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Showing posts from December, 2010

Between the years - familied out and too much sugar in the system....

It s that weird time of the year. The Christmas buzz is over, the New Year only a couple of days away - next year is really next week. New Years resolutions float around and people have this dazed look in their eyes - a result of too much food and too much family contact. Which brings me right to the point: Family. Contact. With my mother on a plane back to Germany I am left with my normal psycho cocktail of emotions: sadness, relief, guilt and hope that next time everything will be easier.

How do other people do it? Spend happy family time together without diving head first into bottomless pools of unresolved childhood issues? How do they manage not to have their buttons pushed every time a mother makes that annoying chewing noise or a sister  monopolises every conversation with tales of her achievements?  Most people either don't  talk about their true feelings about family or they don't have my issues, which I can not believe - because - I really do not want to believe it.

Happy Holidays!

I feel I really have neglected my blog for too long after such an enthusiastic start. I made several attempts to start a new post, had a couple of ideas and now they are all sitting in my drafts file waiting to be finished. One of the issues I was stuck with is the question I often get asked by friends:

How can you live in this country where there is so much evidence of poverty everywhere around you?

This is a question that rolls around in my head at regular intervals. Sometimes I find it easy to answer, when I feel good about myself; when my business is doing well and people who work for me, who otherwise might not have jobs, are happy; when I give to someone who is asking for money or food and get rewarded with a genuine smile. When I feel connected.



And then there are the other times: When somebody is looking through my dustbin for food and I look away; when I see little children living on the street without anybody - including myself - feeling responsible for them; when I feel o…

Will I be able to love an adopted child?

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We had our bi monthly adoption meeting on Monday and this time I was one of the few (due to crazy holiday season I am sure :-))who were able to make it. As we got chatting - as always with one ear and one eye on our kids throwing food items at each other and falling off monkey bars - many interesting issues were raised. Of course half way through any conversation one of us tunes out or comes back in and the general thread of conversation is always a little frazzled and unfocused. But with my mind on my blog, I took two issues with me, that I want to take a little further: The question that many parents - adoptive or birth parents- ask themselves often in a flat panic throughout this journey of conception: Once my child is here, will I be able to love him/her enough. And people who adopt often have the additional fear that loving a child who does not come from their genes or their body is different.


The second issue, that is somewhat related to this is the secret or open wish that &quo…

Keep it simple ! What do we tell our kids - and when???

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As our kids get older, we have to adjust our antennas to their more evolved perceptions and understanding of life. When previously asked by Leah at age 3:


Where is my tummy mummy now?

I could simply reply

"In Paarl " and she won't give it another thought - as the next interesting subject presented itself in form of a dead beetle on the stairs (why is it not working mama? Humph .... Why indeed?) .



Where at first I stopped and thought and stammered my way through much too involved answers, losing her after the first imaginary comma, I quickly learned to give the simplest and most obvious answers to her questions. ("In Paarl" and "it's dead" ) .

I also learned to leave all judgement out of my answers. When she asked (shortly after the dead beetle question) where did I drink milk from - a bottle or a breast? My first instinct was to over explain because I felt I had to compensate: ...the poor child sees mothers breast feed their babies and now I hav…