A new chapter

In the early hours of this morning I decided to give this blog another try.

As I attempted to log on for the umpteenth time in two years, the password retrieval failed yet again.

While surveying the content of my posts back in 2015/16, two realities became evident to me.

1. I really miss blogging.

2. Those posts reflected some very real struggles and by the same token, some very precious memories.

Password prompts left me questioning the efficacy of my multi vitamin. My apparent porridge brain, which still lingers 9 weeks postpartum, leaves me at the mercy of vague, misty memories of my password combination. I sat trying to figure out what may have been quirky enough to make a successful password, nothing worked and then, Eureka!

So here I am, back on the bandwagon to share a new chapter with you. 

The moans and groans, the highlights and joys. Pretty much all the real, raw and primal rantings of a first time mother (yes, I had a baby of my own) coupled with some deep meaningful reflective thoughts and a full dose of humour - because successful living requires a positive attitude apparently.

Watch this space, it's good to be back!

The Wood From The Tree's

I won't lie, it's been a challenging start to the year.
The eldest is failing, the youngest doesn't listen - to anything.
They are both incapable of going a day a moment, without a lie. 

Somewhere along the line, I questioned to myself if this was all worth it, somewhere along the line, I reminded myself that I've committed my life to their father and that in turn, this is part of the package. I'm still trying to figure out if this is a raw deal or an opportunity.

Mommyhood - no training required

So here I was thinking to myself, that things would progress. That life, like everything else in my daydreamers mind, would fall into it's perfect place with enough attention.  Sadly, I've been wrong all along. This isn't about me and this isn't about how I can fix them. They are damaged children, with damaged perceptions about life. 

I often hear my hubby-to-be repeating himself to the kids. Another day, another session of shouting at two children who know the rules, know the routine, know what is expected. They still don't do it. They are addicted to the drama that comes with the fight.

Later, I realised that no parent actually know what they are doing, how can they? You get children that don't come with instruction manuals, advice that comes from people with their own set of ideals for their children, no "one size fit's all" here, I'm afraid. Everyone, is just winging it!

Another little meltdown

I'm almost getting used to being in a state of depression and frustration. I know that I need to love them, but I also don't have to. So somewhere between wanting to be this vessel of unconditional love and purity, the resentment is real. 

Somewhere along the last couple of weeks, I realised that I don't have the answers, and that these children aren't exactly 'normal' either. They are little Bonsai tree's of toxic belief systems and emotionally absent parents. They manipulate and feast off the carcass of emotional maturity like a savage beast that is driven by the ego. And then, my ego gets sucked into the same, and our ego's feast as my Higher Self sits and shakes her head at another lost battle. 

What is normal anyway? Is lying normal when it involves hurting people you love? My gut instinct tells me these kids aren't normal children. Recently, their mother was informed by the youngest child, that I drove over his hand (which I obviously hadn't) and on further investigation found out he did it to make his mother angry. Mission accomplished!

When we asked why he would do such a thing, he admitted that he knew his mother would lash out at his father. He explained that (please sit down for the next part) he wanted to make his mother angry, who would in turn get his father into trouble and all for the sake of revenge because he was angry with his father for reprimanding him every morning for dawdling through the morning routine and fighting with his brother. (Insert psychosis here!)

The repercussions of parenting

After listening to and witnessing how two people can make children but not be accountable for their emotional well-being, due to their own lack of personal awareness, I'm sitting with two children in my life that have not only experienced a separation in their family as they knew it, but have never really had the role models they should have had, until now. 

I've been made so aware that, although we have the best intentions for our children, if we are not whole, we cannot impart wholeness onto them and into their lives. If we are not emotionally stable, secure and growing, we cannot expect, emotionally stable, secure and developing children in our lives. What we put in to ourselves, really is what we get out in them. 

I've witnessed how my positive, spiritual influence, my life lessons, my affirmations and guidance hasn't fallen on deaf ears. What you invest in your marriage, your partner, your children and your family will, for the most part, allow you will live in peace as everyone grows in their own time and at their own pace with a healthy, solid foundation. 

My challenge is learning to stay positive in a seemingly depressing environment, with children who aren't my problem, children I didn't bring into this world or want in any shape or form in my life. My challenge is learning to be that positive influence when (almost always) I've checked out emotionally to prevent further hurt and protect myself from the pain and inconvenience they cause me.

How do we become the best versions of ourselves, and in turn, how do we stay the best version of ourselves as our children watch our motivation, lack thereof, our inspiration, depression, anxiety, frustrations, joys, victories and pain. 

I look forward to doing this all again for my own flesh and blood, I imagine that it would be worth the sacrifice. 

Right now, I'm incredibly grateful that school holidays are here, so that they don't have to be - and I'm okay with feeling that way. 

It's not them, it's me.

This week, we attended the children's Christmas function, the eldest rocked his moves on the dance floor, the youngest was very attentive and focused. They are both doing so well, have improved so greatly and the confidence is evident that we are doing something right.

Great apprehension

A couple hours before our arrival at the school, we are informed that their mother (who has been M.I.A to date) will be in attendance, personally I'm impressed she's making the effort. Although I'm happy for the children that their mother is showing support, I try my best to mask my anxiety at the thought of our first encounter. There is a tangible agitation between us as a couple, we both don't say it, and he even denies it, but we're both walking on eggshells, poised and in our seats. 

The eruption within

Naturally, any woman who has walked my path would want to make sure that the kids are protected from any drama, that as a woman, one looks and feels confident and at one's best. As far as flawless is concerned, I've nailed it, however, within me is an unnerved shambles, hoping for the best. 

The kids come off the stage, they've done so well. I'm so proud and they run into their fathers arms. Straight past me. Dagger in the front. I shrug it off. 

Typically I would be the recipient of such hugs, but I suppose this is their night, it's their father and they know that mom is around. Suddenly my insecurity starts to charge from the top of my solar plexus and wants to spew out through my throat and out of my mouth, a familiar and nagging sequence that has been the cause of my disdain all year. The resentment is real and so is the rejection.

Nothing compares to the pain 

The evening comes to an end, mom doesn't bother to greet me and I'm not surprised. I don't really care either.  Her hair is an unkept bed of two tone outgrowth and her tiny figure swims in the jeans that carry her legs. I pity the her, but she made the effort and it's applaudable. 

The boys throw themselves into her arms, and then we all say goodbye. An unfamiliar pang gnashes at my heart. Those are my boys, I seethe, and then quickly remind myself of my place in this family. I am the 5th wheel, fiercely protective over family that is both my own and by definition not. I'm torn. What is this I'm feeling? 

As we walk to the car, I trail behind. The high heels I'm wearing command my steady pace. They all leave me in their hurried path as I try and keep up without really wanting to either. I feel like less of a priority and then prompt some rationale into my head with a reminder that it's very late and the traffic crazy. He's not leaving me behind on purpose, hundreds of parents and children flow toward their cars and it's way past bed time.  

It's not about me and it's eating me alive. I feel rejected, excluded and unwanted. I call out to their dad to wait, a snigger can be heard behind me, it's her, great! I wanted to be this bold and united family and I'm embarrassed and deflated, caught out like the fraud I feel I am. Perhaps my ego is at play because non of this really matters, yet I'm absolutely devastated. 

A fall from grace

We get home and prepare the children for bed. It's an hour past their regular bed time and so much still has to be done. I prepare their lunches as dad starts packing their bags. We've also just been informed (not consulted with) that they will be collected from their mother a day earlier from school and we are to pack up their clothing for the weekend plus one day - at 9pm in the evening. I feel left out from that decision too, it's not even important but for some reason I'm jaded.  

I'm livid, but at the same time, I'm forced to know my place. I fail to keep my irritation at bay, my face is an open book and my eyes give away a story of their own, wild with annoyance. She's not here, doesn't contribute and yet I'm feeling like I must just fit in.

As we go to bed, an immature blurt of frustration comes out of my mouth, "I hate my life!", and he goes cold with shock. Personally I can't even tell you where this came from, just that it pretty much summed up the last year we have been together. I love him, I love our bond, I love our connection but I don't know if I'm strong enough to do this. Surely it's meant to get better with time? 

An avalanche of emotions start to surface, I feel like a failure, a fraud and a fake. I battle every single day at the thought of sharing my life with this extended family. There is judgement from my side, a reminder of his mistakes and my own. 

I'm stuck at 17. I'm stuck at the hospital where I'm terminating my pregnancy all those years ago. Is this my punishment? Should I have made a different decision? Why didn't I just do the opposite? I'm living with so much regret, such a void and so many unanswered questions. 

This is my life, with no family of my own, no children, no husband, just an observer and participant when I'm required to be and then I need to back off and allow the family to sort out their issues when needs be. The family that reminds me that I'm the outsider. It doesn't help that at my age, people judge me, I've had people tell me I'm a fool for taking on this mess, but I'm still here. Two days ago a girl I used to au pair told me she's seen on social media that I'm "still avoiding the marriage thing". Well I can assure you I'm feeling so much less than a winner right now. 

I'm hurting, badly, wounded by the fact that I chose this. I chose this life because of a love for a man that I've never shared with anyone. I chose this life and yet I feel as if I'm failing at it. I chose this life and yet I'm resentful. Would it be better to just walk away? 

My problem is that, in my mind, this is failure. 
My problem is that, in my mind, this isn't the picket fence dream I deserve.
My problem is that, in my mind, I'm not their mother. I'm the stand in. Good enough for the most part, useless against the original.  
My problem is that, I want to be someones family. 
My problem is that, I want my own children, my own milestones.
My problem is that, I resent that this isn't the life I chose for myself, or rather, that I hadn't envisioned for myself. 
My problem is that, I am so resentful. 
My problem is that, I'm so angry. 
My problem is that, I wish I could undo the past. 
My problem is that, I will always wrestle with regret and judgement. 
My problem is that, I'm broody for the first time in my life. 
My problem is that, I'm an emotional wreck. 

My problem is that, I'm in a box, without a label. I give love, share joy and impart guidance, yet I'm not their mother. I'm expected to be detached, yet expected to love. I'm the fetcher and carrier during school rounds, the provider of clothing and stationery supplies. Their cheerleader and the nothing that compares to their mother whose done nothing but neglect them since they were conceived. 

I'm the cleaner of wounds, the voice of reason and the co-parent during their stay with us which is during the week, every day and on weekends. I'm at a crossroads of self acceptance and self persecution. I'm in a quandary over maternal instinct and duty. I'm struggling with blood bonds versus a couple months of cohabitation in this new role. 

I know I'm not their mother, but I feel like I am. I'm the protector, the cook and cleaner. I'm the one they turn to for good night kisses and giggles over Nae-Nae dance moves. 

My problem is that, I've taken on something greater than myself.
My problem is that, I want to and don't want to at the same time. 
My problem is that, all I can see are the con's and very little pro's to this situation. 
My problem is that, I used to be independent and free and now I'm bound and held to ransom by a broken family where I feel like the outsider. 
My problem is that, even if I have my own children, they will always be his first born. 

If you know what my solution is, I'd love to hear it. 
Until then, I better dry my eyes that have cried about a thousand tears since last night and do my best to pull myself out of this depression and into work mode before that too is jeopardized. 

My depression, my anxiety and my struggle this year, the only year we've been together, all started when I lost my identity and took this all on. I'm no hero, I'm just a woman in love with a man, who is really really battling to accept her life choices. 

Maybe I just need to grow up, maybe time will heal. Who knows, I don't. 

Mr N(ASS)ty and the idle threats

I won't lie, it's been a difficult couple of months - hence my absence. 

I'm at the point of no return with my nonchalant and completely blatant discontent with my life. I wish things could have been different, why can I still not see the blessing in this situation. Why does it feel like I'm being punished.

Parenting is hard, and off-putting

Someone asked me the other day if I was still interested in having children of my own. Of course I'm wanting my own children, but raising a pre-teen and a 9 year old is hard, and off putting when I think that I may need to do this all over again. I know they say it's different when it's your own children, but gosh, this is a constant battle between cooperation and defiance. The latter dominating at the best of times.

Mr N(ASS)ty was introduced to me a couple of weeks ago by a client of mine. "It's time to step up and hand out some good old fashioned discipline", she said "it's not always easy dishing out hidings, but we all grew up with them and we all laugh about it now." 

She was referring to Mr Nasty as if he was the benchmark of parenthood, as if, when you're at this point of idle threats, Mr Nasty is at the top of the list when it comes to distributing physical reminders of who is boss. Today the kids met Mr Nasty, although, as you would imagine my luck, it was a giggle session between them while I sampled some Mr Nasty to their backsides. The introduction was futile as the youngest scoffed at my soft and harmless blows. "That wasn't sore", giggles the youngest, "do it again". 

At this stage I'm over it, I'm also considering taking an online mental wellness quiz to check that I'm not, in fact, losing my mind to the insanity I call my afternoons. 

Maybe it's not meant to be

Today, for the first time, I questioned whether or not I should walk away. I wondered what it would be like to just say, 'Sorry everyone, I'm done, I need a permanent time out in a remote location with a couple of cocktails around an adult only pool', but I know I could never, I don't want to. 

Every fibre of my being is battling through this challenge of acceptance. It's not them, it's me. It's my frustration and my resentments and my regrets. I love their father, and they are good kids, but I'm selfish and I wish they hadn't been born. There. I said it. I wish, they hadn't inconvenienced my life. 

If that makes me a bad person then I'm a bad person. But the fact that I'm still here, still committed, still doing my all for them with no expectations and no return on investment is a very clear form of love. Love isn't a duty, it is a privilege. I choose to share my home, money, time and knowledge with them. I choose to give of myself even when it means I'm near tearing out my hair and making idle threats with a bamboo spoon that I brought for a couple bucks at the local store. 


I love them, I love him, I just don't know how long it's going to be before I can accept them in all their humanness. Perhaps I've just forgotten how to be patient, tolerant and accepting of others. Perhaps they are my reminders that all things, including love come at a price and mine is loving their father with the burden and privilege of raising them at the same time. 

C'est la vie.