On Reflection

Paint me happy

There is a moment, a nano-second, when deciding to re-decorate an apartment makes sense to you. My moment was a day before work when I sat in my favourite armchair drinking my one and only cup of coffee for the day.

It’s the time I take stock, think about the day ahead, stop thinking about the day ahead, and just sit for 15 minutes. It’s the time in the day I call up gratitude and mind all the things, places and people I am grateful to have in my life. It didn’t occur to me two weeks ago to be effing grateful for a well-ordered apartment in which I could sit, drink coffee and navel gaze.

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My cousin, Sara

From the first, Bronnie talked about his cousin Sara as friend, sister, confidante. And although I wasn’t to know it then, Sara and I were one day to become cousins by marriage.

Our first meeting (memory don’t fail me now) was at a restaurant in Boston. Bronnie and I were in the throes of the messy beginnings of our relationship amidst judgement and opinion – some valid, some not, most unsolicited.

This was the background against which I was to meet this doyenne Bronnie so revered.

And what did I know secondhand? Well, I knew Sara was funny, cultural, intelligent, intellectual and creative. She had been a clown for many years and (naturally) a good one. Nicknamed ‘Dilly’ the clown, I knew Sara then interchangeably by her birth name and her stage name. She was later to step out from behind the shield of Dilly and ask to be known by her given name.

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EDP Column

When this fool rushed in

For someone who is not easily surprised or taken in, one April Fool’s Day I was surprised and easily taken in by my four children.

It began with my daughter ringing me at work gushing the news that her older brother had announced his engagement on Facebook, and wasn’t that great, Mum?

No it wasn’t great as evidenced by the head of steam I had built up in the time it took me to stab out her brother’s mobile number. I got the answering machine. 

“Hey, you, I just received a confusing message from your sister that you’ve announced your engagement on Facebook. Of course I told her she must be mistaken, because no way would you do anything of the kind without letting me know first.”

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Gibberish Generation

Accepting a less perfect parenting standard

My parenting standards are high – it’s the execution of those standards that can sometimes let me down. And I am admitting this to give hope, or at least immediate solace, to new or inexperienced parents who set themselves the impossible task of getting it right all the time. Hell, getting it right at any point is where my parenting bar eventually ended up.

It began with breast feeding. For a child no bigger than a half bag of boiled sweets, my first baby girl fed like a blue whale. Blue whales, the largest animals on earth (I think), can apparently eat up to 8 tons of food per day. In a Man vs Food contest, my money would have gone on the little whale constantly attached to my human teet. Bear that in mind for this next bit.

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