Rambles from World's End

Not too long ago the Butterfly was having a “Just call me Terror” day. The morning began with a sudden inability to hear her mother, everything and I mean everything she was told or asked to do she just did not do. I would call her and would not even get the slightest acknowledgement, I stood in front of the television she stood up and walked around me, I switched it off she clicked her tongue at me and went to the computer. I’d yell at her she’d tell me to be quiet. I do find it exceptionally hard not to laugh when these things occur and that particular day the series and frequency of these events was rather amusing at first. Things did however start to irritate when she refused to get dressed, sit correctly at the breakfast table, throwing a fit when she was refused a sweet or throw her toothbrush out the bathroom window. So I eventually gave her a smack, which stung both of us because she was still not dressed. She was so mad at me for daring to smack her she told me to go to my roo...

Nineteen weeks to go and it’s a girl! If you didn’t know that by now, where have you been? We’ve even settled on a name, and again for those of you who haven’t being paying attention we shall be naming our new daughter “Hollie Patricia” What has amused me most about this whole process of finding out the sex and naming her is the vested interest that so many people seem to have in the outcome. My lifelong friend was not afraid to voice her dislike of some of the names I mentioned, though it has to be said that some of her suggestions almost had me in therapy. You can imagine the pea cocking that’s been going on though since she discovered we had decided to go with her suggestion for the second name. I spent the first twenty weeks going on about not knowing if I want to know the sex or not and throwing names out at people just for their reactions. My eldest niece is now glowing with pride that we chose to go with her suggestion for the first name, it was not a name I would’ve chosen o...

So I promised myself that I wasn't going to spend today hoping for tomorrow. For the most part I've done okay, I have concentrated on the now and what needs doing or what can be left. But with the Mauritian in South Africa for three weeks I didn’t do so well. I stared at the calendar every day and filled my days and nights with as much activity as I could think of. The Butterfly got so tired of going for walks in the mornings, helping mum with the housework or some other activity that eventually as we neared the end of the three weeks when I suggested we go play hopscotch I was told "No thanks I'm watching TV" In other words, "Go bug someone else!" I scrubbed walls, cleaned windows, even did all the ironing just to make the time go by quicker. I tried going to bed early, watching late night TV or reading till I fell asleep. Time still dragged its feet. My phone rang constantly with friends calling to see how I was doing, and as much as I appreciated the ...

So the Mauritian braved a 36 hour flight back to South Africa to visit his ailing father who we believed would not be alive for much longer. It was a tough decision to make. Do we wait and see, drop everything and make plans, go as a family of does he go alone? We discussed, theorised and speculated for two days, speaking to this one, “Skyping” that one, phoned doctors and specialists. It was insane! Eventually after a sobering discussion with my parents we agreed that he should go home and to keep the costs as low as we could the Mauritian would undertake this international trip alone. He was not thrilled with the idea at all. The Mauritian has flown internationally twice before, once at the age of eight the next when we moved to the end of the world. Both times he had simply followed instructions; the prospect of travelling so far on his own turned him into a bundle of nerves and his favourite sentence started with “What if...” The poor chap had managed to work himself up so much ...

Seventeen weeks and counting, twenty three more and there will be another one of us about. Everyone keeps asking me if I want a boy or a girl, I keep saying girl because of the possibility of “hand me downs” from the Butterfly. Rather cost effective. But I have no illusions, just because I say I want a girl we’ll have a boy. Mother Nature has a wicked sense of irony! The Mauritian confessed to not being sure if he wants a boy or a girl, he’s used to girls so another one would be easier but a boy would be nice to carry on the family name. Ask the Butterfly if she wants a baby brother or sister she’ll tell you with conviction a brother one day and “a tista” the next day. My life long friend says she’s praying for a girl because she doesn’t like the boy’s name we have chosen. That really is one for the books, my lifelong friend praying, yeah right! My Auckland Angel says it’s a boy only because once I confessed to feeling hungry all day long. Our Chinese friend with his knowledge of ea...

A little while ago I was in the bank sorting out a few things and had the displeasure of dealing with a real twat. It wasn't that he wasn't good at his job; in fact he was efficient and concise but far too familiar for my taste. When I worked in a bank we were taught to always address our clients by their surnames unless otherwise directed by themselves, to never ask personal questions that did not have any relevance to their requests and to never assume we knew them well just because we’ve served them a few times before. This numb nut I was cursed with obviously missed those sessions when he started on his post. He started off well enough with a greeting and an offer to help, but one look at my passport and he was off: “Do you have your account or customer number with you please SAM?” The hairs on the back of my neck are standing to attention. Now, now calm yourself it’s a common enough occurrence for it to be innocent! So I gently correct him and hand over my card, he smiles ...

Apparently that blur that’s just gone past me was the year 2010. How the hell did that happen? What was I doing that allowed the year to go by unnoticed? I know I spent a lot of time on housework, ironing, cooking and being a mum. I know I wrote a few blogs and emails and had “chats” with friends and family via “Skype” and “Facebook.” I know I spent many hours outdoors soaking up the summer sun, went on walks on the foreshore or through the park with friends and shivered through the winter. I know I grew another year older and my Butterfly now has three birthdays “under her belt.” I know we became official residence at “World’s End,” went out for dinners and lunches, travelled north to visit friends, drank wine and too much coffee. I know we sang, talked, argued and discussed. I know we baked muffins, roasted chickens, moulded chocolates, had picnics in our back yard and ate far too many crumpets. I know the Mauritian changed his job description, the Butterfly discovered how to “back...