Does he know what Christmas is?

Seeing as TJ is not 3 yet, does he understand what Christmas is all about - am just wondering!

Ok I'm not being totally honest - am just wondering if he'll know if he doesnt get a xmas present!

I mean have you seen the shopping malls lately! No way I'm attempting any kind of christmas shoping - no way! Yes yes I know, i should have done it earlier,but are you kidding me, when was i supposed to find the time!



Oh well, I'll just assume that my son doesnt know the difference, afterall this is someone who thinks the christmas tree decorations are cricket balls! I'll then get my husband something from the supremarket and convince him that he likes it and needs it ( I pray he doesn't read this blog!)



So now people, tell me, am I selfish for expecting something fab from hubby??



I'll keep you posted on how it goes on xmas day, and I'll include a picture of my attempt at christmas tree decorating, for now, happy holidays to you all!

Why do we keep having babies?

So what is it about motherhood that has kept women having babies for ages. I mean yes, the process before the pregnancy isn’t so bad, but there’s one thing that has made me ask the question – and that is the pain we experience during childbirth! It’s not like we wouldn’t have been warned, the tales of labour pains make the better part of our oral history, they are passed down from generation to generation and they are never pleasant.
I have heard stories of women literally pulling out chunks of their hair, screaming at the top of their lungs, some even vowing to never have sex again! I know I sound crazy saying this, but I actually enjoy hearing the hilarious stories of what goes down in the labour wards, and am already looking forward to the comments to this post. Please be nice and don’t tell me to get a life….

Before I had a baby, in my naivety, I believed that a C-section was the easy way out. No one I knew had ever shared with me how it really was like. I must say though that I still wanted a natural birth and did not imagine myself have a baby by any other means. I remember how disappointed I was when my doctor told me that given my bad obstetrics history and the fact that my blood pressure was no longer stable, I would have to have an emergency c-section. I remember I argued with him and it took me a while to give in. That’s how much I wanted a natural birth. But a C-section it was and boy was it painful!

You know during the op you don’t feel a thing because the anaesthetic will be working wonders. I had a local anaesthetic and so was awake through it all. I had opted for this because for some reason I had a fear of not waking up to see my baby. I remember during the op seeing a leg in the air, and it took me a moment to realize that it was MY leg up there. So yeah, it was done and I still can’t believe what a short time the actual procedure took, it’s like cut, baby out, sew, all in ten minutes!

Then it was back to the recovery ward and that’s where the real drama started. At first it was like a distant pain, then it slowly grew, and before I knew it I felt like the devil himself was burning my torso with on of his 2-pronged forks! Dude! I couldn’t move an inch, I couldn’t laugh, I couldn’t cough, any sort of minor movement was accompanied by the sharpest pain I had ever experienced. I’ll forever be grateful for the nurse who kept the painkillers coming, and these were the suppository types. Ha! Did I ever think I’d be grateful for someone shoving something up my you-know-where?

I wonder then why I am wishing for another baby, seeing there is no easy way of popping one out. I guess that’s what makes us women. It’s the maternal thingy in us. We cannot help it. We were created to carry life in our wombs and give birth to babies. That’s the order of nature and that is God’s will. To those without babies yet, take heart, the pain will all be worth it when you look at you baby and are overwhelmed by the love you feel for the tiny person.

Am I a bad mummy?

So I haven't been blogging for a while, its been a bit crazy with work and a million other things to do. Anyway, something happened the other day that I thought I just had to share with the world and get opinions on whether I'm a good mummy or not.

Now let me warn you, if you are a social services worker or a child activist of any sort, please stop reading because you will probably have me investigated or arrested and we don't want that do we?

I was scheduled to have this very important phone call on Thursday last week at 7pm. The time slot could not be negotiated any further and because of timing differences this was the best time. Even before this important phone call, I worried that TJ will just disturb me because I was gonna have it at home, yet I still kept my fingers crossed that by some miracle he would behave. You see the thing is we live as just the two of us and so I'm his main source of entertainment - I play soccer with him, I sing with him, I dine with him...get the point?

So what happened? 5 minutes before the phone call, TJ gets all cranky on me! He starts whining and demanding this and that, and I'm thinking maybe he'll calm down within the next five minutes before the phone rings....yeah right huh?

He then moved to the kitchen and started calling out for different types of stuff, and finally he pointed at the marmalade! At this point it was 7 on the dot and the phone would be ringing at any moment and I just did not want to seem disorganised by having a baby screaming in the background, basically I was panicking. So what choice did I have? I handed him the jar of marmalade and a teaspoon and said go for it!

The phone call came through and I sat there trying to sound professional while my heart sank lower each time a teaspoonful of marmalade went into his mouth. He fell asleep a few minutes later and that is when I relaxed and really concentrated on my phone meeting.

The question is what kind of a mother gives a toddler a jar of marmalade just to shut him up? It's terrible I know, but I realise that as mothers we sometimes have to do whacky stuff just for survival.
I wonder what other crazy stories are out there from other moms?

So whose child is it it anyway?

So who does the child really belong to? To the couple who were actually involved it making it? To the poor woman had to carry the bugger for 9months? Or to the overbearing yet proud grandparents? I used to think that my child would be mine and to an extent my husband’s as well. Yes I say to an extent because excuse me, I carried him alone for 9months, I got swollen feet alone, I had morning sickness alone and the C-section was without doubt performed on my body only – unless I missed some episodes because I was high on the anesthetic. So yes, I used to think that I owned slightly more than my husband.

All the ideas I had about whose baby it is were part of my ignorance. You know the whole thing about ignorance being bliss or whatever, well, I believe it now. You see, in my ignorance I imagined me and hubby making all the decisions about our offspring, what they ate, what they wore and what haircut they had. I was wrong again! I was yet to discover that it really does take a village.

Right from the day TJ was born, and maybe even before, the battle lines were drawn, swords in hands and the ownership wars began. I mean right from which name we would give him. And the battle was not just between the families, even friends wanted in on the action. I am happy to say I won the “name” battle, which I believe is a blog on its own. Sadly it would be one of the very few I would win. I remember my husband warning me that there would be bigger fights about this baby and wasn’t he just on point.

Since TJ was born, the battles have not stopped. There have been countless arguments about his hairstyle, and my sister and husband have won that one – I think, unless someone orders a rematch, because I get the feeling that my mother in law is still not convinced that dreadlocks are ideal for a two year old. Then there was a day when it was announced to me that he was too old for milk formula and would, with immediate effect start drinking fresh milk. This announcement was, once again, made by my sister, who I must admit has won most of the battles. Not that I blame her, she is a second mother to TJ, and right now when I am gallivanting around the world in the name of a career, she is taking care of him.

The famous dreadlocks!

Back to the raging wars, my mother recently decided there was no need to use diapers during the day and ordered me to buy briefs for him. I don’t want to get into it so I’ll leave her and my sister to agree. Looking back, I wonder if other than the name, I have ever really made any decisions about TJ. It reminds me of the day when a friend of mine walked in to the office and narrated how she had gotten home the previous day and found her daughter’s head clean shaven, courtesy of a loving grandmother who thought plaiting the child’s hair was torture!

I suppose that is who we are as Africans, we mind everyone else’s business because we love them and it is who we are. That is why when we were growing up we were just as afraid of our friend’s mothers as we were of our own. We believe in an extended family and for us, the saying that it takes a village really is true. What experiences have you had concerning this subject? Please share!

Judge not!

It is hard for me to imagine the freedom days, I mean the days before I had a baby and yes I shamelessly call them the freedom days because those were the days when going for tea with the girls was no big deal and going out with friends till the wee hours was no big deal. This dear friend of mine and I had the time of our lives during my freedom days, but our escapades would make for a different story. Who knows maybe my next one will be about her.

Anyway, as I was saying, it is hard to imagine those beautiful glorious days not so long ago. I was probably one of those women who were annoyed by most things baby related. I am sure that seeing someone with 2 spots of liquid on their tee shirt made me sick, how was I to know that as a mother myself I would one day forget my breast pads and find myself rushing to the bathroom just before someone noticed the embarrassing creamy extracts deposited on my chest. Don’t these things just happen to the best of us.

I am almost certain that before I had a baby I was just sooo annoyed by the noisy crying babies in church. Not to mention the naughty toddlers standing on chairs and cheering the pastor on! Well, boy, wasn’t I just in for a surprise. As a baby my boy slept through most of the service, then he got to an age when he was too small for Sunday school and big enough to crawl. Those are the days when I would sit in church with a straight face and pretend that I did not know him. What options did I have? Me, who had cursed the naughty, ill disciplined toddlers as I called them. Me, who had vowed that when I had a baby I would teach them manners. Ha! TJ was not having any of it. He crawled, he screamed, he terrorized other babies. I remember very well the day when the little girl sitting behind us suddenly screamed at the top of her voice and hid her face in her mother’s chest. Apparently TJ had made a face at her. Boy was I not embarrassed to be the mother of a brat. The kind of brat that before I became a mum, I would have told my friends about and we would have all agreed that people just don’t know how to raise kids anymore.

No, I refuse to remember those days, at least not in that way. I just fantasize that before I became a mummy, I was a kindhearted woman who felt sorry for other mothers and even offered to carry their babies. I refuse to remember those days because I have learnt my lesson. I should never judge! And just because kids will do and say certain things does not indicate failure or triumph on the parents’ part. Children are a gift from God, and how they good they turn out is all the grace of God.
Now, let me try fixing this remote control that my sweet son threw against a wall…

Back to reality after maternity leave

So I had been enjoying the whole motherhood thing, and it still felt like a dream. I was now one of those women whose conversations centered on breastfeeding, and one of my favourite topics was pampers or huggies? Yes I was that annoying mother who just could not stop talking about how my son smiled and how many times I breastfed him per day. Talk about milk formula, I knew all the brands and could give an impromptu milk 101 lesson. I just told myself that no one would be annoyed with me because everyone knew how much I had waited to have a baby so they would understand my being overzealous!

Yes, motherhood was doing it for me. I felt like everyone could see that I had just had a baby. I felt good and was like a kid who had just been given their favorite toy for Christmas. Normally in my culture a woman and her newly born baby remain indoors for a while because usana luzangenwa ngumoya (the wind outside is not good for the baby), not me. As soon I was able to drive and the fatigue had died down, I was out and about showing off my newly found jewel. Sometimes when he was sleeping, I would lightly tap his mouth so he could move it, then I’d know he was alive. I was toooooo excited!

Then reality set in, I had to go back to work! Work! Get this, before the baby, I was a workaholic of sorts, I worked in accounting for a reputable company and was well accustomed to ridiculous working hours. I had risen through the ranks and worked hard to prove myself. So it had always been a given that I would be back at work after my 98 days of maternity leave. All the preparations had been made, the nanny had been hired and trained, my sister continued living with me and she worked 2 minutes away so she would continue to check on the baby during my absence, and I would only work half days for the first three months. Yet still, I was terrified of leaving this bundle of joy behind. I couldn’t bear it and it called upon every ounce of willpower I had in me to do it. Needless to say, my mother was summoned back (more like she invited herself back out of worry tee hee) to come and make sure the transition was smooth. I wonder if my sister even got any work done those days, it seemed to me that each time I called she was at home checking on the baby.

The worrying was the minor of the issues. The major one was the guilt. It felt so good to be back at work doing what I loved, so I was guilty for being happy to be at work – understand? I mean was I not supposed to be miserable about leaving my baby behind? Did this make me a horrible, unloving mother? What was wrong with me? I was on flexi-time so I knocked off early, and sometimes instead of going straight home, I took advantage of the fact that he was a good baby and I went and did my own thing, then I would have feel even more guilty. It was a vicious cycle. At times I felt like I had a right to live my life, then at times it hit me in the face that TJ was now my life!

The guilt never stopped, I doubt it ever does. I’m sure I’ll feel the same guilt the first time I miss his soccer match or music recital. No baby magazine or television program prepared me for that. Yet somehow, each and everyday, I learn to deal with it by the grace of God. And I realize that yes; motherhood is a scary, exciting journey that will indeed last a lifetime.

How then do we stop feeling guilty, or worrying about leaving our little bambinos at home with nannys?

First days of motherhood

I am happy about being a mother. I waited long enough for it, I prayed, I fasted, I had people praying with me and fasting for me even when I was too weary to do so myself. And when it finally happened, I had to literally pinch myself and I wondered if I would wake up from this wonderful dream. Of course it was no dream and I am grateful for it.

Yet all my waiting, prayers, tears and preparations did not prepare me for this wonderful journey. Right from the first minute it was exciting yet challenging. TJ (my baby) was so impatient during meal times and during the first few trials at breastfeeding, he screamed if the breast did not get into his mouth on time. He would then continue screaming for a few minutes while I struggled with trying to properly position the breast. This frustrated me a great deal, but because I was still in a daze about having a baby in the first place, I did not dwell too much on it. I just told myself to focus and try again. Of course a day or two later it was smooth sailing. Thank God and thank bio-oil and happy events, I did not get sore nipples so breast feeding became an instant pleasure!

This was however just the beginning of my lifelong commitment, I say lifelong because I believe that even when he’s eighty, my baby will still be just that- a baby! So yes, this was just the beginning. The week at the hospital was the easiest, in spite of all the pain from the C-section,with nurses popping in and out to make sure all was well, bringing in a regular cup of tea to keep the milk flowing, it seemed like I could do this thing. Then I went home and realized I was supposed to bathe the baby myself! No ways, my mother had to do it. I was not going to risk dropping the poor fragile baby in the bath. Then the baby cried at night and I didn’t hear him, my sister had to wake me up, and on some days my mother had to do it. Needless to say my mother ended up staying for an extended period, just to make sure that I got with the program, she was not going to abandon her grandchild to me!

Imagine me bathing this tiny person - no ways!

I look back and wonder how I would have managed without my mum and sister during those first days especially the first 2 weeks at home when I was tired, and still in pain after the C-section. My appetite was low and any skipped meal would have meant less milk, so they went to pains to make sure I at least had something I enjoyed to eat. Not to mention that my husband was thousands of kilometers away and I missed him terribly and without my mum and sister I would have been alone. I will never look at them the same and I gained a new found appreciation for them. I don’t remember when I started bathing the baby because when my mum went back to her home, my sister immediately took over. When the baby cried, they quickly picked him and tried to calm him down. I still believe that without them those first days, I would have broken down.

I'm always curious to know how all the other first time, or even not first time mothers cope during the first few weeks. Who knows, your advice might help me with my next one!

The margarine day

So here we were the other day, my husband and I, in a supermarket, arguing about which margarine to pick! Yes, yes, I know, times are hard and we’ve all been hit by the recession, even my two year old son knows better than to just waste his disposable nappies, but for me to be arguing about which margarine is cheaper in a supermarket! Well that’s just not on. Especially when the person I’m arguing with just bought himself a very unnecessary TV game!

I mean honestly, what happened to those good old days when supermarkets were a woman’s domain and we didn’t have clueless husbands towing along! Aren’t men supposed to be terrified of supermarkets and only venture there for condoms and cologne and even then only if there is no other stockist around the corner. Well ,yes I do appreciate men doing regular supermarket errands, but no, I do not want to be disturbed when I’m the one doing it. I am the lady of the manor, and I know best which washing powder works, which snacks Junior prefers and which floor polish lasts longer. I do not need competition in that department. So I do not want to find myself explaining to hubby what omega acids are in my preferred margarine, and trying to justify the price difference. That is a no-no.

So on that fateful margarine Saturday morning; I stood there wondering what had become of my sweet, usually laid-back-about money husband! Was it just the margarine or it was a deeper issue? As it turned out, it was actually a deeper, more serious issue! Apparently we were saving for a sports car and I had not been told about it. And clever hubby figured every penny would count, and omega fats or polysaturated fats or whatever, we would buy cheaper margarine. This was supposed to be his ammunition in trying to convince me that we had 101 ways of saving enough cash to buy his extremely important, necessary sports car.

Needless to say, the sports car proposal did not get board approval, and I calmly reminded the whole clan that they needed to leave the accounting and purchasing duties to me. Well yes….I am the accountant in this household and when it comes to money matters, I am king!

I love my mother in law...honest I do

Well, what's there not to love? She's strong and knows how to stand her ground and speak her mind. Not to mention that she gave birth to the man I love. She's hardworking and strives to care for her family.


So why shouldn't I love her? I mean all the other stuff is minor and can be ignored. I mean stuff like her phoning her son every evening to make sure that he's eaten a healthy meal, that's just concern for her son and does not mean that she does not trust me. Which mother wouldn't do that. Of course the fact she disapproves of me having a full time job should not be taken in a negative light. She has made it clear that a woman's place is in the home and that's her belief, so even if she repeatedly brings it up, I must not be irritated, she's only looking out for my family.


Well when it comes to money matters, she's right on point! All the money in our home definitely belongs to my husband, and yes my shopping habbits do indicate that I married her son just for his money. And well, I did buy my mum an expensive outfit for christmas so mother in law dearest is right in suggesting that all her son's money is being spent on my family. Afterall the fact that I also work and bring in some income is trivial isn't it? So you tell me, why wouldn't I love my mum in law?

What's the baby's name

So who really has the authority to name a child. Is it the mum, dad or overbearing in laws from both sides. You see, I spent nine months researching baby names, i even bought a book for meanings of names, lest a nice sounding name turned out to mean something not so nice. That's how seriously I took the name calling business. So imagine my dismay when on the day I gave birth i got a million suggestions, gentle hints and not so gentle shoves of what I should call my son. I was even told that it was customary for a grandchild to be named by grandparents, which really did not hold any water because both Khulekani (hubby) and I were named by our parents and not our grandparents. I was tempted to ask why our grandparents had not named us then, and maybe and I would have gotten off with a name like Langa, which means the sun and is my childhood fantasy name.
Anyway, eventually the names that my husband and I had chosen prevailed. You see, i chose at that moment to be as strong headed as I could be, because a name is not something you change every year. This was a name that my son would stick with for the rest of his life, so I had to make sure that it had a good meaning and would never cause him embarrassment. Maybe the only embarrassment would be that we gave him 3 names! I just couldn't resist it and so I convinced hubby that 3 was not so bad ( of course it is bad)
The whole name saga therefore got me thinking, what right does anyone have in naming a child?I would insist that only the parents have the right, and out of the goodness of their heart they might allow someone else to do the honours.
Whatever the case, I am just glad that my son is called by the name or names that I chose!

Of man and flu!

First things first - guys, flu is just flu. It is not a death sentence, it is just flu! No need for you to wrap yourself in 2 electric blankets and write a will. What, you may ask, has made me put pen to paper(or finger to keyboard) about this issue? It's because I have a father, a husband, a son and many male friends, and every time any one of them has the flu I start wondering if maybe I should call the undertakers! Take my husband for example, every time he gets sick I have to almost literally feed him because he seems incapable of anything other than holding the remote in his hand. I mean the guy will die with a remote in his hand but that's another subject altogether.The man becomes a baby, he even demands certain types of food! I remember once when he had the flu,I had to rush and buy bacon, and another time I don't know how many times my hand had to feel his temperature on his forehead. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if men were to give birth, then I marvel at the wisdom of God for leaving that task with women. I cannot even begin to imagine what someone who cannot handle a common cold would do with labour, they would just die.
Sad thing is, my son is not any different. I have to kiss every scratch, big or small, or else the screaming will not stop. Right now he has got a scar from a mosquito bite which has fully healed, but he wakes me up in the middle of the night to scratch it or else sleep will not be had. He repeatedly says "ouch" until I apply vaseline to it and kiss it. What can I say, the apple did not fall far from the tree....

Thabo Jayden Rapelang

I've been a mum for just over two years now and wish I had started this blog sooner. Well, I don't know what I'll blog about but what I do know is my son will always provide me with the inspiration and material to write!

That's us on the picture, more than a year ago before he even turned one! He had just woken up and was confused by all the people in the yard - it was my sister's 21st birthday party!