the changing definition.

And, here we are. On the very cusp of change.

The very facet of life by which I have defined myself changes within the next twenty-four hours.

And change…this change is good.

The selfish ways of my life are ending. The one where I focus entirely and only on two things, now become three.

Today, I sleep for the last time in a home I have created and forged and cobbled together alone, with the cheerleading and pom-pom shaking of my daughter.

When I became a single parent, she was still in diapers. Nowadays, she’s choosing curtains and reading books at night.

From tomorrow, there won’t just be me to investigate things that go bump in the night. From tomorrow, there will be two people to dry tears, read stories and run bubble baths.

I’ve done this on my own for more than five years…I feel like I’m graduating.

As I walk towards the greatest of our life changes, I am grateful for the strength that has guided me through it. I am thankful for the love that this life change has created. I am fall-upon-my-knees grateful for the daughter I’ve been blessed with. It is this experience that has moulded me.

I’m overwhelmed that, from tomorrow, two become three.

Change. Beginnings. Strength.

Dear Daughter of Mine,

Well, you’ve done it. You’ve taken the first step into the big, wide world. You’re flung, headfirst, into big school. And how you’ve grown. I am sure you will soar. Just remember, whenever your wings feel weak, I am here to hold them up, and an army of family of friends are here to love you and support you, right the way through. We’ve got your back, your front, your middle and your heart.

Don’t change. I know life is throwing change at us right now. So. Much. Change. It’s good change. We keep swimming, keep moving, keep making every day beautiful. Good change. We morph from two to three. Love multiplies.

I know school is sometimes scary, sometimes fun and sometimes…hard. I have to confess, I loved the first two years of it. After that, I loathed it. I hope it is different for you. My loathing for it had more to do with the people in it, than it did the learning aspect. Don’t be afraid to learn. Don’t be afraid to express. Don’t be afraid to show the world the gigantic beauty that lives within you.

And I know this song is one that you know the words to…well, no, you know the parody version pretty well :P…but, this is for you today…

I made you, I grew you within my belly, and I raise you, every day. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing to be scared of. Mama loves you…

…don’t hide yourself in regret…just love yourself and you’re set…

My first thought for the year.

1) Platitudes. I realise this is weird but, I loathe saying the following things: Happy New Year; Happy holidays; Happy Christmas; Happy Birthday. I know that sounds mean, but I can’t stand platitudes. I’d rather say something a little more creative, which makes me think that you’ve actually put some thought into it. Like “I hope this year is the one where your dream about that house you want to buy comes true”. It’s pointed, it’s personal and you can tell someone’s really thought about wishing YOU a happy time. Just a random thought, whilst we’re just emerging from the season of festive platitudes.

2) This year, is an attempt to get less irritated with myself. Seriously. I mean it. That’s what I want to try and achieve this year. It may seem absolutely banal to you, but it’s huge for me.

3) This year is also about much change. I will, after five years of it(aside from that good old Sheena invasion :P) be giving up my loner habitation habits. Weird, good feeling. Lots of change this year, all of it progressive and moving forward.

4) I am so lucky in love. So blessed with magnificent people in my life. This holiday has reminded me of that over and over and over again. I am infinitely rich in love.


mama love and teenage dreams

Last night, I dreamt you were a teenager. In my dream you were tall and, of course, beautiful, just as you are now. The strangest thing for me was that you spoke with an adult voice. It was surreal, and my mind boggled. When I awoke this morning, my heart was in a mild panic – where had the time gone?

Thankfully, after coffee and sneaking a peek at you dreamily cosied up in your Hello Kitty pyjamas, I realised it was just a dream. I await those teenage years with a sense of trepidation and excitement. I hope you are less confused than I was as a teenager, and I hope that you know, all the way through those tumultuous, hormone-driven years, that you are incredibly loved. I’ll support you when you decide you’d like to be an artist. I’ll support you when you decide you want to be an accountant. I’ll support you when you decide you’d like to be a teacher. I’ll support you in whatever dream you devise to live towards.

Life changes, constantly. You and I have been through some dramatic evolutions throughout your life. But, all of them, barring one event, have led to good. All of them, barring none, have cemented the love you and I have. The very special relationship that is strong and of which I am infinitely proud. We know each other, like no other. You know when I have had “a day”, and I know when something’s up with you, before you even open your mouth to speak. My mama love has grown, every day, just as you have grown every day. Your incredible sense of love for everyone around you has shone through, even when you have been hurt. You make me very, very proud.

Yesterday, when we were sorting through your piles and piles of “dress up” jewellery, you remarked that “this one, mama, this one”, is your favourite necklace. It’s simple necklace with three hearts. I asked why it was, and you reminded me that a very special friend of ours gave it to you. And then you said something that made my heart fly around the room with a smile. You said “mommy, there’s three hearts there, and you know, life is more fun with three of us”. Then you gave it to me and said,

“Mama, you wear it to work tomorrow. It’ll remind you of me and all of us, together”.

Dear, sweet, wonderful girl. You make my heart’s flowers bloom. Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for being so incredibly mine. I’m wearing your necklace today with pride. 

I have a few thoughts…

1. This song, today. I’ve been thinking alot about world events, because of a friend, who brings much to light. I’m keeping this song in my head alot at the moment, because it calms me. And reminds me.

2. Today is 19 months with my precious, wonderful Shmooshy. Lucky, lucky girl, I am.

3. I’ve been up since 2am. I’ve mentioned this previously. I watched my kid sleep. I do that a lot, I know. And one day, she’s going to wake up and shout at me for it. I hope not. But, for the moment, I love the quiet observance of watching my sacred blessing snooze. She kicks in her sleep, like I did as a child, and sprawls her way across the bed like it’s a land to be explored overnight. I was exactly the same as a child, and, apparently, I still am. She wraps herself within the covers, tightly, or throws them off sleepily, dependent on the heat or cold of the evening. That quiet observation, in a dim light, there is so much peace for me in those moments. Lucky, lucky mama, I am.

4. I’m trying very hard not to obsess as neurotically as done before. In a way, that’s quite a funny resolution – obsess over the need to not obsess over things as intensely as I always have. I like to think I’m just more aware of my tendency to be overly affected. I honestly envy unaffected people. People who can shrug off distemper, or carry on regardless, in the face of disappointment. Mentally, I feel like I’m training myself to get over things a little more easily. The littlest disappointments don’t pinch me as much. That’s progress for the little girl who still thinks she fat because someone she didn’t know said so when she was nine.



i write because it’s the one thing i feel i really know how to do.

So, this is it. The precipice of change. I have a ramble again tonight. These, literally, are the thoughts…from underneath the couch.


1. Something I have truly believed in. A love that I knew, and was like home to me, has ended. Well, not the love as such, but the relationship attached to it. It makes my heart ache for the people involved. It’s life and it happens but they both do not deserve any pain. They deserve no pain whatsoever. My little heart lurches for them.


2. I had a sad day. The type of day where I want noone to come near me but, feel absolutely swallowed at the same time. I guess, in some respects, it’s okay to have sad days. Today was just a day, and it’s behind me now. I’m hoping for smiles tomorrow. I choose to see it as it is, and nothing more. This sad will pass.


3. Home. The pictures are off the walls, the packing begins in earnest. The administrative side of things rolls into motion. I feel strangely bereft. This was the home where we stood on our own, this was the home that was truly ours alone. We made it as we wanted to. For the first time, truly, I felt this was our true home. The one we created and where we started to really become the family we were always working towards. Our bubble expanded and this is where we stood, confidently. This was our home. And now, we move on. Yes, we move on to different and new things. Things for comfort, possibilities to create again. We move on, we grow up, we are propelled forward. But, I’m still heartsore. A little scared by the precipice of change before us.


4. And in that fear, I guess, there lies discovery. The possibility of new beginnings. it’s so funny, really. People look at me askew a little. Why the big deal about where you lay your head at night? The truth is, home is one of the most important things in the world to me. It wasn’t always that way. Before, I was happy to be vaguely nomadic, solaced by new experiences or whatever came my way. But, somewhere along the line, probably when I became a mom, possibly beforehand, I felt a keening need to make a home for my heart, and not just my head. Home to me is not just a place to lay that head. Home to me is akin to skin, and I think I get that from my parents. Their home was never stagnant, always busy, filled with love and piles and piles of paper. Heh. My siblings will laugh at that line. Now that I can’t ever go home again, can’t see my parents again, that need to be home, to make a home, to live within a true home, is evermore present and yearning. Maybe I’m just growing up, even  though my eternally giggling Peter Pan complex laughs at me and wonders what on earth I am up to. Maybe I just have to grow up. After the bereft feeling, I feel a sense of new beginnings.

gestating (no, not me)…

5. I feel compelled to write about how other people are feeling now. Right now, they’re feeling the same way. That same strange mixture of wonder and worry. But that’s all I’m saying right now about other people’s feelings. I just know that I’m not alone in this space. I think it’s light green and kind of like bubble wrap. This week is like suspended animation. Like it’s gestating a new beginning. I guess it is. This paragraph has more codespeak in it than only very select friends of mine will understand.

i am still i…

6. It’s not all sad or weird though. I’m still here, still strong in my fluffy slippers and hard as nails brutal attack face.

stuck in my head…

7. I have Jesse – Joshua Kadison stuck in my head.


8. That sleeping thing? The sleeping fairies seem to have gone visiting to a foreign land again. I think this will settle soon enough. It better or I’m taking the fairies’ passports away the next time I see them.

i rate it more highly than smoking…

9. Sometimes I just need to write things down to stop the internal swirling and then I get to rest again. I write, because it’s the one thing I really feel I know how to do.

now there’s an old line

10. My internet connection is sucking ridiculously right now. It’s more up and down than panties on prom night.

leaving behind…

11. Oh, I almost forgot. There is one thing I get to leave behind now. In the transition from the-home-where-we-started-and-began-again-and-started-and-began-again-and-started-and-began-again, when we moved here, I came into this home with a broken heart. I get to leave every piece of that pain behind.


12. This home is where my heart healed. This home is where I found real love. The love that sits with me on sad days, and dances with me in the sunshine. This home is where my heart healed. This home is where my heart came home.

Mamalove writes.

Dear Cam,

Well, we’re here. At the precipice of the changes that you and I have spoken about. Tomorrow, you start a new school. In two weeks, we have a new home.

I know, and you know, that there has been a lot of change recently. All of it good but, as you and I both know, change, no matter how, is always hard. There’s always that period of adjustment where we both hang for a bit, suspended. You’ve inherited your resistance to change from both your parents, and you deal with it in exactly the same way we both do – you ignore it until it’s right in front of your face, and then try to resist it still.

So, you’ve been ignoring it. Granted, you’re excited yet trepidatious. I know that once the next few weeks are over, things will settle into routine and you’ll be back to being yourself again. I know, my baby, I know. I’m battling with the idea that you are growing up. All this evolution that happens so quickly. All this tallness. When did you get so tall? Now that, that I KNOW you got from your father.

The thing about these changes, see, is not only are they good but, we’re supported in them. Both of us. It’s not just me holding you up and egging you forward. It’s all of us. It’s not just you and me against the world here. We’ve got love, we’ve got family, we’ve got friends and we’ve got support. Mama even has some friends who let her rant and then tell her to buck up and grow up. They know exactly who they are, and they are so very right indeed.

I know you will be a shining star. I know you’ll do as you do, and charm the smiles from everyone. I know seperating from everyone that you have come to lean on over time, is hard. I promise you will make new friends. I promise you, my girl.

Tonight, you and I will pack your bag, talk over dinner and after your bedtime-storytime, I will hug you tightly and kiss you on the head. Just like every night. Just, tonight, tonight we say goodnight, forever, to your baby days. Tomorrow, we say good morning to your big girl days.

Mama is so proud of you. Mama is so blessed to have you. Mama is right beside you, all the way.



The One Where I Wrap Up

It’s my last day in the office today. Today is that day, every year where I reflect. I’m doing it simply this year…Simply, for a lot of reasons…

1. It has been a year of love.

2. It has been a year of home. Real, true home, in every sense of the word. I have not travelled much at all this year, aside from a quick trip to Cape Town, and another one next week.

3. It has been a year of growing up.

4. It has been a year of loss.

5. It has been a year of being proud of the people I love.

6. It has been a year of hard work.

7. It has been a year of coming full circle, via a 360-kickflip of life.

8. It has been a year of learning how to sleep.

9. It has been a year of ranting but, for a change, I mostly ranted to someone. I love that man of mine.

10. It has been a year of gratitude.

11. It has been a year of Androidness.

12. It has been a year of being able to trust.

Thank you for this year.

thought – worst moment of the year

1. This will be my first Christmas without my parents. There will be no phonecall with my mom. There will be no well-meaning, wonderful gifts to her grandchildren from her. I will not be eating the marzipan off my mother’s Christmas cake for the first time ever. This will be my first Christmas without my mother.

2. The worst moment of this year was telling her that she was dying. The fact that she got so ill, so weak and then died thereafter, pales in comparison to the moment she was told she was dying. Cancer killed her, but her spirit reigned. But, still, telling the fiercest lion that it is dying…worst moment of this year. It was that awful jump from “She’s sick” to “It’s Cancer” to “It’s terminal“…Her face, her eyes behind her glasses, the little jolt of shock. The way she said “oh”, after she was told. When it was all over, and I asked that people leave me alone with her, all I wanted to do was whisk her away and tell her it was just a bad joke, and wished it was not real. It was real. It was so real I still feel it, every day. More than I can write about.

3. I do have a bright side today, I promise. It’s just that I realised these two things right now as I sit here.