Dear New Puppy

Could you fuckin not though?

No one told me having an 8 week old pup would be like having a newborn human.

Minus having to get up and physically take you out, whereas with a babe I could just roll over and hand it my tit.

You’re making me tired Skye.

You’re cute, I’ll give you that but damn!; you’re alot of work.

Please let’s work out a schedule where you allow me a solid 3 hours of sleep between your needing to be let out.

I promise to feed you and take care of you best I can but I cannot be my best if all I am doing is stress and lack of sleep eating #NotGood

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I just don’t fit in

It’s ok to admit to yourself that you just don’t fit in

It’s not just as a mother but a person in general

As a mother though, it’s painstakingly awkward

I always feel like the youngest of the bunch

That all these other mothers have alot more in common than I do with a rock

I sit here, at a Princess Tea Party wishing there was some way to escape

To melt into the wall so that I could just be what I know I was meant to be

A fly

On a wall

There is a mom that makes an effort

Then there is one that has introduced herself to me on 3 occasions

Remember Forgettable Face ?

See what I mean?

As a fellow (*and I use that term quite loosely) mother, I feel that somewhere along the lines I must’ve missed the class on how mothers just mother in groups

I always feel like I am missing a fundamental part of life

Always

Not just now

That makes it impossible for me to socially interact

That is most probably the sole reason for me not attending blogging events

I am socially unable to comprehend my status as an individual or my recognition as a mother

I am sure that is 100% ok to admit that I just do not fit in

Before I Sleep Thoughts

Is it crazy that I want more of you? To see more of you? Know more of you? Is it crazy that I still cannot get you out of my head? As if you’re a drugged that I am consumed by. Engulfed in an ocean of replaying scenes with you in my mind. Am I crazy to want more than just social media? To want a bit more than what I have opened myself to? Is it ok that I have all these questions with no one to answer them. That I sit here, silently willing myself to sleep so that I could possibly dream of you. Of what we could be. What I hope of. How crazy is it that I am thinking of you when you’re thinking of your next?

You haunt my dreams

In the middle of the night as I stir awake, I dream of you. Always the same dream. Everything the same. You. Me. Us. When I wake up though. Each second after is different. More recently I awoke in a panic. Searching for you. Finding nothing but emptiness. That day, I longed for you. I know you must’ve seen me. I know you. From all angles. Not the one I want to know you from though. I wish I could caress your skin. Touch my lips to yours. Just to know you. More of you. More of the promises we once made. I once made. I know you’ve seen me. After 10 years, I warned you that I was not the same. Far from it. You reassured me that you would love me regardless. I know you must’ve seen me; as I rushed out of the brightly lit shop at 7am. You must’ve. I know I saw you. I saw you turn and look. You must’ve seen me. You must’ve seen that my warning was real. That you could not commit to the real me. The far from it me. You must’ve expected something different. I’ll never know what. If I keep you in my mind. Hoping one day, that I will either forget about you completely or that one day I might get to love you; then I might stop these nightmares. It’s a nightmare, you see. When I wake up I am not alone but I am not with you. When I am so wrapped up in wanting to know you more but you’re just out of my reach. Maybe if I give up, just this once. But you must’ve seen me. You must’ve realised that you could not love the unlovable. I warned you, if only you had listened. If I could only stop my heart from breaking. If only we never put any effort into this. From the beginning. If I could turn back time, I’m not sure if I would choose to stop wanting to know you; because as heartbreaking as it is, it gives me hope. Hope that one day I might get to see you, even just a fleeting glance. Not just the pics I see on Facebook. Not just the years of stalking I go through. I saw you. I am sure you saw me. Just as my heart breaks, I know seeing me broke yours.

Be warned,

The Unlovable

Time To Say Totsiens

Instead of watching another episode of Whose Line Is It Anyway, I type this post. Knowing that I’ll regret my choice soon enough. September 2015 I started a journey that was suppose to be my last but due to my recent truthfulness, it seems as if I will need to move on again. I have vowed to fight though but after voicenoting my friend, the not so rational one of the two of us; she has made me realise something that I think He has been trying to show me. Everything has come to a halt. The pipeline has just stopped. As if under some sort of maintenance. I am alot calmer. Less worried. Less frantic. I don’t think I will ever be completely ready to move on, unless they push me. Off the ledge. If I stay, I’ll change. It just makes sense. Because who can I trust? Everyone’s been telling me stories. Different sources. Same stories. If I stay, I will change. Morphe into a new me. A different me. A less likeable me. A more focused me. A more fuck you me. I just can’t believe it has come to this. This was meant to be it. The end of my beginning. The last stop on my journey. That’s what we said. That’s what we agreed upon. This was meant to be the closing chapter. My book has been written. Done. Finished. Complete. No more ink. No more paper. This has me broken, a lottle (a little but alot). There are not enough words to describe what I am expecting to happen. What I have been told. Word of mouth. The grapevine. Gossip Town. Skinner. Where is the accountability? I know when I leave you’ll speak about me, you’ve spoken about the ones before me. How crazy they were. What they did wrong. Does it hurt to pretend that much? Is it alot of upkeep having 2 faces? Why is it ok that I take the blame for unethical practices? Why is it ok that me being truthful and standing up for your baby has made me out to be the bad one? I won’t go down without a fight but this is in God’s hands now. He will equip me with the tools I need to fight whatever battle is set before me.

Mommy You Work Too Much

This is not something the kid has said to me but it is something that I can see in her face and in her actions

My actions aswell

When I put my job above the kid and above my maternal-ness then I become so stressed and short with her

I find spending time with her, when I am on a fuse, is frustrating and I would much rather be doing something else

I see it in her eyes when I bring the laptop to bed with me (yes, we co-sleep)

I see it in her pushiness to lay right in the crevice of my arm that she does not like that I am working

All the time

Every night

2 hours

Sometimes more

I can feel my not wanting to be present because I am concerned about the emails piling up in my inbox (my boss is single and a workaholic)

I can sense and relate to my frustration of “just one more Mommy”

I don’t just want to because I just can’t

Don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with her and I wouldn’t have it any other way

I wouldn’t choose to be anywhere else than right here, right now with her

In an attempt to spend more time with me, she asked if she could accompany me to work

Not fully understanding that I would be working and therefore, would not be able to spend anytime with her

She said that’s ok, she will bring all her toys with and she will wait for me to get done with work

When did I become such a lack luster mother?

My weekends were filled with going to the park and making sure that she never felt neglected or second best

Least not to a job

She is my one and only responsibility in this world

Why is it so easy to just say “Not now” when “Not now” turns into “Never”

This post was going to be titled “Having a kid is frustrating and this is why” or something like that but I soon realised that this is not her fault

She is a child

5 years old

Clearly reaching out to me, her mother, with her baby talk

Asking for uppies and wanting to be hugged and kissed at random

This is not her fault

That I am neglecting her and making her feel second best to a laptop screen

If I cannot teach her that time is invaluable then what can I teach her?

She already knows that mommy works a lot and all the time but what values am I to instill in her if I cannot even make the time for “2 minutes”

It is not her fault that I have chosen, for the past few weeks and a few times before that, to put my job first

It is not her fault that she goes to bed sad, wondering why mommy does not want to play “Barbie Barbie”

It is not her fault because she is a child

She is my child

She must be made to feel loved

Not just on Insta selfies or FB videos, but real life

No cameras

No wanting to impress other mommies

Just me

Just her

She is a child who did not ask to be here

She is a child who I have vowed to protect

She is a child who is innocently asking “Please Mommy”

@ 5 years old she might’ve experienced her first heartbreak, I just can’t believe I was the one to cause it

The Future of Design | CGT Trader

I was recently approached by a company outside of SA wanting to know if I would be interested in submitting a post on the future of design.

If I chose to submit and become involved, all I had to do was type up a few words on what I think the future of design would be like. Now, as many of you know, I most probably don’t have a creative bone in my body and I am outlandish when I do think of something creative. It always needs to be out there and crazy.

Well, after a few follow up emails from one of their employees, I decided that this must be legit and here I am, typing instead of finishing my last hour of actually-get-paid-work.

My thoughts on the future of design? (please don’t be surprised that this will take a mommy turn)
*I don’t even know if this will be consistent or correct*
We will have a lot more youngsters and sane deprived parents coming up with a way to improve their lives and homes

Mommies will come up with ideas on how to recycle and reuse items of clothing and bottles so that we no longer damage the Earth
Daddies will come up with ways to feed the children without wasting any time cutting and chopping up those I-don’t -eat vegetables
Non parents will come up with ways to better improve your homing system, so that Lego no longer hurts when you step on it in the middle of the night and that you’re able to ninja your way out of your child’s room and not get “caught”
Hell, they might even design something where your child needs to input a password before coming into the parents’ room when they are having “special” time

Now, this post is not about design but it sure was fun thinking about the future and the technological designs and advances that will most probably happen in the next 2 years or so.

At 31, I’ll feel as ancient as BC

Forgettable Face

I have one of those faces. That if you saw me in the street, you’d know that you know me but you’d never quite figure out my name or how you know me. Cue the quickly averted gaze and pondering mind. I am sorry to say but I am forgettable. I am one of those chicks you attended highschool with, we might’ve hung out once or twice. I attended dance class with you for a year or so. We even sat right next to each other and shared a laugh. Like an autumn leave, just begging to be noticed, just a gust of wind blows me past you. Still enough for a moment of recognition but never enough for “Oh, she played a significant role in my life”

I don’t want to be the one who told you to not have that abortion, I don’t want to be your-behind-the-screen friend and I sure as hell don’t want to be that kin from now the other day.

I would like you to remember my name. I would like you to have a decent recount of how you know me. Not just that kin who had one too many berks on school. 

I’ve always felt that I was never one of those. Those, that 10 years down the line, could confidently say I had 100% genuine experiences. I fucked it up. Most of it. I was too much all of the time. Too much of everything and I think people just ended up feeling sorry for me. I never made the best of anything, I took advantage. I don’t have any friends. I don’t know how to make friends. I am 28, a single mom and for the most part, I fucked up. 

When you see me, all 1.49m and 80 + kg’s of me, I hope you stop and reminisce of only the worthy traits. How I made you laugh on highschool or how I was always that one friend who would defend you even if it meant I landed up worse off. I hope that you remember me. 

People always ask me what my worst fear is and it’s not death. It’s that in dying, at my funeral, at my last rememberance, the pews will be empty, filled only by the obligatory family, not attending for respect but for food. 

The kid just swore

Just stop for a second and stop the judgement. I’ll give you your 15 seconds of judge sometime soon.

—————

Imagine the scene, I step out of the shower and the kid is sitting directly opposite me putting on her socks. 

Kid: Mommy, why do you say fuckin when you get mad at me?

*cue shocked facial expression and laughter*

Me: What? Why do I say what?

Kid: Mommy, why do you say fuckin when you get mad at me?

*cue more laughter because apparently I am a terrible mother & don’t know how to handle situations in an adult way*

Me: Oh. Uhmm, I only say it when I’m really upset but I mustn’t hey

Kid: Yes, you mustn’t say fuckin

Me: Jesus doesn’t like it when you say that word. It’s a bad word. It’s a swear word.

Kid: *acting very shocked that I have now accused her of swearing* I never said it, you did

Me: I know, it’s very bad. I won’t say it again. You mustn’t it again, ok? *soon after I mouthed WTF*

Kid: Yes, I won’t say it again

—————-

Ok, here you go……….your 15 seconds of judge

1. For me allowing my 5 year old daughter to see me naked

2. For cussing infront of her

……………………….

I cuss infront of her when I am completely 100% bedonnered. It’s just me and her. The 2 of us. So when I’ve just had enough of everything, swearing is my way of releasing that tension because it’s either that or punching a wall. I’ve tried screaming into a pillow – it does not work.

Also, I cussed infront of her like months ago – she needs to chill

As for the naked part – as parents, we hardly get time to do anything, let alone on our own so yip, that’s my reasoning.

Driving the point home? I typed this post, on my phone while I was on the loo and even then she interuppted me to tell me

” I love you”

“Sorry I’m just collecting my cards” 

AND

“Kid: Mama, I don’t have enough fresh air

Me: Huh? What?

Kid: It’s being cancelled”

The beginning

So tomorrow marks a somewhat important day in my life. The day I decided to take charge of my fat arse, slowly & get in shape. Triangle. Octagon. Not round. It’s going to be hard, like fuckin hard. Like tweezing your vag hair hard but I’ll have to get through it. I am 28 years old. Weigh closer to a 100kg’s than I’d like to admit and simple tasks, like walking and talking, makes me pants. I am not unfit, I am not fit enough. I still look pregnant. 5 years later. I’m small hey so round is not a good shape on me. I’m 1.49m so I expand, badly.

I’m taking it step by step. Eliminating certain factors, a few days at a time. Taking it slow. I know that I am going to feel like shit and that I am going to hate the world but if this is what it takes for me to appreciate being alive and here, then that is what I will do. I will 100% feel like dying but I will, somewhere deep down inside, find the fuckin balls to carry on.

I’ll be documenting my journey on Instagram with daily updates. Follow me to see alot of FUCK ME pictures and captionless feeds.