why i love my daughter’s first selfie

I don’t like selfies. I don’t take them, unless I absolutely have to. Thus I don’t have a great many selfies on my phone.

My daughter on the other hand loves the camera, whether she’s in front of it or behind it, but she does prefer the front, as most 4 year olds do.

Whilst browsing through my phone about 3-4 months ago, I came across about 84 photos that she had taken on my phone, without me knowing. Most of them were actually in focus, and of actual things, like the tv, the dogs, the chairs, but the one that stood out for me was this one. (see below)

Thanks Instagram filter!

Thanks Instagram filter!

She had figured out how to turn on the front camera on my phone, and took her first ever selfie.

I absolutely love her inquisitive little face, even though there’s only half of it in the photo, but my absolute favourite part of this picture, is the picture frame in the back centre of the photo. Without even realising it, my daughter took, in my opinion, the perfect photo.

And that is why I love my daughter’s first selfie.


it was self-inflicted this whole time!

I think I’ve blogged over and over again once or twice as to how I battle with sleep. I am an insomniac. If I get a total of 3 hours sleep a night, I’m lucky. I wake up every morning tired, no actually exhausted, and then still go about my day, from working to studying to dropping and fetching M-L to making supper only to fall asleep close to, or often after midnight. Then I would spend the next few hours until sunrise tossing and turning, waking up, walking around, watching tv, then going back to bed.

Last week something changed. Actually 2 things changed.

1. I made a conscientious effort to be in bed between 9-10pm
2. I absentmindedly placed my cellphone on my table top in my room, instead of sleeping with it under my pillow.




I didn’t recognise myself. Not only did I only wake up ONCE during the night / morning (which was just to use the bathroom), I woke up refreshed and energised! Please remember that last week Wednesday was when I rushed my hubby through to the hospital. This all happened on Wednesday night. So yes, I was absolutely exhausted from the days events, however I have managed to continue the reasonably early nights and keeping my cellphone away from me when I go to bed, and I have noticed an INCREDIBLE change in my sleeping patterns and how I feel when I wake up in the mornings.

I know that this might sound all sci-fi and techy, but I really do believe that my cellphone was interfering with my brain. And yes, now I have self-diagnosed myself with a medical condition ;) I believe that the wifi waves in my house, as well as my phone waves or whatever they’re called, were interfering with my brain waves, not allowing my brain to relax and recharge. I mean come on; I slept with my cellphone right under my pillow! Right under my head! I’m still a bit tired in the mornings, but instead of snoozing my alarm clock for 2 hours, I now snooze for about 10 minutes before I’m up and at ‘em. I even went for a run at 5:30am this morning!

The late nights also played a huge part in my insomnia; if my body was tired I refused to listen to it, instead staying up until 2am to finish watching a movie, or to play games on my iPad. I would then inevitably fall asleep on the couch, which is not the most comfortable of couches to sleep on, resulting in me waking up even MORE tired the next morning.

So no more insomnia related posts from me; by 8pm my cellphone and iPad are out of my hands, and between 9-10pm I’m in bed. And instead of lying awake for what seems like hours, I know that I fall asleep so fast, I should be observed medically ;)

So self-inflicted and self-diagnosed, and I couldn’t be happier :)


i am not perfect

I am not perfect. I am not invincible. I am not unbreakable.

And I think that I have FINALLY realised this.

I am not the perfect mom, but I know that I can do better.

I know that I need to devote far more time to my beautiful, innocent, amazing daughter, the daughter that I too quickly tell to go and play in her room, or watch tv because ‘I’m too busy to play with her, or read her a story or just spend time with her’.

These last 2 weeks have been very stressful. I didn’t blog much, because I was so deep down in a black hole, that I didn’t know if I would ever be able to climb out. I lay in bed this weekend, with some awful thoughts running through my head. I barely spoke. I barely communicated. I contemplated moving out, even leaving my wonderful, fantastic, love-of-my-life daughter behind.

I was in a bad place.

Do you know who is to blame for these last 2 weeks?


No, my husband is not the perfect man. He is selfish and stubborn and cold and sometimes heartless and I often look at him, imagining what it would be like to smother him with a pillow. But this blog post isn’t about him and his short comings. It’s about mine.

I too am selfish.

I too am stubborn.

I too can be cold.

I too can be heartless.

I have come to realise over the past 2 days, that I have not been giving my full 100%. And not just for the last few weeks or months. For the last few years. I have been putting only half (sometimes even less) of what I should have been for so long, that it’s become normal for me to do so.

Relying on my daughter to entertain herself.

Not communicating with my husband.

Relying on others to assist me and help me, when I hardly assist and help myself.

Studying at the last minute, then wondering why I didn’t get the mark that I wanted.

Sitting at work, but not working.

These are all choices and decisions that I have made. I have become lazy. I have become unreliable. I have become unpleasant.

I felt that I had to write this post, as for the first time in my life, I have had an epiphany of sorts.





As mentioned above, this post has nothing to do with my husband and our relationship in the sense of US. This post is about me realising what a total and utter bitch I have been and am. I always tell my friends that my husband is not the easiest person to live with, but you know what? Neither am I.

Something that I was told last week has really hit home, and stuck with me. I was told to “stop having the secretary mentality”. My current job title is secretary, however I am assisting in another department as it ties in with my studies. I immediately ran to the manager of said department when I was given my project for my diploma, crying out “I can’t do this – help!” She looked me in the eye, and told me to get rid of my secretary mentality. To stop believing that I needed someone to tell me what to do, to give me instruction. That I am capable. That I have so much potential. Funnily enough, my best friend told me pretty much the same thing at breakfast last Friday. Again, this goes right back to me being stuck in a routine, me being so used to being given an instruction, being told what to do. I haven’t had to think for myself in about 10 years.

And that’s pretty scary actually.

No, having this epiphany isn’t going to magically fix me. I am a routine person, and I detest change. It took me 5 years to get out of an abusive job because I was so used to the routine of it all. That’s how much I prefer routine. But even though this epiphany and blog post aren’t going to make me into a new person, they’re certainly going to help.

I have a lot of work to do, and mostly with and on myself. Before I can expect to repair the damage to my relationships with my husband and daughter, I have to repair the damage done to myself, by myself.

So right now, I’m a work in progress. I have no idea what the finished product looks like, and I have no idea how long it will take to ‘fix’ me.

But I’m certainly going to give it my absolute 100% to find out.


well that was a crazy morning…

The universe has a twisted sense of humour I tell you. One minute you’re getting ready to go to work, helping your daughter brush her teeth and hair, and the next minute you’re on your hands and knees checking if your husband is still breathing, as his eyes rolls back into his head, and his mouth puts a cappuccino frother to shame.

A few of you might remember that my hubby was admitted into hospital mid February, and then had a follow-up at the end of February. Since then, he has had 2 seizures, one of which I witnessed this morning. And that was one of the most terrifying things I have ever seen in my life.

He blacks out completely during his ‘episodes’ and has no recollection of that time lost. Like this morning; he remembers standing in the kitchen by the sink, and then sitting on the kitchen floor, trying to figure out what happened. The in-between, the almost 10 minutes that he can’t recall, I spent in tears, trying to get him to come to, almost too afraid to touch or move him because I didn’t know if he had any neck or spinal damage. I don’t know if he hit his head, but luckily, when he came to, he knew where he was, who he was, who I was etc. The worst part of it all was that M-L walked into the kitchen with me and saw him lying on the floor, and of course got upset. I immediately pushed her into the lounge onto the couch, and put on some cartoons, really REALLY loud to distract her. Then my frantic phone calls started. First to my mom, then when she didn’t answer to my sister who lives with my mom. The reason I phoned them first, is that my step-dad is a former paramedic, and he could get up to my house a lot quicker than any ambulance. Luckily, as I was on the phone to my mom, my hubby started to come to. My step-dad and sister still came up to my house, as I was supposed to be taking both my sister and daughter to work and school, but now needed to go in the opposite direction to the hospital.

After I bundled M-L into the car, told her how much mommy and daddy loved her and that daddy would be alright, I started the phone calls to my in-laws. Once that was done, it was time to get him off to hospital.

Typical bloody man.

30 minutes prior he was lying on the floor having a serious seizure, but takes his sweet ass time to go to the hospital. We only got the hospital after 9am; his seizure happened just after 7am. Ay yay yay; men… But he did want to have a bath (he normally showers but didn’t have the strength to stand in the shower) so I ran him a nice warm bath and then I bathed him. It was weird but comforting at the same time. We did eventually get to the hospital, and I had ensured that we had packed a bag for him as I assumed that he would be admitted due to the seizure, but he wasn’t, which is actually a good thing. His neurologist is currently away at a medical conference and is only back next week, and the ‘specialist physician’ that saw him has no idea what SUNCT is (his current neurological condition). He told my husband to eradicate all stress from his life, and then he’ll be fine. It was at that point that we decided to leave. Luckily the doctor had the same idea. He said it was because he didn’t want to duplicate any tests that the neuro had done in February, and wanted to wait so that he could read the neuro’s notes on my husband’s condition. What he basically said in a roundabout way, was that my husband was making it all up. He even mentioned mercury poisoning (from his fillings) and even epilepsy. Let’s just say that the 23rd of April cannot arrive soon enough, as that’s when his appointment with HIS neuro is.

So the hubby is at home, trying to rest, and I’ve decided not to go to lectures tonight as a) it’s a total waste of petrol and time as we don’t actually learn anything, and b) I need to be at home. It’s that simple.

But I do not want a repeat of this morning anytime soon.


i have a broken heart

Last week Friday, my best friend for the past 7 years moved away. Luckily just to another province, but it may as well have been another continent. I took the day off of work, so that we could spend the morning together and have breakfast, before she made her 5 hour drive up the map to the Free State. Her decision was made last year, but her destination changed twice before she finally decided where she was going to end up.

V has her head screwed on the right way, whereas I don’t. And that’s one of the many reasons that we clicked. V has had her share of heartache and drama; from cheating ex-husbands leaving her in financial distress, to abusing boyfriends, to working 2 jobs trying to make ends meet. And you know what? It has all paid off. V doesn’t have a job to go to, but she has a savings kitty to fall back on, plus her mom plus the most AMAZING boyfriend. V has worked her backside off these past few years; she hasn’t sat back and waited for life to be fair; she’s gone out and demanded her piece of it.

You always know where you stand with V. She says it like it is. Our one truly awful fight in December 2010 almost broke me, because not having her in my life was so wrong, it felt unnatural. The other fantastic thing about V, is that she knew how to keep business and personal separate. We met in 2007 when I started my previous job, and over the years she’s taught me, criticised me, given me warnings, but then after work we’ve gone out for supper or drinks, or a girls’ night out where I’ve woken up the next morning wondering how the hell I ended up on her couch!

M-L ADORES V. I mean ADORES. You’d think that V was her mother instead of me! We went out for supper a few weeks ago (that was the night that the waiter let M-L out into the parking lot) and the way that M-L squealed when she saw V on the other side of the restaurant, and then ran towards her at full speed, and literally threw herself into her waiting arms, had the whole restaurant looking our way, and every person watching us had the goofiest grin on their face, because even they could see the love emulating from my daughter to V.

V and I have laughed together, cried together, we’ve even fought together (although I’m happy to report not that much) and right now, at this point in time, I feel hollow. A piece of my heart is missing, and it’s sitting in Welkom. Most Wednesday’s after lectures I’d stop at V’s house as it was on the way home, and I keep having to remind myself that I mustn’t do that tomorrow, because she doesn’t live here anymore.

My heart is sore.

My heart is weeping.

My heart is broken.


unlinking my face

It’s been a weird 2 weeks or so. And this morning I made the decision to unlink my blog from my Facebook account, because it was just no longer worth all of the crap that it was bringing. Oh I know that people who followed my blog via Facebook can still access my blog if they saved the link address, but the fact that my posts will not be shared to my Facebook profile anymore relieves me.

I’ve been contemplating unlinking the 2 for a while now, but always stopped myself just before I clicked the unlink button. But it’s done, and as Facebook is blocked at work, I won’t be re-linking it anytime soon. People that have read my blog posts via Facebook have criticised me, been nasty to me, and I just honestly don’t need it anymore. I feel more love and understanding from my fellow bloggers, than what I do from my ‘friends and family’ on Facebook. Crikey but Facebook is far more trouble than what it’s worth. I haven’t posted a status update in almost a week, and have only been posting Instagram pics because those 2 accounts are linked as well. Other than that, Facebook is just a waste of time to me. I barely interact with anyone anymore, and the most useful tool that Facebook offers me these days, are the birthday reminders. And even then it’s so fake, typing smiley faces and xxx and all of that crap.

I myself am guilty of ‘oversharing’ on Facebook; oh woe is me and all of that nonsense. Trying to make the world feel sorry for little ol’ me, having a rant, having a bad day etc. Then there are the posts that are so happy and full of love that I too am guilty of posting. I find twitter more interesting and open and honest than Facebook, yet on twitter I’m interacting mostly with people I do not know, but Facebook is supposed to be full of my ‘family and friends’? Explain that one to me. And don’t tell me it’s because I’ve ‘reinvented’ myself on twitter; my twitter handle is my full name (original, I know) and my profile pictures are always of either my daughter and/or myself.

I have been both publicly and privately criticised on Facebook, always by family members. I have been publicly shamed and embarrassed by ‘friends’ on Facebook and well as horrifically criticised. I have been made out as an awful person, trying to get some glory from a mutual friend’s murder; I have been told what a disgusting mother I am because I was contemplating a split from my husband. I find Facebook to be full of judgemental hypocrites, and I am so relieved that I will hardly be interacting on it anymore. I’ve decided to keep my Facebook account open, if only for the pictures of my daughter. I have family all over South Africa and the world, so it’s a quick and easy way to share pictures of M-L without having to send the pics individually to each and every person.

I’m not saying that I will never be criticised ever again, but I am so sick and tired, mostly tired of being criticised for MY opinions, on MY Facebook account, that I opened all those years ago. On twitter, if someone doesn’t like what you tweet, it’s as simple as clicking the ‘unfollow’ button.

If you don’t like what I have to say on Facebook, there is an option to ‘unfriend’ me. But instead of doing that, people choose to create friction and decide to criticise so unnecessarily. I don’t mind the private messages on Facebook, but the public shit just really gets to me. There is absolutely no need for it. Yes, I know that I’m contradicting myself, because on twitter it’s not a normal day unless there’s a twar or 10 going on. But again, Facebook and twitter are so different, even though they are both social media platforms.

So Facebook, I have unfriended you.

And it honestly wasn’t that hard to do.


i have a small ouchie

After an almost 4 week hiatus, I went for a run this morning. It was just a lazy 5km, and it felt great. I stopped twice, maybe 3 times to walk but I didn’t mind. I honestly thought I would have walked more, due to the fact that it’s been almost a month since I last ran! But my body surprised me by coping pretty well :)

Then I got to work.


I am so stiff in my groin (stop laughing) and my right knee is just a little, eensy-weensy, teeny bit sore. (read that in sarcastic font)

And on that note, I’m running a 20-25km test run on Friday morning at 5am.

Ai, the things we do to our bodies…