Heart matters
-
I’m not that cute anymore
I can’t remember the last time I felt attractive. I blame this on the state of my hair, the aging of my skin, the flabbiness of my body and the fact that I’ve been pregnant three times in four years.
I blame it on the umbilical hernia that makes me look as if an alien is trying to escape my body through my belly button. I blame it on hormones, on the stress of life, on the fact that I’m always busy but I don’t always want to be busy so then I stop doing things and then I hate myself for not doing things.
I blame it on the fact that I don’t have the time for skin care and hair care and tweezing my eyebrows until they match (your eyebrows should be cousins, not twin sisters, btw).
I blame it on my husband. Surely he should make me feel better somehow? (Just “somehow” okay? I don’t have specifics). I blame it on the world – on media, Insta-fashion and reality tv shows that advertise a life where everyone looks put together all the time.
I blame it on myself. Mostly on myself. I mean, even if you told me that I look nice today, the little voice in the back of my head would tell me that you’re just saying so to be polite. I feel ugly like, majority of the time. There, I said it.
The cool factor that I had going for me (when I was still, you know, cool) is gone. I’m old and boring now. The novelty of me – as the “cute wife” – has worn off. And I wonder if my Hubstopher regrets not choosing a younger version, when he decided to settle down.
I mean, I feel like I pretty much have the same form and functionality as the toaster or the TV’s remote control. Nothing to see here, move along. Unless you want a sandwich. I’m here for that.
Now, hear me out Oprah Winfrey. I get it… The fact that I’ve carried four whole children in my womb should flippen mean something. I’ve sacrificed my youth, my time and my body for something that yields a far greater reward than being able to fit into a size 26 jeans again. I should give myself a lot more credit than this. Seriously, Patricia, self pity is not a good look.And anyways, my appearance doesn’t determine my worth… my value…my beauty. That’s kinda superficial and a really shallow way to think. Surely. Right?
But if we’re going to be honest, friends, we’re all this girl sometime or other. We have seasons where we try to love on ourselves and fail to do so because you just can’t find anything to love. We’re kinda hard on ourselves and on our beautiful, masterpiece-of-a-creation, bodies, creating boxes that MUST be ticked, before we deem it okay to be, well, exactly who we were created to be.
Does it make sense? Nope. Does it ever end? Well, I don’t know. Is it okay? Well, kinda no. It’s never okay to not love on yourself and the body that God has given you.
I’m learning that being me – the REAL me – is the most beautiful thing that I could ever be… in all my stretch-marked, big-thighed, baggy-under-eyed glory. And I guess the real battle is getting to a place where I’m okay with being that girl, even on days when my jeans don’t fit.
-
How to keep it classy on social media
If you’re a social media maven, like I am (haha look at me making myself sound cool and important), you would know that there are do’s and don’ts when it comes to posting to The Gram or Facebook. I mean, if you want to stay in the safe zone.
With that said, you could totally post a whole bunch of opinionated, subliminal updates, with the sole intention of ruffling feathers, and, you know, trying to rub your ex boyfriend’s new girlfriend the wrong way. If that’s your jam, I totally get it.
Me, I am not that person, yo. I keep it safe and I try not to start a huge debate on my personal social media platforms. Mainly because those debates get out of control and I just don’t have the time to moderate people’s comments. And, to be honest you guys, at the end of the day, no one’s really listening to anyone else anyways. It’s like a sibling squabble – there is literally no point to it.
In my many, many years (haha look at me trying to make myself sound experienced) of using social media (Myspace users – hollar!) I’ve found that there are five basic ways to keep your heart clean, and not get yourself into trouble, when sharing info and commenting on any of these platforms.
I call it my “how to keep it classy on social media” check list. You are welcome to call it “Luchae’s I’m-too-lazy-to-get-into-a-fight-that-I-won’t-win check list” … to each their own.
1. No one cares
I often remind myself that no one really cares, well, for the most part. This mindset helps when I spot a post with a gazillion comments all opposing what I believe. I mean, my little rant on the gazillion-commented post will probably have half the commentators laughing at me and the other half rolling their eyes. Kinda not the best way to reach out to people, right? If I really want to share my thoughts on a topic, I could simply start a conversation offline OR have a face to face conversation, you know, like how our grandparents did back in the day. If you have a relationship with the person, it should make it easy for you to address certain topics offline. Why do it where the world can see?2. The mute button is a real thing
If someone is constantly trying to berate or belittle me via their subliminal updates, I simply unfollow their posts on Facebook, or mute them on Insta or Whatsapp stories. No passive aggressive behavior needs to be unleashed, Stephanie Forester. I mean, clearly, this person has an issue and when I retaliate, I give them ammunition and probably make them feel as if their rude posts are actually getting them results. Henceforth: No results from me, because I didn’t even see what you said, Martha. Also, I get to keep my heart clean, because not reading your posts means I don’t get upset.3. I don’t angry post
If I’m upset with my Hubstopher (or anyone else for that matter, but I mean, let’s be honest, he’s a pretty good example) I don’t angry tweet/update because chances are that anger will eventually blow over, but alas, the whole world would now know about it. I mean, I get it, people need to KNOW what a terrible person so-and-so is. And also, sure, having a mature face-to-face conversation just doesn’t cut as deep as posting it to social media. I’m just like, what’s the point man, Helen Zille? What’s the point? Will I get the results I want/need? Probably not. Keep it classy.4. I ignore
If someone comments something really stinky on one of my updates or photos, I simply delete it or I just refuse to reply. Again, same concept applies: they don’t care what I have to say anyways. If I have a real relationship with the poster, I could take the convo offline… you know, where no ego will come into play. It’s crazy how having an audience can change the tone and manner in which we address each other. So yes, replying to a stinky comment online opens the door for those pointless online debates that pretty much serve as nothing more than entertainment for those people who don’t have work to do on a Friday afternoon. Ignore the trolls. Steer clear of the drama.5. I don’t invite you to play games
Luchae Williams has invited you to play Candy Forest Bonanza!
Luchae Williams wants you to send her a life on Candy Forest Bonanza!
No. Just no.So those are the few ways I try to curb my enthusiasm when I feel myself getting riled up, while scrolling through social media. There’s a scripture that goes: “Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable.” This certainly helps me to weed out what I respond to on my personal social. I mean, the stuff that makes me feel “argh” inside deserves to be ignored. It’s another reason why I love this website… it has become a way for me to share my thoughts in a safe space, knowing that the people reading it have chosen to opt in.
Do you have a stance when it comes to what you tolerate on social media? Share them with us below.
Disclaimer: If you enjoy stirring the pot online then go for gold Donald. It’s your profile and you can shake things up if you want to. I’m not saying my way is the right way, but I AM saying that my way is the right way FOR ME. Shalom.
-
Things we learnt by accident
Three months ago we were rear ended by a Ford Ranger while standing stationary at a red traffic light. The accident happened at about midnight, on a Saturday night, while we were on our way home to our babies after attending a celebratory supper. The last thing I remembered, before feeling the impact of the double cab, was Chris looking into the rear view mirror and shouting “he’s going to hit us!” The impact of the collision (is it a collision if we’re standing dead still and you’re speeding through the main road – probably drunk – and you end up hitting us?) was so huge that our boot was on our backseat. Homeboy then dismounted his cab (it was practically on top of our Astra), reversed and then drove away without checking if we are okay or if we have insurance, or if, you know, his negligence killed anyone.
Hubstopher injured his back severely and has been in and out of doctors and hospitals and chiropractors. The discs in his lower back has collapsed and he pretty much writhes in pain every other day. Playing guitar or bass guitar has become a tense situation because he almost always ends up with hectic back pain afterwards.
We now also have no car because, for various reasons that I won’t get into, this current car was not on our name yet and therefore was not insured. It’s all fun and games, really. Especially more exciting knowing that we don’t have the registration number of the driver of the other car, and so can’t hold him liable for the damage.
But anyways… my point is that this accident has left us in a far worse condition than it found us. And because the driver of the other car drove away, we kinda have no one to blame and no insurance to pay for the damage. We’re stuck. Right? I mean, that’s what it looks like. Right? Well, surprisingly, the accident has done a lot more than leave us in a crappy situation. It’s crazy but it’s kinda helping us to grow, guys! Weird right?! Who would’ve thought that I would even find positivity in such a traumatic event. Here are some of the lessons I’m learning:1. Our passengers (yep, there were passengers!) made it out alive. And judging by the state of the car, even the paramedics were shocked that not one of us spilt blood, on that night. It had been raining that night and one chatty paramedic told me about the other accident scenes he attended to, before ours. There were fatalities at the other scenes. If ever we needed proof that the protection of God is on our lives, this accident was it! One of our passengers should have broken her back. She’s fine. That’s God. I’m so thankful for His faithfulness.
2. I was totally dumb and did not have my seat belt secured. If my husband had not looked in the rear view mirror, yanking me towards him, before the cab hit, I probably would have slammed right through the windscreen. In fact, the impact was so severe that I was found upside down in the car afterwards. I’m so thankful to be alive! For days, after the accident I would wake up sobbing simply because I get to spend another day with my kids. Life is short. I’m thankful for my life.
3. My kids were not in the car. You guys, I can’t imagine the trauma, had my small kids been in the car. I don’t want to even go there. I’m thankful.
4. Even though we’re without a car right now, we know it won’t be a forever situation. We’ve been so blessed by friends and family members who ride us around with pleasure! I know it can be a burden sometimes (try finding a ride to church when you’re a family of six) and it sucks to have to ask. But I do believe that God is stretching us and building character. I’m thankful that He allows things like this because He knows it’s going to grow us.
5. We’ve been Ubering around a lot and we often find ourselves striking up conversation with the Uber drivers. Some of them offer up their life stories freely and I’m always so amazed at how many broken lives there are out there… people who are desperate to make ends meet for their families, and those who feel that there is no hope and they’ll take what they can get. Without getting too “preachy” we offer them a word of encouragement and hopefully leave them in a better head space than what we found them. I’m thankful that when God wants to move, He isn’t limited to how many cars I have.6. We spend a lot more time indoors now (because, duh, no car to go anywhere). Hello family time! I love being at home a lot more than I love not being at home, so it’s a win for me, on all fronts. We believe that Chris’s back injury will be healed and he’ll be hopping around on stage again in the near future. He had to take leave from work to rest his back and although it troubled him to be away from his desk for so long, I actually think the break did him good. I’m thankful for rest and for our home.
7. I remember laying in the hospital bed, post-accident. Chris was taken to a different hospital. My phone was off and I was instructed to not move, until they were able to do a full body X-ray. I lay there for the longest time, every part of my spreadsheet brain screaming out that I needed to speak to my husband! I needed to phone my babysitter to find out if my kids are okay! I needed to hear my mother’s voice and check if our passengers are okay! Laying dead still, in a hospital bed, with no communication with the outside world drove me crazy! I guess I was pretty hysterical because I found myself pleading with God “please let me see my family again! I want to see my family again!” I don’t know, for some reason (probably the blow to my head) I felt that I would never see them again. In those moments I realized how much I love my crazy family and my even crazier husband. I realized how blessed I am and how I would do anything to have to clean my house again or change Jojo’s nappy again or wash Kyle’s socks again. Guys, I’m so thankful for my family.
The biggest lesson we’re learning, by accident, because of this accident, is that trusting on our own understanding is morbid. If we had to look at our current situation, with human eyes, it would probably depress us. But the beauty of leaning on God is that you don’t allow the physical circumstance to determine how you’re going to feel today or what you’re planning for tomorrow. His outcome for our lives is always for good. We’re so aware of His bigger plan and purpose. And that is the thing that I am most thankful for.
You May Also Like
An ode to 2020
Beauty pageant, shmeauty pageant
Faith over Fear: A tapered journey
-
Confessions of a super woman
I sometimes cringe when people ask me how many children we have. I mean, you never know what their response will be once they find out that we parent and co-parent a collective of four kids.
I mean, when it comes to responses, we’ve heard it all. From the “don’t you guys own a TV” (do you know that co-parent means we didn’t physically birth four kids together?) to “yoh, you guys are crazy!” (Thanks)
Most of them shake their heads in disbelief (because it’s like, sooo shocking, and stuff) and say “wow, that’s a lot!” I guess they’re referring to the fact that they don’t know where we get the time, energy and money from to rear four children.
“How do you do it?!” They’d ask, with big eyes. And my response would probably always be a shoulder shrug followed by “I don’t know either” or “must be the Lord!”
Now, I know that most people mean well and probably can’t help for their reaction. This post is not about that.
This post is about their replies when I say I don’t know how I do it. They would then usually tell me that we make it look easy and we’re so blessed and that I’m such a super woman and we are great parents and all of that.
And it’s ’round about this time that my eyes glaze over and I begin to hear montage music, as replays of my life flash before me.
Sorry, I’m not trying to insinuate that their kind words are insincere. It’s just that most days, I don’t feel like a super woman and I find it hilarious when people say that we make it look easy. I mean, hilarious in a non-funny way. Because it’s not. It’s NOT EASY.
It’s not easy being the parent of two small kids under the age of 5, while co-parenting two other kids who are nearing adulthood at an alarming pace. It can be heavy, emotionally (especially the co-parenting gig) and yep, co-parenting means we don’t have the full responsibility of raising the kid, but it doesn’t make it any easier yo.
It’s not easy when you have to make sure you’re distributing love evenly and consistently, to all kids, even though one of them does not live with us and two of them don’t even refer to us as “mom” and “dad”.
It’s not easy when you literally don’t have time for each other. Like, I’m not just saying so because it’s a cool thing to say on a blog. The last time I even sat next to my husband was probably at the doctor’s surgery a few weeks ago. No jokes.And guys, try raising a 2 year old and a 4 year old without the help of screen time and copious amounts of mini cheddars, while having a successful career of sorts and a clean house. Not easy! (Yes, I’m raising processed food eating hermits. Somebody call Oprah.)
It takes a lot of balance and planning and pre-planning, when it comes to working out school fees and food and clothes and extra-mural activities and how to get everyone from point A to point B and to still find time for yourself in the middle of it all.
But more than that, it can be challenging to not lose yourself, in the mix. I often have to remind myself of the point of it all… that this story is bigger than me and my ego and how I feel.
So when people refer to me as a super woman, I can’t help but want to point out all the ways that I feel like I’m failing as a mother and wife, daily. The term “super woman” feels like a fraudulent statement… as if they’re only seeing the shiny side of the coin. And I wonder if my positive outlook on life falsely advertises a challenging lifestyle by, you know, passing it off as easy, doable and without trial.
Can you successfully rear a big family, in this day and age? Sure you can! Are you able to raise well-balanced kids even though half of them did not originate from both you and your husband’s loins? Yep, that’s a definite!
But I don’t want to be the one, out here, selling false hopes and pipe dreams. It’s not easy and I’m not a super woman. We are not super, duper people who can do no wrong on the parenting front. In fact, we’re just ordinary people (I know, John Legend should pay me royalties for pimping his song this much). And we would be a hot mess without our faith and our constant drive to live our lives on purpose, with purpose.
So there you have it. How do we do it? Well, the truth is that we’re not the ones “doing it”… and that’s why it works. Like, honestly you guys, if I didn’t have Jesus as my firm foundation, I would probably be in a mental asylum right now (or still partying my life away, in a mini skirt and hooker heels).
Through all of the dips and peaks of parenting our brood, I’ve found myself clinging to God, because honestly, He is my only constant. People fail you and hurt you and make living life even harder than it should be. Things fall apart, you guys. Tomorrow is not promised. Success (or our perceived version of it) is fleeting. But God’s promises for us are timeless, never changing and faithful. It’s the only surety we have. Clinging to the rock that is higher than I is the only way I know to survive.
And that’s how I do it.
-
The house with many rooms
When I was in my early 20’s, my granny (my mom’s mom), had a “death bed” dream about me. She was sick, in hospital, and during one of our more quiet, melancholy visits, she whispered to me that she needed to tell me about a dream she had the night before. I know it sounds dramatic, but the dream was actually really beautiful and at the time, I was just so honored that out of all the many grandchildren, she would have a dream about little old me, during such a pivotal time in her life.
In this dream, she saw me living in a house with many rooms. And each room was filled with beds – lined up in a row “like a hospital or hotel” she said. She urged me to take note of this dream and the knowing in her eyes spoke words that she could not express. She passed away a few days thereafter.
At the time, I wasn’t very aware about how prophetic and telling detailed dreams could be. I didn’t know the story of Joseph (in the Bible) and other people like him, who received messages from God through dreams. And even now, I can’t prove to you that God spoke to my granny, on her death bed, showing her things that He was trying to tell me.
But, strangely, I keep having similar dreams. Even on days when my granny’s dream is the furthest thing from my mind.
Dreams of my house with many rooms. Dreams of me visiting a house with many rooms. And, more than that, dreams of all the beds… one in every nook and cranny… of each room. What really brought it to my attention was when other people started having similar dreams about me.
Now some would think that this means that I might own a hotel or Bed and Breakfast one day. You know, something along those lines. Something that makes sense. But, in my latter years (love how I’m calling my late thirties my latter years… the drama, yo) I’ve now come to think of it as something else.
For starters, ever since we’ve been married (it’s been five years, you guys, so long, so hard, so burdensome. Jokes.) we’ve probably had a border living with us, for every one of those five years. Mind you, I think the longest stay has been about six months and we never really demanded them to pay part of the rental or anything like that (although, duh, they would offer to pay for certain amenities, because life, and we expect you to help out around the house atleast). Anyways, now that I come to think about it, each year, we’ve shared our space (and offered up a bed) to someone who needed it.
This was not planned at all. In fact, every single house guest “moved in” on a short term basis and ended up staying for a few months. And I’m not saying that I’m, you know, the Martha Stewart of hosts, with freshly pressed towels, home cooked breakfasts and mints on their pillows. I’m actually quite the opposite. We have schedules and commitments and children (many children), so looking after a whole other adult is not up there on my list of things to do.And more than that, I’m not one to share my space. I’m an introverted extrovert (hey, I’m making that a thing, okay!) and as much as I enjoy people, I also enjoy being able to retract into my personal space, like a hobbit, shutting myself off from the world.
Having someone else in your space makes this kinda hard.
But thinking about all of this (literally, I was just thinking about this) it makes me wonder: Could this be the “house with many rooms” that my granny, and countless others, saw in their dreams? Could it be that the “house with many rooms” refers to our heart space, more than a physical space?
It just reminded me about comfort zones. I love my comfort zones… my “single life” privacy, peace and quiet definitely was a comfort zone. But, was I really thriving? Are you really living your best life, when you play it safe? And am I really doing well, when all I want to do, is to surround myself with the “easy”?
Each time we said yes to a house guest I was way out of my comfort zone. I mean, the idea of helping someone thrilled me. The idea of sharing space annoyed me eventually but deep down I knew that it was something that I had to say yes to.
I often wonder if that was God, nudging me in the right direction. He uses these “out of my comfort zone” things to equip us, build us and train us up for our next big adventure. Maybe God wanted me to learn how to have an open heart, without being concerned about how much of myself I’m giving. Maybe he wanted me to let people in – especially when I don’t want to. Maybe he wanted me to expand the corners of my heart, so that it could fit more people in.
In a funny turn of events, I now live in a crazy house, full of kids. And we would eventually like to add more children to our growing brood. Out of my comfort zone? Heck yes! I often crave the peace and silence that living alone brings. I probably won’t get that back for a very long time. But I’m okay with that now. I love my children and I can’t imagine living in peace and silence, if it would mean being without them.
Maybe this is my “house with many rooms”. And maybe God has been stretching me, in preparation for it, all along.
-
Stay At Home Mom For What?!
I don’t know about the rest of you, but the past few days of “back to school” has me shooketh. It seems especially treacherous this time around- and this is coming from a mother who has lived through 12 “back to school” January’s.
Mornings are a hectic affair, with a whole bunch of kids and a husband to herd out the door, so that we can make drop off on time. I’m exhausted by the time I get to work… and then I have to remove my mommy hat, for my account manager hat… and actually focus on the work at hand. It’s not always that easy, you guys. Sometimes it’s so hard to keep all those balls in the air (when you’re not even in the mood to juggle, in the first place!).
Home time comprises of a very tired mommy loving on the kids, helping with homework, hearing endless stories of what everyone did for the day, combined with cooking, tidying up, bath time, doing dishes, bla bla bla (and the beat goes on.) Fall into bed at 10pm, wake up, repeat.
How do we do it ladies?
I’ve been reflecting on the beauty of yesteryear. My granny and her mom, and her mom (probably), were stay at home mothers. And while the idea of women staying home, to clean and cook, may seem like a terribly flawed way to live (because career and what not), I can’t help but secretly admire how those ladies managed to pull it off.
Being a “stay at home mother” is no small job. And they did it with joy (for the most part) and so effortlessly. And, more than that, they actually got it right to run a whole household on one salary! How the heck? I can’t even imagine how we would pull that off.
So it got me thinking, you guys: are we living super elaborate lives? I mean, how did those moms get it right to provide for their family, without a second income? Are the schools we’re choosing too expensive? Is our lifestyle too extravagant? Or is the cost of living just too high?
Next thought: we put so much value on our careers and, you know, climbing the corporate ladder and all of that. What if all I want to do is make sure my kids are healthy and happy, without being so drained at 8pm, that I can’t even spend five minutes with my husband, before falling asleep in mid-sentence.
I must admit, guys, I always wondered how on earth you could give up your career (and a steady income, yo) to stay at home whole day. But I get it now. Choosing to be a stay at home mom has nothing to do with copping out of work life. It’s more than just a having the ability to sleep in till 10am and wear pajamas whole day, while binge watching Greys Anatomy. (As delightful as that sounds.)
For me, right now, it’s about being able to make sure that I can sufficiently be all that my family needs me to be – without losing my mind! I so desperately want to make sure that I’m doing this #momlife thing right, and sometimes it’s difficult to be all things to everyone, while still making sure that I am healthy myself.
I’d love to hear your thoughts on being a stay at home mother. Do you feel that there are better ways to spend your time? Are you a stay at home mom? How do you manage to run a whole household on one salary? Do you regret giving up your job, to be home with the kids?
-
Should we be raising more racially aware kids?
You may or may not be familiar with the story of a school in the North West, that left parents fuming after a picture circulated showing that the black learners were sitting separately from the white learners in the class.
A mother of one of the black grade R learners, from Laerskool Schweizer-Reneke, reported a case of racism, after she had received a pic in the class’s Whatsapp group, showing the obvious separation between the black and white children.
The teacher had explained to one of the black parents (upon drop off) that she was planning to rotate them during the course of the day, since they were still easing into this whole “big school” thing. (You’ll find a link to the video of the parent explaining this here.) During the course of the day other pics were sent to the Whatsapp group showing how this rotation happened.
Social media was ablaze with people sharing their thoughts and opinions on this disgusting event. The Department of Education got involved, the teacher was suspended and I believe the Principals job is on the line too. I mean, rightly so… right? This is obvious racism, right?But, Pam, I’ve got questions.
And it has a lot more to do with my parenting and a lot less to do with whether or not the teacher was racist. Hear me out:
Should we be forcing our children to have friends from different races?
The teacher assumed that kids naturally gravitate towards what is familiar to them, especially in a new setting. The “familiar” in this case is skin color and language. I kinda get it, because I’ve had colored friends who attended “mixed race” schools but found themselves hanging out with other colored kids on their first day at school. So if the teacher is right, are we saying that our children are racist, because they naturally gravitate towards someone who reminds them of themselves? Is this something we should be addressing?
Or do you find that your children does not see color? Should we be working towards a South Africa where our children don’t see color, or where our kids are mindful and respectful of each persons cultural differences?
Parents, do you actively ensure that your young child has friends from all race groups? Is this something we should be taking more seriously? I mean, come on, we want to raise kind, smart and well adjusted little South Africans, who are free of this negative spirit of Apartheid. But I’m wondering if we should be forcing our kids to be friends with Sipho AND Johan just because we want them to appear to be racially inclusive. Or would that be harmful?
Should we even be making our children aware of things like skin color, or do we want them to remain innocent to the whole race debacle?
I can’t guarantee you that my four year old is going to enter a new classroom, on her first day at “big school”, and pick a seat in between a white child and an Indian child, you know, just to make sure that there is enough racial representation around her.
I wasn’t there (and neither were you) so we don’t know if the teacher was being racist. (i.e. Racist: a person who shows or feels discrimination or prejudice against people of other races, or who believes that a particular race is superior to another.)
But I do know that the treacherous era of Apartheid broken us so much that we shouldn’t even be toying around with concepts like “segregation” and “exclusion”. And we definitely should not be crying “racist” so easily, especially if we don’t have all the facts. And especially not if its’a teaching moment for our kids!
I’m not saying don’t call the obvious racism out… heck no, Hector, you definitely need to! Our country depends on it! But because of our people’s difficult past, using the word “racist” is such a big deal now. It kinda makes us point fingers at each other again.
And when it comes to the way we raise our kids, you guys, we play a big role in the future of our country and how inclusive it will be. So this is where you come in, Mom. I want to know if you think that we should be raising kids who are color blind or should we be making our children aware that we are all different colors, but we’re the same inside. (Was that a bit gross? Hahaha)
I would love to hear your thoughts on the matter. Please do drop me a comment below.
Disclaimer: Comments will be mildly moderated, you know, just in case.
EDITED: I’ve changed some of the info I shared about the case, on the 18/1/2019, after someone pointed out that my information was incorrect.
-
The dangers of being too nice
So it’s the start of a new year, yet again. I love how it always brings with it introspection and promise. This time around, I sit and reflect on the past year and, friends, I realised that I spent most of it, regrettably, trying to be a “nice person”.
Yes, I know what the word “regrettably” means. It means that I feel deep remorse about the fact that I was “nice”, last year. Well, it’s the truth. I wish I could take back my niceness. There, I said it. Do you sometimes feel that way too?
Real talk: I’m super good at acting happy and being all chipper, even when I’m feeling really bad. It’s not real life, you guys. It’s a mask. I’ve come to realize that my “being nice” can be pretty superficial. And if I was superficially nice for a whole 12 months, then that means that I spent most of the year trying to, basically, water a bundle of poop and hope that it would grow flowers. (Poop flowers?) And then beat myself up at the end of the year, when my (poop) garden refused to bloom.
When you’re almost 40 (okay, granted, I’m a few years away, but humor me in my old age), you kinda find yourself developing a low tolerance for (internal and external) rubbish. And the start of this year has awakened a new resolve in me. A resolve to stop walking around with the concept of “but I’m a nice person” when I come across said rubbish.
Because the truth is this: some situations call for you to not be nice. Some situations need to be dealt with sternly and, dare I say it, abruptly. Some situations might not even deserve your attention! But your “niceness” becomes an excuse, letting you believe that it’s okay to be mistreated because you’re nice and you can take it. And then, you find yourself unwillingly giving those demons airtime in your head, all because you’re too nice to say NO!
As a “nice person” I often “felt bad” about making other people feel bad, and so I would avoid addressing issues that would make them uncomfortable. I avoided calling out shade, or letting someone know that I’m aware of their stinky behavior (remember, I still wrote about one such incident here) because I believed that I was SUCH a nice person (insert eye roll) and I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.I mean, I’m not saying that empathy is a weakness, you guys. But this is such a silly notion. Because, truthfully, I put on my “nice girl” hat to protect MYSELF, not someone else, and then I allow myself to believe that I’m doing the world a favor when honestly, I’m just avoiding confrontation.
I’ve learnt that healthy confrontation is a good thing. Healthy confrontation is powerful. And if I really value the relationship, I wouldn’t mind telling someone when I feel bad about something. Because, chances are, walking around wearing my “Miss Nice Girl” hat all the time, will eventually cost me a relationship or an opportunity or mental and emotional health (Que: Drake – In my feelings).
I mean, you can be as nice as you want, Martha, but at the end of the day, it will catch up with you and you will have to ,eventually, deal with it.
And how do we deal with it? Well, we deal with it by confronting the issue, talking it out, forgiving and moving on. My point is that you can kinda do all of that way back in the beginning already, instead of waiting for the poop to build up. (I say poop a lot in this post, don’t I lol)
So that’s my (kinda) resolution for the next season. No more nice-nice. And a lot more transparency and honesty. Anyone care to join me?
-
10 things I learnt in 2018
Friends, 2018 was a cracker of a year! I mean, as a family, we experienced a whole bunch of not so lekker situations. But, we were also blessed beyond measure… we still have each other and our health and a roof over our heads… how terrible could it have been, seriously? As always, I focus on finding the lesson in the stressin’ (ha, see what I did there). So, if I had to write a memoir about my 2018 findings, they would include the following bits and bobs:
10 things I learnt in 2018 that probably won’t blow your mind but it did mine
- I love being a mother
Yes, this is number one on the list. But you guys, I love being a mother so much that I totally wouldn’t mind having another little bebe suckling at my breast. (Graphic much? Whaaat, I paint with words). Our accident the other day made me realize how short life is and how much I love being a parent to our kids. I love having a big family!
- Maybe you need to love yourself more
You know how you’re always convinced that people don’t like you? Well, sometimes they do. Sometimes you just don’t like yourself. Give yourself a break, man! As a wise man once said, “we’re just ordinary people… we don’t know which way to go.” We’re always instructing people to love on people. Well, in 2018 I learnt that sometimes I need to work on loving myself, yo!
- Money is lekker, but it’s not everything
You guys, I have a lot of children and I want to have a couple more. I need money to do this. We need it to pay for school fees and medical aid and food and, you know, the wifi and other important stuff like that. But, you guys, I’ve learnt that I would much rather live with a very poor Hubstopher, in a shack, while our kids wear hole-bedecked clothing than live in a huge mansion with fancy bedazzlement, and no Hubstopher or kids. What I’m trying to say is that your big pay cheque isn’t impressive if you hold it up against love, family and contentment.
- You can’t make them love you if they don’t want to
Yoh, you guys, I am a self-confessed people pleaser. Just love me forever and I’ll be the happiest person in the whole world! But hey, sometimes you have to accept that you can’t win them all… some people are committed to misunderstanding you. Love them anyways, and move on with your life.
- People talk
Also, I learnt that people talk about other people. Heck, you talk. I talk. We’re good at exchanging information that is irrelevant to our own lives. It’s lekker. It’s exciting. It’s like watching a series, without having to spend the data. With that said, 2018 reminded me to rather not be that person. I don’t find it particularly exhilarating to have a group of people discuss me, my life or my decisions. So maybe it’s a good idea to not do this to other people too, right?
- Being healthy is better than being psychotic
This statement is loaded, so allow me to break it down: I spent 2018 hating my appearance. I had picked up a lot of weight, after having baby Jo and this – accompanied with diastasis recti – kinda made it hard for me to “bounce back” physically, as I usually do, postpartum. It drove me crazy you guys. Like, mentally crazy. Like, I wanted to not be me anymore. I know I’m saying this all jovially and casually now but believe me, the struggle was real. I had to learn how to be okay with my mom bod. My goal for the new year is to be healthy (not skinny) and, you know, to rather not let my lack of a six pack drive me cuckoo.
- Have a plan
I often brag about my spreadsheet brain, but to be honest, I’m not always as organised as I’d like to be. I mean, I can plan your party, no sweat. But I don’t know a darn thing about my life insurance, or the size of my retirement annuity or if I’m banking with the right people. Tis a boring lesson to learn, but it’s one that I did ponder upon, many times, in 2018.
- I’m only as tired as I let myself be
What does this sentence even mean? Well, I think that I’m tired (hahahah) of being the “tired mother”. We own this title like a freakin’ medallion, you guys, wearing it proudly to social events to compare with other moms. It’s almost as if we want a pity party and a standing ovation, all at the same time. I don’t want to be tired in 2019. I want to be well rested and satisfied and I want to know that I am spending my time wisely.
- I am capable
I learnt that there’s a lot that I can do. Sometimes we need to own up man, and be like, you know what I’m pretty bad ass! I often downplay my brilliance because I’m afraid that other people will be threatened by it, or you know, be jealous (hey I’m here to be real) and not like me anymore. I learnt that I am capable and I am amazing and I know a lot of other capable and amazing women and we should be a source of inspiration to each other, not envy.
- Vindication
The most important lesson learnt in 2018 is that God is fighting for me… on my behalf. He is the one who makes every crooked path straight. I learnt that I often try to do things in my own strength, and then I wonder why on earth I’m exhausted and going nowhere slowly. I’ve seen Him move things along that had been stagnant for years, and fix things that had broken beyond repair, in an instant, after I simply surrendered control.
And even now, as I sit and reflect on all that I’ve learnt in 2018, I am reminded that God has the ability to use every stumbling block as a building stone. His promise is to turn a troublesome circumstance into GOOD and to use your hurt and pain for glory. He can turn your mourning into dancing, friend. And through Him, you are able to achieve so much more than you fragile human mind could ever comprehend.
He’s never failed me yet. And that’s what I’m taking with me into 2019.
-
Is being mean a thing now a days?
So the other day I found myself in a stinky situation, with a stinky person, who was acting – yep, you guessed it – pretty stinky. I mean, it wasn’t even as if I deserved the stank. I’m a very diplomatic person and (if you watched my Instastories, you would know) I prefer to not go all Shaneequa on people, when I feel that they’ve wronged me. I don’t do playground cat fights. It’s not my jam. Simply because I get that people are people. I always try to look at the situation with the bigger picture in mind… you know, stuff like: what is the other person going through right now, which factors could be influencing their decisions, am I overreacting, can they prove this in a court of law. You know, that sort of thing. (Kidding about the court of law… kinda).
Anyways, so here I sit, in all my “ke Dezemba” glory (duh, no pants, with an electric fan on full blast in my face) staring at my phone as I continue to get one stinky message after the other. And this after I had, so diplomatically, tried to be kind and understanding and, you know, the light and all of that.
And then I felt it. It was an overwhelming sensation, bubbling from deep down in the pit of my belly. A feeling that I could not control or contain. I tried so hard to ignore it but… wait for it… wait for it….. bleeeeuuuuughghghghghg …. WORD VOMIT. All over my good intentions and diplomacy.
Nice Luchae was straight up mad and rude and uncool and I wanted to say ALL THE WORDS in the world!!! And so I did, you guys.
The result? Well, not as great as I expected. Because, for starters, the recipient of my word attack isn’t all “kumbaya be the light” as I am, and so this person responded with an even worse attack of word vomit. But more than that, I was just bummed that I allowed the crap situation to get the better of me. I mean, I’m not this person. I’m not the type of girl who would lose her cool. Because my spreadsheet brain tells me that losing my ish won’t solve the situation. Staying in control will. My spreadsheet brain reminds me about peace over war, and to love the unlovely and to turn the other cheek. My spreadsheet brain asks me what would Jesus do. My spreadsheet brain… was absent on this day.
Anyways, my point is that I deeply regretted my vent. Because, my friends, there are ways to get your message across and it doesn’t involve calling people names.
Have you guys ever experienced this instant regret after you basically chooned someone their whole fortune? I mean, sure there is the temporary gratification… but do you feel bad afterwards? I always feel bad. Always. And here’s the shocker though… not everyone does (feel bad after they’ve vented all over someone’s day).
It got me thinking: is being mean a thing now? Is it something we celebrate now? We seem to love the Fiona Coins and Gordon Ramsey’s of this world.
I’ve heard people say that venting is their thing. “Oh, I will tell her exactly what I think of her”… I’m sure you’ve heard this before… you know the type of people I’m referring to? I never get them. Who wants to be the person who responds to conflict with a swear word. What does that even mean when you’re deep into your 30’s, and you have kids? What does that even mean, when you’re a professional human being? What does that even mean when you say you love people? How will your harsh words and rants solve the problem, I ask with tears in my navy blue eyes?!
Where’s the room for compassion? When do we make room for grace? How do we show love and kindness? And how on earth can we be celebrating this on our social media (ag don’t look at me like that Patricia) and then we attempt to teach something else to our kids?!
Also, if you have something to say to someone, surely you can do it in a kind/stern way WITHOUT an audience? (That last part is crucial, yo). Surely you can do it without having the need to brag about it to your friend? I don’t know, I’m just sharing ideas here. Let me know if I sound like I’m insane. Hoping I’m not. Because that would mean that the world has turned into one big ol meany pants. And that would suck. (I know. I just said “meany pants”.)
Hit me up in the comments section below. On a scale of 1 to Adolf Hitler, how mean are you?
