c is for cape town

bye-bye

2014-03-23T09:56:00.000+02:00

So ... this is goodbye.

Multiple reasons, including:

... I was starting to feel pressurised to post here, even when I wasn't inspired to do so. And that's no way to feel about one's own blog right?

... this blog was a fantastic outlet for me, to inspire myself and share the fun, while doing some heavy primary parenting of my two small girls. Now they're getting more independent, I'm starting to do more and more 'real' work, my me-time is starting to get more precious.

... I'd like to spend what writing time I do have (ha!), writing for print.

I'm actively trying to lessen the digital 'noise' in my life. I'm unsubscribing from blogs and newsletters, switching off Twitter (I'll never give up Pinterest though!), and generally trying to quieten my life.
While it simultaneously gets busier.
Does this make sense?

Anyhoo, thanks SO MUCH for all your loveliness here in the last few years. I've had such sweet comments and interactions, and not one single troll!
People are lovely, you are lovely and life, generally, is lovely!

I'm going to leave the blog up and open for a while, but will eventually shut it down completely. If you'd like to know if and when I write in other places, send me a mail [ cisforcapetown at gmail dot com] and I'll keep you posted.

Thank you, and goodnight!

patchwork

2014-02-18T08:59:00.001+02:00

The girls and I got invited to this lovely children's production at the Baxter last weekend.

We've long been fans of Pedro The Music Man, and the promise of 45 minutes in darkened aircon during this radical heatwave was deliciously inviting.

The girls sat up front with hosts of other smalls - including 3 sets of twins! - on comfy cushions, right at eye-level to the action.

Such a simple stage - the 3 players dressed in comfy white, a scattering of cushions (some of which talk!), a wee bed, a fresh cotton sheet flapped and waved most gracefully (I felt my head nodding at the thought of curling up under it), a wonderfully imaginative and animated dressing gown, and all accompanied by Pedro's signature so simple, but so effective, musical sounds.

The play is very much geared at 1 - 4 yr olds. My entranced nearly-7 yo loved it too. No one doubts the value of kids being exposed to theatre, live performance, but when they're seated so close they can really read expression, feel emotion and see the performer's hands at work ... there's a magic in that they just won't get anywhere else.

Let's support children's theatre! 4 days left to see Patchwork!

on wheelchairs*

2014-02-07T16:40:00.000+02:00

*or, 'rolling on someone else's wheels', except that was too obscure ...

In the past MONTH of being incapacitated by this sprained ankle, I've twice visited a mall and borrowed a wheelchair to get around.

Obviously I looked just like this ...

(the cast of Push Girls - a reality show about sexy young things with spinal conditions)

Anyhoo, being in a wheelchair is ... educational. And something I now feel everyone should try and experience.
Go to a mall, claim whatever fragility is required, and spend an hour cruising in a wheelchair. Then take it back, walk back out in to your life and be grateful.

My Mum left me in the grocery store for a bit. Shopping basket on my lap and a short shopping list, I was dizzy with the freedom of being alone in public for the first time in weeks.
But ...

The bread I wanted was down an aisle too narrow to get through. The affordable cream cheese was too high to reach. The milk with the desired expiry date was too far at the back of the fridge. The veggie bins were too high. Ditto the crackers, and the tampons, and the wine.

People were kind, the shop staff offered to help before I had to ask, and kindly fellow shoppers didn't mind passing me things. But I had to ask, autonomy was not an option, and asking someone to pass you a specific box of tampons, 'No, not those ones, the blue box, yes the ones for medium flow', is not ... ideal.

People were happy to move to the side to let me pass, once they'd established where my voice came from ('Sorry, I'm down here'), but always with an overly-apologetic gaze, and cringey sympathetic eyes.
'What could be wrong,' I'd see them think, 'she looks so young (cough cough) and fit.'

I didn't need to draw money, but a friend who spent the last few weeks of her pregnancy in a wheel-chair pointed out that all the ATM's were too high for wheelchair users too.

It was such a small experience, I didn't need to negotiate bathrooms or public transport, but it was an enormous eye-opener.
People are in wheelchairs for hundreds of different reasons. The majority I'm sure are completely capable of looking after themselves in every other way, but even the most 'conscious' environments are really hard to operate in.

Lesson learnt.

wa'shi gonna do?

2014-02-04T16:08:00.001+02:00

'Mum, can I play with your pretty tape?'

Words which could make a washi-lover nervous.

But clearly sticking the pretty is not really the goal here.

Much more fun to make patterns, colour-coordinate, build towers ...

... and of course knock them down!

Clearly washi is an important educational toy, I should probably get more right?

this kid

2014-01-29T11:26:00.000+02:00

A year ago I was in turmoil with this little person. And so I'm here now with the proof that 'this too shall pass' is the singular most valuable parenting phrase EVER COINED.

Sunday is nearly 4. She's grown like the proverbial weed (the latest spurt being 3 cm in 2 months!) - and not just physically.

There was a moment a few months back when I realised that every day there were moments of potential conflict (put on shoes, get out car, have a wee, eat your supper - all of these the very trenches of parenting warfare as you know), where I was holding my breath, braced for the inevitable mortar fire, and ... not getting it.

'Okay' she'd say, neatly stepping over my jaw (hanging on the floor in disbelief) and complying.

Steadily we've been able to untangle the complex knots of expectation, manipulation, exasperation and emotional damnation and just conduct our relationship like two normal family members. Or maybe it was just me who had to do that, she just ... grew up.

She's learned to laugh it off. She can handle some light teasing. She knows (quite expertly in fact) how to offer an alternative solution if the one at hand doesn't quite suit her. She strikes a mean bargain. She's irresistibly cute.

She is nearly 4. Life is sweet. I'm so glad she's growing, but could she stop growing? Because, ridiculously, as predicted by me, I miss my soft-cheeked babachoo too ...

putting my feet up

2014-01-22T12:10:00.001+02:00

I've been on crutches for 2 weeks now. A silly misstep off the stoep, twisted ankle, pain, strap, bruising, immobility.
It's all really rather silly, but not without benefits.

I have to keep my foot up. I can't drive, or carry anything substantial, or tidy up much, or cook anything too complicated.
I have to sit down as much as possible. I have to read stories rather than play wild games. I have to write, rather than do errands.
I know you're all hating me a little bit, and that's ok.

But the main unexpected and welcome result is how independent my children are getting. I was just wondering around Christmas time whether I'd fallen into that classic loving parent trap of doing too much for my girls.
You know when it's just easier to do it yourself? When it's less messy to fill juice bottles without insisting they do it themselves, when it's less argumentative to put away their washing rather than get into a number about 'not being the servant'?

But now ... I just can't. And ergo, they just have to and, surprise surprise, they're ok with that. Crutches are undeniable, my disability is plain to see.
Need a clean t-shirt from upstairs? Off you go.
Need a snack? You know where the cupboard is.
Need something from a high-up cupboard? Get your sister to help you or wait until Dad gets home.
Sorry.

4 and 7 this year. They're getting more independent all the time and this little boost, early on in the year, is not a bad thing at all.
At R25/week rental from the pharmacy, I may just keep these crutches around for a bit after I'm done using them - cheap at the price for the lessons we're all learning.

And lest you think I'm being bone idle, the little embroidery above. As I said, there's definite benefits.

the 46 brazillionth post ever on how to display kiddie art

2014-01-16T12:01:00.000+02:00

We haven't done organised crafting for ages ... have we outgrown it? Probably more to do with the fact that our art room has been a revolting, disorganised, uninviting shambles for months, a state I finally remedied these past holidays.

And jeez did I unearth a lot of art.

Although not crafting as such, we always have paints available on a table in there and over the last while the girls have filled page after page with lovely colours and textures, all left on windowsills to dry and never thought of again.

I tell myself the process is more important than the end product but I still hate throwing these creations away.

Add to them the mountains of stuff which came home from school at the end of last term and ja, a lot of art.

The pick of the crop I stuck up on one wall, a towering monument to my small people's creativity.

and yes, that's a crate of booze next to the wheel-less trike, because boozing and crafting
go very well together don't you know

And the enormous pile of abstract paintings I sorted and hole-punched with a 2" punch and artfully arranged in a frame I had hanging around (ha ha).

I'd love to do a massive one, in a white frame, but it's a start and I've no doubt those girls will produce much more material for me to use in the future!

talking to kids

2014-01-14T17:17:00.000+02:00

A while back I linked to this wonderful, insightful piece by (the always wonderful and insightful really) Rebecca from Girls Gone Child.

She calls bullshit on teaching your kids not to talk to strangers and I couldn't agree more. Go read the piece, I want to say everything she says and she writes it so much better than I could.

A few weeks ago I met a Mum who was anxious about talking to her young kids about any of the 'dangers' of the world and how to protect themselves. She knew it was regarded as highly irresponsible not to, especially given our country's crime rate, but she couldn't bring herself to shatter the peace and trust her children still had with the world.
I was that Mum some years ago, who of us want to talk about evil with our kids?

But I found an approach which is working for me, I'm teaching my girls to trust their gut. And the more I've committed to this approach, the more my eyes have opened to the opportunities to talk to my kids about keeping themselves safe.

We got this book out the library recently.

And when we got to this page, I saw the opportunity for a Conversation.

After lengthy discussion (every page has options of what you'd rather eat or wear or be - great book) it was unanimously decided we'd all rather be lost in a crowd.
And so I asked, 'If you were lost in this crowd, who would you ask for help?'

We talked about who looked as if they were in a hurry, and who looked a bit grumpy or distracted. We talked about who would be most likely to be able to help a lost child.
Lady with the baby came out tops. Followed closely by the Granny.

Life lessons. Without having to get into any unpleasantness. Trust your gut, be sensible, live, make friends, talk to strangers, learn from books.
These are things I can teach them.

'like walking in a dream'

2013-12-24T14:35:00.000+02:00

Sadly when we got home yesterday I discovered that half the photos I took of the Starke Ayres Nursery Christmas decorations were on some weird setting which made them all look like they'd been drawn by a 2 yr old on acid.

As if the decor itself wasn't magical enough.

Friday said it was like 'walking in a dream'.

I have to say I know of no other place in Cape Town which has quite as many fantastical Christmas decorations.

If you do please share!

The Rosebank nursery has their Christmas display up until the end of December. If you can bear more twinkly lights and if you believe me that they're much more impressive than these few photos show, take your kids for a visit. It's pretty special.

Merry Christmas everyone!

hand -and foot- painted t-shirts

2013-12-20T21:02:00.003+02:00

They painted these.

I can't help but love Friday's (happy) 'Self with Jewels and Rain'.

And no surprises from her sister either, who methodically and with a plan, did feet on the back, hands on the front, coordinating colours all precisely placed.
She's her Daddy's girl sometimes.

The paints were given to us by a dear friend, who's going through an awful time.

Whenever the girls wear their t-shirts I'm reminded of how blessed I am. It's a good time of year to be reminded of that.

faithful to nature

2013-12-16T22:48:00.000+02:00

Two words: blog swag.

The good people at Faithful to Nature ('your online organic store') sent us a Suncoat Children's Make-Up kit - an incongruous concept to me in some ways, but the fact is my youngest LOVES painted toenails (those'll be my genes) and what's not to love about a product that isn't shockingly bad for her AND is mess-free enough for her to use herself?

Check her technique!

She's a natural. And using all natural products too!

Later the big girls tried the make-up. 'Do we look like fashion ladies Mum?'

Thanks Faithful to Nature, we had great fun playing with the kit - go check out their fab au naturel Christmas gift ideas!

'We are all meant to shine, as children do.' N Mandela

2013-12-06T22:14:00.000+02:00

Back in June, when we got that first (fake) report of Mr Mandela's death, Friday turned to me, eyes brimming and asked: 'Will black people and white people now have to live separately again?'

This morning she remembered the conversation we had then and said, 'But even now that he's really died we can still live free hey Mum?'
And Sunday added, 'Yes, Mr Mandela will still live in our hearts.'

I pledge never to let my children forget him, or forget that they shared his time on earth.
We must always look back to know how to move forward.

snow play park, canal walk

2013-12-05T13:31:00.000+02:00

*this is a guest post, by Friday*

Last night Mum and I went to the Snow Play Park. We were on a special list. When we walked in a lady gave me a HUGE stick of candyfloss and Mum a HUGE glass of wine.
We were both very happy.

It was magical, with all the decorations and lights. I saw a giant snow globe, but it didn't turn upside down, and it looked like there were huge candy-canes everywhere.

Mum's friend told her it would be really cold, so we brought lots of coats which we didn't need at all. But I was happy I had my mittens when I played in the 'snow pit'. It was like sand but not as easy to build with and very, very cold!

Because it was the first night there were snacks and face-painting and icy cold drinks, and we could go on all the rides for free!

The rides were my best part. We had to drag our little boats up, up, up a long slope and then wait for the man to give us a push so we could slide down.
Mum came after me and I know I heard her screaming although she said she didn't. Mum said grown-ups go faster because they are heavier and for once she was happy to have a big bum.

I went on each ride lots of times, standing in line wasn't that much fun but there were lots of lights and decorations to look at.

I wish we could go back there everyday, but Mum says she doesn't really like shopping centres that much.

I think she's mad.

*Thank you Canal Walk for kindly inviting us to the launch event for their 2013 Snow Play Park. Friday had heaps of fun!*

24 books: advent 2013

2013-12-03T21:34:00.001+02:00

Those advent matchboxes were cool, but I've used them twice so this year I thought I'd do something a little different.
We've collected a number of Christmas themed books over the years, including many from my childhood, and quite liking the idea of having special books out for special times of the year, I'd packed them all away with the decorations last January.
I recently pulled them out and discovered we had 14.

A visit to The Rural Child, a trawl through my Mum's kiddie book collection, some rolls of brown paper, my washi stash, a basket by the bed and ...

A very booky advent countdown has begun.

So far the girls are loving it. I numbered them mindfully, mixing up the old favourites with the new, making sure we open the longer reads on weekend evenings, the shorter ones for these first few days while school is still on and we're all exhausted at bedtime.
Friday finds the right number (they're all mixed up) and they take turns to open the packages.

There are some classics in there ...

And some delightful modern ones ...

And why are there TWO numbers on this one you ask?

Because obviously late at night as I frantically wrapped the last books I discovered I was one short ... and quickly made this one valid for two nights as it's packed with fabulous Richard Scarry goodness and totally worth savouring. Genius!

I love a slow, anticipatory build-up to Christmas!

cape point vineyards

2013-11-29T20:51:00.000+02:00

My car has been acting up. It's going fine, as long as I don't get stuck in traffic. Crawling along at slow speed quickly leads to great belches of black smoke and funny noises. Getting it fixed is on the To Do list ...

So when I realised the girls and I were 'stuck' in the Noordhoek area until after evening traffic abated yesterday, we decided to find somewhere to have a little supper.
And by happystance stumbled upon the Cape Point Vineyards Thursday Food Market.

Not a bad little spot to wait out the traffic right?

It's TOTALLY Cape Town. Vegan patisserie, craft beer, lily white patrons and views so profound your eyes and brain have to use every colour in their paint box to try and do it justice.

Vineyards, pretentious food, kids called Tucker and lots of hippies in BMW's. It's Cape Town see?

But the beauty. I can be grinchy about many things, but every day I have pause to gasp at the beauty of this place we live in - and there's an uncomplicated purity in that which appeases my cynical old heart.

The Cape Point Vineyard is a damn fine place to be briefly appeased.

Even that silly old car had a view!

channeling Nancy Botwin

2013-11-26T22:00:00.000+02:00

So then obviously something happened today which was totally blog-worthy, and all about me.

Just because I've decided not to share their humiliations on the internet doesn't mean I can't share mine right?

I've been working hard at gardening. And by hard I mean tending to a couple of herb/veggie plants in a motley assortment of pots, and culling small pieces of plants all over the place and sticking them in the earth at home in the vain hope they'll like it here.

Most of them have. Thereby boosting my garden and my self-confidence.

So when Friday's school sent home some seeds weeks ago with instructions to nurture a small plant to return in time for the annual fundraising Plant Sale, I was confident. I got this. I can grow a measly parsley plant right?

Wrong.

Turns out the bursting new green buds I celebrated, the little shoots I protected and nurtured (Friday, btw, could not have been less interested), the small (but flourishing!) little plant I packaged up and carefully transported to school this morning is not parsley.

It is a weed.

At the school gates I spied a tiny fluffy purple flower on the plant and with a sinking feeling broke off and tasted a small leaf.

Not parsley.

I was nearly, nearly, that mother who tried to sell weed at the school fair.

blurred lines

2013-11-25T20:33:00.000+02:00

I've been a bit absent here of late. Just a bit right?

Life has been busy - work and illness and emotional ups and downs - but through all of that I've still been parenting, still been thinking about parenting, still felt inspired and at times utterly exhausted by these too small beings I've been charged with.
I've still had material to bring here. But I've felt hesitant.

The girls are growing up really fast at the moment, and I'm getting into that space of wondering which of their stories are mine to tell.
Obviously I still think it's all about me, but the reality is what goes on in their hearts and minds is theirs, it's precious, and I feel we might be getting to the stage where they're too old for me to share their stuff online, while still too young to ask their permission to do so.
And my response to their 'stuff'? That's kind of theirs too.

Yup, apparently now not even my own thoughts are mine. It's only a matter of minutes until they're wearing my sneakers and driving my car.

I'll be taking a while to ponder this.

one city block: bree street

2013-11-12T10:52:00.001+02:00

I had some time to kill in the city last week, in that magic hour of calm between the day workers leaving and the night joll-ers arriving.
I had my phone camera, the streets to myself, and a overwhelming need to stretch my legs and my lungs after being holed up indoors in meetings all day.

I want to recreate everything about this last picture at home, isn't that gorgeous?

A fast walk and some lovely sights, I felt much rejuvenated and ready for the next stage in my super-long working day. Yoh, it's been busy!

last week I wore a bra

2013-11-03T14:19:00.000+02:00

Every. Day.
Like, a proper under-wire bra. Not a cami with built in support or a sports bra or a tight-fitting vest.

I wore big girl pants too. No boyfriend jeans, no wrap-pants, no yoga pants.

And blouses. Proper need-to-be-ironed blouses. I even wore a blazer one chilly morning.

And pumps. With closed toes. To, you know, conceal the toes ...

Yup. Last week I started a job outside of the home. Just a two week contract, putting together a small event, but the nature of the job is immaterial.
The differences between working from a proper office versus working from home are IMMENSE.

None of my office colleagues barked, or hacked a furball on my foot. No one tried to sit on my lap and purr. I didn't need to know if any of them needed to pee.

At the office, there is nothing on my desk but my laptop, a phone, and a couple of sheets of notes pertaining only to the most current things I'm working on.
There are no story books in need of repair, no toys, no distracting rolls of washi tape. There are no other To Do lists or nasty reminders of things I've not remembered to do.
There are no crumbs.

At the office there are no snacks. Barring those I've remembered to bring with me (i.e. none). This is good. And contributes to the lack of crumbs.

There is no facebook, no Pinterest, no blog reading, no tweetering on the edge of full social media immersion.

There is no laundry upstairs waiting to be hung. No dishwasher needing to be emptied (well there is, but it's not my job ha ha ha ha ha). There are no breakfast dishes still on the table or towels in a soggy heap on the floor.

At the office there is calm. There is a lot of silence. There is a clean, efficient energy which embraces me like the arms of a long-forgotten friend and reminds me that I can do this: I can focus on one thing and just one thing only for long stretches at a time.
I am reminded that The Zone still exists, and my password to enter it is still valid. At the office I remember I can work like a well-oiled machine.

I love free-lancing. Last week I remembered how much I love doing it in someone else's office. I think I need some more of that.

twinkle star photography

2013-10-21T22:17:00.000+02:00

Much earlier this year I won a family photo shoot with Twinkle Star Photography by answering the question: why do you think you should win this shoot?
I answered that we should win because Friday was losing teeth at a rate of knots and we should get some pics before she became a gap-toothed monster, and I won!

Months later I finally got it together to free up an afternoon and the lovely Sam arrived to take our pictures. We settled down for tea and chat to get the girls (and me!) at ease, whereupon Friday promptly popped a tooth! We did laugh!

Sam quickly had us all feeling very comfortable, and the girls and I pottered around as we would on a normal afternoon.

I'd had my reservations about the shoot - I'm not a formal portrait person and definitely didn't want it to be too cheesy ... but Sam was super, she totally got where I was coming from and in our pre-shoot chats quickly recommended a more documentary style, lifestyle photography it's called.

Basically, photos of our lives.

With Sam cleverly catching snippets of our home and other quirky details (love those sneakers!) in between. I think this gives so much more depth to the collection of pics she's given us, and I've a feeling I'll treasure this memory, tying a little girl's shoe, as much as the shots of us together.

Later we headed outside into the wild wind for the great afternoon light, and some horse-play.

Thank you Sam for a wonderfully relaxed and fun afternoon, and for capturing such lovely moments in the lives of my crazy little ones and I.

I just know the glow of these pictures will become more golden and magical as these little girls grow up, up and away.

the great equaliser

2013-10-18T11:46:00.002+02:00

At a birthday party recently I chatted to two women I'd not met before. Our kids are in the same class.

The first woman, when I asked if she had other kids said no, she would've liked to but as she had her daughter when she was 42 the factory was kind of closed now.
She is 48.

On my birthday this year a couple of mum's at Sunday's school oohed and aahed at how 'young' I was.
I'm 38.

The other friend I made at the party, talking about something completely unrelated to our children, revealed she was born in 1985.
She is 28.

We all have 6 year olds. We all probably have completely different and yet so similar experiences of motherhood.

I always hope this is the experience for more mothers than not.

If you like pretty pictures of Yummy Mummies, I'm pinning lots for Yummy Mummy Maternity - have a look-see ... Happy Friday!

the bird man

2013-10-14T21:14:00.000+02:00

Hold your jumping castles, magicians, Cinderellas and face-painters. Cancel the pony, the balloon-shaper and the puppet show.
There's a new kiddie party guy in town and he is ... odd.
Martin Odd, aka The Bird Man.

Because what 6 year old doesn't want a Rock Kestrel sitting on his head at his birthday party?

And who doesn't want their friends to experience the magic ...

... the wonder ...

... and the mind-boggling privilege of an African White Backed Vulture ~~pooping~~ visiting in your living room?

Martin and his team of feathered friends (Macaw Parrot, Hadeda, Owls, Crow and more) do an amazing hour long show, full of facts and information, entertainment and education, guaranteed to leave all the guests (young and old) with lots to think about and remember about the magnificent birds which live amongst us.

Martin shows an affection and respect for his birds which we commonly associate with furry mammals, and speaks candidly of his early days as a budding ornithologist, seeking out nests as a boy around his home in the suburbs.
How wonderful to expose our children to an adult so passionate about what he does. Someone who has followed his childhood dream and now does the work he loves everyday.
Valuable lessons indeed.

And so entertaining!

Rounded off with a chance to hang out with a White Faced Scops Owl. A very special birthday party experience indeed.

More information on Martin's shows (he can also be found at Ratanga Junction in season) and his contact details can be found here, or on his facebook page Birds of Africa Show.

rocking the daisies

2013-10-07T16:43:00.000+02:00

For once, I have no words.

It was bigger, and muddier, and louder, and fuller, and younger, and colder than I'd expected. But, as expected, it was a complete jol.
Best friends, free Jack Daniels, no kids, total freedom and a radical change of scenery.

Good for the soul.

watch, learn, enact

2013-09-25T15:20:00.000+02:00

Years ago I knew a couple who both ran NGO's, both always working to raise the funds needed to pay salaries and do the research they required.
Their 2 year old son started having nightmares about 'funders'.

A friend of Friday's (whose parents travel a lot for work), once initiated a crazed game of 'packing' - running around our house stuffing random things into a small suitcase in a harried and desperate fashion. Friday followed behind, loving the pace but slightly bemused (she whose parents rarely travel) by the concept.

Today, the daughter of a friend who works to create partnerships between various organisations, picked up our little ukelele, and sang a sweet little song with the lyrics: 'Meetings, I've got lots of meetings.'

They really are little sponges, and it's remarkable how much comes out in their play. Or, as the pictures illustrate, and we know from experience, sometimes it's got nothing to do with anything.
Except the insides of their heads. Fascinating little creatures.

celebrating life

2013-09-24T22:20:00.000+02:00

That's all we really can do right? Make a donation to the Kenyan Red Cross, hold the affected families in our hearts, mourn for our continent, all the while acknowledging our Heritage (she still loves chickens) and continuing to celebrate the milestones of those we love.
Celebrate life, it's precious.

Beautiful, radiant, exuberant 6 year olds.

Rainbow cake for a dear friend, because I've been hankering to make another one, and she's special.

Brownie and shortbread stack for another dearest bestie.

It was a long weekend of cake, and love, and sorrow, and celebration. It was a big weekend.