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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On Reflection

My mother, Cynthia

My background is not one of affluence, or what one could in any way term a cushioned life. That said, with all the challenges my siblings and I faced growing up, mum never allowed us to dwell in our misery or focus too much on the negative. And you know sometimes how you just want to kvetch, bitch, whine, or rail, even just for a moment? My mother would not have it. There were days you wanted to cry out: “For Pete’s sake, when on earth can I be depressed or miserable about something? Is this bad enough? Or this?”

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