Mixed emotions

Yesterday I had to fill out a questionnaire and one of the questions threw me completely. I had to decide what the state of my “happiness” is at the moment. Am I: 1)very happy, 2)happy, 3)unhappy or 4)very unhappy? One of the rules of the questionnaire was that you shouldn’t think too long on your answer, give the answer that comes to mind first and don’t dwell on it. Problem is, nothing really came to mind immediately. My brain seemingly did not have a straight opinion about my happiness right now.

It’s a question I so often get asked. By the people we left behind as well as new people you meet. And the answer is not that simple. Am I unhappy? Certainly not. But would I say I am happy? Can I dare say I am happy?

I came across a wonderful quote that sums up my emotions so well.

“When we make a change, it is so easy to interpret our unsettledness as unhappiness and our unhappiness as a result of having made the wrong the decision. Our mental and emotional states fluctuates madly when we make big changes in our lives and some days we can tightrope across Manhattan and some days we are too weary to clean our teeth. This is normal, this is natural, this is change.”

– Jeanette Winterson-

There was no space on that questionnaire to tick off that you are ‘unsettled’, but that is what I am. Unhappy: no. Happy: fairly often. Unsettled: almost constantly! Is that a bad thing? No, it’s normal. It’s part of the process of carving out a new life for myself.

For now, I am riding the wave. On the “tightrope days”, I enjoy and immerse myself in discovering this new life. I appreciate the comforts and securities of living in a first world country, I relish the time I have with my boys, I explore, I laugh, I live.

On the “weary days”, I survive. Tears arrive on my cheeks unannounced as I see my old car somewhere in traffic, hear a friend’s voice on a telephone message, listen to a song I last heard when I was still settled. I cry when I realise it is the longest I have ever gone without a hug from my mother (and also without her rusks, which is equally sad). I cry because I miss places like Prince Albert and Meiringspoort and I don’t know how long it will be before I see a mountain again. I cry because I feel guilty and selfish for taking my children away from their grandparents. I cry, not because I am unhappy, just turned upside down and inside out.

How long this will last no one can tell. Some sadness will to some extent remain forever I believe. But settle I will and happiness questions won’t trip me up anymore. And life will go on.

Date night

Recently we were in the fortunate position to have free babysitters for the evening. Quite a luxury if you are a newbie in a strange country and you can count your friends on half a hand.

As I was taking a 5 minute shower in preparation of a romantic dinner date with my husband, I reminisced about days gone by and how the “prep” has changed from before we had children to now.

To begin with: the 5 minute shower. This happens amidst some shouting and fighting happening somewhere in the house. While trying to determine whether the screams require intervention (i.e. a shout from me), I’m also trying to decide what is top priority in the beauty routine. Do I have time to wash my hair or not. To shave or not to shave? I decide to do the hair but ditch the shaving. A quick feel over my legs made me realise I am past the prickly stage, so my legs are still soft, albeit in a different way. Plus, it’s winter, no one will see.

Rewind 6 years and there would have been none of this 5 minute showering business. It would’ve been a complete ritual. The whole nine yards. Hair washed, face washed, scrubbed, masked. Then a lengthy bath to infuse me with some or other exotic smell advertised on the bottle. Legs shaved. Then would follow creams of all sorts. Face, body, feet, the whole works. Make-up carefully applied again, hair redone. At some stage earlier in the day I would’ve painted my nails or possibly even got a manicure.

Back in the present I jumped out the shower, don’t even dry off properly. I rush to break up the fight and are inundated with requests. One is thirsty, one is hungry. One is looking for Spiderman and the other one wants to do some painting. NOW! I say no and a volcano erupts in my kitchen. The volcano throws himself on the floor and continue to ask for some paint, in a slightly more forceful way. The other one is still hungry. He is oblivious to my attempts to calm the volcano. He wants food now. And why have I not found Spiderman yet?? I open the emergency cupboard and pull out a packet of biscuits for each of them. Peace follows soon thereafter. I switch on the TV and steal away to get dressed.

6 years ago the outfit would’ve been planned, I can guarantee you. Now it’s a question of how quickly I can throw on something that sort of go together and won’t land me in the “worst dressed” section of a magazine. Whether I am successful or not I can’t tell, my fashion sense don’t operate in times of high pressure. The biscuits are finished, the TV boring and I can hear trouble brewing again. I ignore it for as long as I can, quickly smear some make-up over my face, dry my hair and get back to the crisis centre. Spiderman has been found, but by the wrong brother. Now he won’t release and the other one won’t relent. He wanted it first, doesn’t matter who found it. Luckily daddy enters the picture at that moment. Just as good as a packet of biscuits. I don’t think I actually greet my husband apart from giving him a quick grateful glance.

It’s now 15 minutes before the babysitters are due to arrive. I throw the boys in the bath while I quickly try to clean up the chaos in the kitchen and lounge. They can’t know how dirty our house really is on a day-to-day basis. We need them to offer to look after the boys again, so impressions are everything. I also contemplate drugging the boys. If they go to bed easily, it might help too. But my guilt kicks in and I shelf that plan.

Back to the bath. In the process of getting the monsters cleaned up, I get splashed. More than once. Maybe wet clothes is fashionable in Australia? With dad’s help, the boys are clean and dressed in pyjama’s just as the angels arrive. They even come bearing gifts: Nando’s chips for supper. The boys immediately decide these people are the best thing since sliced bread and are happy to wave us goodbye.

I get into the car feeling as though I am leaving a war zone. For the first 5 minutes of the journey we don’t talk, we just stare into the distance, recovering. Then we arrive at the restaurant and it’s like an oasis in the desert. As far as the eye can see there are only adults. They talk in muted tones. No shouting. Soft music playing, candles on the table. Glorious food that I didn’t have to cook.

Rewind 6 years and a night out with my husband would’ve been a treat, sure. But nothing on this scale. Now I really appreciate the time, the ability to sit down and have uninterrupted conversation. So yes, I am sitting there, with unshaven legs (and the realisation that in my rush to get dressed I forgot to apply roll-on), my clothing still damp from bathing two monsters. But my heart is thankful. And date night is far more of a treat than what it was back in the day.

Now if only we could meet more babysitters…

Fess up

Through all generations motherhood has always been tough. I’m just thinking in the last century with wars, the great depression, flu epidemics etc. how hard it must have been to raise a child. Add to that cloth nappies, the inconvenience of not having electricity and running water and the plot thickens.

These days though, we have every available aide to assist us in raising our children, yet we have gone up another level and made motherhood even harder. How you may ask. And I will answer with one word: “judgement”. Nothing we do as mothers these days are right in the eyes of someone else. There are always someone looking at you and judging. We compare ourselves to what we see and read in the media, because no matter where you look, there’s always a perfect mother. It is usually an ex beauty queen, sporting personality or celebrity that appears in a magazine three weeks after giving birth (obviously at home in a water bath with no epidural or any interventions). She looks radiant and says she is back in her pre-pregnancy jeans. Her new baby sleeps through the night already, has no problems breastfeeding and doesn’t even need burping. The older sibling (who was potty trained at 18 months and is a perfect eater and also has never thrown a tantrum in public or at home) accepted the new addition to the family with no problems whatsoever.

That is what we are up against every day. The judgment starts straight after birth. You are only a real mother if you did the natural thing. C-sections are for women who didn’t try hard enough or who were too scared or wanted a convenient birth. Irrespective of the fact that they gut you like a fish, it’s not as hard as a vaginal birth and you shouldn’t even say you gave birth, because technically you didn’t, someone else did it for you.

And so it continues. Almost daily there are debates on whether to breastfeed or bottle feed. If you breastfeed do you do it in public or not. When to start solids. To use the “cry it out” method or not. Co-sleeping vs sleeping in own room. And sadly  I can continue in this vein for pages and pages. It really is never-ending.

Today this post is for all the normal, ordinary mothers like myself. We are just trying to survive this hurricane of raising small people as best we can and with as much love and patience we can muster. I will confess to all my worst sins as a mother (in the eyes of the magazines and babybooks and all the “experts”) and you can read this and feel better realising that you are normal after all.

• There are no real routine to speak of in my house. Some days bathtime is at 5pm, other days it will be at 6pm or maybe even 7pm. Bedtime is very vague. Some mornings we eat breakfast, other mornings I arrive at school realising Aidan has had nothing to eat. So far no one has died. Some people say I make life more difficult for myself this way, but for someone who’s life was regulated by the ring of a boarding school bell for too many years, I’m enjoying the freedom
• My children’s diet is atrocious. After being absolutely fastidious about what they ate as babies (I only fed them home cooked and pureed baby food, NO purity for my babies…) they have now turned out to be horrible picky eaters. Gian exists almost solely on a diet of carbs. They have pasta and bacon for supper 5 nights out 7, because at least I know they will finish it and not complain.
• I let them have sugar (I can hear the gasps!) They have it in their tea, it’s in the cereal they will  eat for breakfast and sometimes for lunch and they have juice more than once a week. They eat a LOT of fruit, which apparently these days are bad too. Oh and don’t forget the raisins and dried banana chips which no picnic is complete without.
• We don’t eat supper together as a family around the table every night. It results in far more unhappiness than joy. They can learn table manners when they are older and eating in front of the television contributes more to my sanity than trying to have a family dinner.
• My children watches a lot of television. They start and end their day with it. It allows me time to get numerous things done. Gian started when he was 3 days old so his brain cells must be totally fried by now. Poor child. At least he shows surprising intelligence for his age sometimes, so I hope he’ll be able to finish school and find a job, fried brain and all.
• I’m terrible with brushing their teeth. It is always a fight and so I let them do it themselves, which is totally useless, or I skip it altogether. Fingers crossed their teeth last for another couple of years with no cavities. I have also never taken them to the dentist. They can start having nightmares about that horrible place when they are older, for now I am preserving their innocence.
• Gian is almost three and still not potty trained. I have tried twice with catastrophic outcomes and decided I will try again when he is 6. In my opinion nappies are far more convenient than a potty trained child anyway.
• I don’t wash hands. It makes more of a mess than anything else. My children eat with grubby hands all the time and we have yet to have a worm infestation. They are almost always barefoot too. We visit the doctor only about once a year, I take that as a positive sign. Dirt its good.
• Aidan is almost 5 and he still sucks his thumb. We have tried various methods of discouraging him, no success so far and I’ve let it go for now. Statistically there’s a big chance that he will have buck teeth, but I am taking my chances and hoping the odds are in my favour.
• Gian still has a dummy, a blanket and a taglet blanket that he carries with him almost everywhere he goes. So far the dummy has definitely not stopped him from talking and it keeps him sleeping through the night. That is worth gold. I am sure by the time he is 16 he would’ve outgrown it. If not we can put him in the Guiness World Book of Records as the oldest child to every suck a dummy and earn some money in the process. Win-win situation.
• Aidan loves getting into bed with me in the middle of the night. It almost always cause me to wake up feeling like a train has been over me, but in a couple of years he’ll be a teenager and I won’t even be allowed a hug, so for now I am enjoying it, rather than worrying whether it’s the right thing to do or not.

I’ll stop here in fear of being arrested if I continue any longer. But you catch my drift. This in my opinion is what real motherhood looks like. This is what allows me to survive and because I don’t waste my energy on being the perfect mother, I have enough energy left to be present for my children. Energy to play musical chairs on rainy days and come up with crazy dance games. Energy to build forts under tables and having picnics in it. (with lots of sweet snacks) Energy to play hide and seek in the garden, to build countless railways and lego towers. Energy to mop up the floor after a splashy, fun bath and to run around pretending I am Wonderwoman playing “Super Superhero”. This is what my boys will remember of me when they’re all grown up.

Judge all you like, but when it comes to motherhood I have stuffed all the rules and I love it!

 

What I have learned so far

We are nearing our “survived the first 6 months!” mark and I find myself contemplating what I have discovered and learned so far. Today as I was driving  home after exploring yet a new playground with the boys I found myself in a little bubble of contentment as I  listened to the sound of their chattering in the back of the car. I was instantly hit by the realisation of how little you really need to be happy.

We have given up a lot over the last couple of months. A lot of it was emotional, like the loss of family, friends and the familiar. But a lot of it was material. We used to be a double income family, now we are surviving on a single income. I used to have a house full of “things”, but now  a house filled with only the bare necessities as all our belongings are still sailing on the seven seas. (I can do a whole blog post on shipping problems…) I sleep on $8 sheets at night, the Egyptian Cotton a distant memory for now. A $10 blanket keeps me warm enough to survive the winter, the bathroom adorned with an odd selection of old towels that still fitted into the suitcases and a couple of  essentials I found on various sales make up my winter wardrobe. A little sidenote here: Anyone that buys anything at full price in Australia is a fool! This is the country of major sales!

If you told me a year ago that I will survive cooking with only one pot and one pan for an extended period of time I would’ve laughed at you. But I have fed my family quite well so far. There are minimal baking equipment and no more food processor and Kenwood mixer, yet this house has celebrated birthdays with yummy chocolate coffee cake, made numerous batches of buttermilk pancakes, produced homemade lemon curd and lemonade and crusty bread fresh out the oven to go with soup made in the itty bitty one little pot.

Yes, I miss my creature comforts and oh yes, I miss a budget that is a little more forgiving than our current one. Looking around me though I know I have everything I need to make me happy. A roof over my head, food in my belly, boys that are happy and the world’s best husband to love.

“Amazing how manageable life can feel with only one blanket and the right two arms.”

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

Having said all that, I am almost at the point of making a little calendar and marking off the days until my ship literally comes in. I’m looking forward to having more than two pairs of shoes, a slow cooker for winter comfort food and proper linen to sleep under. For the moment though, life goes on without salad bowls, serving platters, shiny cutlery, kitchen gadgets and fluffy towels. We fill our lives with such a lot of “stuff” and get so attached to it and yes, it is nice and not for one moment do I advocate that you shouldn’t have and enjoy these things, but I am grateful for experiencing life without it for a while and realising what can be done and what really is important.

On the funny side: Previously I had to work very hard to get a sense of accomplishment. Only saving a couple of thousand rands on my medicine budget or getting an assistant to pass their course produced that nice feeling of having some success at what I do. These days it’s dead easy. Ironing 5 shirts gives me the warm and fuzzies. Three loads of washing in one day and I smile like a Cheshire cat. Surviving a craft activity with two boys and I’m wearing an imaginary medal. Life has become infinitely simpler. And I am quite enjoying it.

 

miracles and wonders

Strange realities of my new world

As far as adjusting to life in a new country goes, we’ve had it fairly easy. We moved to a place that is in many ways not too different from South Africa. Weather patterns are relatively similar, we also drive on the left side of the road,  use the metric system, the culture is western and they speak a language that we (for the most part) understand easily.

Despite all that, Australia still has many interesting “habits”. Some of which we find very strange, some of which we absolutely love and enjoy.

Let’s start with some of the stranger things, that might be normal if you are born here, but to us, it’s still a mystery.

• the petrol price: Back home we were used to a petrol price that only changes once a month and are the same at all retailers except for some differences between the coast and inland. Here, petrol prices change day-to-day and vastly differ between different retailers and suburbs. I have gotten very excited on more than one occasion about a good price I spotted somewhere on my way back from school pick-up, but by the time I get there the next day;  sorry, new price. I am still trying to figure out the rationale behind this. (what I do love though is the cheap petrol…)
• the lingo: You only had to watch one episode of Crocodile Dundee in your life to know that this is the country of the “G’day mate”. But there are a lot more to learn about Aussie lingo than just this. In my experience so far the true blue Aussies are really laid back and casual people, and this reflects directly in their language. Everything gets abbreviated or shortened over here. It’s as if they really just couldn’t be bothered to say a whole long word. Why go through the trouble of saying breakfast, if you can just call it a “brekky”?  Some of my favourites:  Defo = definitely; postie = postman; chippy = carpenter; servo = petrol station; tracky = track suit (or just the pants = trakky dacks); uni = university; bikey = biker but a bikki = biscuit or cookie; McDonalds = Maccas. Also, here you don’t ask someone “how are you?”, you say: “How ya goin?”. The word “cheers” sound more like “cheese” and the letter “H”, gets pronounced as “haitch”. The first time I heard Aidan say that, I nearly doubled over with laughter! Some words I just plain never heard before and I had to learn quickly! Some examples: Duvet = Doona; Chicken = Chook; Esky = a big cooler box, Ute = Aussie for a “bakkie (e.g. Toyota Hilux)  And yes, people do really say: “no worries” and “happy days” almost all the time! And if you want to make a u-turn, you just “chuck a u-ey”
• advertising: it seems as if everyone is fair game out here. I have sat with a dropped jaw and watched how one car company will very clearly state that their model is this much better than so and so’s model in the same class. And then still use footage of the other car in the ad and compare the vehicles side by side on performance. No qualms. I can remember of quite a few advertising companies in SA that’s been in trouble for merely hinting that one vehicle is better than one by another company. And they don’t mince their words when advertising about health issues like cancer/smoking/obesity etc. People are encouraged in a very graphic manner to make healthier lifestyle choices. Which is good I suppose, but still grosses me out!
• The traffic lights: definitely one of my less favourite things about my new country! The traffic lights take forever to change! My theory is that they really give everyone an equal chance to get on their merry way. Which is great if you catch a green light, but be sure if you end up at a red light, you are in for a looooooong wait. Try and explain that to a four-year old. And remember: no one here knows what you’re talking about if you call a traffic light a robot.
• The shopping trolleys: One of the most frustrating things I have ever experienced! Because shopping trolleys need to be able to lock their wheels on the travelator in the shopping malls etc, they have absolutely no purchase on ordinary surfaces and you subsequently have no control over them. Try take a turn into an aisle with a full trolley and roughly 40 kg’s of kiddie weight as well. And then add to the equation some slippery sandals. What I can’t understand is that this is the case even at stores with no travelator available. Surely in a first world country they can do better? Have trolleys fit for travelators and make the other ones “normal”. At first I thought it was only me, but slowly but surely I saw the pained expressions on fellow shopper’s faces as they were trying to negotiate parking areas without bumping into cars and I realised I am not alone. These days I resort to online shopping, much easier!

This, I am afraid, is only the tip of an iceberg full of weird and wonderful experiences in “Straya”. I will still follow up with some more and definitely do a post on all the things I absolutely love about this place.

First impressions

So much of our journey so far has been about first impressions. When you have lived in the same little town for 12 years, first impressions is not a regular thing anymore. You have seen everything and know everyone!

Uproot yourself to start a new life in a new country and first impressions are at the order of the day.

We arrived in a sweltering Perth in January. Though memories of the first day are seriously hazy, I can recall my first emotion was relief. At arriving safely, actually surviving the flight on my own with two boys and 8 pieces of luggage and at seeing Anton again after being apart for three weeks. The flight itself was rather emotional for me. With every hour in the air the penny dropped more and more and I realised exactly how far I’m removing myself from all I know and love.

I suppose it might be a cliché, but the first smell I remember is distinctly eucalyptus. In a country where there are more than 700 different species of eucalypts, I suppose that’s to be expected. That was quickly followed by my first sounds: the awful caw of the resident crows. In the first couple of days I thought it will drive me crazy, but as it goes, it quickly faded into the background and these days I hardly notice it.

The rest passed in a blur and here we are, 6 months later and all of sudden putting in your own petrol is not an event anymore.

First impressions unfortunately are double-sided. Mine, but also what other people’s first impressions are of me. All of a sudden I don’t know how to introduce myself. Firstly; the Aussies can’t pronounce my very Afrikaans name and I have to re-invent myself and secondly; if someone asks me what I do, I can’t tell them I am a pharmacist. I am now a nothing. Or so it feels like. And boy, that is much harder than I would like to admit publicly. Although I am very aware of the fact that being a “homemaker” for my family is by far the most important job I can ever have, and although being home with my children was something I always dreamed of, it  doesn’t look great on a resume and it doesn’t impress anyone. It doesn’t pay the bills and it doesn’t validate me. Also, how do I actually prove I used to have brains at some stage in my life and could use them quite well?

Must admit, though challenging it is actually quite refreshing to be in a position to have absolutely nothing to offer people which can be remotely seen as “impressive”. All I have is myself and my sparkling personality of course. And that has become a huge part of my new journey, shedding my old identity of being “someone of importance” because I have a degree and could hold down a job and fitting into this new one. A fit which is not perfect just yet, but one I am getting used to slowly but surely.

I will definitely still report back a lot on first impressions, or impressions in general of my new country and hopefully I can soon also report that I now find it very easy to introduce myself as Maggie, the stay-at-home mom (or mum as they spell it here!)

 

 

 

Hello world!

There’s a quote that says: “the scariest moment is always just before you start”, and here I am, running away from that scary and just starting. There are millions of blogs out there and it seems ridiculous to start yet another one, but  I have decided to join in too and give a voice to my current journey. A journey that brings me to my knees some days and on other days, excites me to no end.

This journey has taken me out of the country I have lived in and loved for almost 35 years. It took me away from family, friends and every thing I knew and was familiar with. This journey removed me from an identity I formed of myself over the last couple of years of my life and threw me into new circumstances where everything was strange and new and has made me feel as if I don’t know myself at all.

Before all this I had a career, I earned money, I lived in a beautiful modern home that was my own (ok, I shared it with FNB…), in a beautiful sleepy seaside town with more than enough friends. I had a full-time nanny that cleaned my house and looked after my children while I was out and about and I generally felt in control of things.

Almost 6 months ago we threw it all up in the air and embarked on a new adventure in the strange and magical Land Down Under. I became a full-time mother to my two boys and waved the career goodbye for now.

This blog will be about starting out fresh in a new country, about becoming more mother than I ever thought I’ll be capable of. It will tell stories of this new life of mine. It will be personal, hopefully funny, might include recipes from time to time simply because I love food so much and maybe tear you up every now and again.

Join me and journey with me. Hope you enjoy!