A trip down lockdown memory lane!
As my business steadily builds itself back up, with a new face and some Covid-influenced changes, I look back at what it was like for a few months last year as just the “Mom.” The South African lockdown, one of the strictest in the world at that time, forced most of us Marketing and PR SME owners to close our doors and focus on creating a safe and “new normal” environment for ourselves and our families.
My parents both contracted the Corona Virus and so, it was left up to me to care for ALL five grandchildren for a few months. Including my own children, I had two five-year-olds’ (one boy; Wandi and one girl; Koli), one nine-year-old girl (Thotse), a twelve-year-old girl (Lungi) and the legend himself, my two-year-old son (Bugsy) whom you will have read a lot about on my personal Facebook page. As if that was not enough, we rescued an eight-week-old puppy (Luna) too!
Being a person known for preferring the company of all the Mzizi grandchildren, I was up for the challenge of this time spent being reacquainted with the daily struggle of just-being-the-mom-with-no-work without the pressure of having to go to work.
I acknowledge that my experience of this time is grossly different to that of a majority of my fellow countrymen/women, who struggled to make ends meet. Zam’s Hive started a fund, which generously received funds donated by almost ALL of my clients, close friends and colleagues from my place of work. We used these funds to assist families who wrote in via WhatsApp and SMS stating what their urgent needs were and paired them with the correct donor. I was astounded at how the people I knew were able to look beyond their own experience of the Lockdown, and were able to give the little (or lot) that they had to keep hope alive.
However, being the stay-at-home mom yielded quite a few hilarious experiences, which naturally, I shared on social media as they happened. Here are some of these posts. I hope they make you chuckle a bit at my expense. I hope they remind you that no matter how bleak the situation, our inner circle, our families, our children, the people that matter most to us are the ones we should keep our focus on.
Raising boys is a BREEZE!
My Wandi has reached that age where every hug and cuddle is a conscious decision on his part to be with me. It says, ' I choose to be near YOU. I choose you, mommy'
So imagine my joy as I was working in my office and my big boy chose that moment to sit on my lap...
He sat facing me, flashed his special smile and said' 'Mommy, let me show you how much I love you'
He put his hands on my shoulders and closed his beautiful brown eyes. I could see him mentally reaching deep within himself in order to share what he had to say. Then...
I felt it. A persistent drill-like hammering on my sturdy thigh where his bony bum was perched.
The stench was instant and the fog it created in my mind was confusion personified. I could not immediately compute that my baby came all this way just to fart on me. As realization dawned on me, my little angel held onto me just a little bit tighter to keep me in place as the hammer-drill was still operating. My thin leggings were no barrier from the barrage of bodily functions battering my poor skin.
During this assault, Wandi did not change his facial expression at all. He looked like a little Buddha bestowing a blessing upon a lesser mortal.
When he was done, he nimbly sprang off my leg and bestowed a beguiling cherubic smile upon me. Slowly reversing from the room with his cheesy smile and eyes closed, he blessed me with his benevolent ' enjoy the smell mommy' and quietly closed the door.
I'm on my knees begging for this changeling to be taken. Return Bugsy pre-terrible twos to me please!
I went into the toilet for a teensy while. I'd been holding it in for some time chasing my kids around. To my knowledge, fake Bugsy was safely chilling on my bed.
As my empty bladder and I float out the bathroom, changeling proudly displays a cup of water he is drinking...now this is a problem because all taps and cups are beyond his reach. This cup looks like the dirty one I ignored on the floor a teensy while back- are you judging me Karen?!
I frantically urge fake son to show me if he got water from the other toilet. He proudly replies, ' I no drink here Wandi peepee here' This is good. It's great actually. Wandi has diarrhea and drinking from his toilet could kill someone. Never mind Corona.
So I drag the smirking not-really-my-son into the kitchen to wash this mysterious cup. At this stage I'm fuming at the lord thinking 'turn this crap into wine NOW'
As I wash the still alcohol free cup, I turn to find swopped-at-birth guy smacking his lips and drinking from the bucket mqobothi style.
I used water and Jik to clean dog poop just now. I spilled the water but clearly not all of it. What's worse here? Jik poisoning or dog poop poisoning?
The terror child is ok. I gave him milk and surrendered the rest to his creator.
I'm ok. I have a new twitch in my eye and I think I might have peed my pants a little. But otherwise baaah I'm good.
Look- fake son took the tin of milk and smeared the stuff on himself.
Then the tensions were rising
In a bid to demonstrate his defiance of my authority, my two year old has taken the long life milk and some shopping bags to an undesirable corner of the house. He has boldly announced that, 'I puttinnnin me in noty cona' This is his strategy to deprive my authority of putting him in a corner myself. The standoff continues...
I swear I don't make this stuff up...
Wandi just played with matches and his cousins came to tell on him. Naturally I gave him 'the look' times 10. He says to me,
'I know you're cross with me and wont talk to me.'
He stalks off to the shower and sits there while singing his new and spontaneously composed struggle song. The words weren't too clear but this is what I heard:
Take me away in peace, take me away in peace.
Please note he has taken to eating some of his meals in this shower.
Can someone please send me a bottle of gin??! Its for the kids.
Exacting revenge in small ways
My kids broke my hair clippers machine while I was cutting them. So now I'm leaving them with unfinished cuts because one needs to take revenge wherever the opportunity may present itself-even if it's your own kids. They think they know me. Mxim!
I've been in bed with flu for a week now. During this my kids haven't given me an inch of space and rest.
I'm still a horse, jungle gym, chef, personal snot cleaner and unwilling audience to dance shows and song decompositions.
Tonight was just the worst! I went to the chemist for more meds and so needed a nap from the trip. Only to realize that I'd over slept and it was supper time.
After a mad dash to cook, serve and feed the royal highnesses, I'd had enough.
Where am I now? What am I doing now? These are all relevant questions I'm happy to answer for you.
I'm in my bedroom. For the first time since I became a mother, I have done the only sensible thing a tired parent can do...
I'VE LOCKED MY BEDROOM DOOR BIYAAACHES!
The situation update is as follows:
1. Two year old has attempted breaking door down
2. Five year old has resorted to creepy body plastering against door and quietly chanting 'mooommyyyy can we have ice cream while you die?'
3. In a rare show of solidarity the boys are now howling like wolves outside the door, throwing in the odd 'moooommmy where are youuuu'
4. Nine year old niece has increased the volume and frequency of her coughing
IIIIIIIII DOOOOOOOONT CAAAAAAARE!
I'm at peace in my warm bed. Let the siege continue I have all that I need in here. A bathroom, all the toilet paper in the house, the only phone with airtime and did I mention -I'm the only person tall enough to cook. Muhahuahua!
So as usual the kids were acting up and driving me crazy before bedtime. This time however, the transgressions were extreme.
Someone didn't pee INSIDE the toilet but decided to mark his territory next to it instead.
Another decided to generously leave food on a dinner plate and put it in the kitchen sink for Santa maybe.
Another was dejectedly roaming the passage without pajama bottoms like a homeless person. Left to wander the night in shame and bottomlessness.
This was the last straw and I blew my top off.
EVERYONE TO BED WITHOUT A STORY NOW!
Even the little one understood that Armageddon was nigh, and scurried into bed as fast as his fat stubby legs could carry him (only half way up the bed usually).
In an unusually respectful and hesitant tone, Wandi bravely reminded me that I forgot to pray. So fine! I asked God to please help me make my children good etc.
Wandi again bravely offered to pray too and this is where he played his master plan into action (he never wants to pray):
Wandi: Dear God, please make all my dreams come true. The end.
Yes. He said the end and not AMEN. I felt a reluctant smile coming on but I was wise to the enemy.
The next morning the kids all came to greet me in that way guilty kids do hoping for a cease-fire.
'Good morning rakhali' etc.
Then the master played his Ace move.
Wandi: In the name of Jesus, good morning everyone!
How could I remain grumpy after my son evoked the name of Jesus?!
He's goooooood. One point to Wandi. None to me.
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