peace at last

Guilt is an emotion mandatory to the occupation of motherhood.
I have generally leaned towards feelings of guilt quite a lot in my life - probably because I can be selfish at times - but its had nothing on this new unrelenting guilt that comes with being a mother. This guilt seems to have little to do with being selfish and more to do with getting it right.
I think being a mom to twins has doubled the guilt factor. Since they were born I have tried to share and divide my attention and affection between them equally, but in reality it's an impossibility - someone always has to wait their turn and being the same age there is little in the line of reasoning with one or the other.
"There is only one mommy and two little girls." I frequently repeat this as a mantra to my girls - it helps to appease my guilt when I'm impatient towards them. Charlotte seems to undersand this because she once told me she's only having one child and when I questioned her, she said: "Because I only have two hands." Anna who generally seems not to understand what all the fuss in life is about, claims she will have six children - good luck to her!
So from day one of my maternal occupation I have been battling with guilt: have I given enough attention to both of them, why didn't I try listen better to Charlotte's story even though Anna also had to tell me hers at the same time; I could have been nicer about trying to push Anna on the swing and saving Charlotte from crashing off the monkey bars at the same time; why am I not more understanding in the car when they are both talking to me at the same time all the way home from playschool.
I have also felt guilty and doubtful about decisions I have made for them in the past like why didn't I breastfeed longer; I should have kept them home longer before sending them to a creche, I should not have let them ride their pony under a low branch and end up in a dusty heap on the ground.
So when I made the decision to change them to a Waldorf kindergarten after Anna was clearly battling in the busy playground where she was, I was sure that somewhere along the line I would have feelings of guilt and doubt.  In fact I have been waiting for it for almost a month and still nothing...
My children are incredibly happy, adjusted and appear to be thriving. I am elated that I actually, for once, got it simultaneously right! I was sure Charlotte, who loathes change, was going to punish me to no end, but she happily goes off to school excited about the days activities. And Anna, who is the reason we changed, kisses me and runs off to play instead of hysterically clinging to me like a chimp, so that I would have to force her into the hands of the teacher and run to the car with her yells ringing in my ears. Now she can't wait to get there and although she still battles in social situations, which we are hoping a little occupational therapy will sort out, she is happy. And my heart sings because I got it right!
On top of their happiness at school they seem to have done a complete turn around at home. I am not sure if it's been turning four or their new Rudolph Steiner environment, but they play together like best friends and never seem to run out of ideas for new imaginary games.

So for this moment I breathe a guiltless and content sigh while experiencing, what feels like the first time, a normal, peaceful existence with my twins.

food, glorious food

Living in Africa, where the numbers of starving people increase daily, I feel completely guilty at the fact that I HAVE TOO MUCH FOOD!
Like so much in life, its feast or famine here on Ouland Farm and at the moment, still with the memory of last year's drought  in mind, we are producing an abundance of food.
Tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes. I am selling, eating, cooking, freezing and handing them out, but they keep on coming! The brinjals, marrows, beans, basil and lettuce have also just got into the swing of things and are multiplying daily.
And as if the hens have got wind of this time of abundance, they too are producing with gleeful abandon.
So, like they say, enjoy it while it lasts, because before long the days will cool down and so will the crops.
After being inspired by Barbara Kingsolver's book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, I envisioned myself toiling away in the kitchen making all sorts of delicious dishes from my assortment of homegrown veg, but thanks to "real life"of motherhood and all that goes with it, all I've managed to do is cook and freeze kilo's of  chopped tomatoes for pasta's and stews - hardly worth writing about....maybe next summer I'll come up with some unique ideas worth publishing in a world best seller.

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braving the storms

The holidays are finally over and I must admit that since my last blog post my attitude and perspective on having two four year olds in the house 7 days a week, for 6 weeks, did change somewhat.
We had a lot of good times and fun times but truth be told I am not the naturally patient text book example of a mommy, by a long shot. And after the novelty of not having to rush in the mornings to get to school on time wore off, I started to snarl and growl a bit. I'm kind of good at giving of my time, but I'm better when I know there is a gap on the horizon where I will be able to do "my own thing" for awhile. However there wasn't much of that to speak of.
I've come to learn, especially since having children, that things come in waves and phases. So bearing this in mind I did my best to ride the various waves, and in some cases, tsunamis, that came my way. We started off in a good  and jolly, "Yay we are on holiday!" phase which soon morphed into "everybody is getting on everybody's nerves" phase. This was the part where the girls fought. A lot. daily. Every 15 minutes.
One child would invariably be screaming from being bashed on the head or some other equally unfair assault and the other would be whining her version of the tale to me. This went on for a large chunk of the holiday. At first I did my best to meet their emotional needs, and when this did little to reduce the conflict, I slipped into "I am a really bad mother and therefore my kids are dysfuctional," phase. After that I became really grumpy and went so far as to threaten Anna that if she did not stop her whining I was going to throw her boiled egg at her. Yes I admit I allowed myself to let go of concious parenting to the full for a brief moment. It wasn't long after that that I dissolved into a phase of weepy surrender. At this point, quite miraculously, they stopped. But it took me a couple of days to realise that something was different. They were playing, happily, and had not fought over anything for a few days. It felt like I had been washed ashore on a tropical beach after braving a night long storm at sea.
Either they realised it was time to cut Mom some slack or they had finally found their groove with each other and decided to, groove.
Ofcourse, Murphy's Law, school began 10 days later, which has lead us into a new phase of challenging learning curves and emotional adjustments. Especially since it is a new school.
I will wait and muster the dregs of my patience and resilience for the next phase of emotional onslaught, which I have no doubt my darling twins will be bringing me soon.

its my party and I'll cry if I want to

I can't believe we are mid-way through the Christmas holidays and I am surprisingly calm and actually feel like I am on holiday. I think it is the first time since the twins were born, on December 12, that I can honestly say I am enjoying the festive season. The first Christmas I spent with them passed in a blur of deranged sleeplessness and bleeding nipples; the second was pure damage control and no fun at all because I couldn't take them to the beach alone and each time we did venture down for a swim it was like arranging a overland African trek; and the last holidays I was in the thick of 3 year old tantrums and pure, unadulterated, resistance from two very headstrong fire-signs. But this year they are FOUR! And actually loads of fun to hang out with. I have not even yet made use of the holiday care option down the road - although I must say there are advantages to having my sister-in-law here to help in the entertainment department.

The build up to the twin's 4th birthday started at least 6 months ago. The theme and invitees changed daily, depending on their mood and disposition. They regularly disinvited each other - which proves a fundamental lack of understanding of their twinship, although I have drummed it in over the years that they were actually in mommy's tummy at the same time and therefore share a birthday along with everything else. Clearly they take their twinness completely for granted and its probably more of an incovenience at this stage than anything else. I'm hoping they will find the value of this karmic blessing later on in life when it could come in handy.
For some reason the year end is jammed packed with kid's parties and so by the time the girl's party came along I was sick to death of cake and party packs - and I have a sneaky feeling they may have been too.
I'm not one to try keep up with the Jonese's so we planned a very regular and small occasion with the highlight being the cake and a teasure hunt. Last year I did pony rides - its a hard one to beat and an exhausting one to repeat. Luckily no one noticed the pony stashed away behind the house.

Charlotte was on edge from the word go and all it took was for her sister to have the first birthday song and candles and that was it: she cried through her whole big moment and never really fully recovered after that. We all breathed a sigh of relief when the last of the guests left and we could go destress with a swim in the ocean.
On their actual birthday we took them dolphin watching, which was a huge success and could not have made them more excited as they saw and experienced schools of wild dolphins racing and jumping along side the boat.
So finally we are "completely" four years old and already in full swing of disinviting offensive people to party no. 5.

the livin' is good, for some

Summer is officially upon us and life on the farm is heating up. Apart from a marked increase in our braaing (BBQ) and beach time, we seem to be pretty productive.

Our spring planting efforts are starting to pay off with our tunnels looking lush and fruitful. I now have marrows, butter lettuce, rocket, spinach and cabbage to sell, plus loads of herbs. And thanks also to my fellow organic growing neighbours, my little farm shop is starting to look quite full of yummy homegrown produce.

But most exciting of all: my hen house is finally complete! After months of nagging my husband, who is really good at any form of hammer and nail work, he finally, without much todo, whipped it up in one afternoon. Thank you!
Our run of youngster chickens, who because of a moody uptight aunty hen, have been ostracized from their mother since young and have had to do with our Magnolia tree as home, did not know what had hit them. After being completely free range since birth, they were suddenly chased, cornered and dive tackled by three grown men, before being deposited into a fresh clean, and enclosed, home. Clearly in shock by this instant change in fortune, they stood around uncomfortably in their new surroundings with beaks agape. And to add insult to injury two of their brothers had mysteriosly vanished...

I feel really bad about this but as Charles said, if I want to farm I'm going to need to toughen up about certain things like selling my first born roosters to our Malawian workers - for the pot. After promising our guys they could have their pick, I got a gleeful knock on the kitchen window one evening and a R20 note thrust into my hand, "For my rooster," said Pearson with a huge grin. I was totally unprepared and hadn't even yet had a moment to say to good bye to the doomed chicken before Pearson and Lusungu picked him out, ran helter, skelter around the garden and caught him. Ofcourse he was the most handsome of all the roosters - how this affects his taste I dont know? And had I offered Pearson a plucked, frozen, free range chicken for supper, I know he would not have felt nearly as rewarded. So a very chuffed Pearson  cycled home with my rooster tied in a plastic packet to his handlebars with only his confused little face peeking out, obviously unaware of the fate that awaited him. 

Next it was the little red rooster that went to Hariet, our nanny. When the girls found out, Anna, the animal lover, was not at all happy to hear of it and ran off to count the chickens only to come back confirming, very sadly, that yes there were two roosters missing, and why should this be? Charlotte's response was simply: "What a pity that Hariet had to eat the red rooster, he was so cute." I have to give it to them: they both, albeit in a vastly different ways, have a healthy approach to life.

Hariet later brought us a small taste of Red Rooster. I simply couldn't do it. I admit I'm a flake.

So there is one young rooster left which I plan to keep as I can't handle another death. I've put all of them: hens, big and small, maternal and not, plus two roosters, Big Daddy and his son, all in the one hen house. Once they have settled in they will go back to their routine of being let out at lunch time, but in the mean time we shall see what transpires. I'm half expecting a stand-off between the two males, but so far it seems quite peaceful.

proud

It's nearly ten days ago now and I still haven't blogged about it. Partly because life just keeps sweeping me along, as it does, and partly because I don't want to seem like I'm bragging.
But in this case I'm just going to because I am really, really proud of my husband.
Last week The National Sea Rescue Institute invited us to their annual dinner and presented Charles with an award for bravery for his efforts to save Tim from the shark attack. It was really moving that his humble and spontaneous act to save a friend's life was acknowledged formally by the community and National Sea Rescue.
In his typical nature he took it in his stride. So I take it apon myself to blow his horn, just a little, as its not like everyone gets an award for bravery in their lifetime, now is it?

confessions of a mother

After almost four years of motherhood I think I can safely say that the role has now completely infused with my being and I cannot imagine life any other way. I have come a long way since the day we arrived home from the hospital with two tiny sleeping bundles, placed them in their crib and thought: "Now what? Wonder what the waves are doing?" But it wasn't long before they both woke up screaming for a feed, needless to say Charles was surfing and I was alone...in shock.
Motherhood did not come easily to me and I'm probably better at it now that the girls can walk, talk and feed themselves. For a long time I felt very frustrated at not being able to get on with my life as I had  known it. I think its reasonable to say that after living your life according to your own rules for thirty years, bearing a child, or two, is a massive shock to the psychi. A shock which I think is rarely taken into consideration. In the olden days women were raised and prepared from an early age to become mothers. But these days most women get on with living their lives, travelling and building careers before they decide to have a child. On a whole, I think first time mothers are completely ill-prepared psychologically and should have psychological help in the first months of motherhood.
Having twins is ofcourse a double whammy and even more limiting on the freedom front. I used to watch with envy as mothers with their newly born singletons calmy did their shopping or had dinner at a restaurant! I'm not sure if it was the double package or my children's strong-willed nature, but I could NEVER go out alone with them without it being a complete disaster and ending with two red-faced screamers. I'm sure my anxiety added to theirs, but try as I might outings in the first year were never a calm and enjoyable experience. Having my husband with me only seemed to make it worse - like the time we were so frazzled that we forgot Anna was still in the pram when we were putting into the back of the car! In all fairness she was only about 2.5 kgs at that stage and easily lost in a bundle of blankets.
While I felt like a spinning top pretty much all the time, my husband decided the best way to handle me and the twins was to act like it was the most normal and undemanding experience anyone could have. His favourite response when people asked us how we were coping was: "Oh, it's a walk in the park," - I could have murdered him! He thought we should continue with our lives as before and I, ever keen to act like the laid-back easy-going, "I do this all the time", first time mother of twins, would try to comply. But when I found myself sitting on a rocky, windy outcrop overlooking the surf and trying to breastfeed two at once, it didn't seem as much fun as I had imagined...
But slowly we grew up and realised the best way to handle our situation was to act according to the hand we had been dealt. Unfortunately, especially for surfers, the babies and their routine came first and if we handled it on their terms we had a better chance of enjoying ourselves.
Over time I, like all mothers, have adapted and evolved to accommodate the needs of my children. I very seldom kick against watching another great day of waves go by unsurfed; I happily miss weeks of riding my horse, I never go out in the week anymore and I'm satisfied if I get at least one minute of intimacy with my husband. At the end of the day its what motherhood is about, sacrifice, sacrifice and sacrifice a bit more.
But somehow its worth more than anything else you could wish for, and I think we might even consider another...