Bad Mommies Are Out There

I know its been forever since I did a post. Hell, some of the new mommies probably don't even know who I am. Hi! I'm Sheena. My daughters name was Kiera, she was beautiful and gorgeous and passed away in 2004. Every now and again I still feel a maternal urge to do some writing, and Exmi won't let me quit being a member of this blog, so I make do when I can.

Today though, I want to do something different. Britt is my best friend. Her and I were knocked up within a month of each other. Our daughters used to have play time while in utero, Britt and I would stick our tummies together like dorks and giggle. We had so many planned lunches, girl days, arranged marriages for our girl kids.

Needless to say, it didn't pan out that way, but we were fortunate to not let the loss of Kiera get in the way of our friendship, or affect my ability to simply adore her (now two) children, who I also happen to be Godmother to.

This is a story written by Britt, who is barely literate half of the time so she must have spent hours doing this correcting her bad spelling, but it touched my soul and encompassed everything about her family in a few short paragraphs. I'm so happy for her, and for all of you, who have your children on a daily basis and follow the motions of being a family. Without further ado, I give you 'Saturday Mornings':


I wake up to the light filtering though my dark red curtains, note to self: get darker curtains. Its 06:30 and its Saturday - awesome I got to sleep a whole hour later than usual. I creep out of bed so as not to wake the sleeping giant of a man I call hubby, but most importantly not to wake the small now pajama less little girl who somehow crawled into my bed last night with out waking me - no wonder my whole left side is numb - no pajamas mean one thing - wet bed, so the coffee I was aiming at will have to wait I will sort out the bedding first.

Tiptoeing into the kid's room shared by both Nik and Cully-boy, I peep over the cot ever so slightly and find my son still asleep, I can't help the smile that pops onto my face. Ok B, I think to myself, go get the bedding, throw in the washing machine and get that cup of coffee. Making it to the kitchen while very skillfully maneuvering over the toys, I realize I forgot the pillow case, not wanting to have wasted anytime I turn on my heel to fetch the pillow case, upon turning round I kick a ball which goes flying, hitting the wall and then smashing the hollow black plastic bike over, making a deep hollow drum sound that the drummer of the greatest rock band in the world would be proud of - I hate that bike. I am frozen, I listen - the house remains quiet and relief washes over me again I start back to the bedroom this time watching my every step.
On entering the bedroom I notice movement in Cully-boys cot. This time with the stealth of a panther I crouch and peep over the side of the cot - his eyes are wide, darting around looking for me, he sees me, jumps up and smiles, he is cute so I smile back. Moving the wet bedding to my left arm I collect my ever growing baby and move towards the kitchen, not forgetting the pillow case. But he moans and pushes me towards my bedroom, this means only one thing - he wants dad.

Now there are two things I can do: option one: I could take him to dad where by I will have the chance to dash like a mad woman to the kitchen in aid of my coffee, leaving Dad to deal with Cully-boy and if I calculate correctly I could be sipping coffee in 5 minuets or option two I could be the best wife ever and let the hubby sleep in, coffee will take longer than 5 minuets, the need for coffee over rides my need to be nice. I walk into the room with Cully-boy now jumping up and down in my arm, he is big now so I cant really hold on to him very well so just as we get to the side of the bed he jumps out my arm and strait onto Dad's tummy - so much for a peaceful wake up. The hubby; always a smile on his face sits up and plays with Cully-boy and in-between bounces request a glass of juice as he has his hands full and he is so extremely thirsty. So off to the kitchen I go, I dump the wet bedclothes in the washing machine and turn it on, pour some juice and fill the kettle.

I turn to head back to the room, but there is no need my husband walks in with Cully-boy extended a full arms length from him and in-between heaves is able to tell me that my son has done a pooh, nappy is faulty, it stinks and he thinks he does not feel so well anymore. I must say that this tiny fault in my husband amuses me greatly. Has he ever smelt himself after game of rugby?? In a full roar of laughter I eventually take Cully-boy, as the hubby dashes to the bathroom. Letting my son know what a good boy I think he is for encouraging his father to go for a morning sprint I change his nappy, now this has become a skill as Cully-boy finds it very funny to see how fast he can flip himself over after I have unfastened the nappy and scramble around the bed, so with one hand firmly on his chest the other hand gets busy at pealing, wiping, unfolding and folding - told you it's a skill. My husband peeps his head around the corner and asks if it safe to enter, I giggle some more at his flaw and hand Cully-boy over to him. I must say when there is no brown threatening pooh, my husband holds his son close and they are the best of mates.

They disappear into the lounge and play. I peep over at Nikita who is now awake, but clearly not impressed to be woken up, I mother her telling her how wonderful it is to see her princess face, and she eventually manages a smile. I go back to the kitchen with the thoughts of hot coffee filling my mind when I find that I filled the kettle but did not switch it on – damn it. As soon as Dad and son see me in the kitchen requests for food come pouring in I resist the urge to ignore them but I find myself making more juice and some breakfast. The kettle has boiled but I decide to take the now mountain of food to my two boys, the water will still be hot when I get back. Once they've been set, there is silence in the dining room as they both quietly munching away.
I head back to the kitchen but, am stopped by Nikita who "has a HUGE problem". She "just can't decide what to wear". So I follow her to her bedroom and pull out her favorite dress, no she is not in the mood for a dress, ok so I find her new Barbie outfit and for the first time ever in her four years she does not feel like Barbie this particular Saturday. Reaching for a pair of jeans and a cute top, apparently these jeans hurt her - they did not hurt her the other day but apparently she just knows they will hurt her today if she wears them. Eventually after what seems like hours she decides to wear a stained pair of yellow shorts and a teeny tiny pink shirt that is clearly far to small for her, satisfied with her outrageous choice in clothing we both head for the kitchen, I don't even bother looking to see if the water in the kettle is still hot - I know its not, so again I turn on the kettle and make Nikita her multi colored cereal, she is not impressed - the milk is cold.

I warm the milk up and now once again happy, she bounces off to join the boys in the lounge my first instinct is to tell her to stop bouncing and walk slowly, but I am too late there is multi colored cereal and milk all over the floor. I can hear the kettle switch off, but Nikita is now just dying of hunger so I start the cereal ritual all over again this time not forgetting to warm the milk up, she walks off to the lounge this time very slowly to enjoy her tasty breakfast. I am just in time to clean the mess as Cully-boy has noticed the very interesting white puddle with multi colored bits, in no time at all he is down on all fours and with open mouth and wagging tong he tries desperately to lap up all he can see. I grab him and give him a bowl of dry cereal, now this may seem mean, but he is very happy to eat it like this and I know it will land up on the floor eventually so there is less labor as I will only need to sweep.

This time I am clever I switch on the kettle, for the third time I have done so while I dash to clean up the mess and then stand by the kettle while hearing the faint cries from the desperate family for more juice, but I refuse to move. Do you know how long a kettle takes to boil? Yes - forever. The washing machine and the kettle switch off at the same time and once again I am sitting with two options: option one: make coffee, enjoy - hang out washing later or option two: hang out washing and come back and boil kettle again.

I come to the decision that South Africa is in an energy crisis and all the people governing this country would appreciate me saving electricity and not boiling the kettle four times for one cup of coffee, so finally I make my steamy awesome cup of coffee and retreat to the lounge while sipping it all the way there. As I sit down, I receive a wink from the husband, a multi colored smile from Nikita and a cuddle from Cully-boy. And suddenly I realize - who needs coffee at 06:30 in the morning anyway.

Right. An update.

'Sup!

So, Exmi has asked me to babysit this here blog. I don't actually think she knows what she's doing giving me permissions and all, but hey - I will try not abuse it. Even though I'm locked out of my own blog. She's a lawyer lady, so has a major thesis on the go, and is busy busy busy. Lets give her a round of applause for hard work, ladies!

I propose a new homework task. Each mother does a post that is different to the last post posted. Got it? maybe a little less repetitiveness will liven this blog up a little bit.

Also, are there any readers out there that aren't contributers? Make yourself known, don't be shy. Questions, discussions, whatever - you are most welcome to get involved.

A mommy went mad so we shot her

hi Guys,

Just thought I would let everyone know that Tam, akaExmi - Expensive Mistakes, has internet problems.

I'm sure she'll be back soon, though.

rant post, block your ears kids

For fuck sakes. Woman at the robot in front of me? Buckle your kid the hell up! Do you not realise that if you slam on the brakes the first thing going through your child's mind, next, will be his ass? Literally.

Did no one ever tell you that while the ankle biter sticks out his arm a truck will magically rush past and chop it off?

I think sometimes you mothers out there need to wake the fuck up and read the newspapers. Children DO die. Children DO get involved in car accidents. Children DON'T live forever. Some of us bury them before we ever imagined.

Buckle up and sit your arse down on the chair, not on the back shield or in between the front seats!

Stop being such a pussy, and be a parent.

Way late, but wha-eva

Hiya BM readers!

It's been a LOOONG while since I pulled my finger out me bum and posted here. I'm going to do a two in one if you don't mind? You don't? How fabulous of you.

Before I was a Momma:

• I had legs half the size that they are now
• There was no facial hair needing to be waxed/veeted/plucked as there is now
• I was a rebelleous little bitch of a teenager who thought her own brain was worthy of Eistein companionship
• Never did I realise how selfless and sacrificing my own Mommy was
• I hadn't learned how to think of anyone before I thought of 'Me'
• The art of multi-tasking had not come into play until the minute Kiera arrived
• I had no idea what the meaning of LOVE was

...And a letter to my child:

Dear Kiki,

You would have been 5 years old this year. Good god, I would have been pulling my hair out by the looks of your best friend (and Mommy's godchild) Nikki. I put my hand on a stack of bibles and swear that you would have been the most spoilt and gifted little brat on the planet. But you would always remember your P's and Q's.

In fact, wherever you are, up in the clouds somewhere, I hope you don't give the Angels too much crap. On second thought - give 'em hell, baby girl! With your red hair and blue eyes, I bet you do already.

I went through all of your teddy-bears the other day. There was a little girl who really needed some, as her Mommy didn't love her as much as yours did. I gave away 'Fear-less' your favourite little fluffy toy. I did this because I know how much you were comforted by him while in hospital, and she's in an orphanage, which is probably on the same shitty-ness kind of level.

Wok blew a candle out for you on his birthday last week. His friends thought he was mad, but he stood there proudly and told all of them that even though he was only ten, he was an uncle not so long ago, and that candle was for someone special. They all shut up. Stupid little idiots.

Don't ever say 'idiot' or 'shit' up there in the big sky, okay? The boss man probably wouldn't like it much. Instead, teach him how to say 'Sup, bitches' cos I bet you a lot more people would actually understand him if his vocab was modernised.

Alright. Mommy has work to do, and some mascara to re-apply. Remember to wear your seat-belt when you go on the sleigh over the clouds with Father Easter Fairy and Aunty Cupid Clause, okay?

Love you forever baby girl.

PS: I'm not sure which milestone this letter was meant to be for, but lets call it 'The Year Mommy Learned To Smile about you'.

Meme For Bad Mommies

On account of how Sheena has been missing from Bloggerama recently, I have decided to set the homework this week. In case she has forgotten. So here we all are.

This week's homework is something a little different. I have grown tired of the 'Questions & Answers Format'.

It's called.... "Before I Was A Mommy....." and I was inspired by "Shelled & Deshelled".

So click the link. (Here's another example)

Read hers to see how it'd done...

And let's see what you come up with...

PS: if you're not a bad mommy, feel free to complete this in the comments section.

So. Kids.

Where I'm staying in Cape Town, I am 100% convinced that the neighbouring people all had lights out at the same time roughly thirteen years ago and got down and dirty with eachother, as there are at least 15 fucking ankle biters that roam around and deem themselves fit to wrestle, scream & cry outside my bedroom window.

Last week I was tanning out on the lawn with a book in hand, when I look up into the tree above me and three little boys are grinning down like a bunch of bloody monkeys. As soon as they realised I'd seen them, they slunk off as if they were James Bond on the way to get a shaken, not stirred, martini with three olives.

Little assholes. Their moms all look at me like I am some hussy from Hillbrow zoning in on their kids too.

Oh, so thats right - they can gawk at me, but when I yell at them to go play on the train tracks, I'm the bad person?!

Introducing ... SheBee

So, I've been tossing and turning about whether I should contribute to this blog or not. But then I thought, "fuck it" it'll be fun, and will remind me of a part of myself I sometimes tend to forget ever existed.

You see, for those of you who don' t know, my one and only child died four years ago. She was 7 months old. I have made peace with this, and am not looking for sympathy, or even worse - pity. I feel that I can still have a say as a mommy, but it just might be a little bit different to the rest of the bad mommies you will read here, is that okay?

In my decision of joining here, I am okay with being the different 'bad mommy' of the lot. In fact, it quite suits my conceited self :P

From now onwards, my posts will most likely be on other kids. Probably yours if you're not careful, so best you tell them to be on good behaviour cause aunty Sheen can be pa-retty scary when the need calls. So, without further ado, here's mine (and Kiera's) introduction:

Here's me posting a picture of Kiera, or otherwise known as Kiki:

In the top left corner, Kiki is in her pram staring at the T.V. Isidingo, to be more precise. For some reason if we ever changed the channel while she was watching that program she would start screaming. So wha-eva, let the kid watch the damn show, right? (Bad Mommy confession #1). On the right you have an obscured photo of me kissing my baby girl. Bottom left gives you Kiera and her mowgli smile. Nasal cannula's included for the ease of breathing. She had a lung disease.

Three things you wouldn't know about me:

1. I have lots of freckles
2. I'm not that great with affection
3. I'm quite a tomboy in the way that I prefer to be in jeans and shirts without make up. I can count on one hand the amount of times I have ever blow dried my hair.

Three things you wouldn't have known about Kiera:

1. She had red hair and blue eyes which came from nowhere since her father was greek and I have dark features myself.
   
2. She was born to be an angel and she looked like one too.
3. Her giggle was the sound of gold and her smile was not unlike Mowgli, in the Jungle Book story.

A quote that best describes how I feel about being a mommy:

"Love your child, love with your child, love without your child"

I really don't think I have a famous mommy role model. They are all far too skinny and beautiful :P

I also refuse to make wishes. Ever. In any circumstance. Just like I chose to believe, at the age of seven, that the easter bunny ran off with the tooth fairy and fell in love and never came back to work.

Aaaaand, that about sums up my intro. Kiera has a story all on her own already written up and created on my personal blog, so if you feel the need for some background history, click here.

I look forward to reading all of your stories, and hope that some of my participation will assist in the cause of this blog.

Happy days!