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I shouldn’t be alive: How I almost partied my life away {Birthday Celebrations}
So it’s my birthday in a couple of days time and I’m just chilling here like “whaaaaat”. Literally. I’m asking myself “What? It’s my birthday? Again?” I feel like I turned 30 just the other day. Life is but a breath and one should savor and appreciate every, single, moment. I’m still alive. And that means that I still have purpose and destiny.
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My week in pics: micro fashion, bridesmaid dresses and nail art
This week feels like someone literally took a drive down to a garbage dump, chose a few items, wrapped it up and wrote “Luchae’s week” on it. But then I check out my week in pics and realize that I am being an Aunty Moana – I am blessed, God is good and I have so much to be thankful for!
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What do you do when husband says no to the dress
I recently went dress shopping and spotted a bunch of seriously cute (and seriously short) dresses. (Who are they making these things for? The smurfs?!) There were a few decent picks but, when I tried them on, I knew that Hubstopher would not approve. Not that he regularly dresses me, I wear what I want. But when it comes to the length of my skirt or the inches of cleavage that I am showcasing, he prefers to have the final say. And I let him. But I wondered if I was wrong in doing so. What would you do when husband says no to the dress?
I chatted to a few close sister-friends and received some mixed emotions regarding the situation. Some shared that they don’t believe that your husband gets a say in what you wear. If you want the dress, then buy the dress. Other’s said that the marriage comes first and pleasing husband should be right up there on your list of important things to do.
After much conversating and debating, I ended up waiting for Hubstopher to give a thumbs up on the dress, and here’s why:
1. I think the idea behind being married is that you begin to share a life with someone else. The two of you make decisions together that would ultimately reflect in the type of lives you lead. Your decisions are also reflectant on who you are as a unit. As much as you are still an individual, you also represent each other now. (That’s why I iron his shirts ya’ll) If I wear something that makes him uncomfortable, it makes me uncomfortable.
2. I married someone that I love and can trust. I believe that his decisions will always be in our best interest and that he will always want the best for me. Knowing that makes it easy for me to accept his advice or critique as a message of concern and not manipulation or control.
3. Choosing a life partner is a pretty big deal and I had to choose wisely. I’ve put a lot of (healthy) expectation on this guy! (Don’t we all?) But with the “I do’s” came a huge responsibility on me too! Just like how I expect him to love and protect me, he expects me to honor and respect him. A friend told me that she will never ever dishonor her hubby in public (or in private, I guess) and that was such a powerful statement to me. If wearing that dress would make him feel dishonored then I’d rather ditch the dress. Like, for real, the dress is so not worth it.4. I believe what the Bible says about wives submitting to husbands. As a strong, modern woman, being a submissive wife is no easy task. We seem to think that submission is a sign of weakness. But it is the total opposite. I mean, no one said anything about being timid. Submission is not a sign of value, it is a reflection of character and humility. Submitting does not make him more important and me less important. Submitting means that I allow him to take the lead and it means that he has the stuff it takes to be the leader. Submitting doesn’t mean that I don’t get to have a say. As another clever friend explained, a healthy marriage means that the two of you are in agreement… So in this case, I agree with his decision.
5. And finally, let me just keep it real, if homeboy made me wear polo-neck tops during the peak of Summer, then I would be a bit concerned. But, the fact that he only speaks up on the rare occasion, makes me sit up and listen! This is the husband of my youth and I plan to take what he says seriously until the day that I can’t remember who he is anymore.
(By the way, it turns out he liked the dress anyways! Go figure!)
So, ladies, what is your take on the topic? Would you wear it even after husband said no to the dress? -
3 perfect babyshowers, 2 blessed parents, 1 loved baby girl… {1st Year Birthday Celebrations}
Our curly girly turns 1 on the 31st October, and we’re spinning around in circles, like “huh?! did that just happen?!” For the next few days, sometimes in my blog, but mostly in my head, I will be reminiscing on my glorious pregnant days and all the prep that went into making sure the transition from womb to world was an amazing one.
Looking back to when I found out I was pregnant, my pregnancy and even the other little things we got to experience, like the 4D Scan, it’s evident that God’s hand is on our lives and that of our baby girl. This girl has been BLESSED (and no, I’m not throwing that word around loosely like a rap song). God has provided for her supernaturally and abundantly and we can boast in His goodness! We also have amazing friends and family who should be given an award or something 🙂 It’s true what the Bible says… Seek God first, put Him first, and He will see to everything else in your life.
We were blessed to have 3 babyshowers. Yep, not 1. Not 2. THREE. I don’t even know how I made it through 3 sets of “guess whats in the gift bag” 🙂 Each party was perfectly planned – the various party planners had taken me and all my hopes and dreams for Curly, into consideration and incorporated it into their decor and theme. I appreciated that so much!
Baby shower 1:
I am blessed with an amazing support structure – family by choice! My church family at Word of Faith Christian Centre, in Port Elizabeth, hosted a Princess Babyshower for my little princess! They knew that my curly was to be my special princess and that I have a thing for tiaras (I really, really do! Does that make me weird?)Complete with a princess cake, a hand made name board, and a journal for everyone to write their blessings to Curly, this baby shower was perfect! The amazing team of friends who helped to pull it together did a fantastic job! I was blessed out of my socks!
Baby shower 2:
Hubstopher and I were blessed with another fun baby shower, this time thrown by our awesome families! They somehow got him involved too and he spilled the beans a bit about me calling our girl a ballerina princess. So this shower had all sorts of ballerina in it, including games where I had to dance! I mean, I don’t look particularly amazing when I’m dancing, so picture me doing it with a big tummy too!I loved the pretty nappy cake (good enough to eat) and the themed cupcakes and all the ballerina decor! Oh and I got to wear a tiara again. Score!
Wish I had more pics to brag with! Everything was so pretty and I felt so special!
Baby shower 3:
Look, at this point I was just about to pop! We had almost everything that we needed and it was FINALLY my last day at work when lo and behold, I walk into our bistro to find all kinds of pink going on! My amazing colleagues totally spoilt me with a baby shower during our tea break and then told me to go home early. Double, triple, score to the 100th degree!My then manager was the kindest soul (she’s still very much alive, but not with the company anymore) and she had really gone ALL OUT to bless us and our baby. The gifts were amazing and I felt so appreciated.
After all 3 baby showers, I remember laying there looking at our overloaded cot that had been filled with all the loot from the parties. Everything needed to be unpacked and washed and packed away. Her cot and chest of drawers needed to be moved into place. In fact I suddenly had the urge to rearrange my entire house! Yes, the urge to “nest” is real! I realized that I still had a ton to do before Curly arrived.
Eventually it all came together.The deep realization of how loved and blessed we are just struck us hard and made us even more excited for our future with our family of 5! We love how God looks after us!
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How to give your kids a gift that isn’t theirs
We love our children, as is expected. We want to give them the best that we can and never want them to experience lack or limitation. But I’m often faced with the “it’s not all about you!” challenge, when I find them taking things for granted, and find myself bringing out my inner beast parent, to show them that the world certainly does not revolve around them and their latest game or fad.
It is with this in mind that we diligently and joyfully partake in the Santa Shoebox initiative each year. It is a great initiative where you sign up, choose a child (or children) in your area, who live in poverty stricken homes or at institutions where they may not have as much as we do. You then put together a Christmas box of sorts, that will contain a variety of essentials. The box is prettily decorated for reuse (which is a big deal for these kids already) and you are always welcome to add more than what the list stipulates – special items that you feel would mean a lot to your sponsored child.
We Santa Shoebox every single year. I have made it a habit for us to choose 1 boy who is close in age to our boys and for the past few years, we have been quite fortunate to be able to choose the same boy every single year. The boys know his name already and they’ve written him letters before, so I am sure he might feel as if he knows them too. Last year, with the loom bands craze going on, the boys added tons of loom bands and loom makers for him to use. The year before that we added some books that they loved.Every year we try to make the box special, because he is special and he should feel loved and not as if we threw things in a box because we feel sorry for him. I have found that since the boys are able to relate to our pledge (because he is a boy too and close in age), it has made the packing and deciding of what goes in the box so much more special and important to them.
I’ve also decided to sponsor a little girl, who is close in age to our Curly. I would love to apply the same concept to this little girls box and hopefully would have the honor of being her sponsor until Curly is able to understand it all.
Not only is it our responsibility to look after orphans and those who are unable to fend and provide for themselves (that’s what the Bible says yo), but it is a huge privilege to be able to speak into the lives of children – even if it’s through a simple Christmas gift box.I appeal to you: Please check out the Santa Shoebox website and consider pledging a child. The closing date is looming and there are hundreds of children who are still not sponsored and your box would mean the world to them. If you are unable to physically pack a box and get it to the drop off centers in time, there are easy peasy virtual boxes available for you to purchase. You are blessed to be a blessing!
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Made in South Africa
I often find myself avoiding political debates on social media. I am ill-equipt when it comes to discussing the state of our countrys affairs (and some of those “discussions” are pretty irrational – so thanks, but I’ll pass). To avoid looking like a straight up idiot I rather keep quiet and say a prayer. I pray because I am “made in South Africa” – so yes, I am concerned!
The recent uproar about our weak rugby team and the fact that we “don’t have what it takes” as a country to win the world cup messed me up though. For those who don’t know what I’m talking about, South Africa had lost against Japan at a very important 2015 Rugby World Cup match and people were totally disgusted with our national sides performance. Look, let me not sugar coat things: I do not watch rugby, nor do I have an intense desire to. Whaaat? A couple of big looking guys, running around with a ball (and passing it to each other backwards, nogals), just does not make sense to me. And yes, we have bigger fish to fry than whether or not we win a sports game. But when it comes to big sporting events like, for example, the Rugby World Cup, then I am without a shadow of a doubt an extremely big Springbok fan! Whether they win or lose!
“Why?” You ask.
“You dislike rugby!” I hear you say.
“You can’t even name one player from the national rugby team!” You shout out in anguish. Just calm down, Margaret. Yes, these are all true facts. But even though I am not a rugby fan, I am definitely a fan of South Africa. And even though I can’t give you my opinion on the ‘Fees must fall’ debacle or the ‘Give back the land’ situation, it doesn’t change the fact that this is my country too!I love South Africa. I love it with its over-zealous car guards, power outages, crazy politics and embarrassing politicians. I even love it with its “we’re a rainbow nation but also, we’re not, but also, we are” mentality. I love South Africa because it’s mine. The same like with my children. I mean, my kids sometimes drive me cray cray and Hubstopher and I often look at each other and ask “can we send them back?” but they are mine and I am theirs and so, by default, my heart belongs to them. And it is with this sense of belonging that I love my country. I was born here, my roots are here, it is the place of my heritage and the home of my forefathers.
What is UP with South Africans now a days? We are a bunch of extremely passionate people who either love fiercely or hate even more fiercelier (is that a word?). We shake our heads and post updates about how disappointing South Africa is. We speak DEATH over our country, by moaning and complaining and being negative. We bring up the past and demand everyone to feel the way we do and if you don’t then you’re either delusional or privileged. Well, I’m neither (thanks), but I refuse to speak curses over the land that my children will grow up in.
And then we wonder why things aren’t changing! Life and death is in the power of the tongue. Your words create! We need to start watching what we speak over our country – whether it be dissecting the state of the government or bad mouthing Piet The Coach because our national rugby team lost to a “weaker” team. (Okay, I don’t know what the rugby coach’s name is. Don’t judge me. Let’s move on, shall we?)
Sure, I don’t understand the complexity of the team selections and the politics behind the players or the fact that the government didn’t *insert number of miscellaneous offences here*. At the end of the day, none of the above makes me any less of a South African. South Africa is STILL a part of me, and me of it. And I will always want the best for this country.
So, call it patriotic.
Faithful. Dedicated.
Stupid. Whatevs.I call it: Home.
I was made here. My label says Proudly South African. And not “Made in China”. En ek se dankie vir dit. -
Mean Girls: Are you one of them?
Mean girls. You know who they are. The “know it alls” disguised as “better than” human beings, with the overbearing amount of opinion and the distinct desire to share it (to your face or behind your back). They know better. Scrap that: They know BEST. And they have a group of friends who agree. If you aren’t doing things the way they do it, then you are SO outdated/dumb/naive that surely the main dinosaur from Jurassic Park is more “with it” than you.
Mean girls. They are everywhere. Cleverly disguised like Leon Schuster. You know you’ve been “mean girl’d” when you suddenly feel the need to fabricate the truth behind where you bought your jersey (Mr Price. On sale. 4 years ago.) Or the times when you address a group of people and it’s as if they’ve all suddenly gone deaf… at the same time… because no one acknowledges you. Or worse, they do acknowledge you, in the worst kind of way, and you feel as if you’re an insect underneath a magnifying glass.
On a hot day. In Durban.If I am allowed to keep it real, and I shall, allow me to point out that “mean girl syndrome” is not only a high school thing. I was “mean girl’d” all through my 20s and did not even know it until I got home one day and thought of a clever answer to someone’s reoccurring snarky remarks (don’t you hate it when that happens?). It got me thinking: why am I still fighting this battle?! Adults shouldn’t have to be mean girls. We are adults for goodnessakes! We have other things to think about! (Bills, kids, supper, is Madonna STILL releasing albums?!) But nope, it’s still there.
Like a ninja. Hidden, but everywhere.Now a days you’ll find the “mean girl syndrome” strewn all over social media in the form of “wisdom”. You know what I’m talking about… It’s the people who seem to be sitting around, waiting for someone to update their status so that they can leave a snooty comment, explaining why your thinking is of a lower intellectual level than a spoon. Sometimes they’ll go that one step further and update their status with subliminal messages aimed at putting others down or “on their place” (as is the aim). Everybody is wrong. Except them.
Yep, mean girls. You’ve either felt a little less of a human being because of them OR (let’s be honest) you’ve been one of them. Hey I’ll put my pride in my pocket and admit that I’ve been ‘mean girl’d’ AND I’ve been the mean girl on many occasions.Let’s think this one through… Have you purposefully avoided someone because they’ve annoyed you or did and said things differently to how you do? Or maybe you snicker behind someones back, with one of your friends, because “does she even know how weird her hair style is”? Or maybe you have the innate desire to ‘school’ people on Facebook… in the queue at the shops… while you’re driving… At the parent/teacher meeting (and you’re not even the teacher). Hmmm… a bit of self-reflection is needed.
So how do we nip the “mean girl” spirit in the bud? I think it all boils down to identity and being secure in who you are. It is such a big lesson to teach our young girls. Value yourself! You are important! You are unique!
Getting these foundations down will help them to grow into confident, bold, women who are aware of other peoples emotions. You don’t need to break some one else down, in order to feel bigger. I always ask Hubstopher: “Do you KNOW who I AM?” – Meaning, I am aware that I am precious, valuable, intelligent and a child of the King. Knowing who I am leaves no room for ANYONE to make me feel bad about myself. But it also makes me aware of the little things that do not add value to me (eg. when I act like a poophead = not adding value).
Anyways… so there you have it. Oh and yes, Mean Girls happens to be my most favorite movie of all times. It’s like SO fetch!
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Girl: Interrupted
For as long as I can remember, I was someones mom. I gave birth to my eldest on the 29th November 2001 at the tender age of 19. (Me, not him.) I can’t comprehend a young adulthood without the added pressure of having to look after another little person. I remember admiring other (childless) young adults who were making life decisions, like whether or not they should Au pair in America or even go out to a movie on Saturday night, and it looked glorious! I did not have that luxury. My fate was to stay at home and raise a baby.
I gave birth to my little boy when I was fresh out of high school, just finishing my 1st year at varsity. I actually wrote my 1st year finals with an extremely big belly. Yip, I got all the stares and tsk tskkksss and ag shames and snickers. Especially when your bladder demands to be emptied every 5 minutes and the examination room is a distance from the loo.
My then boyfriend was my childhood sweetheart and he was legit – It wasn’t a “wham bam thank you ma’am” kinda thing. He was my first love and I was his and we were both dedicated to our kid and to each other. But love and dedication aside, we were ill equipped for the task of raising another person. I mean, we were still kids ourselves and we also had alot of growing up to do! Finding out we were going to be parents was kind of exciting. We spoke about names and who the baby would look like and what baby would be like. But as much joy as our baby brought to both families, it also changed things so much. I mean, I didn’t have the freedom to be a young girl anymore. I call it girl interrupted. I left varsity to find work and my baby’s dad also had to give up dreams that he had… Raising a child is not cheap! Suddenly life got real and not quite the fairy tale we had dreamed of while eating ice cream on the couch, admiring my preggy belly.
For the longest time I felt stuck – like I was destined to struggle for the rest of my life, especially after my sons dad and I split up. As a single, young mom, living on her own, with a little boy, I felt totally hopeless. How could I give my child a good life?! How would I even have a life of my own?!
I felt stuck… hopeless… as if I had no future. But guess what, I DID have a future. Jeremiah 29:11 said so. I started believing that my life is destined for success and not failure! I learnt to make GOOD decisions and surrounded myself with people who lifted me up and encouraged me to be the best mom I can be. It’s easy to focus on your failures or miscalculations. It takes a lot of guts to say, “you know what, that didn’t work out, but hey, let me try something else!” I decided to get gutsy.
Through the grace of God, his dad and I managed to find compromise. We made a lot of unselfish decisions, ego’s aside, that would help us to raise our boy with pride. Yep, it meant that both of us had to work HARD (still have to yo!) because we chose to have sex before we were married (and before we even understood the enormity of what that actually means!) so we had to bare the consequences and make the best of it! It took a lot of sacrifice to give him the best that I could but if I had a choice, I would STILL choose my son over and over again.
God is not limited to our circumstances and our human mind sets. He places dreams in our heart and He helps us to fulfill them, if we let Him! God always has a better plan than ours and as you know from previous stories, my hubstopher came along at just the right time, with just the right stuff. We have been blessed with the best.
My son went on to be the deputy head boy at his primary school (moms brains, duh) and is having such a good time in high school. I know that everything God had promised me in Jeremiah 29:11 applies to him too. I am so excited for his future and I am SO thankful for his life.
Through it all, I am grateful that amidst my hopeless situation, God came in and did miraculous things! He has restored us and given us a hope and a flourishing future. And if He can do it for us, then He can do it for you too.
Things we lost in the fire: Are your kids emotionally aware?
I recently spoke to a man who had lost 2 children in a fire that ate up his home and all his possessions. I remember meeting him a few years ago right after the fire had occurred. I was working in the cellular industry and because of the fire, his insurance had to replace his cellphone – that’s where I came in.
Our introduction was a bit shaky… he came to our store to get his new phone and I remember that there were complications and he was so rude and disruptive. I did not know his story. I mean, I saw the bandages on his arms (where he tried to rescue his boy) and I saw the red rimmed eyes, but I looked past all of that, thinking “What on earth is this mans PROBLEM?! How DARE he speak to ME that way!” Later on I learnt about the fire and felt the empathy towards his situation and I immediately regretted my initial perception of him.
How often do we do this? We often judge people based on the way they make US feel, without knowing their story or their pain.
We’re deep in an era where everything is about me me me! There is a culture of utter SELFishness and the scary thing is that it has become the norm. Our children are programmed to put themselves first. Sure, we tell them that sharing is caring but in the same breath, we teach them that they have to be better, look better and achieve more than their classmates do. Are your kids emotionally aware of others?
What about you? Now I am not talking about giving your old shoes to the homeless kid on the corner. Those are very nice things to do for other people. I am talking about considering the next person’s feelings before you speak and act. Being sensitive and emotionally aware of others means showing care and love, without expecting anything in return. It is our non negotiable purpose on earth. I often need to remind myself that I was not created for ME. (Sometimes I need to remind myself A LOT, yo!) We were created for God and for Him to use us in other peoples lives. The rest of the stuff are fabulous perks.
Anyways, back to the customer and the fire. So it’s years later and he brings up the fire and all that he had lost. I was a bit shocked, because I thought the topic to be taboo and a painful one at that. But here he is, telling my colleague all about it, not missing a detail. He then goes on to say that it was a difficult time but he pushed through and that God has been so good to him since then. I looked at this man and thought WOW, I sure can learn a thing or 2 from him! Not only did he feel it okay to remember the fire, but instead of sowing seeds of sadness and regret (to milk empathy and attention) he rather used the opportunity to spark the faith of others – to sow seeds of encouragement! What a selfless act and what a huge lesson learnt!
I don’t know about you but today I choose to take the opportunity to allow God to heal the scars of my “fires” and to use it to be a light in someone else’s life. My world should not revolve around my pain. And my pain should not affect the way I love others.
But did it kill you? Well then, keep quiet!
Hold on – Let me descend from my proverbial soap box before I fall off and hurt myself!
There. That’s better. Whew! This post was suppose to be about complaining. But as I began typing, I realized that I was complaining about… well… complaining! It was a full circle moment for me. A little voice inside asked me: Luchae, but did it kill you? And no, it did not kill me. I’m still very much alive, thanks. But it got me thinking about how easily we allow our emotions to spill out of our mouths.
We have SO much to say about life, the economy, the government, our next door neighbor, our bosses, and the beat goes on. We’re not living in the easiest of times (although, hey, I’d take today over 600 years ago’s wiping your bum with a banana leaf situation) and yes, there are many reasons why it’s easier to feel more negative than positive. But my question to you is: but did it kill you?
Chances are, it did not kill you. (My reasoning is that you’re still alive right now, so I’m pretty sure that I’m right about this one.) And if it did, in fact, NOT kill you, what’s the point in moaning about it? You’re alive! You still have air in your lungs and purpose running through your veins! That should be motivation enough to be the best you can be.
In my attempt to avoid speaking (and thinking) negatively, I try to stay away from negative conversations. You know, the whole “accept the things you can’t change, change the things you can, and know the difference between the two” and “stay silent if you don’t have anything nice to say” shpiel. It’s actually not bad advice.
I’m also so mindful about what I consume on social media. I mean, social media has wonderful perks but, when used incorrectly, it can be such an easy way to spread hatred, lies and negativity. Not a good look.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that life and death is in the power of the tongue – the Bible says so in Prov 18:21. This means that you have the power to create with your own mouth! You can choose whether you want to speak blessing or curses – which may seem a bit “Liewe Heksie”, but by that I am referring to speaking positivity vs speaking negativity… speaking life verses speaking death!
Not sure whether you can pull this whole “speaking life” thing off? Well, here are a few filters you can use, before letting your words misrepresent you.
Ask yourself
Does, what I have to say, build up or tear down?
Are my motives for saying this good or bad?
Is this meant to be confidential?
Is this truthful, partly truthful or do I have no proof at all?
If the person I am talking about was present, would I still say this?
Something to think about today! I, certainly, have a lot to repent about and am definitely going to be more aware of what comes out of my mouth. How about you?
