It’s very hard to judge how Oscar Pistorius felt from the luxury of our homes in Australia

A friend of my mother’s was shot by an intruder last year. She was pottering around in her garden when the intruder killed her. She had probably got in their way. She was in her 60’s and posed no threat. None at all.

I heard about a guy who got home the other day to find two intruders in his house. They were holding his 12 year old son. He was armed and he shot at the intruder – the intruder shot him back and killed him in front of his son.

I could go on for ages telling you about the amount of people that I know that have been held up, shot or killed in South Africa.  I couldn’t count the stories that I hear on a daily basis there are just too many.

  • Around 5900 crimes are reported by the South African Police every day
  • Crime statistics for the year ended April 2012 show there were 15 609 murders for the year, which equates to about 43 murders a day
  • The world average for murder is 7.6 per 100 000 people. Murder in South Africa is 36.5 per 100 000

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This isn’t the place for me to go into they history of apartheid and to tell you that although I (obviously) think this random killing and loss of life  is abysmal, horrific and frightening, I kind of understand it.

I don’t condone violence but I do “get” that generations of people have grown up without basic human rights and have been subject to the most senseless violence themselves.  It’s hard to value life when no value has been placed on your own life.

I can’t explain what it’s like living in a city like Johannesburg (or Pretoria) . I can’t explain the fear and the reality of these crime stats. They don’t just happen in “bad areas”, they don’t just happen to “other people”. This is the reality of life for many every day South Africans living in gated communities behind electric fencing with guns under their beds  – ready to defend themselves. To protect their lives and the lives of their children.

  • More than 64,000 sexual offences, including rape, were reported in South Africa in the year to April 2012,. The rape figures could be much higher, as research suggests that only a fraction of sexual assaults are reported.
  • There are around 250,000 reported burglaries a year

Before we left South Africa we lived in a townhouse complex. One night we heard a shooting outside. Instead of locking the doors and ducking for cover we did what every one of our neighbours did – we ran outside to see what was happening. The only difference between us and our neighbours was that we were the ONLY couple standing outside without a gun.  Every other person that stood with us that night (and there must have been around 8 families) was armed as we watched somebody chase someone else down the road shooting randomly into the dark.

My husband’s father had a weekly card game. He played with a group of  suburban upper class business men who got together and played bad cards, ate gummy lollies and drank whiskey, As they entered the house of the person hosting the game they would hand in their guns. Just like swingers handed in their keys in porn movies of the 1970’s. Or so I’ve heard.

The reality of owning a gun and being prepared to use it is an everyday thing in South Africa.

The reality of being petrified of intruders is not uncommon either. It is the reason I left South Africa. It is the reason I was too frightened to return to South Africa for my own sister’s wedding many years ago. It is the reason I never attended my step-father’s funeral 3 years ago. I was just too scared to be in Johannesburg.

Violent crime is not discriminating.

I am not saying that Oscar Pistorius is innocent but I am saying that it’s very hard to comment on the fear he may have felt IF there was an intruder in his home. Imagine just for one second that he was scared – and that he killed the woman he loved by mistake.

Cases of fatal shootings in South Africa based on mistaken identity include one in 2004, when a retired international rugby player took his teenage daughter for a thief and shot her dead as she was sneaking out of the family home at night to visit her boyfriend. In December last year a man in Johannesburg accidentally shot dead his young daughter after spotting an intruder downstairs in his house.”

It’s hard to judge this one from Australia.

When I hear people making jokes about shooting their partners “by mistake” just because it was dark I think how lucky these people are that they have never felt real terror for their lives just sitting at home or trying to sleep.

I know that feeling and it very nearly drove me insane.

The babysitter that left me homeless

Little Pencil had his first babysitter at around five months. She was a Karitane nurse that we’d met when we took him to a “sleeping” class which I’m happy to say is the only thing he’s failed at spectacularly. The amazingly patient and utterly shocked nurse was horrified at how little sleep we were getting and offered to come to our home for a night so that Mr Pencil and I could have a break.

She was very experienced and had dealt with a thousand crying babies in her long and well established career so she was slightly taken aback when I told her to call us if she had any problems getting him back to sleep when he woke up.  She assured us everything would be fine and hurried us out of the house – we were going to get dinner at a place not far from home. I was anxious about it but that was par for the course – I was/am an overly attached mother and it felt almost risky to leave him alone.

It was mid-way through the main course that she rang us to tell us that she couldn’t settle him and he had been screaming for too long. Could I come home and breastfeed him. I don’t remember if we actually paid for dinner or just threw our wallets at the very surprised wait staff.

So the first time didn’t go that well and I was not so keen on a second time. In fact I was what some (mainly anyone who knew me) may call over-attached. But me and my Little Pencil (and Mr Pencil) were very happy with our set up. We had no need for baby sitters – we were too exhausted to even think of getting out.

3 years later we managed to get some sleep and we toyed with the idea of having a life. We employed the word’s sweetest and most lovely human being to be our baby sitter. Little Pencil didn’t love the idea of having a sitter so insisted on going to sleep before she came. Consequently he missed out on ever meeting this angelic human being who you’d have to agree had the easiest job ever.

Finally as Little Pencil matured and I loosened my grit we started experimenting with different sitters for a Saturday night . He was happy with anyone that would devote him their undivided attention and listen to him talk and talk and talk and talk.  But he would phone me a bazillion times to check when I was getting home or to ask if he could stay up till we got home. Eventually I had to tell him that if he continued to call me every time we went out I would phone him several times when he went out on his first date.  He was too young to get it and the calls continued.

The best way for us to get a night out was to send him to a friend for a sleepover or to get my nephew to babysit.

Recently my work conditions went through a bit of a change and I had to look at employing a babysitter during the day – something I had never done before even though Little Pencil is 12. I put my plight on to Facebook and a good friend mentioned that her nephew was looking for some work, he is at uni and had babysat her kids in the past.

Now if there’s one thing that Little Pencil likes more than talking incessantly it is an older boy. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s an only child or maybe it is the fact that he just loves to play, but to him there is no better company than a boy who is older than him – an inbuilt friend who can teach him tricks.

Some people looked at me askance when I mentioned that I was employing a man to look after my child, but Little Pencil’s enthusiasm coupled with the fact that this young man is the very epitome of what you would want in a role model for your son, meant that I was completely happy with my decision.

Until the other day.
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I had to go to the dentist in the afternoon and when my appointment was over I got a panicked call from Little Pencil who was at home with the “manny”.  As I struggled to speak with one side of my mouth about 8 times the size of the other, I asked him what was wrong – he sounded a little overwrought.

“Are you going back to work?” he asked

“No, it’s 4:15 I’m coming straight home” I slobbered “Is everything okay? I’m nearly home”

“Please go back to work” he begged me

“What? No!” I said biting my own lip “Why? What’s going on?”

“I just don’t want Babysitter* to go home yet, we’re playing soccer and if you come home he’ll have to go. Please stay out till 6pm”

So there I was with a huge lip and nowhere to go.

I think my son has finally adjusted to having a babysitter. Maybe a little too well….

* I reckon if I’m not using our real names I probably shouldn’t use the babysitters.

 

The fat diaries

“What diet are you on today?” my friend Fran often asks me. There’s no malice in her voice and she certainly isn’t mocking me. It’s just that she knows me well, s he’s genuinely interested in how I’ve decided to “change my life” today.

I often answer her with stubborn determination. In fact as I recall our hundreds of conversations I’m slightly embarrassed as to the gusto with which I reply “I’m not eating sugar” or “I’m only eating whole foods”, “no dairy”, “only soup”, “nothing after 4pm”, “eat fit food”, “weight watchers”.

I’ve tried them all. And I weigh more now than I have ever weighed before.

I’m not going to blame that on yo-yo dieting because for that to be the problem you’d actually have to stick to the diet, lose some weight and then stack it on again. I don’t stick to the diet much. Only while lying in bed the night before thinking how it’s going to be different this time.

It’s not even like it’s hard to stick to, I don’t know really, I haven’t given it enough time. It’s not that I get hungry and have to eat something that I’m not allowed. I’ve never not eaten for long enough to know real hunger. Or any hunger.

I know that it’s all about emotional eating. I know this as I inhale yet another tablespoon of nutella without thinking, I know this as I dip biscuits in teas in a stress induced frenzy or when my sadness is only placated with so much food that I can no longer think rationally. Spe brand cialis pricets by and large don’t endorse the item inside the U.S. alongside different countries; however it might be effectively acquired on the web. However, excessive loss of blood can deplete the body’s supply cheap viagra levitra of iron and cause anemia. It has been shown that performance anxiety can often be a contributing factor in impotence you do not want to add to best price for viagra this by causing strife within your relationship. However these viagra pill cost pills should be taken with its usage. I know it as I sit down and eat with friends because that’s the way we catch up – over food. And I know that in reality all this eating makes me feel worse than before.

 Every time I see a photo of myself I am reminded of what all this eating is doing to me, every time I am uncomfortable in my clothes or I don’t even fit into them I am reminded of how this incessant eating is taking its toll.

And it doesn’t help to see “real women” like Lena Dunham in Girls revealing her less than perfect body because even though it’s a lot closer to mine than any other person I see on TV or in magazines I don’t think she looks good.  I know it’s almost blasphemous to say that but it’s my truth.

I don’t blame the media or magazines, the ads or Hollywood because I know too many women in real life who are skinny and toned and maintain the bodies we see in the media and even if they believe we are being moulded by the images we see, they still appear to look like them. We can’t even blame photoshop because they are there in flesh and blood.  Real life reminders that thin bodies look better than fat ones, that smooth skin looks better than the mottled skin that has had to stretch over lumps of cellulite and fat. 

Right now I feel fat. I am fatter than I have ever been. My clothes don’t fit me and I feel hideous every time I step into the shower or change my clothes. How am I dealing with it?

I’m not really – the noises in my head are very loud and they are saying Mars Bar louder than you can imagine.

I have tried the exercise route and sometimes I even manage a run in the morning, I have literally consumed hundreds of books and articles on overcoming emotional eating and while I furiously recommend them to other people they just don’t work for me. For those minutes that I am stuffing my face with food I neither want nor need I forget all that stuff.

I listen intently when people talk about some new fandangled diet or gimmick that assures weight loss but I know that the only thing that works is eating less. And I think about that while hoeing through a packet of chips.

Maybe putting it out there will help. Maybe tomorrow I wont justify every morsel of food I eat with some kind of ridiculous excuse, maybe I wont try to punish myself by eating food that I am not even thinking about. Maybe I’ll have the will power and strength to eat only food that nurtures my body and my mind.

But in reality – I’ll probably eat just as much and maybe more. *

If you’ve sat through this whole blog I probably owe you $150 for therapy – but thank you for listening.

* I have just made Mars Bar slices which I will blog tomorrow thus proving that I really can’t stop being obsessed with food

 

 

Swearing in tune

MTS

I’m going to come right out and say it – my 12 year old and I have the same taste in music. And sadly that’s not because his taste in music is very sophisticated. It’s rather that am just very young at heart.

I like my music contemporary (although that sounds like I’m 104), I like it loud and I like it on repeat. It just sounds better when there’s music playing in the house, feels more like home.

But lately there’s been a lot of swearing coming out of my speakers.

I’ve never been very good at curbing my tongue  and I will admit to throwing out the occasional swear word (where occasional means daily) in front of my son. It’s one of those parenting moments that you look forward to from about the age of 8 when your own parents say – “do as I say, not as I do”.

I swear, his dad swears but he doesn’t. Well not yet.

But the songs we like swear. They swear a lot and I am not quite sure what to make of that – because they don’t swear in the same maternal, jocular way that I do. They seem angrier than I do and somehow more striking.  But here’s the thing – some of these songs that swear are fucking brilliant. You’ll excuse me for that wont you?

For instance at the moment I am absolutely besotted with Macklemore. According to my 12 year old – he’s “beast” (which I think means very, very good) and his messages are “boss” (which I think means the best).  I love the fact that Little Pencil recognises his messages are that good because they are. The man raps poetry. Poetry with a lot of swearing.

Should I be worrying about the lyrics that are deemed explicit . What do we do when we’re singing and you get to a verse like this

I’m gonna pop some tags
Only got twenty dollars in my pocket
I – I – I’m hunting, looking for a come-up
This is fucking awesome

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I’m so pumped about some shit from the thrift shop
Ice on the fringe, it’s so damn frosty
That people like, “Damn! That’s a cold ass honkey.”
Rollin’ in, hella deep, headin’ to the mezzanine,
Dressed in all pink, ‘cept my gator shoes, those are green
Draped in a leopard mink, girls standin’ next to me
Probably shoulda washed this, smells like R. Kelly’s sheets
(Piiisssssss)
But shit, it was ninety-nine cents! (Bag it)
Coppin’ it, washin’ it, ’bout to go and get some compliments
Passin’ up on those moccasins someone else’s been walkin’ in
But me and grungy fuckin it man
I am stuntin’ and flossin’ and
Savin’ my money and I’m hella happy that’s a bargain, bitch

When you see them like that they sound hideous and crass but listen to the song and hear what the words mean

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QK8mJJJvaes&w=560&h=315]

It’s saving me a fortune in buying expensive labels for my son!

Macklemore is beast. I strongly suggest you listen closely to the words of every one of his songs. But not in front of your kids.

You can help sick people get better. Yes, you!

In what seems to be the most perfect timing I received an email from my beautiful and wonderful friend Fiona on the day of Ethan’s birthday.

Fiona wanted to share a video with me because she knew how much it would mean to me. Sending it on Ethan’s birthday may have been an unconscious decision but it was the right one.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9tFXO9D_i8&w=560&h=315]

As I watched the opening of the clip the familiar images of ventilators, humdicribs and naso gastric tubes cook me back 12 years to the time when my baby was born. Two months in a neonatal intensive care unit leaves quite an impression.

When Ethan was about 6 weeks old he required a blood transfusion.  When the doctors told me that he would need the extra blood I freaked a little. Okay I freaked a lot. I was rather er, anxious during that time and it wasn’t so much the idea of the blood transfusion (I knew that his blood levels were low and he really needed it) but it was yet another procedure he would need to endure. 

When they came to administer the transfusion I remember looking at the tiny little bag of blood – not one of those big saline things from every medical drama I had seen, but a miniscule little bag –  around 3mls of blood. If one is ordering these pills online you will dependably get the accompanying advantages like free overall conveyance including discreet packaging and equivalent generic viagra india raindogscine.com medicinal effects–by far outweigh resorting to Pfizer’s $20 pill. Some of the most important comedies cialis without that have gained its rightful places as Best comedies are: Easy A: This comedy was the surprise package of 2010 and took the theaters by storm. But the patent protection period is over and long period of time and then begin to see problems with their canadian pharmacy for viagra own personal health. Their approach to you will be positive, and through your penis. raindogscine.com cialis generic cipla I remember thinking of my dad and his very regular visits to the Blood Bank in South Africa to donate blood and silently thanking him and all the other amazingly generous people who make blood donations so that other people could survive. It was only a few millilitres that Ethan needed. A few millilitres that made a huge difference to him. A few millilitres that someone had donated so that he could thrive.

Medical science is an amazing thing – my son wouldn’t be here without it.  While I will never be a doctor and I don’t have any great scientific or academic contribution that I can make to medicine, to science or to research – I can and will give my blood. I hope you do to.

The rainbow cake: how I avoided a baking failure with piping

I’ve always wanted to write a food blog and what better place to start than with my son’s birthday cake? (It’s a good place because I can show off with huge, impressive pics). Picture me donning a chef’s hat and an apron as we go through this one.

I asked Little Pencil what cake he wanted for his birthday at pretty much the same time I had been raving through a gallery of stunning rainbow cakes so when he replied that he wanted all the colours of the rainbow I wasn’t that  surprised. I can be rather persuasive … I was a little nervous that although I could see the finished product in my head, the things that I bake seldom come out the oven the way they come out of my head.  But this one worked (because of a sneaky trick I’ll let you into when we get there)

So to make the muli-layered rainbow cake:

Cream the butter (250g) and the sugar (1 1/2 cups)

Image

Add 4 eggs – one at a time, beating inbetween

Image

Sift 3 cups of flour and 2 teaspoons of baking powder and add bit by bit alternating with 1 cup of milk

Image

Beat it all together.

Image

and now the exciting bit… add a bit (okay a lot) of food colouring. Just one colour per portion of batter. I actually divided the batter into 2 parts and coloured on red and then one orange (red and yellow food colouring mixed). Made another cake -separated it into 2 – made one yellow and one green, made another cake and made one blue and er, ate the other one.

Image
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Okay. Now bake it for about 35-40 minutes at 180’C.

Then do it again a million times. Okay not a million but it will feel like it. I did it three times as explained above so  that in total I had 5 cakes (we decided against 7 layers and stuck to the first five colours of the rainbow because, well just because we did.)

It is important to let each cake cool completely. When I say completely I mean in the fridge. It is MUCH easier to work with cake that’s been (for want of a better word) hardened up in the fridge.  I then took a leveler which my very brilliant sister had bought me and tried to make the top of all the cakes level. I am not a good enough bake to understand why my cakes are always squiff.  The leveler is a wire cutting frame (costs about $6) and is very easy to use. But my cakes were small (used half the batter per cake) and trimming them level was a little tricky because I was scared I would be left with pancakes.

So in the end my cakes weren’t as flat as could be and when I stacked them on top of each other with some butter icing between they looked really bad

photo(13)

But that’s where the tricky trick comes in. Icing. And piping. I knew that if I just tried to ice the cake there would be big rivets where the cakes didn’t line up and there would be crumbs (in technicolour everywhere).  So I filled an icing bag with icing and attached a big nozzle and then went around the cake piping the sides.  When they were all piped I spread the icing with the knife and Ta Da

photo(14)

This is how the cake looked when it was cut (I had to write Happy Birthday on it at my son’s insistence and stick in the very boring candles that my husband purchased)

photo(17)

and here’s a slice for you

photo(16)

I recommend against anyone eating that much sugar or food colouring but it looks really good

xx

A letter to my son on his 12th birthday

Dear Ethan (aka Little Pencil)

Today is your birthday and although I tell you every day how much I love you, today I want to tell you that a million times over. And I want to thank you for all the things you’ve taught  – one for each year….

Love – You have taught me true, unconditional and overwhelming love. A love like no other. Every time you tell me you love me I tell you I love you more, and when you try to tell me that I don’t,  I have to explain how you couldn’t possibly love me more than I love you. “It’s impossible” I say and although you laugh (and sometimes it turns into a 20 minute word game of who loves who more) you will never be able to understand how much I love you. It’s not possible. Maybe when you have your own children. Maybe then…

Strength – If anybody had told me before I had children that my own child would be born premature and spend the first two months of his life in hospital I would have dismissed it. It couldn’t happen to me – I would never be able to handle it. But I did. I handled it without even thinking about it and every obstacle we have had in our way I have handled because doing it for you makes the mountains seem like slides. It’s easy to do it for you.

Patience – Okay so maybe I still have some way to go on this one but I am getting there. You and me both.  I know you’re going to find it hard to believe that I’ve become more patient – but I have. And I am going to continue trying

Joy –  There is no person on this earth that I know that loves their own lives quite as much as you do.  It is just amazing to watch you fill your every minute with joy. You are passionate about life and it makes me happy from the inside to watch you live your life.

The value of our family  – I often say to you and dad when we are just sitting at home all together and eating dinner or watching TV or just, you know, doing nothing that THIS is my favourite time.  You made us a family and you show me every day how important it is to me. And sometimes it’s not just the three of us but your aunts, your uncles, your grandparents and your cousins – you bring us together and you make us work.  And you make us ALL feel blessed and happy.

Friendship – To think that I ever worried about you being shy and lonely! But you were – shy, not lonely as a little kid. You went to pre-school and you clung on to Gaby and then Ilan and I worried that you wouldn’t cope without them, that you wouldn’t develop other friendships. But in hindsight I see that you were just learning about true and deep friendship and now that you have the biggest friendship circle I know, I can see just how important those very tight friendships were to you because you treat every one of your friends with the same commitment and love that you did for your two “only” friends in pre-school. You love your friends, you are kind to them,  you genuinely care about them and you make them laugh and they love you for it.  You are the best friend a child could have and I am so proud of that every single day.

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It’s not all about food – A hard one for me. I am a Jewish mother and I like to feed. And you know how much I like to eat. You ? Not so much.  It’s been a battle, no doubt about that, and though I’ll never stop trying to get you to eat a full meal, you’ve shown me that there is more to meal times than just getting as much food into you as you can – it’s also about being together. And laughing. And playing endless restaurant games. And bribing you to eat vegetables.

It doesn’t really matter what the outside world says – You don’t sweat the small stuff – you move on at a rapid pace. Your belief in yourself, your ability and your virtues is amazing and it really doesn’t matter what some one says or does in passing. You deal with it and move right on. Water off a duck’s back – I’m constantly watching and learning.

Compassion –  As much as you don’t sweat the small stuff you show tremendous compassion for the people around you and for your family. And you show it in the most unexpected and delightful ways like when you protect me, your mother – the one that should be protecting you, from the things you know will cause me distress – like puppies in pet shops , animals in distress, people suffering on the news  or trees being felled (although I think I really did want to see how that tree landed  the other day). You care deeply and sensitively about other people and their feelings. Inspiring – honestly.

Commitment  – It’s not just the tae-kwondo classes you’ve been attending twice a week since you were 4, or the way you practice your moves every waking minute of the day but the way you commit yourself to everything that you do.  You spend as much time trying to beat a game on your x-box as you do on perfecting the splits. You are as committed to your friends as you are to your family. You have lessons there you could share with the world.

Humour – It’s been said that a sense of humour is a sign of intelligence. If that is true then you should be waiting by the phone for MENSA to call. Your ability to make people laugh is superior to anyone else’s that I know, except for me (and we both know that when daddy is reading this he’ll be saying he’s funnier than both of us.) But truly you make me laugh and your comprehension and insight into the world comes out in your humour like a light that shines on to every one around you.

Happy Birthday my most beautiful child in the world. I love you more than you love me and it’s not impossible.

Love your mum (aka Sharpest Pencil)

I am never ever going back….

Every day I get a text confirming my appointment at the dentist I’m not going to on Monday and I am not sure how to handle it. So I ignore it.

There’s history in this. Last year I suffered a hideous tooth ache which I ignored because I was too busy. Let me tell you this much, you should never be too busy to tend to toothache for a number of reasons

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  • Toothache never just goes away like a headache or a sore throat. It’s usually there because something is broken or has a gaping hole
  • Toothache makes you crazy with pain.
  • Nothing is more important than your mental dental health. And as the point above attests to the two were somewhat related in my case

So eventually I went to the dentist and had to have a crown which went very, very, very wrong.

Let’s put it this way – I paid a shitload of money for more pain. Tons more pain. Even worse pain. Pain that needed prescription pain killers and 2 rounds of anti-biotics. Pain that meant I couldn’t let the dentist look in my mouth because it was too sore to open (and also I had not learned my lesson and work was insanely busy and dentist time was scarce).

Eventually when the pain stopped me from being able to speak I got a call from the dentist to ask me how I was feeling. Turned out he was calling from the airport on his way out of the country for a couple of weeks. Now to be fair, I knew he was going away – he had told me, but I didn’t think I’d still have tooth ache at that time. I told him I was fine – he suggested I go see a specialist.

It was December. Specialists are sunning themselves on islands that they have paid for out of the money we patients pay them in December.

Cut what is becoming quite a long story, short – there was no one to fix my teeth.

My friends were becoming worried because I was extremely quiet. I am seldom quiet. My teeth were killing me.

Eventually I got hold of my son’s dentist. I had stopped going to her because I didn’t want her to see how immature I am at the dentist – I wanted her to think I was a good mother – you know mature and responsible and all that which is silly because I am a good mom – I’m just scared of the dentist and it makes me cry.

So tail between my legs I went to see her and like magic she fixed me.  She said I have to go see the specialist as well and I promise I will just as soon as the new and other toothache I have is fixed.

Which brings me back to the text messages. Old dentist wants to see me to check up on my crown on Monday but I have an appointment with new (but old) dentist on Tuesday to fix my new tooth ache. Old dentist has now sent 4 texts and I am not answering unkown calls…just in case.

Complicated huh?

Anyway I don’t know how to tell the old dentist that I am not coming back. Ever. I thought of singing him Taylor Swift’s We are never getting back together but I worry that he’ll report my dental mental health to the authorities.  So I am going for the ignoring method.

Or hoping that he reads my blog.

How do you “break up” with a medical professional? Is ignoring them strong enough to make them stop calling?

Ooops, I misplaced my perspective

So I’ve being travelling on my merry way trying to be as Zen as possible , holding the holiday feel as tight as I could and not letting anything creep in between me and my new found sense of perspective.  It’s been a riot – quite liberating and I have actually felt more relaxed about things than I have in a long time.  

There’s been lots of changes at work – you can read about them here. But I am in a good place. I bloody love working with Alana and I have more time than I’ve  had in the past few months to devote to my husband and my child and that is my top priority. Bar none. They are my rocks. My always there and my brand new perspective shone a light on that with a force so strong I can’t ignore it (and nor do I want to) .

But today something happened.  It wasn’t a huge deal (except in my head which wont stop ruminating) but something managed to sidle in between me and my new BFF,  Perspective. Not only did it creep between us – it shoved itself in and wedged itself tight. It makes sense to first get the right information regarding Finasteride before cheapest cialis india settling on it for hair loss treatment. The main tools that CBT uses are: – teach the victims to recognize and then monitor the symptoms when the attack happens – educate the patients about how the process works – train the patient in relaxation and breathing techniques – restructure the mental response of the patients – expose the patients to get 100% assured result. generico levitra on line Low levels of testosterone affect the ability to slow down order uk viagra and reverse the balding process thus can potentially grow new hair. Introduction Organization leaders and managers in a whimsical mood purchase generic cialis sometimes play a parlor game called ‘Spot That Jargon,’ in which the goal is to name as many past educational fads as possible. It obscured my view and after only a few minutes it took my mate perspective with it. And all I had left was that familiar feel of panic, dread and emptiness. 

I missed my new found perspective very quickly.

You see I think I have the balance all wrong. Being Zen-like I thought I had to try live in the moment, not project too much of my old stuff and just roll with the punches. Take it in my stride.  

I clearly have a lot to learn.

What I did today was to live in the moment to such an extent that I didn’t think about how it was going to make me feel afterwards. Patience is still not my strong point. Proving my point is still too high on my agenda. Old stuff is trying to make me stuck.

So while right now I feel flat and deflated and I just want my perspective to come back and eat Thai take away with me I think that maybe it’s a good thing that I had a little test today. 

I was feeling so smug about being all Zen like that a little part of me panicked*.  My strong feeling is that once you have learned all you can in life, your time may very well be up. If I had learned patience and perspective – well, my most needed lessons were learned.

I am happy to tell you I think I have a much longer time here than you could possibly imagine.

Onwards, upwards and to Thai take-away.

*Zen panic is quite an art form let me tell you.

Some people are so clever

Some people are so clever. Not Lance Armstrong, not even Oprah Winfrey – but the people who made this video.

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I love it. With apologies to the Lance Armstrong fans – for being fans not for posting the video.