Pixels op ‘n Indigo Blokkie

Ek het gistermiddag amper my kar omgegooi toe ek myself op die draadloos hoor!! Ek moes dadelik aftrek om net my emosies onder beheer te kry. Dit was iets tussen ongeloof, spanning en opgewondenheid. En toe rol my trane. Onophoudelik! Ek kon skaars woorde uitkry, toe ek my man bel om vir hom te sê.

Ek het so week en ‘n half terug gehoor, RSG het ’Mis Jou’ al in Desember gespeellys. As ek kon, sou ek 24/7 net radio geluister het. ‘n Mens moet jouself darem net een keer hoor!

Aag, ek weet dis seker nie regtig so groot ‘deal’ nie. Maar vir my was dit ‘n groot dag en ‘n baie belangrike oomblik. Een waaroor ek nog altyd net gedroom het.

(Ek moes die cd’s al vir ‘n lys ander radiostasies ook stuur, maar die bang-geit het my oorval. Ek het gedink ek sal maar wag om te hoor hoe dit afgaan by RSG – ek weet dis NIE die houding wat ek moet hê nie, maar dis baie ’scary’ as jy nog nie die dikvel het nie. Die cd’s en adresse ry saam met my vanoggend. Ons sal gou eers ‘n draai by Postnet gaan maak!)

PS: Ek’s bietjie skaars die afgelope ruk, as gevolg van ‘n baie groot stelsel wat volgende week moet implementeer word. As daar nie soveel hic-ups was nie, sou ek definitief minder gestress het! En as die kliënt miskien minder knorrig was, sou ek beter kon slaap in die nag!

SS

Ek lees vanoggend Boendoe en Dellie se blogs, en onthou dat ek iewers eendag iets gelees het wat so waar is. Vir al die ‘mere mortal women’:

A conversation between friends…

We are sitting at lunch when my friend casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of “starting a family”.  “We’re taking a survey,” she says, half-joking. “Do you think I should have a baby?”

“It will change your life,” I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

“I know,” she says, “no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations….”

But that is not what I meant at all.  I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her.  I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.  I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.  I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking “What if that had been MY child?”  That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.  That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub.  That an urgent call of “Mom!” will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moment’s hesitation.  

I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby’s sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is alright.  

I want my friend to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine.  That a five-year-old boy’s desire to go to the men’s room rather than the women’s at McDonald’s will become a major dilemma.  That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.  That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child.  That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years – not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.  My friend’s relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my friend could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.  I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children’s future.

I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.  I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time.  I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts.

My friend’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.  “You’ll never regret it,” I finally say. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my friend’s hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.  The blessed gift of God and that of being a Mother.

Mams, jy’s altyd daar vir my… van lipstiffie-soentjies op my voorkop toe ek nog klein was, tot nou waar jy soos ‘n ware Ouma my kindertjies versorg en lief het met jou hele hart! Hoe begin ek dankie sê vir alles wat jy my geleer het, vir my gedoen het, en veral vir dit wat jy net verstaan… en aanvaar.

Ek en jy het ‘n paadjie gestap in hierdie lewe…  ons nagmerries het ons wakker gehou en gejaag. Ek het nog nooit mooi verstaan hoekom ons dit moes doen nie - weet nie of ek ooit sal nie. Maar ons het deur dit alles gekom, en dis die belangrikste!

Vir jou verjaardag, dra ek hierdie liedjie aan jou op – dis een van jou gunstelinge en die woorde is so gepas. En, ek dink as Pa nog hier met ons was, sou hy die hardste van ons almal saamgesing het!

Ek is so ongelooflik gelukkig om jou nog hier by my te hê. Jy is werlik die wind onder my vlerke! So lief vir jou, Mamma! xxx

It must have been cold there in my shadow,
to never have sunlight on your face.
You were content to let me shine, that’s your way.
You always walked a step behind.

Anders as ander jare, het hierdie een nie so goed vir my begin nie. Ek moes geweet het, toe laas jaar se laaste snikke in gille verander, dat dinge bietjie anders gaan wees… Flou oujaars partytjies doen dit ook nie vir my nie!

Nog iets wat anders is, is my blog. Glad nie as gevolg van goeie beplanning nie. Die druk van een verkeerde knoppie (wat ek nie eers agtergekom het nie…), en my blou blokkie bladsy is vervang met hierdie een! Toe dink ek, dit moet ‘n ‘teken’ wees – hehehe, ja sure, né! Dit moet nou maar eers so lyk – weet nie waar ek my header gebêre het nie.

Mag hierdie jaar vir julle propvol wees van aangename anders-geite! Ek gesels weer op ‘n ander dag oor ander dinge.

SS

PS: Dis lekker om terug te wees!