Primary historical sources

One of the things the kids have been encouraged to do (not that they’re doing it...) is to keep a journal from this time. The given reason is that it will, in due course, be a primary historical source of this time.

For me, it’s more about having time and space to reflect; to process what I’m experiencing and feeling. While I love writing, I am a bit of a romantic, and I do love gestures. So last night I got the kids, hubby and myself to make this memento.

Once lockdown is down, I’ll be taking this “bread” (yes, it’s made from dough) to the framers to have it put in a box frame. It’ll go on our gallery wall with our other hand and footprints from various years. Not only is April 2020 the month of lockdown, which is pretty dramatic, but it’s also our anniversary. Tomorrow we will have been married for 22 years. 22. Twenty-two. TWENTY-TWOOOOOOO.

I remember walking down the aisle (and contrary to what everyone else says, it feels like a lifetime ago, not just yesterday) thinking to myself, “It’s not too late to back out. I don’t have to go through with this. Right up until the priest pops me the question, I can still say no.” I truly wasn’t sure we’d make it a year, let alone a lifetime together.

Sadly, my reality is that almost all of the marriages on my side of the family were broken - separation, divorce, remarriage, co-habitations, remarriage to their first spouse; marriage to their ex-spouse’s sibling... In fact, as we left the church, one of my parents’ friends handed me an envelope with R5000 cash in it with the words: ‘This is for when you get divorced.’

But here we are, many, many bumps and 22 years later. Still married, still happy, with beautiful amazing kids, stable jobs, a house mostly paid off. We are seriously adulting!

[At this point I was interrupted by #1 who was gobsmacked that I have a blog... and this despite the fact that after the previous time we had that conversation I showed her the blog I wrote for her while I was pregnant and for a while after she was born.... sigh!]

So it strikes me afresh that blogging is the creation of a primary source, that what I write will be preserved (barring any electromagnetic pulses or shifts in the earth’s polarity, or the demise of all electricity generation on the planet, or the need to migrate this blog to a different format) indefinitely.  Like getting married, that suddenly feels very overwhelming - that what I say here needs to be meaningful; it needs to count; it needs to share wisdom with the future generation.... I don’t feel particularly wise, or knowledgeable, or even humorous. I don’t feel controversial, or interesting at all. I’m just... well, me.

On a related topic, I was rather taken aback earlier today. Because of lockdown, I have been making a few (rather poor, I think) videos for my matrics. No picture-in-picture (otherwise known as the talking head), and about 20 mins long each (which if you know anything about making videos for social media, is WAAAAY too long) - just my voice, and my Apple Pencil interacting with the screen. But, because I’m generous, I decided to share them with my colleagues in other schools (and my own) on our provincial email group. I’ve uploaded them to YouTube and created a playlist for this topic, and that’s the link I shared. I was gob-smacked by the responses. I can’t tell you how many teachers replied to show their appreciation - for my rubbish videos! I mean, granted, they’re not as bad as the Telematics videos (*shiver*, #notasbadaswilliamsmith), but they’re not nearly as good as the ones made by professionals like Khan, or Bozeman, or The Amoeba Sisters, to name but a few. I’m not even sure my kids need them, given resources like that. But even my kids have said how much they appreciated them. Maybe it’s just the familiarity of my voice...

So maybe I’m selling myself short. Maybe there is something special about me after all. I guess you should ask the hubby - after all, he’s lived with me and put up with me for the past 22 years. (Did I mention that we’ve been married for TWENTY TWO years???)

Here’s to you, my love! You are my hero, and your kids’ hero. I thank God for you, and the past 22 years. (TWENTY TWO!)

My song is love unknown

Funny how life has a habit of creeping up on you when you least expect it.

March is always a tough month for me. As the days tick by, I keep a mental note of how many days there are until the 24th. I try really hard not to reflect on the events that took place during this month five years ago. I try hard to just keep busy.

Because I know that if I stop, if I pause, the walls will come crashing down again and I'll be useless to anyone for a while.

They say time is a healer. Since that fateful day, five years ago, I've maintained that's absolute trash. Time's not a healer - it just puts enough distance between you and the event that you can go on living and pretend it never happened.

God is the only healer, and what healing I've seen in myself as He has worked in me and with me! Yet the pain is still there. I still bear the scars, and like a physical wound when the weather changes, my metaphysical scars are aching. I can feel the dull ache, throbbing quietly, threatening to become full-blown, all-encompassing pain unless I do something.

But what can I do? Nothing will bring her back. There's no balm, or salve, or tonic, or potion, or pill one can take to heal this broken part of my heart. She's gone.

She would have been in Grade R this year. We'd have been teaching her Letterland, and how to hold a pen, how to ride a bike without training wheels....

Zoe, I miss you, my sweet darling. Your tree is flowering so beautifully this year - it's seemed so feeble in years gone by, but this year it seems to be pulling out all the stops. Maybe it's all the extra love and care I've been giving it; maybe it's a reminder to me that you are always with us. Your sister is so keen to celebrate your birthday - she wants to hold a party for you. How do I explain to her that others will see that as morbid? Your brother has at last learnt your name. I can't wait for him to be old enough to understand that you are his other big sister. He loves to take all our family photos and make me kiss them - kissing yours is always a little heart-sore moment for me. I hope, as Margie emailed me today, you'll be at the wedding on Sunday in some way. I hope your little ginger curls haven't turned too blonde. I know we'll be together again one day, but how I miss you now, sweetheart! How I miss you now. Happy birthday, my love!

Some steel please

Tomorrow G & I will have been married for 11 years. Sjoe! We've actually been together since April 1994 (bar the 6 months we broke up), making it 15 years.... While I can obviously remember a time BG (before G), it's difficult to imagine that life again. It's also not a life I would choose for myself.

As I reflect on the past 11 (or 15 years, depending on how far back I want to go), I can recall the heady feeling of being utterly in love. I can also recall the months when I was convinced the marriage was over & just wanted out. I recall the highs of falling pregnant, and giving birth to Nellie, and the low of losing Zoe. I recall the terror of moving to London, and the joy of moving back home. I recall how our marriage, our love, our relationship has been through such ups and downs.

There is no-one, with the possible exception of my parents, who knows me better. Not only does this man know all my faults and weaknesses, but he loves me anyway. We both know I'm high maintenance, yet he faithfully and lovingly continues to "maintain" me. We both know I can be a grouchy, hormonal, self-absorbed cow, yet he lovingly continues to serve me.

This man, while he has his faults, continues to be towards me as Christ is towards his Church. He is an incredible husband and father, and my bestest friend in the whole wide world. (And friends are really important in a woman's life.) While I have no doubt that I would eventually cope should anything happen to him, I honestly hope I never, ever have to face life without him by my side.

This year, we've decided not to celebrate our anniversary on the day. Rather, we're going to take a day next week, while Nellie is at nursery, and have a whole day just by ourselves to indulge each other - starting with breakfast at Kirstenbosch. I can't wait! A whole day, just him and me - no kids or pets to worry about, no work to interrupt, and no computer to tempt us away from each other.

After 11 years, we're supposed to give each other the gift of steel. I'd love to buy him a proper sword, but haven't the money to buy the quality of sword I'd consider. So... what else? He's not much into wearing rings, and he's already got a beautiful watch... oh wait! I've just thought of the perfect gift! Practical, hopefully not to expensive, and VERY significant for our relationship. Now, how am I going to get it in time without him finding out????

IMO Zoe

Today, 2 years ago, I gave birth to my second daughter, who had died in utero the day before. While time doesn't heal the pain, it does make it easier to deal with. If Zoe had lived, I wouldn't be pregnant now. Instead, I would have two gorgeous little girls - one with white blonde hair and one with strawberry blonde hair. They would both be at nursery by now, and Zoe would be potty training. Instead, I have one beautiful daughter and a son on the way.

If I could, would I go back and change things? Before I fell pregnant, that would have been a very easy question to answer: yes. But if Zoe had lived, we would not have tried to fall pregnant again, and this little boy would not be here. So now, trying to answer that question is like trying to decide which of my children would live and which would die, and that's an impossible choice to make.

Similarly, if Zoe had not died, then G & I wouldn't have started Born Sleeping, we wouldn't have met the people we have, or made some of the friends we have. While I miss Zoe, sometimes almost more than I can bear, I know that her death was not in vain.

Goodnight sweet darling. I look forward to the day we meet again.

Napier, or Napeer?

Thanks to loving family, we were able to take a weekend off to celebrate our anniversary. We stayed in Napier (no longer Na-peer, apparently), at a lovely retreat house called Marilee, run by a family friend, and partially paid for by Graeme's aunt.

Oupa and Ouma had Nellie for the weekend, so we were really able to relax and enjoy each other's company for a while. We had some fabulous meals out - most notably at a little pub called The Fox. It's a real little piece of England in SA. In many respects, it felt like home to us!

We took a day trip to explore the area a bit, as both of us had only ever really been in the area to go to Cape Aghulus. We had a meal in Bredasdorp, visited the candle factory there (where we bought ourselves an anniversary present of a candelabra statue) and then went on to try to visit the wine farms in the area (mostly around Elim). Sadly, they were all shut (Mon-Fri operations only).

Elim is an interesting place - not only does it have a lot of the 'the oldest' stuff in South Africa, but every person who lives there is an official member of the church (Moravian/ German) there!While in Elim though, we saw this cute little sign on the channel that runs to the mill. (If you can't read it, it says 'Blessed are the lowly'.)

All round, we had a lovely weekend.