Life, Love, and Passports

Archive for January, 2013

Set the prisoners free

I’ve been reading many touching and true quotes about forgiveness and it’s quite frightening to think that some people can lead unhappy lives because they insist on carrying hurt and disappointment.
The worst part is watching people self destruct while the person with whom they have a grievance goes on with their life.

I guess forgiving is not a natural response when you’ve been wronged more often than not revenge seems the only thing that will bring you happiness. I’m not saying people shouldn’t be held accountable for their actions which hurt and offend but I’ve recently realised that people are often ignorant about the effect their sharp words and thoughtless actions have on people and for that reason those intense feelings of hurt and rage should just be put to rest. Trying to get an ignorant person to see the error of their ways is like trying to catch a cloud.

I’ve been hurt by many people in my life and I’m certain that I’ve hurt many too. Forgiveness can be a very complex issue and requires sincerity on the part of both parties. If you’ve been hurt and the person is totally clueless I just don’t see the point of trying to drag an apology out of them for any wrong done. When I’m approached by an individual who informs me that I’ve hurt them in some way whether I recall the incident or not I apologise sincerely because I have no desire to be somebody else’s prisoner nor to make them mine.

I have a personal philosophy it may sound naive but I’ve made up my mind to just let things go. Life has a way of teaching us lessons we only seem to learn when the shoe is on the other foot and all you can hope is that it happens sooner than later so forgive and try to forget!

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DIY decoded

I never really get the point of people wanting to do their own installations and repairs around the house. Don’t people realise we’ll just put qualified people out of work if every Dick, Tom and Harry figures they can build a wall, tile a floor or paint a gate? Granted there are people who are naturally talented when it comes to all things requiring flair. I am not one of those people and there are some days that I long to just produce something that’s super creative and perhaps jaw dropping. I have some of those friends who just seem to have a truckload of creative talent.

With my husband at work tonight I had to bleed the towel rail and I knew I’d be up to the task once I’d checked out you tube. Thank goodness for this wonderful world of online advice. It’s not the first time that I’ve had to go to these strangers and seek their advice. Just last week the battery died on the fire alarm and I had no idea how to remove it from a very high ceiling. Adding to the challenge I’m a bit afraid of heights and a good friend came to the rescue. Seriously everything seems to fall apart once my husband steps out the door. I feel like life is pushing me to up my game and realise my DIY potential. Okay then life tomorrow I shall top up the windscreen fluid but please don’t let me fill my own petrol!

My husband is a proper DIY man and I really need to pay more attention when he sorts stuff out because no matter how small the need it really has the potential to drive me insane. I’m now looking forward to some time out from these tedious repairs. Come on life let’s find a challenge!


Bed of roses

For the umpteenth time this morning I just struggled to get out of my warm, cosy bed with its super strong arms that refuse to let me get out no matter how hard I try.
I often come across people who lament about their inability to wake up during the winter months. Sadly, I have this problem all year round. I’ve graduated from the snooze button I now set my alarm for three half hour reminders and I still wake up late.

When the weekend rolls around I’m so excited about being able to sleep until i ache. I’m blessed with children who love to sleep as much as I do but then I’m probably just catching up on all the sleepless nights I had courtesy of them. Though like me they do love to push the envelope when it comes to staying up after their bedtime. It’s at that point that I start sounding like my mother “okay just carry on you going to know all about it in the morning.”

When I was in high school I remember my brother and I always staying up late and my mother constantly warning us about the ramifications of our late night antics. Of course we always knew better as you do as a teenager and time after time we were docked at school for late coming. It’s a terrible position to be in when you hate being late but have no desire to climb out of bed.

I have promised before to make an effort to rise with enough time to do chores but I’m slowly edging to the point where I want to accept that the morning madness is part of my life. Perhaps one day I’ll go to bed as early as the chickens and rise with the sun but until then I’m going to curl up and wait for things to change!


You’ve been framed

A couple of days ago I happily approached a young man who I was absolutely sure I had met before and by before I mean about a fortnight ago. Perhaps this was my error! Now I’m not somebody who is easily embarrassed but my over friendly greeting had me running for cover after I’d made a total spectacle of myself. I think what made it worse was his deadpan expression which said so many things without saying anything at all.

Please tell me I am not alone in this mistaken identity game. I practically squirmed away from the unidentified subject and immediately sort out an accomplice to agree that the similarities were uncanny. Sadly it seems I was completely confused.

I just hope wherever this young man is he is not telling a tale of a crazy woman with an obvious problem with remembering people she claims to know. I’d like to announce that with the other life changing gadgets I dream of inventing I’ve now added a facial recognition chip! Wouldn’t that be great it would totally eliminate the awkward moment when you just don’t know and you think you know an individual.

I’ve been framed for life in that guys opinion. Here’s to many more close encounters and the inability to remember people, faces and of course names. Have we met before?


Call me maybe…

So the snow has been falling all day and it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Christmassy is more like it though and I’m feeling almost compelled to put up the Christmas tree and perhaps some carol singing. I’ve got to break this train of thought before I have my girls asking for snow time gifts.

Being the social network butterfly that I am I’ve slowly been getting ‘closed school envy’. It seems every school in close proximity to our dear one has announced it’s closure. Though I’ve already decided it will be a snow day for us it will be great if its official.

So please head teacher you have my number so…call me maybe!


Snow patrol

I have a love/hate relationship with snow. It really is very magical while watching the white dust fall like perfect flakes from the sky usually from the comfort of my warm house. So after much warning the blizzard had appeared and my first bit of business when I woke up was to inform the school I wouldn’t be making the treacherous trip because I’m just not built for snow well my car isn’t anyway!

My girls were super excited when they finally woke up and realised they had a snow day. The plan for their day was simple watch as much telly as possible then go out and inspect the snowfall and of course the obligatory making of snow angels.
Everything looked captivating covered in snow up to and including the dustbins. My absolute favourite is the virgin snow and of course I feel really privileged to place my footprints in it as if it will last forever. All of this is the good part of course.

While enjoying the snow the complaints are coming thick and fast about traffic congestion, grounded flights and power outages. Fortunately for me I’m not dealing with any of these problems but I am already dreading watching this picturesque snow turn to black sludge. Why does snow have to be such a double edged sword? Nevertheless I’ll enjoy this glorious event until it all starts to go wrong.


For sale : Humans

How did I get here you ask?
As you look on me with fierce judgement in your eyes
Your plastic smile struggles to hide the hatred you actually feel for me

My sexy clothes, my bad make-up, my shame…
You think I wear them as a crown but you are wrong
These wounds run deep you see

Tell me your story you say
Why? So you can help?
Oh please, I have heard that before
You listen, you weep, then continue with your life
You don’t understand
These wounds run deep

He used to visit me each night
A monster he was, the man I called dad
He took away my virginity
The precious part that made me a kid
The outcome is all you see
You don’t get that
These wounds run deep

“I love you”, he said
My very first crush
I will give you the world but…

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What’s in a name?

As it turns out it’s much more than I initially thought. There was so much thought and research put into choosing our daughters names and of course we think they suit them and their personalities brilliantly. Sadly we didn’t think much further than that like the moment that they go to school. Up until now this name writing phase has passed relatively fuss free until my last born went to nursery with her nine letter name. Granted there is some repetition the sheer length seems to be draining the enthusiasm out of her ability to learn.

I’m as keen as the next person to see my children grow and develop but for goodness sake my baby is just over two months shy of her fourth birthday. I was a overgrown six and a bit years old when I first put my foot in a classroom. I literally went from home straight to school and my teacher Miss Redman proceeded to teach me how to spell and write my name (ironically it’s nine letters as well). Alas, the education system is very different here in the Uk than it is in my native South Africa. So I guess making the mental adjustment is key.

Gabrielle is due to start ‘big’ school in September and I’ve no doubt she would’ve mastered her name writing by then. It just breaks my heart to hear reports from her teacher that my baby feels anxious about not being able to write her name. Really? Anxious? Personally I don’t think she’d care that much if it wasn’t made an issue at school.
We’ve done our part now and my little girl is sat at the table with her older sisters practicing and improving her writing skills in a specially chosen book.

My only regret now is that we didn’t name her Mia because that would’ve made her life so much easier and this might have been a totally different blog!

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Mirror! Mirror!

While out and about doing some shopping which required me to enter the fitting room and may I just say how much I dislike going into those little rooms with mirrors that lie. I know for a fact that they lie because whenever I get home I’m never half as convinced as I was in the store about the way the garments fit. Perhaps it’s the dim lighting and manipulating music that leads to poor decision making. So there I was waiting for my turn to have my garments counted and a far too small cubicle to be allocated when an elderly woman stepped out from behind the curtain to ask for the opinion from the gentleman she was with. I was so impressed by the very detailed feedback he gave to her and realised that was what I needed someone to give me an honest assessment instead of relying on a shady mirror.

My husband is quite helpful when he shops with me now that I’ve coached him on the do’s and don’ts of giving opinions in the fitting room. The first rule is you only get one chance to have a first reaction and though it may sound stupid it is the biggest decider. After building up the courage to emerge from behind the door or curtain and step into a public space the last thing you want is a negative response. Even though the garment may not fit perfectly the fact that you’ve chosen it may suggest that you hoped it was. I always feel really stupid and exposed when I step into the aisle and sheepishly ask “how does it look babe?” It’s at this point that he spills out all the responses I expect to hear from him after taking this massive risk.

Of course being the type of shopper I am I’m never really convinced until I get home and my mirror says I am indeed the fairest of them all!


Sight for sore eyes

It’s just a little over three months now that Charis my seven year old needed to start wearing spectacles. At the time I was really sad for her to be making that kind of adjustment at her age. Fortunately she embraced the change and the transition has been smooth. Today was the day that she was reassessed and and once again I felt quite sad that her prescription had to change because her eyes had deteriorated not by a major margin but they had changed significantly enough! I love her positive attitude and her excitement was peaked at the idea of choosing a new frame so soon after the first.

Funnily enough it was the first time Gemma my five year old would have her eyes tested. When I told her she had an appointment at the optometrist she was overjoyed and immediately informed me of her possible choices for frames. I was really taken aback because when I was at school nobody was keen to wear glasses and it became apparent that it has now evolved into something quite glamorous. Sadness for her and joy for me when the optometrist declared she had no need for glasses.

Being a parent really is a journey of many twists and turns and at the moment we’re still adjusting to physical changes. I love being a parent and all I want is for my girls to be happy no matter what challenges they face.