Dear Max
This is why I love your school… because you do cool stuff like this Father’s Day card below. I swear there isn’t a week that I don’t tear up at the smallest of things that you do, make, say or sing at school.
x Mom
Dear Max
On Saturday we hopped onto the Joburg sightseeing red bus as it was the launch of the GeePee Kids Special (a programme that lets kids under 18 ride for free when they’re accompanied by a full-paying adult).
You had been looking forward to it the whole week, and it was the only way I could bribe motivate inspire you to dress and brush your hands and teeth without too much of a fight on Saturday morning.
We left from Gold Reef City and headed off on our tour with an audio guide (via earphones) telling us a bit about the history and landmarks we were passing, plus some other interesting info.
You were enthralled for most of the trip (towards the end you got a bit fidgety), asking questions, and pointing out things (I was horrified that on a trip that spanned around 20km, we saw five McDonald’s – “Look mom, there’s an ‘M’ like in Max” – five times!).
At our stop at Museum Afrika, you had a meltdown because you wanted to be carried. At the museum I put you down, and said I wouldn’t carry you anymore because my back was sore. You cried for about 20 minutes – it was like a battlefield, neither of us wanting to give up on what we thought was right for us (in your case, being carried, and in my case, you walking on your own). Eventually there was ceasefire, something switched and you were okay again. And my nerves were shot.
The trip made me feel like a happy tourist (without the backpack) and I was reminded of similar bus tours in London, Rome and Paris where I just sat back enjoying the views and sites, and my best – watching people down below walking, working and socialising. I also love how rides like this – and travel in particular – let me escape. I envisage living in other places, and living other lives completely. I create stories and pictures in my head of how people live, what they do, who they go home to.
The trip reminded me too of our beautiful city filled with contrasts and contradictions, and so many childhood experiences. From Santarama Miniland where I used to go often as a child, to the Carlton Hotel where I went to ice-skating parties and never managed to take my hand off the rail. I have rich memories of Hillbrow where we used to go and hang out in the record store and eat waffles at Milky Lane, and visiting my dad’s office at the corner of Fox and Harrison streets which seemed like THE most important, fun and looming place when I was small.
You experienced this ride so differently to me, but we both had fun and immersed ourselves in what we related to. I hope we get to experience many more such rides together.
xxMom
Dear Max
Sorry it’s been so long but I’ve been quite occupied looking after you while your dad is away. And it feels like since I got back from that very long run in Durban, I haven’t stopped running, metaphorically.
You’re also going through a beeeg “mommy” stage and there are tears or sadness whenever I’m not in a 10cm radius of you. I’m not sure if it’s an age/stage thing, if it’s just because I was away for a weekend, or whether I’m just so awesome you want to be around me the whole time (haha!)
You’re doing great aside from being attached to my hip. You’re speaking better, you chat every day about what you want to be when you’re grownup, and you’re still eating chocolate cake or ice cream for breakfast, and sushi or salad for supper. I guess the more things change in life, the more things stay the same.
About that run, it was my hardest ever. Every step was a mission, and it was a hard, hot and cruel day. I lost my sense of humour for the most part, and felt kak from before halfway. My legs were *okay* and I wasn’t injured, but my energy was low, and fatigue and nausea high. But your mom slogged on with the help of some very wonderful people on the side of the road and in my phone.
I’m glad it’s behind me, I’m glad I’m recovered, and I’m relieved I still love running and have planned my first run this week.
Love you dude
xMom
Us on the Hyundai balloon – I was scared for takeoff, you weren’t at all
Dear Max
No end-of-May blog could exist without at least one post about Comrades, and I’ve written about it for the last two years here and here, and I’m likely to write it about it over and over.
While I sit here kakking myself for Sunday, I’m trying to go through in my head what the day will be about. And the more I think about it, the more terrified I get. I know it will be hard, and that’s all that matters, and that’s enough. Trying to remember every hill and every ache and obstacle I’ve ever faced at Comrades, or worrying about everything that could happen on the day, is simply not useful.
And interestingly, that it will be hard and about suffering is a basic Buddhism “truth”. Not necessarily Comrades only, but life. It is not meant to be a pessimistic outlook (eg “I expect tomorrow to be bad”), but rather a realistic one (eg “Life is full of tough stuff and hardships).
I’ve been feeling a bit pessimistic lately, and a little like I’m going through more “hardship” than I can manage. And what does one do when that happens? Well, aside from trying to see the wood for the trees (not easy when you’re feeling too foggy to see much at all), I’ll do what I do when I’m in a hard race – take it step by step, without fearing the 100 steps after, and know that the hard stuff will pass.
It’s so hard to do when you’re hurting, and I’m pretty sure there will be tears of physical pain (and regret) on Sunday, but I’m yet to run a whole 89km like that – there will be smiles, there will be fun, there will be light, and there will be someone on the side of the road offering me support just when I need it.
So I don’t know when or where the tough parts will strike, just like day-to-day we can’t foresee the punches and slides. All we know is that it will be tough, and that’s okay – it has to be. Which of course is easy for me to say to now when my feet are up and I’m sitting with a cup of coffee, but this has got to see me through. The only way out is through, they say.
I will miss you so much for the 48 hours I’m away. I can’t wait to see you as I hobble to fetch you from Be Sharp Beetles on Monday.
Yours in hills, valleys and troughs,
xMom
Dear Max
Did you know…
- That even though one can’t have enough nail polish, notebooks, Converse shoes, cookbooks and lipgloss, I still *need* more.
- That I still can’t tie my shoelaces like they say one should, or dive into a pool (I kinda flop in)
- That you are the only person who ever hears me singing
- That I love baking and wish I did more of it
- That I fell on my head (no jokes) off a jungle gym ladder, and as soon as I got to the doctor, I vomited on him (I still remember where his rooms were)
- That people think me weird because I don’t eat avocado
- That I would rather buy clothes for you than for me? Far more rewarding and less painful.
- That I want a Labrador in every colour – black, brown and yellow
- That my favourite food is pizza, but I seldom eat it
- That when I was in grade one, I got teased for having shoes that were different to everyone else’s
- That I used to have penpals around the world and send these random people letters, often with stickers on the envelopes. I miss handwritten stickers!
- That I used to belong to the Hello Kitty club when I was around seven, but never received a thing. I sent my membership form to somewhere in Booysens.
- That when I was about four, I got a chicken bone stuck in my throat and couldn’t breathe well. A doctor removed it
- That I can’t stand having anything covering my face – I get very panicked. The same with water over my eyes
- That there isn’t a day that goes past that I don’t think about going to Paris
- That I often overestimate how wonderful people’s lives are
- That I will always feel 10kg too heavy!
- That I have a weird memory for the small stuff
xMom
Dear Max
Lately you’ve started chatting about what you want to be when you grow up. Perhaps you’re having these conversations at school, or maybe you’re starting to think about the cool grownups you see on documentaries, apps and in real life.
Each week it changes, and on the weekend you told me you wanted to be a scuba diver.
Last week it was astronaut.
And for a few months before that it was a pilot.
And before that it was truck driver.
And at one point you wanted to be a rubbish truck driver.
But during one of our bathtime conversations recently, when I asked what you wanted to be when you were “grown up”, you said “an adult”. How smart and what a profound wish! Many grown ups I know aren’t so adult-like for many reasons. And being an adult is hard. But you mostly get to eat ice cream for breakfast if you like, and drive, and choose your destination in life.
I don’t really mind how you choose yours – I guess I just want you to be happy, and be kind and good to others around you. And just so you know, I’ve been on a scuba diving course and felt claustrophobic and panicked throughout – I might have even asked the dive master to hold my hand every time I went in the water. So, if you choose to be a scuba diver, I might not come to visit you in your workplace. Just saying.
xxMom
Dear Max
Up until about two weeks ago, I was feeling more than a little out of control with the parenting thing. I mean, I know there are rough and challenging patches, but I felt out of control, and unable to say no, nor even set rules and boundaries for you – let alone follow them through. You were also a bit sick, and I reckon it was all connected, but I’m not sure which came first.
So last week your dad and I met to chat about rules and routine – and how we can initiate more structure, and make you feel “safer” with consistency. Fortunately we’re both on the exact same page with the same goals and similar parenting style.
What I think happened was that I got “soft”, and unable to see you frustrated, angry or sad, so I would do anything to prevent that – even if it meant giving you your way a lot. And then a psychologist explained that I’m probably doing a lot of overcompensating, that it’s okay for you to feel, and that with so much “freedom”, you actually feel scared and lost with so much power.
So a bit desperate, I tried to follow this approach with more discipline and boundaries, letting you “feel”, lots more communication, and rewards, like our new star chart. And so far, things have just turned around. We have more routine, you’re watching much less TV, you’re eating at the table, you’re sleeping in your own bed (the first night took much persuasion and reassurance) and nighttimes are easier. It’s not smooth all the time, but wow – what a difference some routine makes. Your health is better, you’re more chatty, and mostly less anxious when we drop you off at school.
And I don’t know why I even forgot this. We were in routine from the day you were born with Gina Ford’s Contented Parent Baby Book, and I think it gave us confidence and “security” knowing what was potting, and what was coming next, more or less. And I think the same applies these days, even though you’re older. So for now, this is our way. Even if our way includes occasional chocolate cake for breakfast (eaten at the table, of course!)
xMom
Dear Max
Look at these pictures carefully… what can you see in all of them, aside from cute you as a toddler?
The answer is the Sleep Sense taglet, aka your “dudu”. I gave you your first hit of dudu when you were a few months old (having received a few and bought one or two) when I was pregnant.
You love your dudu(s) a lot, and started getting attached from around the age of two. It’s your security blanket, and it’s what you sleep with, feeling the tags while you fall asleep, and clutching it against your face and neck in the night.
Now, I’m not lying or exaggerating when I say we have probably “lost” around 35 dudus in the last few years. Where they go is a complete mystery. I realise, that like lipgloss, lipstick or socks, things get lost/misplaced/left in pockets/misplaced.
But we’re at critical levels now – there’s only one at our house, and one at your dad’s house, after topping up with three new ones three weeks ago. And they’re not cheap. And once or twice, I’ve tried giving you a VERY SPECIAL pashmina, or piece of fabric, but you won’t cross over.
Today I had to drop an emergency dudu off at your dad, and the other night your dad raced here to drop off a dudu because we were out and I was putting you to sleep, and because you had shunned all my scarves, pashminas and other brands of taglets.
So, where are all the dudus going? You don’t take them to school, I doubt anyone would steal taglets with “Max” written on both sides in black marker, and I’m quite sure you don’t give them away.
Although Gina our dog has been known to rip things apart, she doesn’t really swallow them, and we haven’t come across any shards of dudu. You are also pretty good at keeping each dudu on hand when we go out, though lately you just use them at home.
So, like existential questions such as “who are we?” and “why are we here”, here’s my question: “WTF do all the dudus go?”
Yours in searching,
Mom
Dear Max
It was Mother’s Day on Sunday and you (thanks to your dad) gave me awesome HK pyjamas that were wrapped in HK wrapping paper. It was perfection!
I also got the most beautiful card of your handprints that you made at school, and which makes my eyes leak every time I read it.
You had two tantrums that I couldn’t talk you out of, and had to let pass until you calmed down. The first was during our run when I took a route you didn’t want to take. And then we went out for brunch which upset you because you wanted to have eggs at home. We didn’t have eggs at home and you got a bit hysterical. Eventually you calmed, and we enjoyed a great early afternoon out where you dished out many hugs and kisses.
I must be honest, Mother’s Day is not my favourite. I guess there’s a small sense of loss, and a lot of the time I feel pressure to “celebrate”, and to do things a certain way. Kind of like Valentine’s Day and New Year’s Eve. The truth is, and this could make a cheesy Hallmark card, but every day is a celebration of being a mom. And while I might not get Hello Kitty or other swag every day, my gift comes from a big little package of rewards and cuddles. And even the occasional tantrum is a reminder of my gift.
Thank you for a great Mother’s Day,
xxMom
Dear Max
So after my last post I received lots of virtual hugs, and interestingly, some comments from moms who have gone through or are going through similar things with their moms.
I don’t write to get attention, and I tend to deduct a lot of the “drama” and very heavy feelings from my life, but writing online does help me feel less alien with my emotions (which I often feel a bit guilty about).
So, Granny is out the hospital and back home recovering. It took us about two hours in hospital to get her packed, discharged and into the car. She is quite immobile, and three of us had to get her into her wheelchair when she got home. She was so happy to get home, and has been set up in a room downstairs to facilitate her moving around.
You were so patient during our shlep to get her home. I promised a quick visit, but you were patient and awesome, and kept me from losing my shit or leaking some tears while I battled with procedures and the settling of bills and signouts.
And then we hit our favourite comfort food, sushi, for a treat. Somehow so many things end in food, whether it’s a celebration, sadness, stress or “just because” (this could explain why I might always have a few kilograms to lose).
It’s been a challenging few days. I’m glad to have my Hello Kitty pyjamas, my son and some loved ones for comfort and comic relief.
xMom
This Father’s Day card made me cry…
Posted by Tanya Kovarsky on Jun 18, 2013
Sorry it’s been so long, but…
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Win a Sony Cyber-shot W530 camera here
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