I don't know how she (I) does it!

Have any of you seen this movie?  I haven’t, because it is a chick movie!  And chick movies don’t go down too well with The Bear.  When The Bear is comfy in his cave (lying on his couch), tea and ciggies at the ready – the LAST thing he wants to view is chicks crying or talking about sex.  So how about this for an idea?  How about injecting some violence into chick movies?  Just take the following scene from an average chick movie.  The dickhead guy has just broken her heart by sleeping with a) her best friend or b) some hot model he could never pull in real life.  Our heroine is sobbing her heart out, chucks him out on his ear and calls up her besties to rescue her.  BUT, what if instead, she pulls out a 9mm and pops a few into his miserable chest OR better yet, a karate kick or two to the gonads!  Then she calls her besties to help her clean up the blood.  That is a chick movie The Bear can get into. 

But now, I wonder sometimes how I do it! Let’s look at what I do from the time I get up to the time I drag the kids out the door: 5am to 6:30am

5am: The alarm goes off and I get up; bathroom, switch burglar alarm off, let dog out, put kettle on; wash face, make 1 coffee 2 sugars (The Bear), 1 tea in a teacup with 2 sugars (Fluffy) and 1 tea in a mug with sweetener (Me); deliver before mentioned beverages with a smile to sleeping partner and child; look in on the Love Puppy who is already beginning to stir, being a morning person like his Mom; organize chronic meds for The Bear and I; take meds drink tea; put on face cream; get dressed; Love Puppy boy is up and dressed at this point – ALL BY HIMSELF and he is ONLY 7; Love Puppy requests a chore – he is saving up for a Nintendo DS; I assign him to empty the dishwasher for R5 (A fully five rand Mom – that what he calls a five rand coin); While the Pup is busy I finish putting on my shoes; Then I go wake up Fluffy again and ask her to drink her tea; Then I wake up Bear and tell him where his coffee and meds are; Then I put together the kids lunches while I eat breakfast and lay out the Pup’s breakfast; Fluffy doesn’t eat breakfast – she doesn’t have time as you will see later; I yell at Fluffy to drink her tea and hear snoring from the Bear.  I give him a time check, “I’m getting up right now” is what he says; While finishing my breakfast and the kids lunches, Pup asks me to play rummy – of course I can’t say no since he is up and ready and looking all sweet without his two front teeth; So now I am making kids lunches, playing rummy; eating special-K; trying to get Fluffy to drink her tea and trying to get Bear up – Pup wins the first hand; Then I get started on our lunches; I yell at Fluffy, “Drink your tea!”  She yells back, “Tell me when its 10 minutes to go!” More snores are heard from the main bedroom; “Darling, its 6:15”, “What!” he exclaims as he turns over to hug his pillow; “ I’m packing the car Fluffy” I yell. “What!” she says as she scrambles out of bed, “You NEVER wake me on time, now I’m late and it’s ALL YOUR FAULT!” she yells. “Don’t be rude to your Mother!” The Bear contributes from under his warm duvet. As I pack the car with all the kids stuff, Princess Fluffy starts crying, “Help me!  My skirts too tight and I don’t know where Mr. Bunny is!”; quickly I find her another skirt and Mr. Bunny is found hiding under the pillow; “We are GOING!” I yell loudly. I go in to kiss The Bear good-bye.  He is having his coffee now “See you at work” he mumbles.  The Pup and I are already in the car when Fluffy flies out the door in a huff!  All ready????  Let’s go!

Now that was just from 5:00 to 6:30…. No wonder I prefer it at work ;-) 

Pic of the happy trio below!

Princess Fluffy is off to SOS camp

As a ten-ager, Princess Fluffy is about to experience the “joys” of SOS camp with the other Grade 5’s at her school.  For those of you lucky enough to have missed out on this “wonderful” learning opportunity let me enlighten you on possibly the worst 3 days of my cushy childhood.  If you were a child who helped your mom around the house, ate the food that was put in front of you and was polite and helpful at all times – forget it!  You won’t relate to this at ALL!  I was a very spoilt child and Princess Fluffy is Double Spoilt seeing she has both my Mom and me spoiling her. So you get the picture?

SOS in my day consisted of the following: Long-drop toilets, cabbage-breedie for supper and finding different types of poo for a scavenger hunt.  Heather did NOT like this one little bit.  Also ten-ager Heather did not like being ordered around day in and day out – go here, do that, by the SOS teachers.  So I was only too relieved to come home. (Full of nits according to my Mom)

So when I heard that it was Fluffy’s turn, I had my apprehensions.  Of course, I did not mention my experiences to her.  The Bear loved SOS, being a totally unspoilt and outdoorsy child, so I let him do the SOS advertising. 

Fast forward to the Parents Information Meeting where I discover that due to a 20 mil upgrade to the campsite, long-drops are out and hamburgers are in!  So things look easier for the Flufster at this point.  I emerge from the meeting armed with my “list” ready to prepare for my eldest's first stay away from her family.

Stupidly I sent the Bear off to Cape Union Mart with my credit card.  R600 later, Fluffy has an amazing bag and a state-of-the-art torch which turns into a lantern.  Word of advice; don’t send a man into a shop which sells technical toys with your credit card!

So Fluffy is now beautifully kitted out for her first camp.  We spend Sunday watching my poor sister in law being tortured at her baby shower, so we are a little late in starting the actual packing for the camp. I left her deliberating over the advantages of lime-green shorts versus red when suddenly a wail of despair went up. “Mommy, where is my SOS passport???”  For the uninformed, the SOS passport is basically the indemnity you sign so that if your child breaks her arm, you can’t sue SOS.  So it’s quite important to the SOS campsite and they won’t let you go without it. 

Much crying ensues. “Did you leave it at Daddy’s?” I wonder.  A panicked phone call to Daddy reveals that Daddy has gone out, but he is SURE that he packed it on the clipboard and will look again at his house when he returns.  The family then proceeds to turn Fluffy’s room and school bags inside out. Little brother tries to help but is only yelled at by an increasingly desperate Fluffy.  “I can’t go without it!” she sobs and proceeds to call Daddy for the 5^th time.  Alas Daddy searches at home and comes up empty.  I get my Mamma-bear on and swear to her that “You are going to SOS, and that is that and I am going to TELL your teacher etc. etc.”  Fluffy is now scared that Mommy and the teacher are going to have a fight!

Well, finally she goes to sleep and at 5 am the fun starts again.  Fluffy proceeds to leave her lunch and her veggie sausages behind in the getting-ready panic. (We go back for the lunch, but not a second time for the sausages)  We drop a bemused little brother off at Grannies and are the first to arrive at the SOS drop off point at the school.

I am frantically looking around for someone in authority to help me with my passport debacle, trying to ignore the pounding in my head this situation has created.  Fluffy spots a friend and goes running off in another direction.  Skipping back she announces, “Oh Mommy, Tammy just told me that we handed our passports in on Friday, so it’s ok!”  “What!!” I screech with murder in my eyes, “and you didn’t remember that???”  And what about the fact that my ex SWORE blind that he had packed it?

“Let it go Babe”, the Bear advises.  Grrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Why the “Smugly Saved” are so scary and other crucial questions of universal importance.

First of all, let me apologize that the following blog will be offensive to the “Smugly Saved”.  If you are one of the SS or suffer from SSPD (Smug Saved Personality Disorder) please do not continue to read this blog as you will have a bad day. 

Now if you don’t know who these unfortunate souls are, then you clearly ARE one and in hectic denial about it.  I suggest that you find an SSPDAnon group nearest you, see their website smuglysaved.jesusrulz.net.  This blog is for the rest of us, the mere mortals going to hell.

Okay so we have all witnessed the following anthropological scene.  A SS corners an innocent victim who may or may not be a Catholic, Jew, Anglican or Hindu.  Note, they leave the Muslims the FUCK alone, because Muslims don’t tolerate this kind of religions predation. (It’s against the Quran – okay I made that up).  So we have a SS and the vic in a corner, the scene is a braai, kitchen tea or maybe even after an NA meeting.  The SS eyes blaze fanatically as she shares how Jesus has changed her life.  The victim is trying desperately to get away without seeming like an unbeliever or setting off the apocalypse.

A few weird things about those with SSPD.

1. They walk around with a smile on their faces yet they KNOW that most of their loved ones are going to burn in eternal hellfire.

2.  They have key words like; mission, witness, worship, message etc. like a secret language.

3.  They don’t believe that all Christians are going to heaven, only themselves and a chosen few who have a “relationship” with God.

4.  The believe in a loving, caring Higher Power who wants 90% of His creation to burn in hell forever.

5.  They believe this same Higher Power is super-intelligent.

6.  They don’t like you to confuse them with facts, for example, alternative interpretations of the bible given by those who speak Hebrew.

Now I do have a confession of sorts to make, I used to be a religious fanatic so I know all about the highs and lows involved.  I was also a using drug addict at the time (coincidence?), but I will leave a discussion of those highs and lows for another blog.  I do have some words of wisdom for those afflicted with SSPD that may be useful when the strings break on your harp.

Firstly, other people don’t want to hear about your religion.  It took me while to work this one out.  The glazed looks on my parents face when I discussed the intricacies of Succah building or the horrified fascination of my sister-in-law after a discussion on the Mikveh should have tipped me off, but I WAS on valium at the time.  So it follows that you need to find something else to talk about.  And secondly, normal people do not feel the need to be “saved”.   Normal Christians think they are saved anyways without all the fanatical bits and people who believe in other religions do not care about the rules of your religion.  Witness this conversation I had with my first Jewish boyfriend:

Me: So you don’t believe in Jesus?

Him: No

Me: And it doesn’t worry you?

Him: Nope

Me: What about going to hell?

Him: There is no hell, they made that up!

Me: Sign me up for this Jewish thing!

So what to do? Love each other, live your best life, do the next right thing and hope for the best. If you can live the clichés you are doing all right.

Good Shabbos to you all

SARS - a four letter word?

So its that time of the year again, year end for most companies and the battles start with the so- called e@sy file system.  But, this year I have another beef with the most efficient government department in South Africa.  I am, as a VERY loyal taxpayer, desparately trying to get a Tax Clearance certificate.  On the face of it, the procedure is simple.  Just log on to your e-filing profile and apply. 3 to 5 working days later, you receive a notification in your inbox that your certificate has been granted.  All smiles, you set off at the crack of dawn to your local office, pitch a tent, and wait the 5 hours in the que to get in.  Wait another 5 inside the building and "hey presto" you receive your shiny new Tax Clearance certificate.  A spring in your step, you return to your office, humming a catchy tune confident that your tax Rand is being well spent.

In reality..... I have applied about 10 times in the last 4 months and this is how it has worked.  I apply online and get my stinky "application denied" email in my inbox about 10 days later.  So far so good - all efficient.  I then phone up SARS to try to figure out what went wrong.  I am given an answer, for example, you owe 50 cents on your VAT interest from 1929!  So I ask the fatal question - "Is there ANYTHING else outstanding"  and receive an assured "NO"  So like a good citizen I settle my 50 cents and start all over again only to be rejected AGAIN. Now the problem is that they don't have my IRP 5s from 15 years ago and want them electronically submitted.  Forget that this is 15 years ago and we were all writing them out by hand.  So off to the cop-shop, sign an affidavit, submit same to SARS, wait a while, then reapply and....  REJECTED.  Why?  My 2000 SDL returns are outstanding???  WTF people!!!  How can returns from 12 years ago be outstanding and now I only hear about them?  What about the first 10 times I applied and was rejected?  Rant, rant, RANT RANT RANT!!!!

And this, my fellow South Africans, IS the most efficient government department.  Don't believe me?  Just try to phone up the WCA.  Make sure you have facebook open at the same time because it takes them 50 minutes to answer the phone.

So - my solution?  We have many people out of work - employ them to answer the frikkin phone and update the SARS system.

So my rant for the day is done.  Love you all
xxxxxx

Starting a blog about nothing and everything

Why start a blog and about what?  Well, the answer is that embarrassingly enough, I have ambitions to write a novel and this is my way of starting. Yes, I am one of the many thousands of Moms out there who think my life experience is worth a million Rand book deal! After all, Jodi Picoult is a Mom and so is whats her name of the vampire-teenage-werewolf series. Surely my experience as a Jewish Mom recovering from a serious drug addiction is worth SOME read worthy paragraphs?

So now I must introduce the dramatis personae in my house, in the Northern Suburbs of Cape Town.  First of all, there is "The Bear".  The Bear is the love of my romantic life.  He is called The Bear because he kinda looks like a bear, he is very strong, very cuddly and often smells like a bear.  Yup, he is often "too tired" to shower and shave, but miraculously has energy for activities like watching 5 episodes of Criminal Minds.  How I ended up with this adorable caveman, I don't know.  My ex-husband showers practically hourly and is always armed with hand sanitiser.  You could eat off the man's bum! (not that I have ever tried it)

Then there is Princess Fluffy, the ten-ager - no that is not a spelling mistake.  She is not technically a teenager, being only ten years of age, but she more than makes up for it in hormonal swings and crying-shouting spells, followed by sullen apologies. She is also gorgeous, charismatic and looks like an angel when she is sleeping.  In fact, every morning before I wake her up with a cup of tea delivered to her bedside, I whisper sweet nothings in her sleeping ear.  "Mommy loves you my Angel Darling" I say.  Because, when those baby blues open - all bets are off!

Then there is the Love Puppy, my seven year old jumping bean!  He was up at 5am this morning, all dressed in his new school uniform.  The reason? "We are making sandwiches at school, Mommy!"  Such excitement!  I wonder if I can con him into making the sandwiches every morning!  Probably not, I will have to pay him, like I pay him to empty the dishwasher.  The current rate is R5 a load.

Finally there is me.  40 year old (okay 39) MILF wannabe with the bright blue finger nails.  Multitasking every second of the day.  Every second?  Yes, I grind my teeth when I sleep, I'm THAT dedicated to a stressful life!

So I will check back here every so often to share some of my stuff.  Have an awesome weekend.  Its Friday!  Only two days left till Monday!