Alarm

I lie there, trying to day dream myself into sleep.  No seriously.  These days I don’t just fall asleep.  I have to ‘day dream’ before hopefully falling asleep.  Horrible feeling that.  Being worried that just maybe you won’t fall asleep.

Finally my dream takes over reality and I drift off to the land of the Sandman.  Just.  Then the house alarm goes off.  There is NOTHING that gets your heart rate up so quickly as being woken up from deep sleep to your home alarm going off in South Africa.

Withing milliseconds I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to protect the kids, when I realize Tommie is up and walking through the house already.  I grab my cellphone, with my finger right on the emergency button…just in case. 

In the end we figure out it’s the main bedroom that set off the alarm and all is fine and well in our room.  I keep the phone with me as the security company should be phoning to hear if everything is okay.  I lie there…phone on my chest…waiting for the call.  Nothing.  I’m almost asleep - this time without the help of day dreaming - when I realize I still have the phone on my chest.  No call.  15 Minutes later.  I put the phone on silent (and vibrating) in case they phone, since I don’t want it to wake up Zander or Tommie.

No call.

It’s now 12 : 19 pm.  It’s the next day already and I’m still waiting for the call.

Much help they are.

 

Every little detail

Kids see detail.  Even if we think they don’t.  Even when we don’t.

Yesterday as we were leaving the office, Quintus decided to practise his throwing skills on my very unsuspecting leg.  Heck did that hurt!  So in return because I was a 9 year old and wanted to get back at him I threw the ball at him.  Being all girl I miss and the ball landed in the flowerbed.

After a big search by him and our garden boy, it was nowhere to be found.  I was blissfully unaware, as I was trying to load all our crap stuff into the car.  I was about to drive away when I noticed his face in the rear view mirror.  I couldn’t understand why he was so upset, until he explained that the ball is now lost.

I jump out of the car and go looking for the ball between the bushes and flowers.  In my work clothes.  On my knees.  Getting dirty.  I found it and returned to my very thankful son.  All is well.  I put the smile back on his face and now we can finally leave.

About 15 minutes later he says:

“I’m so glad you are my mom.  You are the best mom.”

“Well, thank you very much Quintus….but why do you say that?”  —-still feeling guilty for almost throwing the ball away —-

“Because no other mom would go searching for the ball the way you did.”

 

Look who can cycle!

 

Can’t believe this. It was as easy as him getting on and cycling. Like it’s not an issue. Not something to be learned. Just something that you do.

He is loving it. Loves that he can cycle with his big brothers. No longer on his little black bike but right there, next to them.

He has the cutest way of getting on. He is a tad short so had to find his own way of getting his leg over as you can see from the video.

 

 

 

Hunting

I cannot like hunting.  You cannot convince me in ANY way that hunting is a ’sport’.  Hunting can be a professional job.  Yes.  I understand that.  Some times due to humans interference and putting animals in camps animal numbers need to be reduced.  Don’t see why the average pen pusher should see himself as a hunter once a year and go do this.  There’s professional hunters who can do that.  It’s like someone doing his own income tax return once and saying he’s a tax consultant. 

Yesterday a business man (note - not a hunter) was ‘attacked’ as the newspapers says by a leopard.  Now let’s put this into perspective.  The leopard had been killing some farm animals and clearly this is a problem.  The farmer and his friend decided to go looking for this leopard and kill it.  They found it, shot it and walked up to the leopard.  As they got close enough the leopard jumped up and attacked them.  The first shot didn’t kill it.  They shot again and still he was not dead.  He did do some serious harm to both of them before he died though.

Do I feel sorry for them?  No.  Again, they aren’t hunters.  Get a professional hunter.  Just cause you ride your car at ridiculous speeds, it doesn’t make you a Formula 1 racer. You are also not a professional hunter because you own a gun.