Sticky Fudge looking for {little people} models ….

I adore the look of Sticky Fudge,  The clothing, the way the children are photographed, the post production editing on the images.  Their tag line is “TIMELESS CHILDREN’S WEAR…”

I love it all.  {this by the way is not a sponsored post …. this is just a case of retail lust going on}

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From their website they describe themselves as:

Our collections take you to a place of innocence, magical worlds and infinite possibilities.
At Sticky-Fudge, we treasure the moments spent as parents and our creations recognise the beauty and enchantment of being a child. Our garments are designed with a deep understanding that, as we witness our children’s journey, we are making memories.

With a vintage feel, timeless style and a sense of everlasting charm, the designs are trendy and at the very forefront of children’s clothing. Sticky-Fudge takes the art of children’s fashion to a space of expansive imagination, allowing the individual spark within each child to be reflected in how the garments are worn.

Our collections are crafted in such a way that it blends and combines within its own collection as well as the next. Styling is comfortable and relaxed, allowing free movement when exploring and investigating the world as only children can. The fabrics, prints and trim details are carefully selected to complement the overall look and feel of the garment, at the same time being functional and practical. We pride ourselves in using natural fabrics, ensuring a softer more comfortable garment.

Pwah!  Lovely goodies on their site and you can also pick them up at a few retailers throughout South Africa.

I plan to put a tin in my car and each time I don’t buy myself a McDonalds breakfast, I can add to the kitty, and use to to splurge on Sticky Fudge.  Even the name is delicious.

Sticky Fudge are also running an on-line campaign for “models” to be submitted.  Babies and children from newborn to 7 years old can {should apply}.

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Application form can be filled in through this link – include two good quality pictures of your junior, and let me know if you get picked to star in a print campaign!

I actually like Miley … chicken bum and all ….

I watched Got to Dance earlier.

I am not sure if it was luck, or bad timing, but I watched an episode where a woman’s boobs hopped/were propelled out of her top during her routine.

It was one of those moments where the audience gasped, but the dancers thought it was for their incredible moves and just carried right on ….nut no, it was because your boobies were on show.

For ages. Her dance partner was lowering her on his shoulders, and did this slowly.  The entire time his dance partner’s breasts were on show, pretty much to anyone with satellite television.

It was quite disturbing.  I am fairly sure I will have a bad dream tonight.

Got to Dance solved it by putting red stars over the nipples (reminded me of Scope Magazine from the 80’s), but you could still see the breasts.

I can’t imagine that made the woman’s breasts who were flashed all over the world, feel any less embarrassed.

Two red stars are hardly going to make her feel better as her aunt and uncle watch the show.  In horror!

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{Cover from a rather old SCOPE magazine}

I looked at strange girls breast and then I thought of Miley Cyrus.

Miley has been on my mind quite a bit of late, poor chicken!

I know right now Miley Cyrus and her chicken bum comparison will be permanently emblazoned on our retinas. I have decided to buy chicken pieces as it is too traumatic to purchase a chicken with a bum and me reminded on Miley Cyrus as I rub olive oil and herbs into the chicken.

Not a vision/association I need.

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Other than that, is the performance at the VMA’s so shocking because it was shocking or because it was Miley Cyrus or because it was Miley Cyrus who used to be Hannah Montana?

She is a beautiful 20 year old woman {girl} – she has been performing since she was 10 or 12 or what ever.  I imagine that she has gone through various image changes – she is no longer the Disney Girl of the duvet cover and pencil case fame.

Miley has grown up.

I am not suggesting that twerking on the VMA’s was high art.  I think it could have been done with slightly more dignity, a better fitting pair of gold pants, and may less sexu.al moves with a life sized bear, but at the end of the day it was a girl on stage with a guy.

Granted the girl had her tongue out and was wearing a cat costume for a bit, and there was a lot of strange going on.  It’s been 10 years since Madonna lined up Christina and Britney for a bit of lip locking.

Remember the furor over that?   People went insane.   They ran around screaming like Chicken Liken and prophesying that the sky was falling down.

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Now we barely remember the incident, and it has all got a bit ho-hum.

I have said for some time that I feel that we are at that point in our society where “se.xu.al.ity” is being pushed to the point of short of actually f.u.ck.ing on the dance floor, there is not much further it can go.

Women are objectified, and they dress and act like strippers, and are either dry humping baggy denimed lads on the dance floor, or are re-enacting moves from the “Stripper than Could…”  But I am not blaming men and suggest we all stand around and sob about it.  Women choose to dress like strippers, and appear in music videos and take ridiculous “selfies” of themselves doing questionable things.

Girls do it, girls choose to do it.  Maybe we should be talking to our girls about choosing differently.  And maybe not wearing chicken pants in gold.  Just maybe.

I think at some point there will be a backlash.  I am hoping.  I am really hoping the Amish look comes back.  Soon.

Miley is a beautiful woman, and very talented.  I hope the chicken gold pants do not define her.

I hope that she finds herself soon before she finds herself in a relationship with Mike Tyson, or gd forbid in a sex tape.  I hope for her that her career carries on, and she is able to make the shift from “teen idol” to the performing artist or musician or entertainer she wants to be.

Miley, just not more tiny gold pants …. chick, you are way too good for that shit.  Get it together already!

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Anyway good luck Miley, I hope you bounce back from this and your next move is not partying with Paris Hilton and showing us your cr,otch as you climb out of a car.

Image source.

 

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Please vote for The Reluctant Mom as Mommy Blogger 2013 – please pop along and VOTE today.

Click – click, capture a few personal things, and then it is all over.

Voting closes on 15 December 2013 at midnight.

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{http://www.kidzworld.co.za/competitions/mommy-blogger.html}

Happiness is … I actually have no idea …. none

I am always reluctant to mention that I am feeling happy.

My thinking is then people start to think that “happy” is a permanent state of mind.

If like me, you have never been “happy” for very long, you realise that “happy” is not a normal state.

It is something that flits in an out of your life, without any certainty or more importantly an ability to hang around for very long.

So best not to rely on it.  When I get “happy” I immediately get suspicious. I start to wonder what it is that made me feel like this, and I start to look at the reasons for why it will pass.

A friend,Sue,asked me the other day how am I.

I always take it as a very loaded question and I start over-thinking and over-evaluating when I know the right answer is “I”m fine, and how are you…?”

Lately I have been fine. I have actually been more than fine. I have moved to a state of being “content” for much of the time.

I am not going to get all “Kum ba yah” on your arse, but I have felt more settled, less anxious and just more “quiet” in my head.

My answer to Sue was “Great actually!”

Sue, being Sue, pried a bit more and wanted to know why I was feeling great.

The short answer was because I am no longer running to an office to be on time.

I am no longer running around like a mad thing trying to be all things to all people.

I no longer feel like I am always late for everything.  I no longer feel that I am missing out on everything in my life, and my kids lives.

I feel far more in control.

I feel measured, and I am doing things that give me joy.  Small things.  I read more, I watch less television.  I have gaps in my day where I can do things I want to do — and not in a mad rush, with the accompanying guilt.

I am not suggesting I do not work hard.  I do.  Starting a new business, and trying to penetrate a market where there are existing and well established competitors, is challenging.  It is not all plain sailing and great bank balances. It is often work for no money, and making some questionable decisions, but I learn.  

And I get better.

Much of what I do pushes me far out of my comfort zone.  I am not a natural sales person.  I am not a natural people’s person, but I work hard at ensuring I return calls, I sell myself as much as I can, and I make sure I interact with clients.  

I work long hours, but I structure my hours around my “other things.”

I have started volunteering at Ubuntu House recently. I did the volunteer course some time ago, but I just never got there.

I volunteer at the House and am aiming to do two mornings a week.  It was such a humbling and wonderful experience to be at the House, and hold the babies.

I thought it would be sad.  I thought I would be trying to smuggle a baby out under my jumper.

It wasn’t.

I loved holding the babies and rocking them until they went to sleep.  I realised (again) that I don’t know any songs or nursery rhymes, but the babies do not seem to mind.  “Ten Green Bottles hanging on a wall ….” seems to work like a charm, I could start at a hundred bottles and not one baby complained – bless their cotton socks, or onesie socks.

I officially became the “baby whisperer” I put three babies to sleep singing my off key little song and rocking them just like so.  It is such a lovely feeling to have a baby fall asleep in the nape of your neck as you rock them.  That heavy feeling that comes over them. The deep breathing … it is so gorgeous and intoxicating.

Why am I feeling great?

I am great because I feel less chaotic. If I want to go to Mr Price for two hours, then I go.  If I want to go to an art exhibition then I go.  I just take more time.

I work the hours back later.  

I really feel so much less anxious and less rushed and just less manic than before ….. I think for me the answer is “not to work for someone else …” and “not to just get a job so you can work…” – I should have “gone out on my own” years ago, it would have saved me a bundle on psychiatrists and medication, and a few breakdowns along the way.

I love what I do …. most of the time.

I still do not get to sleep late as I have the school morning run, get home, make myself a cup of tea and sit down and work until 16h30 and then dash out to fetch the kids.  I get home after collecting the kids, and I usually do an hour or three of work.

I think I am one of those people who “working in an office and ensuring you are there at 08h00 and then leaving at 17h00” is just not suited to me.  

I work hard, I am self-driven, I like to manage my own time —-  but if I cannot do it at 17h00, then leave me to do it at 19h00 or 23h00.

Rushing to an office and trying to juggle three kids at school can be a bit …. well a bit enough to drive you to a mental facility.

I don’t want to say I am  happy.  But I definitely feel content, and a little bit happy…. inside … quietly …. shhhhh don’t tell anyone.

{my hair dresser decided to put curls in my hair today … I said “okay”and then I came home with curls …. true story – this by the way is a “selfie” so don’t get too judgmental on the lighting and the mood music ….}

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This needs to catch on ….

{Thanks Claire Adendorff for notifying me of this vital public service announcement}

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#exclusivebooks

Miley made me smile today … actually it was Twitter …

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The world it appears does not seem to have {unanimously} enjoyed Miley Cyrus twerked up a storm on MTV  with Robin Thicke at the recent VMA’s.  The Smith Family for one look horrified!

Fortunately Miley Cyrus features very low in my life as a priority.  My kids have no idea who she is, so this is not a hot potato I need to weigh in on.

I do not have to explain to my kids why Miley was “dancing with a lot of booty” with a teddy bear, and wearing a “cat” suit.

And why she is no longer the sweet and innocent Hannah Montana.

I don’t have to explain why she has a foam finger for a penis, or why her tongue has to hang out so far.  I am dodging bullets left-right-and-centre over here.

I can avoid writing an “open letter to Miley Cyrus” this year.

I can avoid shitting in my pants and worrying about the image that Miley Cyrus is projecting on to all the little girls who wanted to be Hannah Montana.

I can play “pass go and collect 200 dollars” and I do not have to worry my pretty little head about this issue too much.

Her dad and her mom can pick this one up, and add this photo to their “things to maybe not be so proud of our daughter for doing on stage…” or not.

I have no idea how their house works.  Mom might have done the styling, and dad the dance moves for all I know.

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Miley-Cyrus

If you ever want to look at chicken the same again, then skip this image …. and the comparison to Miley squeezing her very tiny bum into an even tinier pair of shiny pants – this image is doing the rounds.  And you know me.  I like to be on the cutting edge of what is happening in entertainment, sport and global politics.

And to chickens.

Most important to the chickens.

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Anyway that about wraps up my comment on the biggest thing happening on the world stage at the moment.

These are two of the other tweets I saw that sort of summed up the day’s events pretty well I thought

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The humiliation that is Adventure Boot Camp …

Third week in, and I am loving it about as much as I do a waxing session or a pap smear.  If they could find a way to combine them, would not even hint at how much I loath my Adventure Boot Camp sessions.

At least a pap smear takes about 4 minutes, and really when it is over, you sort of look back and go “well that was not that bad, see you in 1 or 3 years.”

I am officially the “fat chick” at boot camp.  The fat old chick.

If my self-esteem could take any more of a dent, I might need to up my Seroquel.

The slowest out of EVE.RY. fuck.n one!  I am the one who is last.  I am usually 40% of the way through the routine when everyone is finished and starting from the beginning.

The trainer now knows my name.  And screams it across the field.

It is one of those occasions when you do not want to be noticed.

You know when you have to run with your rolled up yoga mat above your head, whilst going up-and-down with your arms to the fence and back again?  Just like that.  I eventually just left the mat behind. Really no one can scream at me enough to do push ups with a mat whilst I am running. Not even my mom!

I am so exhausted, and so unfit that I want to cry.

I am waiting on the endorphins that make me feel happy.  It is now 23h16 and still no endorphins,  I don’t think they are coming tonight.

It is okay to cry at Adventure Boot Camp because no one really notices.  Your breathing is coming in short bursts anyway, and you are sort of lying on the floor wondering when it was that life got this bad …  and sweating so much, that a few more bits of moisture on your face is a bit of a non-issue.

So of course you can cry, no one realises and no one cares.

It is only the third week in, and I am officially stuffed.  Buggered.  Fucked. The slowest chick there.

I regret every McDonalds breakfast. I regret every “buy large and save more” bag of Chuckles.

I do not regret the wine.  I think about the large glass I am going to pour as soon as I get home. I have decided to stop eating and get all my calorie intake from a few glasses of wine.  Technically it will be my 5 servings of fruit and vegetables per day.  Right?

Holy Mother of Mary, this getting old and trying very hard to not get any fatter, and hope that maybe, just maybe I can get by a month without my daughter asking me if I am pregnant ….. excuse me whilst I lie on the field and throw up.

Yay for Adventure Boot Camp …. said no one ever!

It’s too late for me, but save yourselves!!

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I know I have gone on a bit about the Exclusive Book Sale – I really would like them to be paying me to tell you, but I am doing this all on my own.

I snuck back there this morning.

I really have a  “book buying” problem – I am not sure exactly what the correct medical term is, but the symptoms are rampant over spending, buying more books than you will ever need, but feel you must have.

And that frantic look on your face every time they unpack more books, and you wonder “can I add one more?”

Here is why I had to return this morning – Exclusive Books Mega Warehouse Sale in CT:  Now R25 for 1 kg of books!!  I wanted to get there and get the good books, before I told you.

Clearly I am selfish like that.

I tried to ignore this blinking note in my “inbox” – I buried it under 200 other emails, but my eyes had read it and every day the voices inside my head were telling me to “just go have a look, you don’t have to buy anything …. just look …. what harm will that do?”

Evil stupid voice.

The incredible Exclusive Books Mega Warehouse sale is STILL ON until Sunday 1 September 2013 with a new reduced special price for the best books at R25 per kilo!

The warehouse is at Booksite Afrika, Unit 3, 9 Koets Street, Tygerberg Industrial Park, Parow Industria, 7493, and open from 09h00 – 15h45 every day and credit card facilities will be available.

Apologise in advance to your bank balance.

Here is a gift for you … if you live in Johannesburg

In the spirit of happy Friday and Reluctant Mom Blog turning FOUR, I have a double set of tickets for the Iconic Electro Pop Diva – ALISON MOYET who is performing at Emperors Palace on the 13th and 14th December 2013.

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The Reluctant Mom Blog has a set of double tickets to give away for the performance on the 13th December 2013.  

Alison Moyet was definitely a staple of my growing up years.  I remember her from the formation of the synthpop duo Yazoo with former Depeche Mode member Vince Clarke.

It was the best group – outside of Depeche Mode, who I have loved from afar for many years.  I adored Yazoo. Loved her.  She has this smokey husky voice, and was everything that was brilliant about the ’80’s.

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Yazoo unfortunately did not last long, but had some phenomenal musics and Vince Clark went on to form Eurasure, and Alison Moyet went out on her own.

I saw her on the Graham Norton Show a few weeks back, and she performed – she is still beautiful and her voice is divine, divine, divine.  Soulful and gorgeous.

In Johannesburg, available to attend the Alison Moyet Concert on the 13 December 2013, with your bestie or your husband or your vaguely significant other?

Follow this blog (there is a doo-hickey on the right hand side of the blog – so click that) and leave a comment on this blog post – you can pretty much say anything you like – and you are in with a CHANCE to win tickets.

Winner will be announced on 9 September.

Clearly I am not flying you anywhere and you will not be staying with me, nor will I be picking up your bar tab.  No, I am not giving you the money instead of the tickets.  Yes, you can breastfeed at the show — I am sure.   I am giving you tickets, the rest, is up to you to arrange.

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I squeezed this blog out of my loins …. well almost

Yesterday was my blogs birthday.  My first blog post ran on the 21 August 2009 – so Reluctant Mom is four years old today.

For those who don’t know me, it’s okay, I often wake up at night wondering if I know myself.  I do often wonder how I managed to get myself into this position – the position of being mom to three children.  When the number one issue is that I don’t actually like children (sure I like my own now, but I never played with dolls, and really tend to cringe back in terror when a young snotty happy faced short person runs towards me), and more importantly number two, I was very sure that I never wanted children.

My partner – Kennith – wanted children from the get go, I was very very reluctant and every time we had the conversation would wrap it up by saying “next year” knowing full well that next year was not going to be coming.  Six years into our relationship we had reached a cross-roads/an impasse and I fell pregnant with our first child when I was 28.  It was a totally planned endeavour.  This did not stop me sitting in the bath and crying like a knocked up 15 year old.  Read the rest of the post here …….

In blog years four is ancient.

Not the oldest, but definitely in the zimmer frame and spittle on the bottom lip when you talk category.

I have seen blogs that have come and gone.  Blogs that I have enjoyed and then started to peter out.

I have watched new blogs blossom, grow and then look like they were going to take over the world.

Then there is this one, that putters along at it’s own pace.  Some days willing itself to die, other days rising above it all to find true love in Tokai Forest.

I read through some of my earlier posts and I wonder how I could be so worried and so worked up about something then, that now would barely get a snort out of me.

I change, I learn, I make mistakes, I have the occasional emotional vomit.  I have tried to be disciplined about what I say here I would say to your face over dinner …. usually after two bottles of wine.

I never go back and delete a post, because when I think or say something at the time, that is how I feel.  I realise that as time shifts so does my perception of events and also my emotional reaction to something usually lessens, and with 20/20 hindsight it did look like I was really getting my panties into a bit of a knot.

This blog has helped me to process shit.  This blog has helped me to think out loud and have somewhere to put it.  This blog has connected me to so many people and their lives that I would never have encountered any other way.

Many of those people have move out of the “imaginary friends in cyber space” kind to the ones I sit and have dinner and wine with.

Thank you to the nearly 500 000 views that my blog has received.

Thank you to the 6 908 comments that have been left.  I hope both these numbers double!

Thanks to all the funny comments, the really clever comments, the comments that have made me examine my thinking in a constructive manner, the snubs, the rebukes, the odd stalker and heavy breather who came along and left his/her little bit of sticky on this blog.

I was thrilled to have spent a few cyber seconds with every one of you.

Thank you for sharing my love of books, and supporting some of my hair-brained schemes and ideas.

I can’t promise I will be here in 4 years.

I can however promise that future posts will be peppered with questionable grammar and too frequent use of fuck/fek/fkc/friggn/freakn and anything that rhymes with tomatoe.

Happy Birthday Reluctant Mom Blog – you are sort of awesome in all sorts of ways!!

Hip-hip-hooray!!!

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Dexter … has truly lost the last shred of dignity he may have once possessed …

Hills Pet Nutrition South Africa is running a lovely competition.

It is an opportunity to brag a bit with your dog or cat, and if you have a patient dog that does not mind embarrassing himself totally you can whack some pink bunny ears on him – and he really bedazzles the room.

Hills Pet Nutrition will donate a meal to a needy animal for each photograph entered, each LIKE on their Facebook Page, and every vote cast.  Easy as that.

You vote, a doggie or a cat gets food.

Please pop along to : https://www.facebook.com/HillsPetZA?sk=app_433967206653426&app_data=%7bAction%3a+%27View%27%2c+Data%3a+30901%7d

If that does not work search for Dexter or Boston Terrier.  Or vote for one of the other dogs/cats on the page.

This is the image you are looking for – I do want to say it was hard getting the ears on Dexter, but actually it wasn’t.  And they fitted him perfectly.

It made me suspicious that he might have been wearing them before.  He does have the “please gd kill me now” look about him.

Silly little bunny boy!

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New LIKES of the Hill’s fan page (www.hillspet.co.za/facebook) and new followers on our Twitter profile (www.twitter.com/HillsPetSA ) and retweets from 1 August 2013 to 30 August 2013, 10am will be counted for this charity donation. The number of LIKES and followers as at 1 August 2013 at the start of the competition and at the closing date of 30 August 2013, 10am will be noted and the difference calculated will be added to the number of photos entered, votes and shares – this number will represent the number of meals we donate.

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Good people those folks at HILLS.

The Crowbar Gang …. brazen as all fk …..

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There has been a spate of house burglaries in our area and the areas surrounding where we live.

I hate to use the words “scourge” or “epic” or “home invasions” or “this is out of control.” but this is one of those instances where you could pepper your speech.  The teams come in during the day – it is irrelevant who is in the house, or not, and they just come straight through the front door.  No squeezing through burglar bars for these guys.

One friend has been broken into five times since November.

She keeps adding more security gates, more sensors, more bars on her windows and to no avail.  They broke in again yesterday.  She says she has nothing more to steal.  She is of course so frustrated she wants to cry.  She wants to move.  She wants to organise a vigilante group to go and find these guys and kill them.  (Okay I added the last part, she is very forgiving, and always looks for the good in others …. me less so).

Her insurer has said they can no longer insure her, she is too high risk.  She does not live in a bad neighbourhood, and her house is secure and she has been living there for more than 15 years.

I have another friend whose house was burgled in broad daylight – 14h30 – her door is right on the road, so anything happening would be in full view of the street.  Four guys arrived, with crowbars and just went through her door – for the record she does not have one of those “egg carton” front doors, hers is this solid wood number.

Four guys and a few crowbars and the odd well placed kick took care of the door.

They were in, stole jewellery, stole electronics and her television.  She said the television was huge and how they managed to fit into the small car with five people in it begs her imagination.

The part that freaks her out, is that they can never find the remote for the television.  These guys seem to be brilliant at remote control finding.  That alone is a skill they could make honest money from!!

So that happened during the day – they have security, armed response, there were two people at home, they have two big dogs — none of that seemed to deter these guys.

I saw this post and this CCTV footage today and I thought well, there are the fuckers, brazen as all hell — and the one guy with the television.

Crowbar gang struck again, at a friend’s house today at 14h17 – in Waterland Crescent, Sonkring, Protea Heights. 5x BM broke in – broke down the garden gate, then crowbar to the security gate and door to gain access, did away with 2x TV’s. Car used was a white Avanza. Please, if you can share this to other Neighbourhood Watch sites someone, spread the word? Be careful out there!

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If CSI New York can identify, locate and eventually prosecute a guy from one strand of dog hair left on a tyre  in the middle of a warehouse, then why can out police not pick up 4 guys running through a garden with their faces in clear view?

I do think that people are pretty much at their wits end — when you have done all you can do, and you are still being burgled and the police appear powerless to do anything – then I think it is a matter of time before a bit of “vigilante justice” kicks in.

People are scared in their homes, and really I am not sure I will be overly upset to find any one of these four (or the other half a dozen or so) similiar teams dead in the street with a bullet.

I personally would swear I saw nothing.

I am not a big fan of the “wild west” but I do think that this situation is one step away from where the community goes totally ape shit – and why should we feel scared in our own homes?

Image and copy for link can be obtained here ————————————>>

Apple crunching, children chewing, pen clicking madness …..

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I know there has been some debate (and for those who do not know, or do not care, seriously people actually talk about this…. and stuff) as to what Misophonia is and whether is a psychological condition, or a learnt behaviour, or a sensitivity to certain environmental elements (much like an allergy would be).

As usual the guys over at Wikipedia explain it simply enough

Misophonia, literally “hatred of sound”,[1] is believed[2] to be a neurological disorder characterized by negative experiences (anger, flight, hatred, disgust) triggered by specific sounds. The sounds can be loud or soft.[3] The term was coined by American neuroscientists Pawel Jastreboff and Margaret Jastreboff[4] and is often used interchangeably with the term selective sound sensitivity.[5] Misophonia has not been classified as a discrete disorder in DSM-V-TR or ICD-10.

The disorder comprises a unique set of symptoms, most likely attributable to neurological causes unrelated to hearing-system dysfunction. It can be described as an immediate and extremely negative emotional response accompanied by an automatic physiological flight response to identifiable auditory, visual, and olfactory stimuli. The disorder disrupts daily living and can have a significant impact on social interactions.

A 2013 review of the most current neurological studies and fMRI studies of the brain as it relates to the disorder[6] postulates that abnormal or dysfunctional assessment of neural signals occurs in the anterior cingulate cortex and insular cortex. These cortices are also implicated in Tourette Syndrome, and are the hub for processing anger, pain, and sensory information. Other researchers concur that the dysfunction is in central nervous system structures.[7] It has been speculated that the anatomical location may be more central than that involved in hyperacusis.[8]

I am not sure of what it is, and why it exists. I do know how sound effects me – and changes my mood, and my ability to cope rationally in a situation.

I have always had a sensitivity to sound – I am 41 now, and have always found many noises make me anxious and stressed.  It is not always how “loud” a sound is, it is often the type of sound.

I suffer with Chronic Depression and Generalised Anxiety Disorder.

When my Depression and GAD were at their worst, I found that I was unable to process and deal constructively with “everyday” sounds.

My kids eating dinner would send me into a rage.

My husband eating a crisp green apple in bed would make me wonder if I could kill him and bury his body in the yard, could I get away with it?

The drive home in the afternoon (fetching kids from school) is an hour of torture. By the time we get home, I am so tired, exhausted and irritated, I usually go and sit in a room by myself for an hour or two to try to come down from what can only be described as a “very bad mood.”

For quite a long period I believed I had my Depression and my GAD under control, and was off medication and treatment for several years.

Of course I was not in control, and my condition was worsening, until I had a real all-fall-down in 2011 – I sought treatment, both with a psychiatrist and a cognitive behavioural therapist, and was eventually admitted to a clinic because I was not coping with anything.

I started on medication and it took some time to find the right balance.

By the end of 2011, I started to feel a bit better and more in control. My misophonia also started to subside.

Certain noises still do make me irritable and I can’t bear to be near them – but I no longer feel as anxious, and “under threat” as I used to, so for me the side effect is that noises do not bother me as much.

I have realised that certain sounds are a problem, and as much as possible I try to avoid them.  I understand that to people who do not understand how sound effects me, they think I am overreacting or just being a total drama queen – and they are entitled to their own opinion.

I have realised that some of the triggers for me are:

  • Music radio
  • Reality shows with constant changes in pitch, screaming, clapping and then the dead silence as you wait for an announcement
  • E (Entertainment Channel on DSTV) – this channel makes me feel anxious, stressed and eventually anxious – I used to use this channel as background sound, and now I realise how bad that was for me.  I stop in from time to time, and watch 10 – 15 minutes every now and then, but it still is a bit of a catalyst so best avoided.
  • Chewing – good god!  I really understand how why in medieval times they had those huge tables and people sat 15 metres from each other.  Totally get it now.
  • That sucking sound that people’s lips make when they drink from one of those squeezy bottles!  Totally does my head in.  Connor’s favourite trick is to come and stand behind me whilst I am working and phut-phut-phut in my ear.  Then I kill him.  With my mouse.  Silly boy.

I have also used the CBT training to try to “think” through a situation when there is a sound and I can feel myself reacting – it does not always work, and I do eventually have to remove myself from the situation, but it does help me to process my emotions.

I am not sure if anyone else has experienced a link with depression/anxiety disorder and how their symptoms of Misophonia are effected.  More importantly an aversion to sound is a good enough reason to avoid “keeping up with the kardashians” at all costs!

Let me count the ways I hate Adventure Boot Camp

I am not sure if it was the wine talking, or my inability to say “no” to things on line after 23h00 – but somewhere in this I decided to register for another not-really-fun Adventure Boot Camp.

I have done this before, so am fully aware how much TIK you must be on to register and attend one of these things.

The class starts this evening, so registering the night before, sort of gives you an idea of how committed I was to this whole “let’s get fit thing.”  I was secretly hoping to be denied access to their website.  Clearly their firewall needs some attention.

The weather today in Cape Town was grim. Rainy, cold and miserable.  Perfect “lie on the couch in front of a gas heater with a large glass of wine” weather.

There was ABSOLUTE nothing in today that made me WANT to put on lycra, my now far too small exercise pants, and my just too short exercise shirt and run around a field whilst being screamed at.

I am not even mildly into S&M.  So you can understand that I really do not get off on someone screaming at me – and me being in pain.

What it makes me want to do is swear like a pirate, and go home to drink a large glass of wine.

Tonight I went along to Adventure Boot Camp.

I had already told myself that I might as well “start tomorrow” but I knew that if I did not go TODAY, it would be pretty much tickets for tomorrow and every day that follows.

But I went.  I really would love to tell you how much fun it was, and how many friends I made.  Nada on both of those.

I did however eye out who were clearly the girls with way too much energy, no fat rolls, and an ability to laugh and giggle all the way through the exercises that made me pee in my pants a bit.

I have decided not to like them at all.  It is also quite easy to see who they are because they wear headbands.  I do not think I have ever been hot enough to wear a headband.

But maybe Jane Fonda is back in, and I just did not realise.

Either way, I am pretty sure I am going to have difficulty squatting on the toilet tomorrow. I may pop around to Cape Union Mart and see if they have one of those stand-and-pee-for-ladies things.

mango3

go-girl

Elegant no.  Functional yes!

Inside report back on the Exclusive Books SALE!!

I am not sure I can effectively describe how brilliant this morning was.

I went along, and wanted to make sure I was there at 09h00.  I am  nerdy like that.

The glory of walking into a small warehouse with trestle tables, with more books than you could easily set fire to.  I started at the one side of one trestle table and worked my way through very systematically.

I brought along three of the canvas Woolworths bags – and thought that would be more than enough.

Who am I kidding? I filled two of them before I was even finished on trestle table one.

I loved it – everything about it.  The helpers at the SALE were phenomenally friendly and helpful – it is the first day, and possibly by day three they will be slightly jaded and less friendly.

They kept offering me cupcakes!!  Books and cupcakes – if they had swung around with a cup of tea, I might have kissed them with tongue right there and then at trestle table three.

I bought more books that I could ever read (as if!!)

I bought books for Xmas and birthday gifts.  They had Gruffalo stuff there as well – I have realised I do not buy Gruffalo stuff for the kids, I actually buy it for me.

They had lots of children books, and I totally spent the children’s university fund on those.

I bought three books on how to discuss the subject of your children growing pu.bic hair and other fun stuff – so Connor will be in for a treat, from which he will want to die shortly.

To add to the spoils, they had a lot of the things they sell at Exclusive Books – the mugs, the reading lights, the iphone covers, bookmarks, key rings, and all of those cool things there was all – also calculated by weight!  Can you say “going absolutely ape shit?”

I really really bought A LOT of stuff.

Way too much – I did get that frenzy behaviour and start to foam at the mouth —- but I am now going to start saving 10% of my salary towards the Exclusive Books SALE next year, so I am more prepared.

It is so worth a trip to the sale –  prepare before hand.

Take some bags to carry your loot, take some water as at a point you start to feel dry mouthed and a bit panicked that you will not have the strength to make it through, but focus, and keep on!!!  Do not take children with you – really they will distract you from you being able to pour over all the tables.

Have a bag that you can wear strapped across your chest or put your wallet in a fanny pack – keep your hands free, because at a certain point you will start behaving like a rabid-infected-book-monger.

I assume that they just keep bringing new stock through – while I was trying to pay, they kept arriving with STILL MORE THINGS.  It was so difficult to leave.

Exclusive Books – fabulous flipping sale!!  Definitely added as the highlight in my calendar.

If you are in Cape Town, if you can drive to Cape Town — get there —- now!!!

Find out more information about the sale here ———————>>

When you are happy ….

when you are happy

Books, oh glorious books …. BOOK SALE!!!

Exclusive Books Mega Warehouse Sale is HAPPENING in Cape Town: – the phrase that pays is R50 for 1 kg of books.

the incredible Exclusive Books Mega Warehouse sale is on from Friday 9 August until Sunday 1 September (including the public holidays) for the first time ever in Cape Town.

Book lovers know that this is the only sale with the lowest prices on the best books at R50 per kilo!

The warehouse can be found at Booksite Afrika, Unit 3, 9 Koets Street, Tygerberg Industrial Park, Parow Industria, 7493.

The warehouse will be open from 09h00 – 16h30 every day and credit card facilities will be available.

Exclusive Books can’t wait to welcome Cape Town to their biggest and most popular sale ever!

Details can be found on the Exclusive Books Facebook page and on Twitter at @Exclusivescoza.

Generic Mega Warehouse Sale A1 X10 Cape Town with bleed

Put this in your diary IMMEDIATELY!!

 

Georgia kicks the intruder in the privates … and battles a raging fire

I collected Georgia today, and she kept running off these questions that started off with “If you were kidnapped what would you do?”

I was not quite sure of where this was going, but eventually I realised she just wanted me to ask her “what would YOU do if you were kidnapped” and then she would tell me how she would kick the “kidnapper in his privates…”

This got me thinking that I had not played the “what would you do if the house was on fire” with my kids in a very long time.

Not as a fun game,  But as an active exercise in wondering what they would do in the event of an emergency.

I like the idea of finding it out now, in a reasonably calm environment, rather than say when I am bleeding and almost dead and watching my kids run around in a panic.

I asked the question and wanted to see what they would do.  I placed the “imaginary” fire in the kitchen, and as our house is in an L-shape it would block the exit to the front and the back door.

What concerned me is that both the kids were focused on how they would put the fire out.  A little concerning as clearly fighting a large fire was not what I would suggest to them to do in this sort of a situation.

Fist bump for bravery.  Forehead smack for an inability to live to see tomorrow.

Both came out with really creative ways to battle a raging fire – thanks National Geographic.

Clearly the wrong answer.  The right answer is that they try to wake everyone in the house, or if that is not possible – say their door is blocked in some way -then they get out via a window and alert the neighbours.

Their job was to save themselves and get out. Repeat “your job is to save you” let the fire burn.

In further disturbing news I set a scene of an intruder and what they would do.

Again Georgia was quite focussed on kicking “him” in his privates.  Play therapy starts on Monday.

Connor explained how there was a gun in the wooden trunk in the lounge that dad had showed him, and he would get the gun and aim it at the intruder and tell them to “LEAVE MY HOUSE!”

Right.  After I shat in my pants, I asked him to please be so kind as to show me the gun.  I tried to make it look like I was calm but really I was mouthing “WE HAVE A FUCKN GUN IN THE HOUSE THAT THE KIDS HAVE ACCESS TO???”

I tried to look mildly interested (and not so relieved my legs turned to jelly) as he unpacked things off the wooden chest to open it and get the gun.

He showed me a Daisy Gun that Kennith had since he was a child.

I had to explain that the gun, in the middle of the night would look surprisingly real, and aiming at a would-be intruder would result in one outcome.  Him being shot dead.

Intruders were not known for their bravery, and more importantly liked very little in the way of dissent among those they were trying to relieve of their worldly possessions.

Again I had to explain the key “go to” plan – save yourself, hide and be quiet, or get out the house.

First prize get out the house, I explained which wall was the easiest to get over and how they should run to the neighbours screaming at the top of their lungs.

There was so much wrong with this conversation today.

1.  That my kids felt that battling a fire was a great plan.

2.  That Connor thought he knew where a real gun was.

3.  That Connor thought he would be able to put off a would-be intruder with a Daisy gun.

4.  That Georgia’s solution for everything was to kick him in the privates.

It is not a fun game to play – but I do suggest you jot it down and discuss this with your kids.

My next discussion is if I was the victim of a “car jacking” and they were in the car.  Fuck, I hate that this is the kind of conversation I need to hold with my children.

I would rather speak to them now and hopefully they will hold it in their minds if something happens, than have them standing battling a fire with a plastic measuring jug!

Only play this “game” if you are feeling particularly buoyant about life, and have ready access to alcohol soon after.

Let me know how yours fare with this exercise.

zapiro

Image source:  http://www.zapiro.com/

An era ends ….. Jou ma se blog

I feel like I am faced with the imminent death of something/someone I have come to rely on.

Granted I do not read her blog every day, I usually build up a bit of a backlog, make myself a cup of tea, eat a bag of Chuckles and then catch up on the last three weeks I have missed.

Jou ma se blog is part of the thread of my day.  My week, and how I check that things in the world are still in alignment with the universe – and that good sane parents exist, even in trying circumstances.

Margot is easily one of the most talented bloggers.   I have read her blog since I stumbled upon it all those years ago.  I often go back and read a blog post again, because she has said something that comes to me in a flash of light when I am doing something else.  And then I must go back and read the post again.

She is funny.  Makes me snort.  She has an honesty about her that resonates with me – she is always there, and I can always go and read about her life, with her boys.  She is ALWAYS THERE dammit, well until she isn’t.

Margot is hanging up her keyboard, and the eternal never has an end Jou me se blog has in fact comes to an end.  A grinding halt one might say.

I feel sad. Bereft in fact.

I do realise I am overreacting, and she is not actually dead.  But I am still going to wear a black arm band for the balance of the week.  Cover all the mirrors in my house, and curl up in a little ball on my bed and wonder how this could have happened.

And more importantly how this could have happened TO ME!

I am sure I will be able to stalk Margot as she writes for other publications.

I will still be able to smile at her wry humour, and her ability to say it right, and make it funny – and tell the truth no matter how alarming it might be.  But reading things that are “not on her blog” won’t be the same — there will not be the same thread of what happens with Sean, Felix and Richie.

Jou Ma se Blog, I will miss you.  You have been the cornerstone on which many of us have built our blogs, and our sanity.

I started blogging on the 21 August 2009, and I think like all bloggers, I needed to look at established bloggers and what they were doing to help me find my “voice” in the blogosphere.

Chick, you will so be sorely missed by Me!

I miss you already as my week is starting knowing that there is no Jou Ma se Blog post to turn to.  But as Dr Seuss so eloquently said: “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” 

joumaseblog

Dexter …I’d marry you if there wasn’t laws against it ‪#‎bostonterrier‬

I have a sleep disorder that appears to be linked to my Depression and General Anxiety Disorder.  The short of it is that I am exhausted at night, but either cannot fall asleep, or I fall asleep and then wake up at about 02h00 and cannot fall asleep.

I have tried several things, but at the end of the day a good night’s sleep is often the cure for many of the ailments that we start looking for remedies for.

Being a funny old world, the less I sleep the more anxious and stressed I become.  Then the less I sleep.  Isn’t that a hoot?  No, not even a bit.

I take two sets of medication at night.  One to make me fall asleep.  And another to keep me asleep.  Works like a bomb.

With one unfortunate side effect.  I often get a strange amnesia before I drop off to sleep.  I appear to be functioning normally, but my brain has actually switched off, and I often realise in the mornings I have done some weird and less than wonderful things.

Yesterday morning I woke up to find that I had posted passionate devotions of love and potential marriage to my dog.  Along with a few photographs.  I am really glad the photos were of him and not “us.”

Listen, I like my dog, I am just not sure I am quite ready to marry him, just yet,

dexter_closeup

Judging other …. maybe too harshly

I have been a bit hard on my mom in the past.  I think I judged too early, and judged too harshly.

I think as time has passed, and maybe I have gained a different perspective, I start to perceive my mother in a less harsh life.

I am not quite at the point of “ahhhh shit happened” but I do think that contrary to popular belief I have mellowed a bit.  I feel less of a need to stand on my soap box and brandish a tune.

I think a contributing factor is that when you have kids, your parents get a do over.

The somewhat incompetent and rather neglectful parents they were to you, gets to be done differently to your kids. I do not think you consciously step out with this thought process, but for me, my mom was a hugely better grandmother/’annie than she was a mom.

Contributing factors was that she had my brother at 17, and her third child by 23.

My father was an absolute waste of skin, and trying to raise three children unaided, whilst having a husband who appeared to be consciously working against what was best for the family was a bit of a challenge.  Add rampant unemployment and drinking (father dearest) and you would pretty much have the gist of the situation.

I am pretty sure my mother dealt with her own portion of depression, and with no support structure – physical, emotional or financial, she was working two or three jobs and attempting to parent three children without the necessary skills.

Added – and I kid you not – we as kids had unlimited and unsupervised access to gunpowder, ammunition of guns of varying caliber.

We were constantly shooting each other, shooting at the neighbourhood kids (we weren’t particularly good at aiming), making home-made bombs with real gunpowder and were constantly running rampant.

I wish I made this up.  Really I do.

I was previously judgmental that my mom did not make the best decisions, and I still support that statement.

But …. I would have done far worse, at 23, with no finances, no support, an abusive and alcoholic absent husband – odds are that all three kids and I would have been drowned in the family porta pool (is that even a word?)

Anyway I think that as time goes by you start to view your parents/mother through different eyes.  I do feel that my mother did the best she could with what she had at her disposal, I would have done far worse — far worse!

So there we go – you live, you get older, you realise that maybe other people had it far worse than you and maybe you need to adjust your perspective.

{I exclude my father from this process of not judging too harshly – he was a total twat.  Maybe I need another 10 or 20 years to mellow about what a shit he was.}