Category Archives: Thoughts

The sky is blue and, well, grey

, , ,

I’m currently reading Shauna Niequist’s ‘Bread and Wine’ and in it she talks about a New Years party that she planned, fairly idyllically, which turned out to be a bit of a mess and nothing like she imagined, but the real rawness of the experience trumped any previously wished-for perfection.

Today, was that day. A beautiful mess. And I think we need to hear these stories to be encouraged.

It all started yesterday when I dropped my toddler at school and learned about the pajama party that was to be held at school, the.following.day. ‘Dressing gowns and all’ she mentioned. Dressing gown? Clay doesn’t own a dressing gown. Bad parent. So, an urgent call to my mom on the side of the road rectified that – she was all over it. A gown, she would find. I could relax.

The dressing gown was located and purchased; crisis averted. We wrapped it up, and added it to the inappropriately large pile of presents for Clay’s 3rd birthday, the next day. Cupcakes were baked & iced, gummy snake sweets packed, balloons blown and streamers strewn. Supermom here, is all over it. Oh, and did I mention my husband is in Florida?

Birthday Day arrives (bearing in mind I’m leaving out the night before and HAVING TO sleep RIGHT NEXT TO the packed up gummy snake sweets, and frantically washing Clay’s winter PJs at 9:30pm because they had, should we say, a public bathroom stench and of course it was PJ party day that next day) aaaaand… we’re up, at 5:30am. Birthday Day.

The day started (early) with kids fighting over toys, bedding and trying to Skype their dad who was in a time zone 6 hours behind us. About 317 crackly frustrating calls later, dad was able to join in the birthday festivities on audio. Birthday songs were sung and presents were ripped open and barely looked at before the next one was pounced upon. Coffee spilled, carefully selected clothes given as presents ‘not needed’ apparently – announced by the birthday king himself – and the base plate of Lego (upon which one builds duplo) had a picture of a Lego house which was nowhere to be seen (obviously, because it’s just a picture illustrating the use of the base plate, not advertising a house that COMES with a base plate) – but try explain that to a toddler. On his birthday. When birthday hyperactivity is on overload, and no one is of sound mind. It was nothing short of a small World War. No one wanted to be changed (into clothes or now clean, barely dry, winter PJs). No one wanted anything but beautifully decorated cupcakes for breakfast, and, with a few fights and strong short phrases spoken (either threatening or bribing, I can’t remember), off to school we went.

Leaving 20min early, and driving at roughly 15km per hour to school with 16 delicately decorated cupcakes balancing precariously on the front seat of the car, I barely made it on time.

I joined in for the Birthday Ring at his school, armed with my iPhone to capture every precious, perfect, proud-mom moment. I arrived to see a dirty, crown-less Birthday Boy because why would you wear a crown with a huge 3 on it when it’s your 3rd birthday? Our little treasure had chosen a blue rabbit toothbrush from the school gift box as his present. Well done my son, that’s very practical, your father would be proud.

Since my folks had an prior engagement on the birthday evening (and hubby was away), I thought I’d invite my mother-in-law, sister-in-law and Clay’s 2 cousins for a post-school cuppa and play at a coffee shop around the corner. What construed between school and the coffee shop involved almost being attacked by a dog (jumping into our car off the street), driving back to draw money, fill up with petrol, have my bank card decline… AAAAAND now I’m running late. And then, because, well, why not… I happened to drive past the coin operated machine thing outside our local grocery store. Bad move Debbie, bad move. Worse than your son not having a gown mid-winter. I hate those coin operated things. Clay screamed for me to stop the car as if someone was dislocating his limbs, slowly, one at a time. I considered calling off the coffee date altogether and suggest we abandon the beautiful playground location I had chosen, and replace it with the plastic, dirty, paint chipped tractor outside Checkers. That would be nice.

Just as we pulled into the parking lot, I turned around to see… Clay fast asleep. By this time the blog post was writing itself. There were desperate phone calls made, the waking of sleeping children (as if I had missed that parenting class), tears, mess, spills, babychinos not big enough, very, very stinky diapers (I chose not to care); there was chaos, cold coffee, wet socks, and babies eating raw pizza dough intended for children to play with, and then cook. Just what I’d imagined this 3rd birthday to look like.


As we drove home, Clay looked out the car widow and said ‘mom, the sky is blue, and, well… grey’. That was just it. That was our day.

I’m just like Shauna. I like things neat and tidy (and in a box with a bow; raffia if we’re going rustic, ribbon if we’re going fancy). And today despite my desperate, genuinely pure and noble intentions toward a small human I adore with every cell of my entire self, was not neat, certainly not tidy, and in a box torn apart as quickly as birthday present paper is ripped to reveal its contents (albeit, not clothes apparently – gowns included). Daddy was far away, the red icing (which had to be RED RED and not just RED) tasted, to me, more like food colouring than icing, Clay guzzled his gummy snake with manners cavemen would’ve shunned, the stench of the day was of Clay’s unsavoury nappy (that I could not gather enough energy to change), and the conversation over coffee was disjointed, bitsy and desperate for adult connection.

But that’s just it. That’s us. That’s the real life underneath the Pinterest life. And it’s okay. The mess. The ideal is so seldom a reality, if ever. Be it in marriage, or vocation, in parenthood or trying to celebrate a 3 year old – so much of it is beautifully blue, wonderful, crisp, warm, clear, bright. And then there’s the grey. The hard, tiring and messy. Just as real, and just as okay.

And then out of nowhere (literally) my boy says ‘hey thanks mom for a wonderful day’ and then we headed home, quite weary. And as the lights switched off at 4pm (thanks to load shedding) we snuggled on the ground playing Lego on the new base plate that didn’t come with a house.

And it’s all okay, better than ok. It was beautifully blue, with a bit of grey.

You get what you get

, , , ,

Clayden (our almost 3 year old) comes home from school with some classic one liners.

His most recent has been ‘you get what you get and you don’t get upset’. When Clay was going through a (painful) ‘I don’t want to’ phase, I asked his teacher what an appropriate response would be (as opposed to ‘I dont CARE’ which seemed slightly insensitive and un-role-model like), to which she suggested ‘well, sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do’. It’s come back to bite us in the ass from time to time (from the mouth of our very own first-born himself) but it often jabs me with conviction when I speak those words to him, while inwardly having my own private kicking-and-screaming tantrums about my own life.

If I’m honest, our life is a bit of a mess at the moment. We’re in a fairly intense holding pattern. It’s like we’re sitting in the boarding lounge of an airport, checked in, ready to go, travellers angst building. We’ve waved goodbye to what’s behind us but have not yet boarded the plane we’re so anxious to board. It’s like we’re waiting, desperate for that announcement informing us that our gate is open for boarding.

Between moving continents after a (and I know I sound dramatic but significantly) life changing season, landing afresh in a city we haven’t lived in in 10 years, selling property, buying property, living with family, finding jobs (real, grown up jobs), creating some sense of security for the kids, being afraid of settling and being desperate to settle at the same time, longing for routine and denying the promptings of the next adventure. It’s a mess. Fights are real, stress is hard, the future is unknown and it’s a raw, struggle-filled, constantly-evaluating-everything, swimming-through-mud kinda slog. It’s ongoing. And it’s been almost 7 months.


But, ‘sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do’. Sometimes we need to say hard goodbyes, close doors, make difficult phone calls, allow yourself to feel, or accept the tougher climb. We need to grind our teeth, push hard, sweat it out and embrace it. And, amazingly enough in the end, we’re so much better off for it. We might have some battle wounds, but wow, life is raw and beautiful on the other side. I sound as if we’re on the other side – we’re not.

What we are though, is stronger, braver, and more courageous. Don’t think I’m all heroine-like. I’m far from it. If you could see how quickly I can chew my way through a brick of fondant icing in a moment of weakness, you’d be horrified. Oh beautiful, beautiful sugar, my go-to. My soft spot.

And so I hold on, by my fingernails, because ‘the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything’. (James 1:3-4) 

‘We know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope, does not disappoint’. (Romans 5:3-4)

And so sometimes you get what you get, and sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do. Sometimes we need to dig into a tin of condensed milk and watch pitch perfect for the thousandth time or we may need a long hard run and a cry in the shower, either way, it’s okay. Let’s walk this journey together.

As my friend Claire says, all jobs (tasks, adventures, struggles, celebrations…) are better with a friend.

So cheers to you my friends. You’re rock stars.

Thinking Organic

, , , , ,

Back in Vancouver, when summer eveeeentually broke free, we would always scramble to sign up to receive a CSA box.

CSA stands for Community Supported Agriculture. This is a prepaid subscription to a farm’s produce for the season. Most CSA’s give shareholders a weekly supply of veggies, herbs, fruits and sometimes even eggs and meat. You know it’s fresh and you often have the opportunity to visit the farm and meet the people who grew your food. How rad? The prepaid CSA arrangement also makes it a source of financial security for the farmer. You’re a team. At the end of the day your food is fresh, seasonal, local and by getting involved you are supporting your local farmers. The best bit often was trying to identify unfamiliar produce items and Google how to use them in your meals that week.

So you can imagine my delight when I heard about Think Organic. They do a similar thing, but all year round, and so I jumped online, ordered my family budget bag of fruits and veggies, and wrote to Jamie Feldman, one of the founders – asking him about they got started here in Cape Town.

Here’s the scoop: Think Organic launched as an online shop in 2013 by himself and Natalie Coyne. After Jamie’s mom was diagnosed with cancer, part of her treatment included a diet change and organic juicing (I’m not surprised) and they thought to develop an online shop whereby they could promote the produce of local organic farms to like-minded people who are conscious about what they eat.

Natalie and Jamie source the produce from local farmers (now friends) and consider compostable packaging another important avenue to rethink (as should we). The Think Organic team love chatting to their clients, answering questions, and are working hard at building the community of farmers, organic consumers and green-friends. They know where all their food comes from and consider trust to be one of their highest priorities in the way they do business. Encouraging local farming also provides jobs for previously unemployed people in the surrounding areas, which is close to Jamie and Natalie’s hearts.

You can pop into their Kenilworth store (23a Putney Road) and build your own bag of all things organic (fruit, veggies, meats, seeds, breads, coffee, dairy products, and and aaaand) or grab a pre-packed bag. The budget bag costs R105 and the family bag is R155 (which I didn’t think was particularly expensive) and contains a variety of their choosing – similar to our Vancouver CSA boxes. There are also various pick up zones for easy collection convenience. This is what my bag looked like:


And this is what my littlie thought about it:

As they say ‘It all starts with a thought, so think organic‘.

If you have any questions, check Think Organic out at www.thinkorganic.co.za or email Jamie on shop@thinkorganic.co.za.

(Pictures taken by myself as well as taken from Think Organic’s Instagram account) 

The Beauty of Seasons

, , , , ,

It has only taken me 26 of my 31 years to realize the awesomeness and deliciousness of seasonal fruit. Let this post be your reminder.

I’m sure most of you are like ‘duhhhh, is this not taught alongside ABC’s in primary school?’ but it’s not. And while I’m sure my mom and dad hinted at seasonal goodness, I’ll blame society who tries to persuade me I can have everything I want at every turn.

And so my folks just returned from a trip up the west coast of South Africa where homemade organic preserves and fresh off-the-orchard fruit is aplenty and small town markets are bursting with creativity, artisanal brilliance and imagination. Life in full colour.

But I almost forgot about the taste in full colour. Oh man, the pink lady apples are something to behold. Crunchy, juicy, pink (no food colouring added!), and all in all a taste sensation.

Our family eats SO much fruit and veg (we’re flexi Paleotarians – flexi in that we cheat and enjoy it) that Food Lovers Market is our best friend. And while the quality can at times be questionable (in that it can go bad fairly quickly) we eat it so fast it doesn’t really bother us. Ah, wait, except for that time my 3year old cherry tomato guzzler left all his tomatoes in his lunch box last week because they tasted suspicious. Agreed. They were totes suspicious. Gross. I don’t want to waste my time eating cherry tomatoes which aren’t sweet, juicy and plump and if they don’t burst in my mouth. So when you come across food where the flavour pops, and its deep, and rich, we all know that that’s how its supposed to be. Right?

I think it’s the same with life. Seasons. And it’s a beautiful thing really. And thank goodness for it because we need the change; we need ups and the downs, we need seasons of celebration, and seasons of difficulty. We need new things to start and we need others to end. In our personal summer seasons we can embrace the figurative warm sun on our skin (so to speak) and in the wintery seasons we need to trudge through thick mud in our wellies until spring breaks, the cherry blossoms bud, and the ground hardens beneath us.

So go out and grab yourself a juicy pink lady apple (in season). Bite into it, and think of your current season, and embrace the present – be it sweet and juicy or not. And know that winter, or autumn, or even next summer is approaching. And it will. And all will be well.

– for the benefit of your taste buds – I’ve added an inforgraphic of fruit and veggies in season. Yum. Enjoy.

Eat Out Magazine's Seasonal Guide

Out of Sight and Mind

, ,

The Man on the Top of the MountainI was driving the kids to school one morning and remembered I needed to buy yoghurt.

I’m playing it out in my mind; how the ratio of two small kids (one of which can’t yet walk) to one fairly short tempered adult in a large grocery store looks … and I knew that if we popped in for yoghurt, it would be impossible for me to spare Clayden’s eyes from the lollipops, the fruit ‘jooooose’ and ice cream he is so very unfairly denied (all the things we eat and drink after his little soul has gone to dream land), and whether or not I’m up for the challenge.

This morning Clay wanted banana chips for breakfast. And doughnuts. Why? Because they were on the kitchen counter. In view. For goodness sake, why would you eat soggy Weetbix when doughnuts are staring you in the face.

And it got me thinking about what is in sight every day, which, if eliminated, would change me for the better? And not only that, but what is currently hidden away that needs to be IN my sight. I read this article recently that said that a ‘child’s bedroom is their classroom’ and so to spare the beautiful, idyllic, for-the-split-second-its-tidy Pinterest version (which I must admit, I do love the sound of) and to get creative – paint, inspire, get messy, and allow imagine to fill that space. And it is the same with us.

If I want to read more, I must buy more books, and place them in spaces where I have the time to read (ha ha ha – time to read – ha ha). If I want to spend less time on my smart phone when I’m home with my kids then I need to HIDE IT AWAY. If I want to grow my own veggie garden and eat organically, then in a moment of inspiration I must buy the plants and put them next to my front door, begging for some planting attention. Let me hide my TV behind a cabinet door (or get rid of it completely), let me unsubscribe from DSTV or Netflix (by the way – there is nothing wrong with DSTV OR Netflix… each to their own) if I need to stop wasting time in front of the TV, and let me dust off the dining room table.  Throw the Mr. Delivery pamphlet on your fridge away, and replace it with this seasons Farmers Market schedule and the running/cycling/triathlon events calendar. Put your runners next to your bed when you set your alarm for 5am. Get out your fancy pants cutlery set and hand crafted artisan food platters and invite some friends over for dinner. Concerned about free range? Get chickens.

As someone who has most of her earthly belongings meticulously packed in numerous Tim Horton’s boxes, it is true that we don’t need very much at all. But of what we do have, lets take what inspires us, put in our sight and navigate our lives in the ways we know to be good.

And, after all that, what I really should do is just start making yoghurt again. Anyone have a starter culture for me?

.Do something today that your future self will thank you for

Starting New (Or Not)

, , , , ,

This Valentines Day (which yes, is now like moooonths ago) for playschool, I had to dress Clay in Valentines colours, and, since I have this phobia about fairness between my boys, I dressed Ryler in Valentines colours too. I hunted through his slim selection of clothes currently available to us (most of his things are in a box on the ocean between Vancouver and Cape Town), I found one of my favourite red GAP onesies with the wording ‘Ado(RED)’.

As I dressed my little (then) 9.5 month old, I thought back to when I used to dress Clay in the same onesie, and then further back to where I got it from. In fact, I have no idea where it came from. You see my friend Beth had announced to her colleagues that I was pregnant back in the ‘Couve and being the generous Vancouverites that they are and the frugal international students that we were, a number of her work friends donated gently used baby clothes to me, via Beth. (Thanks Beth).

And so while this item of clothing has gone through 2 little people in my family, I have no idea how many it has gone through before us. I find this to be quite a beautiful thought, the idea of other little lives wearing this onesie as their mom or dad took them walking along the beach, or to the park, or to a coffee shop with friends, and how that baby could have fallen asleep on their chest like Ryler does on mine. I feel a sort of nostalgia with an unknown memory to hold onto.

Why do we glamourise consumerism so much? Needing new, and improved, and more… What do we have to prove by having more clutter, other than a gluttonous mentality and feeling as if we deserve better or newer (and I’m not judging here – I’m a great example).

The word recycling previously made me think of squashing cans between this fairly dangerous metal clamp in Primary School or smashing glass in those big igloos (what were they thinking having US Grade 6’s do that?), but has more recently challenged me to think of reusing, reducing and recycling more than my day-to-day food/packaging containers. Lets not just reuse, lets reduce. Lets share a lawnmower with a neighbour, or give someone a spare key to your swimming pool when you’ve gone away for the weekend. How about sharing a pot of soup when we have plenty to go round, buying communal land or a communal car? Let’s share our skills, and our talents, our knowledge and our spaces.

And please, let’s share baby clothes because there is honestly TOO much of it. I’m happy to pass on Ryler’s little Ado (RED) onesie to the next person in need – and expand the untold stories…

Ryler Starting New

My little Ryler in his ADO(RED) onesie