A question of time.

1st Shoes and 1st School Shoes of My Beautiful Boy

I don't handle stress well.

Last week was particularly stressful.
My eldest started school on Monday. I did not cry as much as I thought I would. I shed a few tears while ironing his little shirts and when I put him to bed. But at least he is excited to go and I can pick him up after school. It will be when he leaves home one day, that I think the real tears will come. I will probably look back then, as I have now, and wonder where all the time went.

My little boy has come a long way since we first moved here. He did not handle the immigration well, but  with time he has settled. He is happy and has the cutest Aussie twang. (Even though until now he spent most of his time with me. Too much TV I guess.)

A loved one threatened to commit suicide. And take her ex with her. Two years after her divorce has not been enough time to get over the hurt.

My 20 month old fractured his wrist. His cast should come off in about 2 weeks. In that time, the bone will have repaired enough. Amazing how fast ones body heals in comparison to ones mind.

And, we lost a friend who was being a good Samaritan, helping a stranger change a tyre, when a truck drove into him. Who knows how much time it will take for that family to heal.

Being an anxiety sufferer, these things kind of rock my world. The questions never stop.
How much time do I really have with my loved ones?
How long before I can stop being so tired and annoyed with my children because I'm tired?
How can I love my family less, so that if anything happens to them, I will not be too hurt?
What are the things I can put into place to have more control.

After all, that is the reason we came to Australia. I felt like I needed more control over my family's safety. The best way to do that, was to leave. But I realise more and more that any control I think I have is merely an illusion.

It's the craziness of the questions that bothers me most. The endless guilt over feeling like a failure as a mom because I just don't have the patience I should. And then the worry that I would be devastated if something were to happen to them and I've just spent the whole day fighting with them.

Time. I don't want to waste it. And yet I spend so much time worrying and obsessing over it.

Being a mom in SA was a lot easier. It was far less stressful. I could commit all my time to my kids while my house was being cleaned by the house keeper. And when they were difficult, before I could lose it, I could ask her to watch them while I went out for a coffee. I had some time to myself.

Now, I have to constantly divide myself between my housework and three young, demanding kids with absolutely no time to myself. I find I am starting to really suck at this mother thing.

And yet, the most important thing I can give them is my time. That's all we have really. And it is precious. We do not know how much we have left. I can never get this time back with my kids.

When am I going to be able to live anxiety free? I hope it's just a question of time.

Australia Day

I love Australia!!
I love the idea of  "a fair go", "having a go at anything",  "mateship" and "no worries".
I love the way Aussies say "G'day" and "darlin" and use the word "but" at the end of a sentence instead of in the middle somewhere. (eg: they'll say, "your hair looks nice, but." I keep waiting to hear but what? That's just the way they talk. Only Aussies can get away with it.)

Yesterday was Australia day. And even though I am not Australian, I could not help but feel some sense of patriotism towards this country which has so openly welcomed my family.

My kids were running around naked in the garden. We went down to the beach at about 8pm to watch a concert and fireworks. How awesome!

I was caught totally off guard at the grieving process I went through after leaving SA. At first, I didn't even realise that I was grieving. I mean, I wanted to leave. I couldn't handle living in fear anymore, walking around with pepper spray, and living like a prisoner in my home because it was not safe to go anywhere.

But there is that idea of Africa; the wild and even the people. There is a song that says, "the dust of Africa settles in your heart."

However, on days like yesterday, when my kids are free to go anywhere, when I can leave my bag for 5 min and not worry that it will be taken, and I can enjoy my environment without having to worry about being attacked, when I can walk to my car at night and not worry about being robbed or raped, when I can get home in the dark and know I am not going to be hijacked, I thank God for bringing us to this country.

Sometimes, I complain that I don't have my own home, my car is not big enough, I am exhausted from having three kids so close together with no family support.
But for all that we lost and left behind, God has given us a new sense of freedom, and allowed us to enjoy the small things in life which are free!

And Africa? Well, I rely on songs now to keep that idea of Africa alive in my heart.

Here is one I love. And now it applies to me.

It is called Scatterlings of Africa. By Johnny Clegg (be patient it takes a while to start)

<iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/lzlfd5KQAUA" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen></iframe>

Rise of the savvy mum.

One of the things I found most difficult when coming to Australia was not the fact that my house would be much smaller, or that we would have smaller cars, not that I had to start colouring my own hair, and doing my own nails, not to mention, no maid, no gardener. It was.......tada! Figuring out how to buy groceries!

I can't tell you what an adjustment it has been! It's not just that you can't find half the stuff you're looking for because it is packaged totally differently, the cost of food in this country literally shocked me. It does my head in when 3 bags of food cost the same as a designer handbag. And I have been tempted to starve and buy the latter. At least I'd have something to show for my money that does not end up at the sewerage works.

I had also heard that Australians are big drinkers. I have to say that I agree. The reason I agree is that I struggle to find grape juice. Aussies obviously prefer their grape juice fermented. One can always find wine, but not always grape juice.

I decided that this year I am going to get good at this budgeting thing. I admit it is something I have failed horribly at in last two years. I have preferred to live in denial about our financial situation. I am the girl who never asks for a receipt at the ATM and holds her breath when they put the card through at the local store, hoping it is not declined.

Well, my oldest starts school this year, so I decided it is probably best that I grow up and do the mature thing and try to live according to a budget. Budget, Budget, Budget! Maybe, if I say it enough I will get used to it. I am getting better at it though. And I believe that God has called us to be good stewards, therefore I will continue to try.

So, this spoilt South African girl, who is used to having the house keeper, the gardener, the 4x4, and designer everything has had to learn a lot from Aussie women, who in my opinion are all like Super Woman.

I thank them for their extensive knowledge on bargain hunting and running the home. I am definitely a better person for it.


The following clip is a humorous window into South African life for some.
The girl looks almost identical to my best friend in SA.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aO1TynT8inI

Confessions of failure

I remember, like yesterday, walking through the gates at International Departures at OR Thambo Airport in Johannesburg. I was not sad. I was not excited. I cried briefly when saying my goodbyes. I remember thinking to myself  "I should be crying more."

I had my three year old son and my 15 month old daughter. I was eleven weeks pregnant with my third child. I can descibe my emotional state as "sobre". This was just something that I had to do for my children. Like taking them to the doctor.

I had never been to Australia before. I had no expectations. Just a coffee table book about Australia and the preconceptions of other friends and relatives which I decided to keep at the back of my mind. Maybe I was "depersonalising". A term used in a book I discovered on recovering from anxiety. All my life I have found it quite easy to emotionally disconnect from friends, relatives, and now my country.

I took one last glance at my crying family and braced myself for what was to come.