through life as a couple. And I’m so glad that we’re still figuring it out together. Thank you for being so willing to figure out the way that will work best for us, for being open to forging new paths.

 

In the beginning, no-one thought that we would make it – we were too young, too different, too co-dependent, too inexperienced. And yet here we are – still together. Thank you for proving them wrong with me.

 

We’ve made it through some terrible times – infidelity, insecurity, addiction, recovery, depression, financial woes. And still we face the tough times hand in hand. Thank you for not giving up, even when I did.

 

We have shared so many firsts – our first real jobs, my first car, our first home, our first child, your first business. And there are so many firsts ahead of us. Things never get boring with you, because you’re always looking for new adventures and helping me to overcome my fear of the unknown. Thank you for making me braver (and for forcing me to use some of my tickets).

 

There have been times of absolute chaos – seven kittens and one cat in a flat, three kids in a two-bedroom house. And still the chaos gusts about us as we try to find our calm, cuddled on the couch with no need to speak. Thank you for being willing to open your heart and home to me and mine, even when all you wanted was a quiet place to rest.

 

15 years ago, I knew you were the one. I felt at peace with you. You never put any pressure on me to say or do (or be) anything other than what is true to who I am. And you instinctively understand what that is, like a romantic hero from the books that I devour (and you kind of despise).

 

In the midst of all my craziness you are still, and in your stillness I find love and serenity.

 

You are still my calm, my refuge, my strength, my sanctuary.

 

And I am still giddily, gloriously, head-over-heels in love with you.

Yesterday, today and tomorrow: Holding on to the moments

Yesterday:

I remember how chubby my son’s fingers once were. I remember counting those tiny fingers over and over again as I sat in awe of the perfect little person that I had helped create and bring into this world. I remember how toothless his grin was, and how I worried that he was so late in teething. I remember how short and chubby his legs and arms were as he first crawled and then toddled around the garden. I remember the adorable sound of his gurgles and giggles; his squeals of delight when his Dad blew raspberries on his tummy. And I remember the way he used to be content to sit snuggled in my arms, just looking at me while I stared adoringly at him.

Today:

He is a little boy. His hands and feet are bigger and show the signs of riding bikes, playing in the dirt and kung fu fighting with the dog. His arms and legs have lengthened and are now sturdy and strong – able to support him as he leaps across the couch and stretches to reach the sweets on the top shelf. They show the signs of run-ins with paved drives and tarred roads. No longer do I hear gurgles and sighs, but a constant stream of chatter and questions. And he is certainly far too busy exploring (and climbing) his world to want to sit cuddled up with Mom.

Mom and Dad are there for hugs when he is hurt or sad or scared, but most of the time he does pretty well on his own. He wants to run and climb and jump and Mom just slows him down.

Tomorrow:

He will be a bigger boy. Then he will be a teenager. Until, one day, he will be grown and I will be an old woman – proud of the man that my son has become. He will have his own child with chubby fingers and toothless grins to enjoy and wonder over.

And I will still remember the baby that he once was.

Help! I’m a working mother!

I’ve started writing this post about ten times and have never finished it. (Hopefully tonight’s the night.) Partly because I can never really decide what I think or feel abut the topic and partly because I Just Never Have the Time. You see, 3 months ago I rejoined the workforce. I Am Exhausted! I’ve been through many difficult times in my life, but there have been very few occasions on which I have felt so physically and emotionally drained.

I thought I was prepared for how difficult it would be to go back to work, but as usual I was living in La La Land.

I expected it to be hard for the entire family. I expected E to need an adjustment period to get used to Mommy not being at home all day, dedicated to meeting his every need. I explained to him that I was going back to work and discussed how he felt about it. I spent extra quality time with him and told him that, even though I was going back to work, I would still make sure that I spent time with him. I spoke to his teacher so that she knew to expect a few rough weeks because that’s how long I thought it would take for him to settle. Two months at most. I thought I had all the bases covered. Wrong!

It turns out that what I should have expected was for my usually sweet and gentle child to be replaced by a fire-breathing, tantrum-throwing, non-sleeping, never-eating doppelgänger. (Ok, so the sleep thing isn’t really new. It just got much worse.) Seriously, there have been days where I haven’t recognised my child At All. And that just feels awful, because I miss my baby boy.

I miss him more than words can express. I miss being there for every high-and low in his day, the big and the small events that are important to him. I feel disconnected from his life and this is soul destroying. I miss knowing, without a shadow of doubt, how he is doing and what he is feeling. I know that he is in good hands, as I’ve hired someone to be with him during the day and because we are lucky enough that – because he works from home – J can spend a fair amount of time with him.

But this is just another thing for me to feel guilty about. J has had to seriously adjust his work patterns and habits to accommodate the fact that I can no longer be the one to drive E to and from school, take him to play dates or to his weekly visit with his gran. This has been hard for J, and he has soldiered through with a calm that I didn’t always manage as a stay at home mom. I am so proud of both of them. Of J. But that doesn’t make it any easier to walk out the door every morning and leave my child behind.

 When I am with him, I try to make the most of it, but I am so tired and going through my own stuff. Trying to settle into a new job after 3 years off the market is hard hard hard. I doubt myself and my abilities professionally and now I doubt my parenting abilities because my child seems to be deeply traumatised. Sometimes I think it would have been better if I had gone back to work when he was just a baby and this would all be normal for him.

I predicted that I would need time to adjust to working and to feeling a fair amount of guilt about leaving my precious child in the care of another. But nothing, Nothing could have prepared me for the waves of maternal guilt that have sometimes brought me to my knees. My child has been beyond difficult and I have just been too exhausted to cope with it. I had completely forgotten how draining it can be to work.

I went into this thinking of all the wonderful things that I had missed about work for so long – the adult interaction, the intellectual stimulation, the validation, the self-esteem that comes from doing a job and doing it well. Of course, what I forgot to factor in was the fact that I had never been a working mother. A working girlfriend, a working wife, but not a working Mom. And let me tell you, its a whole different ball game.

There have been times when my child has begged and pleaded with me to stay home with him. And nothing on Earth can compare to how incredibly crap that makes me feel. There have been times when I have walked in the door after a long, hard day of work and all I wanted to do is crawl into a hot bath followed by bed. Unfortunately, that simply isn’t an option because there’s a little man that has been waiting all day to tell me what he did at school, at great length. And even though I really do want to hear about it, sometimes I just can’t summon up the energy to get excited about his news. Oh the guilt!

I wish I had been more realistic with myself. I wish that I had foreseen how difficult it would be for Me to adjust and get used to being back in the working world. But I didn’t and man alive has it been hard.

There have also been things that just came at me out of left field. Like the fact that when you’re a working mum you have pretty much zero time for yourself. Because there is always someone making demands on your time. At work, its your boss and clients; at home its your child, husband and friends. So you never, ever get time to be alone and do the things that are important to you (like update your blog).

And the dear old hubby presents a whole host of issues that I never would have expected. From the minute I said that I wanted to go back to work, J has been amazingly supportive. And he has followed through on that support in the most incredible way. He has taken over the bulk of the child care,and I know that it is really hard for him because E wants to be with him all the time since I’m not home; which is making His work so much harder. He makes sure he’s cared for and manages the nanny. All while doing a full day’s work and starting a business. This cannot be easy and I am enormously grateful for all of his efforts.

Unfortunately, me going back to work has taken a serious toll on our marriage. Because as supportive as J is, he also has needs. Needs that it had been really easy and simple for me to meet for the last three years, because I was a stay-at-home mum. Taking care of my family was my main and only priority. These days, I can’t just drop what I’m doing and meet him for lunch. I have to work. Most days I can’t even take the time to have a real conversation with him, because I am attending to a child that has missed me and that I have missed just as much. And by the time I’m done with being mommy for the evening I am just too exhausted to do anything but fall into bed. And even if I do manage to stay awake, I’m stressed out and grumpy and all I want to do is watch an episode of Glee before passing out.

Plus, in many ways I am having to play referee to two stubborn males who want All of my attention. There are days when I walk in the front door and both of them start speaking at me at the same time. And both of them deserve to be heard. I Want to hear both of them. But I really can’t split myself in two, as much as I would like to. I never expected this to be so hard on my relationship. Which is crazy, when I think about it, because I should have expected J to need as much time as E and I to adjust. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that.

When I was a stay-at-home mom, I was the first to lament how difficult it is and how hard it is to handle the judgement from many working moms who think that stay-at-home mothers have it easy. I’d get really angry when I heard that opinion voiced and I still do to a large extent because it Isn’t easy. But I’m really starting to think that being a working mom is just that little bit harder. Because you have to deal with all the same stuff as a stay-at-home mother, with the added stress of work. And yes, the pay is better, but you really do work for that money. At home and at the office.

I wish I knew whether I’ve made the right decision in going back to work but I really don’t. Sometimes things go really well and I feel so fulfilled – I am doing what I love and regaining much of the confidence and self-respect that I had lost during my journey through post-natal depression and as an at-home mom. At other times, I feel like the worst mother and wife in the world – I have abandoned my husband and child and am the most selfish person around.

I wish I knew how to find a balance so that I felt content with my choices but I’m really starting to think that it may not be possible. And that scares the crap out of me. 

Make-over photos have arrived!

They’re finally here! After a fairly long wait, the before and after pics of my Fair Lady make-over have finally arrived. I’m pretty excited to share them with you, even though I don’t really think that the after pic looks anything like me

There was another look and hair-style created, which I’m quite keen to see, but I haven’t received a copy yet. I’ll share it as soon as I do, though.

So with no further ado, I present to you:

BEFORE

And:

AFTER

 

And:

AFTER 2

The Fair Lady Magazine Make-over of Awesomeness!

A while ago a friend sent me an email saying that Fair Lady Magazine was looking for women to participate in a make-over (thanks Kirst!). I entered, not expecting to be chosen because, well, I’m never lucky enough to be chosen for this sort of stuff. So imagine my surprise when I Was in fact selected.

What followed was a number of emails from the Fair Lady editorial team requesting everything from my dress, shoe and shirt size to photographs of hair styles that I really disliked. That and infinite amounts of excitement on my part. I told anyone who would listen that I was about to have an adventure – and a few that wouldn’t – but even their glassy eyes weren’t enough to discourage me because I was getting a make-over baby!

As the day of the make-over drew nearer, I found myself filled with just as much trepidation as excitement. What if they totally messed up my hair (which I have been trying to grow) by cutting it uber short, making me look like a complete freak show. What if they wanted to dye it purple? Or even worse, black? What if they put me in horrible granny clothes? Or stuck pink and blue make-up on me? *Shudder*

But the nerves didn’t stop there. I will be the first to admit that I sometimes (read: often) have self esteem issues. Being on the larger side of chunky is not an easy thing to be, in a world obsessed with the skinny and svelte. So I’m not ashamed to admit that I was a more than a little afraid of not fitting in with the ‘fashion industry types’, of them not finding clothes that fit me, of being judged and (most of all) of looking awful in the photographs. There are no words to describe how afraid I was of the photographer. After all, this was likely to be a guy who spent his days looking at the likes of Candice Swanepoel in itty bitty non-clothes. And I was likely to look like a bizarre (if well made up) heffalump-crazy cat hybrid. I began to think that this might have been a mistake after all. How could I, with my frizzy hair, generous (cough) hips and round face, hope to look like I belonged at a magazine photo shoot.

As it turned out, I needn’t have worried. In fact, quite the opposite. The make-over turned out to be one of the most life-affirming – not to mention Fun (yes, with a capitol F) things that I have ever done. It was awesome! Which I suppose I should have expected because really, what could be better than spending an entire day in a salon while people fuss over you, making sure that you look your absolute best. Nothing, that’s what!

Apart from being treated like a celebrity for a day, one of the most amazing things about the day was how positive and supportive everyone was. The editorial team and make-up artist consisted of a group of warm, funny and amazing women. The photographer was an absolute honey. The make-up artist was a genius who even managed to make my non-existent eyebrows look good. The hair stylists at Tanaz Hair, Body and Nails were out of this world. My face shape and lifestyle were analysed and taken into consideration at every step and the colourist was an artist.

Every time I saw someone involved in the shoot, I was greeted with exclamations of delight and comments about how gorgeous I looked. I’m not sure if this is standard operating procedure when conducting a make-over photo shoot and to be honest I don’t really care, because I left the salon that feeling like a billion bucks.

Now, those of you who have read this blog before will know that the only thing I love more than a good long list is an opportunity to learn something. Luckily, the make-over left me filled to the brim with good ideas and useful tips. So what follows is the long list of what I learnt from an incredible bunch of people.

What I learn from the hairstylists:

• If you have a round face, you should never have a middle parting because it will just leave you looking even more moon-faced than you are. This is something that I have carried through in my everyday life and I have to say, it really works. Side partings for the win!
• It’s all in the cut. Seriously, a good hair cut can completely change the way you feel about your hair – not to mention the way you look.
• If you use the right products you too can have model worthy hair.
• Don’t go more than two shades lighter or darker than your natural hair colour. If you do, expect to look washed out and to have your colour turn ‘brassy’. I have to mention here that I adore my new colour, which is essentially a warmer version of my natural colour with a few lowlights. Or highlights. I can never be sure of which is which.
• Even dry, unruly and frizzy curly hair can look awesome if you spend some time on it and invest in the right products.
• The R5 Rule: Never spend a R5 coin. Don’t give it to the car guard, newspaper seller, your kid or your husband. Keep it. And every month (or three months, or whatever works for you) gather your R5 coins together and spend them on yourself. (If you’re like me, you might want to take your stack of coins to a bank and get them exchanged for notes. For some reason I have a horror of spending huge piles of coins…)
• Figure out what you can spend on your hair on a monthly basis and use this to come up with an annual hair budget. Then go into your salon (where you hopefully have an awesome stylist) and discuss with them the best way to allocate your funds. Will you come in once a month for a trim and colour touch up, or every three months for a cut, colour and some products? Let your stylist advise you, since they know their business better than you do. I really think that this, coupled with the R5 Rule, is one of the best ideas I’ve ever heard.

What I learned from the make-up artists:

• Gel eyeliner just doesn’t budge and allows you to apply a precise line of exactly the right thickness.
• Even the experts use Mac (confirming a long-held suspicion of mine that Mac is the Bomb! (Unrelated to what I learnt at the shoot, keep an eye out for their new range of Wonder Woman products – awesome packaging plus really cool colours. Win!)
• Khaki and deep purple eye shadow makes for a great smoky eyed look. Despite sounding atrocious.
• For those of you who, like me, feel like a painted tart when you’re wearing anything more than a slick of eye shadow and some lip gloss: If it feels like you could scrape your name in your make-up, it’s probably just enough for a photo shoot.
• Blush really, really works. It defines our cheek bones and makes your face look thinner.
• Dewy beats the hell out of matte for skin. If you think about this, it makes total sense. Because no one’s skin naturally looks like matte powder. Not even grandmothers can pull of that look.
• The reason models have that ‘heroin chic’ look is because the hard core eye make-up that is used on photo shoots is Impossible to wash off. I washed my face about three times when I got home, once when I showered in the evening and once in the morning. I still went to work with eyeliner on; which, admittedly, made me look better.
• Eyeliner is your friend. It really makes your eyes ‘pop’. (But in a good way. Not in the B-grade horror movie way.)

What I learnt from the editorial team and clothing stylists:

• Accessorise, but keep it simple and understated. If you’re wearing a bold necklace, downplay the earrings. If your shirt has a lot of detailing, don’t wear a bold necklace. You don’t want to look like a Christmas tree on steroids.
• Try things on in a variety of sizes, even if you think you’re a large, a medium might look better. This has the added advantage of making you feel a lot better.
• The right earrings can make an outfit.
• Wearing heels not only makes you look taller, it improves your posture and makes you look and feel sexier. Just make sure they’re comfortable – which is easy if you spend a bit more and invest in good quality.

What I learned from the photographer (these are priceless tips because they really, truly work):

• Lean into the camera just a little, as if you’re about to speak to someone. This elongates the neck.
• Tilt your head slightly. I don’t know why this works, but it does.
• Don’t face the camera, turn slightly to the side. This makes you look thinner.
• Relax your shoulders. Again, I have no idea why this works, but it does. And the photographer seemed pretty insistent about it, so I guess it’s important.
• Sometimes a well placed but subtle pout can look awesome – pretend you’re drinking from a straw. (This is my tip, developed as a teen trying to look sultry. I’ve always felt that it looked too stupid to try in real life, but somehow it worked. Although I suspect that this is only true when you’re at a professional photo shoot with a photographer who knows what he’s doing.)
• ‘Pop’ one hip. In other words, stick one hip out as you balance your weight on the other foot. This is in no way a comfortable position, but it looks good.
• A fan gently blowing your hair back makes you look about 50 times hotter. If you can’t afford to hire someone to do this for you, make a plan because it makes a world of difference. I plan to train my three year old to carry a hand-held fan and then walk along in front of me (walking backwards, of course) to recreate this look. It may lead to years of therapy for him, but I think it may be worth it.
• It’s all about comfort. Once you’re happy, relaxed and comfortable, you will look beautiful.
• Photographers, especially the charming ones, are really hot. (I’m hoping my husband doesn’t read this.)

What I learned about being a model:

• It really isn’t as easy as it is looks. Being pulled, prodded and fussed over All Day can get a little old after a while. I can’t imagine how true this must be when you do it all day, several times a week for years. No wonder models look so miserable most of the time.
• It’s hot, hot work. Magazines work at least three months in advance for editorial and about four months in advance for this type of feature. So even though it was about 30 degrees outside, we were wearing winter clothes as the make-over will appear in the August issue of the magazine. And the lights are not exactly cool either. Plus, the blocked off all the windows (presumably for lighting purposes). Thank God for that fan. Maybe that’s why it made me look better – because it prevented me from melting into a decidedly unattractive puddle on the floor.
• You won’t be fed till after the shoot. I guess that’s why so many models look miserable. And how they stay thin. By the end of the day I was ready to eat my arm.

Thus ends the epic 2 000 word tale of my make-over experience and what it feels like to be a magazine model. I’ll be sure to upload a pic as soon as I am able. Keep an eye out for the August issue of Fair Lady and/or the website to see the results!

I must end off by saying thank you to Shereen, Kerese, Shelene, Pepper and Justin. You guys were Fantastic! Thank you for making the day such a blast.

Five Minute Friday: I feel most loved when…

One of my favourite bloggers, The Gypsy Mama runs a challenge every Friday called ‘Five Minute Friday’. Gypsy Mama gives a prompt and you, the writer, “simply stop, drop and write for five minutes flat!” You then link back to her site and check out the efforts of the other brave writers.

I’ve wanted to participate for a few weeks but have never quite worked up the nerve or found the time (pathetic, I know, since it is just 5 minutes). This week the prompt really resonated with me as I am really trying to take time to be grateful for all that I have in my life. One of the things I am most grateful for is how much love I have in my life. So here is my Five Minute Friday contribution (a little late).

I feel most loved when:

My husband gives me that look. The one that I know means that he thinks I’m smart and gorgeous and funny. The look that tells me how proud he is of me and all my achievements and triumphs – the big and the small. I feel most loved when he has complete faith in me, even when I don’t. The look that says “I want you. All of you. For who and what you are and not for what you give me. Just for yourself.”

I feel most loved when I collect my son from school or a play-date or a visit to Gran and his face lights up because Mom has arrived. When he leaps up and rushes over to hug me, I feel great big lashings of unconditional love. When he hides behind the tiniest toy just so that I will ‘find’ him, I feel love. When he cuddles up to me at night and gives me a triumphant but sleepy grin because he knows that he should be in his own bed and not mine, I feel loved.

I feel most loved when I Skype my family half way across the world and I can see and hear the joy that I have given them, just by taking the time to connect with them. When I share the boring, everyday details of my life, like what I made for dinner, and they are interested – truly interested – simply because it makes them feel closer to me, I feel loved.

I feel most loved when I meet my best friend for a drink or we call each other and even though it feels like we haven’t seen each other for ages, there is no awkwardness. There is no need to spend ages giving each other background stories or explaining how and why we reacted to a situation. Because we know each other so well that regardless of where we are in our lives, we understand each other.

I feel most loved when I am with the people I love – the family that I was born into and the family that I have chosen.