The joy of cousins. The wonder of Skype.

My brother and sister in law live in Glasgow, Scotland.

They have two gorgeous boys Finn and Noah.

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We have been meaning to try and get them to write to each other, or something, just to reinforce the knowledge that they were cousins, and …. well, for no other reason.

Last night we set up a Skype chat.  Me and my three kids on one chair all trying to peer into the laptop camera.

Jackie, and her two boys – who were jumping on her bed at the same time as chatting to us.

It was such a wonderful experience.  You sort of forgot that a few thousand kilometers separated us.  My kids were in varying stages of excitement and interest.  While Finn was talking, we were watching Noah in the background unpacking his mom’s pyjamas, and then suddenly revealed Jackie’s underwear.

The kids chatted as if they were sitting across the table from one another.

Both sets of kids struggled a bit to always understand the accent of the other.  Connor wanted to know why they spoke funny – I tried to explain to him that to them, we speak funny.

We all agreed Georgia spoke the funniest.  Georgia speaks with a “I was born in Hollywood” twang, but was originally from Hamstead.  No idea where that comes from.

The highlight for me was when Finn asked if Connor knew “gangam style” – to which Connor sheepishly admitted he did.  Jackie then found the song on her ipad, played it and then all the kids danced to gangam style.

Connor sat this one out.

All an over feel good experience.  And remembering again that Gangam Style is the international dance of friendship.  And cousins.

Sometimes it is really nice to have kids.

Thanks Skype, you worked that like a boss!

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Things you never thought you would be saying to your kids …E.V.E.R.

I am trying to set up a Skype chat along with my sister in law, I could not reach her so I called my mom.

Isabelle has been all over the idea of “annie and ampa” for ages, so I figured a Skype call with a video would work as a decent substitute until I can make a plan to get out there.

Jostling for space on the couch – me screams: “Connor, get your snake off your sister’s head!!”

Hope you had a good mother’s day!

Check out Reluctant Mom on Faceb00k!

The Reluctant Mom over on Facebook …

Contrary to popular belief I am not terribly good with working out how to get my blog, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and all the other bits and pieces of social media to work together.

I think partly I am too shit scared I will break something.

I quite like Instagram, but I often forget to take photos of my food.

Twitter is lost on me.  There is so much retweeting, and cross referencing and retweeting retweets that link back to a person or a product …. at 144 characters it really seems like way too much frkn effort.  But there are like 45 million users in South Africa, there are just not 45 million and one.

I am really not sure anyone wants to hear from me that much to want to know what I ate for breakfast  and why I think that the sunset in Cape Town is just t0o fucking fantastic today (we have sunsets in Cape Town every day …. without fail) …. I am pretty sure no one should be subjected to that much of me.  Ever.  Without a script of Xanax.

Any the who.

I set up a The Reluctant Mom’s Blog Facebook page some time ago, but I fucked it up a bit with the settings – somehow Idid.  True story.  I have taken another run at it and here is the New and yet “no friends” The Reluctant Mom Facebook Page.

That’s me.  Johnny No Mates.  And yes this is a cry for attention.

Why else do you think bloggers blog?  Do you actually think we are doing it for any other reason that we are desperate for the “you like me, you like me” vote.  Blogger “must be liked” complex, no matter how much we act all like we don’t really care what people think or say.

Here is a clue, if a blogger really did not care what anyone thinks or says because they don’t care, they would set their blog to private and only invite their mom, a guy in Parow named Schalk, and their uncle Herman.

Sad, but true.  Bloggers are naturally people-media-stranger whores.  We just do it for free.  So there people is the great debate unraveled for you.

If you are on Facebook and want to toddle along and hook up with me. Then here we go: http://www.facebook.com/ReluctantMom

I will promise you that I will not do many status updates. I tend to forget it is there.

I promise I will not keep you updated on much, again because I am a bit slow that way and will forget.  You may have a few in the first month, but I can almost guarantee it bottoming out from there.

I promise that I will never ask you to enter something on my blog and then go like my facebook page, and then wear your panties on the outside to buy bread and Pick ‘n Pay.  Seriously I pinkie promise.

I probably I will not keep telling you how fantastic my kidlets are.  If I ever call my children “kidlets”, I give you permission to come over to my house and stab me with a stick of Prestik.  In the neck.  Repeatedly.

I also promise never to call Kennith my hubby and post how much I love him – because really if I cannot pick up the phone and leave a message on his phone saying just that, then why the fuck must I tell you?

There we go – those are the rules I promise to play by in Facebook world.

I also promise to also never refer to anyone who is pregnant as preggy.  Seriously if I do, realise it is a cry for help.  Come over with a bottle of wine and a shotgun.  Bottle of wine for you.  Shotgun for me.

Facebook Hangover

The Reluctant Mom on Facebook.