Well get them next time.
Keep up the good work guys!
We rock!
SA Blog Awards
Showing posts with label bridget. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bridget. Show all posts
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Homework – House Rules
When you get the time.
Here is more homework
Briget, Becasue I Can recently did a post, Letter of Intent.
Thought it would be fun to do a letter modelled on that.
But on of actual house rules in your home.
Moms with babies can skip this one if they want.
Here is more homework
Briget, Becasue I Can recently did a post, Letter of Intent.
Thought it would be fun to do a letter modelled on that.
But on of actual house rules in your home.
Moms with babies can skip this one if they want.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Bridget - De-bonding
My Darling Pickle,
I write this with the hope of three things:
1. That you have inherited my sense of humor.
2. You are no longer living at home.
3. And you don’t resent me moving to Peru to pursue a writing career you so rudely interrupted almost 20 years ago to this date.
On that note, read on.
My lovely child, I have watched you grow and blossom into a miniature copy of me. [Cue - Clip From Austin Powers, "Mini-Me Your Complete Me".] I was marveled at the tenacity with which you face the challenges thrown into your 5-year-old path. You have never disappointed me. Except that time when you failed to laugh at my Pooh joke.
At the age of 11, when you first got your period, and your boobs began to blossom out of control and I was forced to admit that Aunty Sheena was not an alien from outer space, that she had such a knockout pair. I was also afraid. For the second time in your life, I would play the heavy mother, not your friend, but someone who, though rarely ever fulfills this role, was here to guide you until you could read the Compass of Life on your own. Thank Jesus for Outcomes Based Education and the subject known as Life Orientation --- NOT! Short of giving you copies of Karma Sutra Made Easy, they did a good job of making you non-afraid of the one-eyed-snake! Because of LO, I had to spend the next year putting the Terror of the Penis back into you.
At the age of 16, when I urged you to spread you wings and spoke highly of the independence boarding schools taught me, I was merely trying to get rid of you for a few of months of the year. The constant jabbering on the phone, the slanging matches we had because you would not stick to curfew and the fact that I started worrying that you were becoming a 16-year-old monster, led me to my actions. I hope you, like myself, found boarding school an enriching experience, a chance to finesse you fighting skills and sharpen you intimidation tools that would stand you in good stead late in life. I also hope that you learnt to be patient, made lasting friendships and was smart enough o no tell your friends when you started having sex because they would have gone and told the entire school by break time.
Reaching 18, one of your toughest years I’ll wager, as you would have by now been told the family skeleton, I hope you meet that challenge of learning things about those you love with the strength I see in you today as I write this letter. I also hope your father will still be alive and I will still have enough sway on his Guilt-o-Meter, to present you with a car to mark you leaving High School and doing whatever it is you will choose to do.
I hope, given the fact that I would have set up your education financing system in such a way that after 18, all you needed from your mother, was a sympathetic ear and advice when you contract the clap from your travels to exotic countries. A little advice, when in a Thailand, hire gigolos for sex, they’re safer than tourists and will not put drugs in your coffee.
At this juncture in your life, do not resent me for taking up doing all the things I didn’t do because of your untimely entrance into my life. Beginning with the diving off the coast of the Red Sea, living in The Sudan and getting in touch with my inner Inca.
As you reach this zenith of your life (25), having either just left university, if you took the break year, or finishing your first year working I have a couple of words of wisdom for you my child.
I’ll grab a drink and continue to write my memoirs, which I will sell under the pretense of being a descendant of King Shaka.
See you on Skype Video Call.
With love,
Mammo
PS: That current boyfriend of yours, he’s gay.
I write this with the hope of three things:
1. That you have inherited my sense of humor.
2. You are no longer living at home.
3. And you don’t resent me moving to Peru to pursue a writing career you so rudely interrupted almost 20 years ago to this date.
On that note, read on.
My lovely child, I have watched you grow and blossom into a miniature copy of me. [Cue - Clip From Austin Powers, "Mini-Me Your Complete Me".] I was marveled at the tenacity with which you face the challenges thrown into your 5-year-old path. You have never disappointed me. Except that time when you failed to laugh at my Pooh joke.
At the age of 11, when you first got your period, and your boobs began to blossom out of control and I was forced to admit that Aunty Sheena was not an alien from outer space, that she had such a knockout pair. I was also afraid. For the second time in your life, I would play the heavy mother, not your friend, but someone who, though rarely ever fulfills this role, was here to guide you until you could read the Compass of Life on your own. Thank Jesus for Outcomes Based Education and the subject known as Life Orientation --- NOT! Short of giving you copies of Karma Sutra Made Easy, they did a good job of making you non-afraid of the one-eyed-snake! Because of LO, I had to spend the next year putting the Terror of the Penis back into you.
At the age of 16, when I urged you to spread you wings and spoke highly of the independence boarding schools taught me, I was merely trying to get rid of you for a few of months of the year. The constant jabbering on the phone, the slanging matches we had because you would not stick to curfew and the fact that I started worrying that you were becoming a 16-year-old monster, led me to my actions. I hope you, like myself, found boarding school an enriching experience, a chance to finesse you fighting skills and sharpen you intimidation tools that would stand you in good stead late in life. I also hope that you learnt to be patient, made lasting friendships and was smart enough o no tell your friends when you started having sex because they would have gone and told the entire school by break time.
Reaching 18, one of your toughest years I’ll wager, as you would have by now been told the family skeleton, I hope you meet that challenge of learning things about those you love with the strength I see in you today as I write this letter. I also hope your father will still be alive and I will still have enough sway on his Guilt-o-Meter, to present you with a car to mark you leaving High School and doing whatever it is you will choose to do.
I hope, given the fact that I would have set up your education financing system in such a way that after 18, all you needed from your mother, was a sympathetic ear and advice when you contract the clap from your travels to exotic countries. A little advice, when in a Thailand, hire gigolos for sex, they’re safer than tourists and will not put drugs in your coffee.
At this juncture in your life, do not resent me for taking up doing all the things I didn’t do because of your untimely entrance into my life. Beginning with the diving off the coast of the Red Sea, living in The Sudan and getting in touch with my inner Inca.
As you reach this zenith of your life (25), having either just left university, if you took the break year, or finishing your first year working I have a couple of words of wisdom for you my child.
1.Sucking up to your boss doesn’t mean sleeping with him.On that note,
2.Being good at what you do must never come at the expense of others.
3. Teamwork often leads to under achievement, and allocated blame when things go wrong be the “I” in TEAM! Except when you are operating on the heart of a fellow human being.
4. Where you come from is important, but only figuratively. Where you are going is unknown, so make the best of the present.
I’ll grab a drink and continue to write my memoirs, which I will sell under the pretense of being a descendant of King Shaka.
See you on Skype Video Call.
With love,
Mammo
PS: That current boyfriend of yours, he’s gay.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Before I was saddled to something that would grow into a wine-chugging maniac
I was young
I was fulfilled
I was happy
All this was delusional
I had dreams to become an international author, living in The Sudan.
I went to war torn zones to check out human rot without worrying about my safety
I didn’t have to like The Dingbat because Id didn’t need a cheap baby sitter.
My father was convinced I was a virgin.
The Dingbat didn’t think it’s OK to talk to me about sex, especially hers.
I didn’t know you could love someone you don’t like much cause they’ve pretty much ruined my fun.
I knew if it was a girl she would have my Angelina Jolie lips and she does!
I knew for a fact that having a child was something married women and deranged people do. I didn’t count on falling in either category.
I smoked 10 a day; I now smoke 25+ just to get rid of the fat.
I thought Woolies was an expensive food shop. Never knew they had such cute kids’ clothes!
I would have never believed it when someone said unconditional love exists.
I would have heartily endorsed legalization of marijuana, but now I’m seeing her tendencies and hoping to move her to Mecca at earliest chance.
I didn’t know I wasn’t capable of murder since I chose to keep her despite my ex and I beating the crap outa each other at our engagement party.
Thought life ended once you had a baby.
I was fulfilled
I was happy
All this was delusional
I had dreams to become an international author, living in The Sudan.
I went to war torn zones to check out human rot without worrying about my safety
I didn’t have to like The Dingbat because Id didn’t need a cheap baby sitter.
My father was convinced I was a virgin.
The Dingbat didn’t think it’s OK to talk to me about sex, especially hers.
I didn’t know you could love someone you don’t like much cause they’ve pretty much ruined my fun.
I knew if it was a girl she would have my Angelina Jolie lips and she does!
I knew for a fact that having a child was something married women and deranged people do. I didn’t count on falling in either category.
I smoked 10 a day; I now smoke 25+ just to get rid of the fat.
I thought Woolies was an expensive food shop. Never knew they had such cute kids’ clothes!
I would have never believed it when someone said unconditional love exists.
I would have heartily endorsed legalization of marijuana, but now I’m seeing her tendencies and hoping to move her to Mecca at earliest chance.
I didn’t know I wasn’t capable of murder since I chose to keep her despite my ex and I beating the crap outa each other at our engagement party.
Thought life ended once you had a baby.
Before I was saddled to something that would grow into a wine-chugging maniac
I was young
I was fulfilled
I was happy
All this was delusional
I had dreams to become an international author, living in The Sudan.
I went to war torn zones to check out human rot without worrying about my safety
I didn’t have to like The Dingbat because Id didn’t need a cheap baby sitter.
My father was convinced I was a virgin.
The Dingbat didn’t think it’s OK to talk to me about sex, especially hers.
I didn’t know you could love someone you don’t like much cause they’ve pretty much ruined my fun.
I knew if it was a girl she would have my Angelina Jolie lips and she does!
I knew for a fact that having a child was something married women and deranged people do. I didn’t count on falling in either category.
I smoked 10 a day; I now smoke 25+ just to get rid of the fat.
I thought Woolies was an expensive food shop. Never knew they had such cute kids’ clothes!
I would have never believed it when someone said unconditional love exists.
I would have heartily endorsed legalization of marijuana, but now I’m seeing her tendencies and hoping to move her to Mecca at earliest chance.
I didn’t know I wasn’t capable of murder since I chose to keep her despite my ex and I beating the crap outa each other at our engagement party.
Thought life ended once you had a baby.
I was fulfilled
I was happy
All this was delusional
I had dreams to become an international author, living in The Sudan.
I went to war torn zones to check out human rot without worrying about my safety
I didn’t have to like The Dingbat because Id didn’t need a cheap baby sitter.
My father was convinced I was a virgin.
The Dingbat didn’t think it’s OK to talk to me about sex, especially hers.
I didn’t know you could love someone you don’t like much cause they’ve pretty much ruined my fun.
I knew if it was a girl she would have my Angelina Jolie lips and she does!
I knew for a fact that having a child was something married women and deranged people do. I didn’t count on falling in either category.
I smoked 10 a day; I now smoke 25+ just to get rid of the fat.
I thought Woolies was an expensive food shop. Never knew they had such cute kids’ clothes!
I would have never believed it when someone said unconditional love exists.
I would have heartily endorsed legalization of marijuana, but now I’m seeing her tendencies and hoping to move her to Mecca at earliest chance.
I didn’t know I wasn’t capable of murder since I chose to keep her despite my ex and I beating the crap outa each other at our engagement party.
Thought life ended once you had a baby.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Nomination!!!!!!!!! SA Blog awards
http://www.sablogawards.com/2008/?votenow=3
Best Group Blog!!
You bitches best VOTE!!!
Hee hee hee
On and congrats to Meea, Exmi for making it.
Best Group Blog!!
You bitches best VOTE!!!
Hee hee hee
On and congrats to Meea, Exmi for making it.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
A close shave
[this is a duplicate from my blog]
Black as White: Chapter 25 - A benediction
The humming machines, surrounding the sleeping and heavily bandaged child are starting to get to the woman who sits typing away on her computer and she frowns a little looking over at the man who sits close to the bed, holding the sleeping child’s hand in his and looking tortured.
It’s been a trying couple of days.
The phone call from a derange Dingbat with the curt instruction, “Get to Such and Such Hospital Pickle is dying” had embedded an unbelieving fear in her heart. By the time she arrives in hospital, the doors to the operation room have been firmly shut and The Dingbat sits on a bench in a waiting room looking lost. Lebo is clutching her hands in silent prayer and jumps to her feet when the woman rushes in.
“What is happening, where is she? What happened?” the questions are quick, fired in staccato fashion, commanding results.
“She is in theater sisi! She was ran over by a car. Her legs are broken and the doctors say there is something wrong with her head,” in her distress Lebo has abandoned English, and replies in her Sesotho, a language the other woman barely understands.
The Dingbat makes a half hearted attempt to get up, she slumps back in her chair and for the first time in years, she calls her daughter by her preferred name, “Bridget, my child …” the younger woman looks away.
Not now mother, she is thinking. Not now.
Whirling she makes for the nurses station. It’s a futile walk she knows, the doctors working on The Pickle will not be available. The only option is a vigil.
“Who are the doctors working on the little girl who just came in?” she asks the competent looking nurse who reels off an impressive sounding list. Jotting them down on the notebook the woman must have grabbed out of habit she asks, “Do you guys have wireless Internet in this hospital?” The answer is yes. Thank God for medical aid, Al Gore and the forward thinkingness of the man who decided to put a coffee shop in the hospital.
Flicking open the borrowed cellphone she has been using she starts making calls.
“Pappy, our little girl in hospital, being operated on …” She doesn’t get to finish, before the volley of questions begins. She tries to answer them but she is on edge.
“Just get here dammit!”
“S4, get to Such and Such hospital, Pickle was in an accident. I need you. And bring me a laptop please.”
“Lovely 1, Pickle is in Such and Such hospital. Please round up the girls, it looks bad. I need you guys.”
Heading back to the waiting room she watches he mother crying with aloofness. Not just yet.
“Did you let Daddy know?” she asks looking at The Dingbat who nods looking stricken.
When S4 arrives, followed closely by three terrified-looking women they all converge on her and surround her with love. For the first time since she has had the news, she is sobbing.
The group practically carries her out to a nearby restaurant and order her a drink.
“For the shock hun, medicinal,” Lovely 2 says in an attempt to lighten the mood. They head back to the hospital with sandwiches for Lebo and Dingbat.
The young woman pulls out the laptop and tells her blogging chums. She chats to a friend who is in England, she chats to another friend. Any one. Take me away from here WWW.
The Pappy arrives, he is sobbing, he wants answers, we have none. Bringing up the rear is The Bells, my father, the man capable to kissing away my fear. He kisses my forehead and says, "I'm here and your mother is sorry."
Seven hours after walking into the hospital, the doctors come into the waiting room.
“Who are the parents?” One asks the assembled group. The Pappy jumps up and looks at me expectantly. I stand up, then immediately collapse back into the chair. The laptop has crashed on the floor.
Jesus no. Please no.
“She is going to be fine.”
It’s a like a benediction.
At 4 in the morning The Pickle wakes up.
“Mammo? Can Mr Darcy come live with us please?”
I’m sobbing as I answer yes. I hate cats, but I love my daughter.
Black as White: Chapter 25 - A benediction
The humming machines, surrounding the sleeping and heavily bandaged child are starting to get to the woman who sits typing away on her computer and she frowns a little looking over at the man who sits close to the bed, holding the sleeping child’s hand in his and looking tortured.
It’s been a trying couple of days.
The phone call from a derange Dingbat with the curt instruction, “Get to Such and Such Hospital Pickle is dying” had embedded an unbelieving fear in her heart. By the time she arrives in hospital, the doors to the operation room have been firmly shut and The Dingbat sits on a bench in a waiting room looking lost. Lebo is clutching her hands in silent prayer and jumps to her feet when the woman rushes in.
“What is happening, where is she? What happened?” the questions are quick, fired in staccato fashion, commanding results.
“She is in theater sisi! She was ran over by a car. Her legs are broken and the doctors say there is something wrong with her head,” in her distress Lebo has abandoned English, and replies in her Sesotho, a language the other woman barely understands.
The Dingbat makes a half hearted attempt to get up, she slumps back in her chair and for the first time in years, she calls her daughter by her preferred name, “Bridget, my child …” the younger woman looks away.
Not now mother, she is thinking. Not now.
Whirling she makes for the nurses station. It’s a futile walk she knows, the doctors working on The Pickle will not be available. The only option is a vigil.
“Who are the doctors working on the little girl who just came in?” she asks the competent looking nurse who reels off an impressive sounding list. Jotting them down on the notebook the woman must have grabbed out of habit she asks, “Do you guys have wireless Internet in this hospital?” The answer is yes. Thank God for medical aid, Al Gore and the forward thinkingness of the man who decided to put a coffee shop in the hospital.
Flicking open the borrowed cellphone she has been using she starts making calls.
“Pappy, our little girl in hospital, being operated on …” She doesn’t get to finish, before the volley of questions begins. She tries to answer them but she is on edge.
“Just get here dammit!”
“S4, get to Such and Such hospital, Pickle was in an accident. I need you. And bring me a laptop please.”
“Lovely 1, Pickle is in Such and Such hospital. Please round up the girls, it looks bad. I need you guys.”
Heading back to the waiting room she watches he mother crying with aloofness. Not just yet.
“Did you let Daddy know?” she asks looking at The Dingbat who nods looking stricken.
When S4 arrives, followed closely by three terrified-looking women they all converge on her and surround her with love. For the first time since she has had the news, she is sobbing.
The group practically carries her out to a nearby restaurant and order her a drink.
“For the shock hun, medicinal,” Lovely 2 says in an attempt to lighten the mood. They head back to the hospital with sandwiches for Lebo and Dingbat.
The young woman pulls out the laptop and tells her blogging chums. She chats to a friend who is in England, she chats to another friend. Any one. Take me away from here WWW.
The Pappy arrives, he is sobbing, he wants answers, we have none. Bringing up the rear is The Bells, my father, the man capable to kissing away my fear. He kisses my forehead and says, "I'm here and your mother is sorry."
Seven hours after walking into the hospital, the doctors come into the waiting room.
“Who are the parents?” One asks the assembled group. The Pappy jumps up and looks at me expectantly. I stand up, then immediately collapse back into the chair. The laptop has crashed on the floor.
Jesus no. Please no.
“She is going to be fine.”
It’s a like a benediction.
At 4 in the morning The Pickle wakes up.
“Mammo? Can Mr Darcy come live with us please?”
I’m sobbing as I answer yes. I hate cats, but I love my daughter.
I was an arsonist in my youth
1. Do you remember a particular incident or moment from your own childhood that has influenced the way you raise your offspring?
I’ve kept matches away from her. When I was 6 I lit a match that razed someone’s house to the ground. It was not pleasant, even The Bells (my father) who loves me dearly, and always protected me from my crazy Dingbat (my mother) watched grimly while she tanned my hide.
2. Have you started some kind of savings plan or investment thingy for when your kidlet(s) wants to go to college or varsity?
Yes The Pickle has an educator plan and her dad has set up a trust-fundy type thing so that we can at least help her buy her first car or home. The educator plan is brilliant, by the time The Pickle needs to go to varsity my salary, god forbid I will still be working for a salary then, will all be mine! The plan will cover everything from books to res, (I’m kicking her out the minute I get a proper excuse) and pocket money.
3. Do you think it’s possible to let go of “mommy guilt”, to forgive yourself and move on, to do better?
I have yet to forgive myself for losing custody of The Pickle to her father which meant she spent the first years of her life living with a deranged moron from outer space who thinks it’s OK to teach my kid to play chess before she turns 3 and generally infect her with his OCD.
4. How long after giving birth did you want to have sex?
Two years. I did not tear. I was with a very good doctor who cut me very nicely and sewed me up just as well. I was ditched by my ex and so did not want to have sex, which had landed me with a baby in the first place. I had a very good relationship with the Chardonnay for those two years and then one day woke up horny. It took me about six months, after these two years, to psyche myself up enough to let a penis enter me punani.
I’ve kept matches away from her. When I was 6 I lit a match that razed someone’s house to the ground. It was not pleasant, even The Bells (my father) who loves me dearly, and always protected me from my crazy Dingbat (my mother) watched grimly while she tanned my hide.
2. Have you started some kind of savings plan or investment thingy for when your kidlet(s) wants to go to college or varsity?
Yes The Pickle has an educator plan and her dad has set up a trust-fundy type thing so that we can at least help her buy her first car or home. The educator plan is brilliant, by the time The Pickle needs to go to varsity my salary, god forbid I will still be working for a salary then, will all be mine! The plan will cover everything from books to res, (I’m kicking her out the minute I get a proper excuse) and pocket money.
3. Do you think it’s possible to let go of “mommy guilt”, to forgive yourself and move on, to do better?
I have yet to forgive myself for losing custody of The Pickle to her father which meant she spent the first years of her life living with a deranged moron from outer space who thinks it’s OK to teach my kid to play chess before she turns 3 and generally infect her with his OCD.
4. How long after giving birth did you want to have sex?
Two years. I did not tear. I was with a very good doctor who cut me very nicely and sewed me up just as well. I was ditched by my ex and so did not want to have sex, which had landed me with a baby in the first place. I had a very good relationship with the Chardonnay for those two years and then one day woke up horny. It took me about six months, after these two years, to psyche myself up enough to let a penis enter me punani.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
In pursuit of a genius child
1. What is the one thing you have said or done to your kid that you regret the most.
I’ve yet to. As I have said before … she is spoilt a little bit. But we're working on fixing her.
2. Have you passed any bad habits on to your kid/s?
Dancing for no reason. Like while chopping onions or waiting for my turn at the bank. It’s a dodgy trait, I know.
3. Does your own mom rock or suck?
The Dingbat is a paradoxical nightmare. I love her dearly but she can drive me utterly bonkers with anger.
4. How do you feel about TV, music, popular media around your kids? Anything in particular you feel strongly about not letting your kid/s watch/listen to/read?
To be honest I think living on the farm has turned the Pickle into a TV addict. She wakes me up with it at 5am. I’ve collected all the major children’s stories for her to read when she can and have told her the tale of Harry Potter to starry-eyed amazement. I’ll never censor what she reads, I’ll guide and hope like me, she will have read Animal Farm by the time she turns 8 and thinks the Bronte girls are pioneers.
I’ve yet to. As I have said before … she is spoilt a little bit. But we're working on fixing her.
2. Have you passed any bad habits on to your kid/s?
Dancing for no reason. Like while chopping onions or waiting for my turn at the bank. It’s a dodgy trait, I know.
3. Does your own mom rock or suck?
The Dingbat is a paradoxical nightmare. I love her dearly but she can drive me utterly bonkers with anger.
4. How do you feel about TV, music, popular media around your kids? Anything in particular you feel strongly about not letting your kid/s watch/listen to/read?
To be honest I think living on the farm has turned the Pickle into a TV addict. She wakes me up with it at 5am. I’ve collected all the major children’s stories for her to read when she can and have told her the tale of Harry Potter to starry-eyed amazement. I’ll never censor what she reads, I’ll guide and hope like me, she will have read Animal Farm by the time she turns 8 and thinks the Bronte girls are pioneers.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Missing the beat
I suspect I am missing the beat as far as raising The Pickle is concerned.
I had to be away from home this weekend and she practically screeched to be let go to the farm to be with the Pappy!
Yes, he is the Alpha Parent, but honestly, you know what it does to me to see her twirling the phone and telling her Pappy all about school. Sometimes regaling him with stories I hadn't been told.
Every picture drawn has Pappy doing heroic things like waving enthusiastically. Sometime the Mammo is not featured at all!
I know she has been living with him and everything, but I am jealous as hell.
More worrying is The Pickle totally loving the Pappy's soon-to-be-wife.
I'm going to start whispering bad things about both of them while The Pickle is asleep.
Nah ... I probably carry on doing the best I can and taking comfort in knowing she owes me for hanging around my tummy fro nine months and making me puke. Surely then, she'll feel a little obliged to give me a morsel of affection?
I had to be away from home this weekend and she practically screeched to be let go to the farm to be with the Pappy!
Yes, he is the Alpha Parent, but honestly, you know what it does to me to see her twirling the phone and telling her Pappy all about school. Sometimes regaling him with stories I hadn't been told.
Every picture drawn has Pappy doing heroic things like waving enthusiastically. Sometime the Mammo is not featured at all!
I know she has been living with him and everything, but I am jealous as hell.
More worrying is The Pickle totally loving the Pappy's soon-to-be-wife.
I'm going to start whispering bad things about both of them while The Pickle is asleep.
Nah ... I probably carry on doing the best I can and taking comfort in knowing she owes me for hanging around my tummy fro nine months and making me puke. Surely then, she'll feel a little obliged to give me a morsel of affection?
Monday, February 4, 2008
Full Marks! I answered first!
1. How is mothering, in reality, different from what you expected it to be?
There is a lot less cuddling and snuggling up to mom than I expected. More like watching this monstrosity who made you fat for nine months grow up and becoming a person in their own right, knowing there is nothing you can do about it.
2. What is something you, as a kid, vowed you would never say to your own kids? Have you kept the vow?
I never wanted to have a child. I have made a promise to never tell her that, but sometimes she tries really hard to get it out of me. So far, I’ve held out.
3. If someone stopped in to your house for a surprise visit, would you be glad for the company, or self-conscious by the condition of your home?
I usually pretend I’m not home. I have those camera thingamjiks at the gate. If you don’t tell me you’re coming over, chances are I’m gonna pretend I’m out. However, even with invited guests, you don’t like sharing the couch with The Pickle’s doll, tough shit.
4. If you had twins tomorrow (boy and a girl) and you got to name them without any input from anyone else, what would you choose?
Bugger, I dunno, possibly some hard-to-pronounce Xhosa name like, Qhamani and Qhayiya.
5. Did you suffer from postnatal depression (this is an awful boring question but I always wonder about this cause I didn't suffer myself)?
No but I did suffer from denial. So I spent a lot of money on baby sitters so I could carry on with my nightly debauchery.
There is a lot less cuddling and snuggling up to mom than I expected. More like watching this monstrosity who made you fat for nine months grow up and becoming a person in their own right, knowing there is nothing you can do about it.
2. What is something you, as a kid, vowed you would never say to your own kids? Have you kept the vow?
I never wanted to have a child. I have made a promise to never tell her that, but sometimes she tries really hard to get it out of me. So far, I’ve held out.
3. If someone stopped in to your house for a surprise visit, would you be glad for the company, or self-conscious by the condition of your home?
I usually pretend I’m not home. I have those camera thingamjiks at the gate. If you don’t tell me you’re coming over, chances are I’m gonna pretend I’m out. However, even with invited guests, you don’t like sharing the couch with The Pickle’s doll, tough shit.
4. If you had twins tomorrow (boy and a girl) and you got to name them without any input from anyone else, what would you choose?
Bugger, I dunno, possibly some hard-to-pronounce Xhosa name like, Qhamani and Qhayiya.
5. Did you suffer from postnatal depression (this is an awful boring question but I always wonder about this cause I didn't suffer myself)?
No but I did suffer from denial. So I spent a lot of money on baby sitters so I could carry on with my nightly debauchery.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
The Pickle is a cheecky little sod
One of the biggest challenges of being a full-time mum is the visitation to the Alpha Parent.
The Pickle has been living with her Pappy since she was just a baby. It was because of circumstance that she ended up living with him, chief among which, was my going back to school.
Now she lives with me.
It’s been a sheer challenge.
Last weekend she visited her father for the first time this year. He had come over to see her for a day but this was their first weekend together.
The Pappy and I had agreed that he should stay away longer so that she gets used to being cooped up behind tall walls, electric gates, no pets, no farm animals and her new play school. But on Thursday The Pickle threw the biggest fit known to man.
She kicked, she creamed, she swore and ended the whole debacle spectacularly by throwing up. She wanted to see Gwenny (The Dingbat), and Papi and Mr Darcy (the cat I won’t allow in my house).
I let her go.
Now she is back.
Any form of routine we had established she has thrown out the window. She is back to waking up at 5am, playing her animation DVDs with the volume very high and demanding breakfast at 6am. She is refusing to eat the prepared supper, opting instead to demand all sorts of take out.
My patience is fizzling.
My daughter is a spoilt brat.
What are the laws on smacking em?
The Pickle has been living with her Pappy since she was just a baby. It was because of circumstance that she ended up living with him, chief among which, was my going back to school.
Now she lives with me.
It’s been a sheer challenge.
Last weekend she visited her father for the first time this year. He had come over to see her for a day but this was their first weekend together.
The Pappy and I had agreed that he should stay away longer so that she gets used to being cooped up behind tall walls, electric gates, no pets, no farm animals and her new play school. But on Thursday The Pickle threw the biggest fit known to man.
She kicked, she creamed, she swore and ended the whole debacle spectacularly by throwing up. She wanted to see Gwenny (The Dingbat), and Papi and Mr Darcy (the cat I won’t allow in my house).
I let her go.
Now she is back.
Any form of routine we had established she has thrown out the window. She is back to waking up at 5am, playing her animation DVDs with the volume very high and demanding breakfast at 6am. She is refusing to eat the prepared supper, opting instead to demand all sorts of take out.
My patience is fizzling.
My daughter is a spoilt brat.
What are the laws on smacking em?
Monday, January 28, 2008
Bad Mommy Homemork: Bridget Asks The Questions.
The format of these is really simple. I'm the Bad Cop as well as the Good Cop. This is an Interrogation Chamber! You answer my questions! End of story.
1. What was your biggest disappointment when you found out you were pregnant and how did you cope with it?
2. How have you managed, if you have, to retain the friendships of child-less friends?
3. Have you acknowledged the mistakes you have made in raising your child, to your child?
4. What is the best thing your kid's other parent has said about your parenting?
5. What is the worst?
1. What was your biggest disappointment when you found out you were pregnant and how did you cope with it?
2. How have you managed, if you have, to retain the friendships of child-less friends?
3. Have you acknowledged the mistakes you have made in raising your child, to your child?
4. What is the best thing your kid's other parent has said about your parenting?
5. What is the worst?
Monday, January 21, 2008
Mommy not so dear!
Ok, I’ll expand on this because I need to make it a blog now. Seems like the Blog Administrator is a bit of a tyrant who was not going to have any of my short cuts! So Moved it from comments ya’ll dig?
1. What do you remember most clearly about the birth of your kid(s)?
1 - I induced the birth of The Pickle because I had exams coming up and wanted it out of the way. Don’t worry all, I did it in controlled medical conditions.
2. What weird cravings did you have, if any?
2 - I lived on Nando's extra-hot. Which I would chase with kiwis and litchis. This was utterly strange, but I loved it.
3. What other names were you debating, before you settled on the name you did?
3 - I didn't settle on the name. The Dingbat kinda forced it on me. I wanted to call me bebe Denise. I love the name Denise, so many funky nick-names can come out of it. But The Dingbat looked like she was going to cry if I didn’t name my child after her favorite aunt. Luckily the name was not too hideous.
4. What's the hardest part about being a mommy?
4 - Having to put someone else's needs before your own. And waiting for them to become the nightmare you were to your parents. This is truly scary. I was telling Sheena about my brief stint as a member of The Sweethearts back in my youth. It was a totally lame gang, skinheads and on the Ku Klux Klan! I shudder to think what The Pickle will get herself into!
5. How did becoming a mommy change you?
5 - I never gave it a chance to really change me. It's only now that I am taking baby steps. For those who don’t know, it’s the first time I am living with my child full-time since she was 1.5-years-old.
6. What advice would you give any future mommies-to-be?
6 - If you want a child. Wait a couple of years. If you still want one then, get yourself into counseling for a year. If you still want one after that, don't expect the benefits to outweigh the sacrifices. This is not necessarily a bad thing, I’m just telling you that there are no standing ovations for your triumphs but you can be guaranteed an appreciative audience for your failures.
1. What do you remember most clearly about the birth of your kid(s)?
1 - I induced the birth of The Pickle because I had exams coming up and wanted it out of the way. Don’t worry all, I did it in controlled medical conditions.
2. What weird cravings did you have, if any?
2 - I lived on Nando's extra-hot. Which I would chase with kiwis and litchis. This was utterly strange, but I loved it.
3. What other names were you debating, before you settled on the name you did?
3 - I didn't settle on the name. The Dingbat kinda forced it on me. I wanted to call me bebe Denise. I love the name Denise, so many funky nick-names can come out of it. But The Dingbat looked like she was going to cry if I didn’t name my child after her favorite aunt. Luckily the name was not too hideous.
4. What's the hardest part about being a mommy?
4 - Having to put someone else's needs before your own. And waiting for them to become the nightmare you were to your parents. This is truly scary. I was telling Sheena about my brief stint as a member of The Sweethearts back in my youth. It was a totally lame gang, skinheads and on the Ku Klux Klan! I shudder to think what The Pickle will get herself into!
5. How did becoming a mommy change you?
5 - I never gave it a chance to really change me. It's only now that I am taking baby steps. For those who don’t know, it’s the first time I am living with my child full-time since she was 1.5-years-old.
6. What advice would you give any future mommies-to-be?
6 - If you want a child. Wait a couple of years. If you still want one then, get yourself into counseling for a year. If you still want one after that, don't expect the benefits to outweigh the sacrifices. This is not necessarily a bad thing, I’m just telling you that there are no standing ovations for your triumphs but you can be guaranteed an appreciative audience for your failures.
Friday, January 18, 2008
The Pickle is smoking
I found The Pickle with a stump of cigarette, a lighter and a cheeky grin on her face.
I didn't know what to do. (This was amended from "don't know what to do". I actually meant, at that time, I had no clue what to say and do.)
To make matters worse, I finally let her pathetic Pappy come and see her last night. So when we discovered this little scene, he rounded on me so fast I was afraid I was going to get blown away.
“What the fuck are you doing letting her smoke?” He asks of me in high dungeon.
Yes, you moron, I am letting my 5-year-old demon smoke!
So now I have moved the smokes out of reach in the back porch where I smoke and administered the little lecture for The Pickle.
I think that is enough.
I didn't know what to do. (This was amended from "don't know what to do". I actually meant, at that time, I had no clue what to say and do.)
To make matters worse, I finally let her pathetic Pappy come and see her last night. So when we discovered this little scene, he rounded on me so fast I was afraid I was going to get blown away.
“What the fuck are you doing letting her smoke?” He asks of me in high dungeon.
Yes, you moron, I am letting my 5-year-old demon smoke!
So now I have moved the smokes out of reach in the back porch where I smoke and administered the little lecture for The Pickle.
I think that is enough.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Meet The Bridge: Your Veritable Crappy Momma!
1. She is as fat as a plum. Almost 5-years-old and a motor mouth. Her name is The Pickle.
2. I never give out my cellphone number to anyone but people who seriously need to have it. Currently, only six people have it, the extra two being very recent additions, its usually just four people.
When I was 17/18 I tried to kill myself sixteen times. I am as surprised as you are at my uselessness in this regard. I obviously never wanted to die that young.
I would like to write a book about Jacob Zuma whom I hate with an unreasoning passion!
3. When she was two months old she was attacked by African bees. She had 36 stings and lived to tell the tale, well not really as she couldn’t speak etc etc.
She calls me BRIDGET when she is annoyed with me.
She dances like a rock star!
4. “How the fuck did I land myself in this situation?”
5. Honestly don’t have one. I raise her, one day at a time, drunk or sober.
6. That they would invent a growth pill that would catapult her into her 30s as it is the best time to be alive if you didn’t spend your 20s drunk and under some man’s thumb.
2. I never give out my cellphone number to anyone but people who seriously need to have it. Currently, only six people have it, the extra two being very recent additions, its usually just four people.
When I was 17/18 I tried to kill myself sixteen times. I am as surprised as you are at my uselessness in this regard. I obviously never wanted to die that young.
I would like to write a book about Jacob Zuma whom I hate with an unreasoning passion!
3. When she was two months old she was attacked by African bees. She had 36 stings and lived to tell the tale, well not really as she couldn’t speak etc etc.
She calls me BRIDGET when she is annoyed with me.
She dances like a rock star!
4. “How the fuck did I land myself in this situation?”
5. Honestly don’t have one. I raise her, one day at a time, drunk or sober.
6. That they would invent a growth pill that would catapult her into her 30s as it is the best time to be alive if you didn’t spend your 20s drunk and under some man’s thumb.
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