Musings

Mar 04

It Needs to Burn, But It’s Still Unbearable to Watch

By Mary | Cape Town, Musings | No Comments

The Raging Inferno, formerly know as the Southern Cape. Day 4. The fire has consumed those of us living in its ever-present shadow. I struggle to think of much else. The degree of destruction is beginning to feel like natural disasters we hear about in the rest of the world but rarely experience in our beautiful country. We are no longer exempt. Close on 5000 hectares of Cape Fynbos has now burned. It is devastating.

The fact that no one has been seriously injured shows the incredible people we have managing this fire and looking after the communities that are being circled in flames. The tragedy lies in the houses that have burned to the ground, the destruction of our neatly tarred roads, the ‘humanisation’ of this beautiful, natural environment. The heartache however, lies in the devastation to the animal and plant kingdom, the thousands of traumatised and lifeless animals engulfed in smoke and flames. I have felt overwhelmed on numerous occasions in the last few days when looking at my surroundings and seeing the extent of the damage. I think a large part of that came from the realisation that this is possible. That from a tiny flame can come so much destruction. It’s almost unbelievable. If I am honest though, a lot of that sadness comes from the knowledge that my countryside isn’t as beautiful as it is expected to be, as it ordinarily is.With parents who are avid nature lovers, I grew up in the knowledge that fynbos is a plant type that thrives after fire. The Cape Floral Kingdom is a uniquely adapted environment, which actually needs burning. The burning is a purification of the plants and a redistribution of nutrients to the soil. Seeds and bulbs lying long dormant in the ground are given sunlight and room to grow while larger bushes are prevented from taking over and growing too abundantly in an area. This is the reality of the incredible vegetation that surrounds us. What we are witnessing is a ‘resetting’ of the biome. All this knowledge doesn’t make the destruction any less severe however.

In an interesting conversation last night with a friend, we were discussing the obliteration of our landscape. I was sharing the weight of what I felt was a huge knock to Cape Town. She shared what she thought was a cleansing and a rebirth not only to the vegetation, but people’s spirits too. This fire, she said, may not be what we as people want to see, but it is what the vegetation needs. As difficult as it is to admit, our pain in what we are witnessing may be substantially more selfish than we would like to admit. We as a civilisation have positioned ourselves slap-bang in the middle of an area, which evolved over millennia, around the need to ignite, not regularly, but every 10 – 15 years. This is however, far more often than we would like. Part of the reason so many of us live here is because of the beauty, how could it not sadden us to look around and see a post-apocalyptic wasteland in front of us, we would not be human if we did not feel some sadness at the loss. And I think that’s precisely what was meant by cleansing people’s spirits. A large portion of the Cape Town population has rallied around the fire fighters, pilots and rescue crews. There has been more support shown for these brave men and women than I think I have ever witnessed in our country. We have looked, as a people, beyond our own selves and seen a greater need. There is nothing more cleansing to the soul than that. It has breathed new life into us all.

It is impossible to ignore the heartache the natural world has experienced, nor should we try. What I am suggesting is that we look at this ‘tragedy’ with fresh eyes. Eyes that can see forward to the new growth of plants, to bulbs already stirring under the soil from the heat and smoke from the flames, getting ready to sprout flowers not that different in colour to the flames themselves. The rebirth of vegetation along with new life currently burrowed under the soil, will stir our hearts when we see it. Our mountain may not be much to behold right now, but in time, it will be what it once was. Let’s look forward with anticipation to those first precious buds pushing through the burnt crust of earth.

My hope is that along with the beauty of our floral kingdom, will come a beauty of the human spirit, a burst of new life into the community in ways we have not done before. Let’s keep looking beyond ourselves, there are Fire Lillies among us.

For further reading on fynbos’ need for fire, see Out of the ashes: Notes on the March 2015 Cape Town Wildfire.

Mar 02

Human Spirit vs Natural Disaster?

By Mary | Cape Town, Musings | No Comments

As I sit and write, our mountain burns. It burns a blaze that has been going for over 48 hours. It has been fanned by winds over 60km’s an hour while brave men and women simultaneously beat the flames, pitting the strength of nature against the strength of human spirit and tenacity. We don’t yet have a winner. The fire continues to burn at an astonishing rate, leaving the area of devastation at around 3000ha and counting, almost all of which is protected National Park. Five houses, one of Cape Town’s most prestigious hotels and now Tokai forest, burn.

As someone living in the heat of the devastation I have been overcome by the community around me. Not always a group that supports each other, Hout Bay is often chastised for its stark contrast in class and living conditions. There is community violence, xenophobia and theft. People don’t always put their best foot forward. Yet throw something as terrifying as a fire into the mix and you have the ‘Hout Bay hustle’, the uniting of the people. Something I am proud to bare witness to.There was a plea put out this morning to help the fire fighters with food and water. A simple plea, it didn’t ask for much. In amidst my morning I thought, I wonder how many people will read this and assume everyone else will do it? How often do we all sit back and assume someone else will step forward? I venture to say most of us, all of the time. So I pulled myself away from my desk, got in my car and headed down to Hout Bay Neighbourhood Watch headquarters, to see how I could assist.I was blown away, not by the blustery wind as thankfully that had stopped, but by what I found there. A lovely old man was standing by, guiding people to deposit their contributions in trolleys already laden with goods; bottles of water, energy drinks and crates of fruit. Fresh croissants, homemade sandwiches and cartons of eye drops for the poor fire fighters smoke filled eyes. He told me they had already moved 20 trolley loads of groceries to where it was needed on the mountain, and it was only just midday. I was overcome with gratitude. Gratitude for my fellow countrymen who jump when they are needed and pledge what they can to help in the immense task of saving their land and their homes, of helping the brave fire fighting men and women in a task that can only be described as painfully hot and back breaking work. More people than I could ever have hoped for answered a cry for help, it sparked a love for my community and my countrymen such that I haven’t experienced in quite some time. I know it wasn’t only me that felt this outpouring of love today. I heard it spoken of in the shops, saw it on countless social media posts and saw evidence of the appreciation at Neighbourhood Watch Headquarters. Hout Bay I salute you, as I salute the brave men and woman fighting on the mountain tonight. The fire might have wrecked devastation, but it cannot beat down the human spirit.

Aug 03

Your Riding Partner, For Better or Worse

By Mary | Musings | No Comments

When you take the leap and decide to get married, you are choosing to ride tandem through life with this one special person, through the up hills and down, through the cold, the wind and the rain, you are in it together. But for some reason, actually riding tandem together is a wholly different set of wheels, or so I initially thought.A couple of weeks back, Shaun and I found ourselves mulling over the awesomeness of a three hour Argus time. The Argus, for those of you who don’t know, is the most beautiful cycling race in the world, 110km’s of picturesque mountains and incredible ocean views, cycling along roads carved into the side of the mountain with sheer rock faces plummeting down into the Atlantic ocean.

Three hours is an incredibly good time.

For some reason, I can only assume we were drinking wine at the time, we decided we should give it a bash on a tandem. (What makes this of notable importance is that we tried this once, many years ago, we got half way around the block before I got off and stormed home)! Anyway, there was some, though limited, logic behind this new idea; tandems go faster down hill with the collective weight of two people on one bike, and they are capable of going faster on the flats (provided that the people on the bike have quads of steel and run diesel engines), but, and there is a but here, going up hill feels a bit like riding your bike in a swimming pool. The effort it takes to get yourself up a hill is hard enough without the combined problem of having someone else throw you off your groove, you have to be completely in sync, and standing together is harder than you might think, individually – it’s impossible. Of course we only found this out after procuring a tandem and entering an incredibly gruelling 109km cycling race in Knysna.

Giving ourselves a grace period of half an hour (because we’re not as fit as we should be and we’ve only climbed on the tandem together about four times), we made the ‘realistic’ goal of completing the race in three and a half hours.

Oh how ambitious we were.

Lets start by exploring the reasons why Shaun and I would make good tandem partners (on a bike, not in life. No wait, it probably applies to both):

1. We both think we are awesome.
2. We are both very competitive.

Although I’m listing this as a positive (because I needed to have more than just one), it’s not entirely a good thing. Let me explain; Shaun is so competitive he will dive into a race and give everything, and I mean everything, until he blows, until he has absolutely nothing left. I am so competitive I talk myself out of wanting to compete before I even start the race because I’m scared I might not achieve my desired time, I tell myself I don’t care and I must ‘just enjoy it’ – whatever that means. This is clearly not a good thing. Together, these are completely incompatible.

Now let’s explore the reasons Shaun and I don’t make good tandem partners:

1.     Shaun is chronically on time. I am almost incapable of getting to the start of a race on time. (I’m too busy convincing myself I don’t care and I don’t want to win anyway.)
2.     I am a lefty (leg), Shaun is a righty. This means nothing to you until your feet are clipped into your pedals and you unclip opposite legs when you stop the bike! (A tandem cannot lean to the left and the right at the same time.)
3.     I start the bike with my pedal raised and ready to push down with brute force. Shaun starts by pushing off his standing leg, then lifting his clipped in leg, then pushing down with brute force! Not only does this spell confusion, bruised shins and bad language, but there is a large chance you will stay in one place until you can fuse your techniques.
4.     I swing the handle bars from side to side when in standing position (this is not good form but I’d rather fall off the bike than admit that to him, I’m a grown up like that). Shaun has the most incredibly stationary upper body – damn him for his awesome core muscles!
5.     The clincher … We both like to be in control.

With this overwhelmingly positive overview, you can see exactly why we launched into riding tandem together. Unlike in a marriage, where the idea opposites attract is a good thing, when riding a tandem, the more similar you are the easier it is. We clearly have a lot to work through, although when I say we, what I mean is I. I know I sound like a martyr here, but the guy on the back really has no control over anything. We don’t steer, or break, or change gears, we don’t choose the route or the side of the bike we unclip on. We keep the pace to the gears that are chosen for us, and are then asked with all audacity whether we are pushing! We listen, and we do as we’re told. We stand when the person in front stands, because we can’t not…But then in a rarely found moment of contemplation, something happened. I realised how similar riding together on a bike is to being married. Let me enlighten you.

1. Sometimes it’s about blind faith.

In the beginning we were both trying to control things, I wanted to hold the reigns and kept trying to peek over Shaun’s shoulder to make sure he was keeping a good line, steering us on the best path. Every time I did this it knocked the tandem off balance and we had a noticeable wobble. My need to monitor if we were close enough to the rider in front of us, or too close, was constantly undermining Shaun’s ability to handle the bike. It was a real exercise in faith and trust to make myself hold my own line, keep my position on the bike steady, so Shaun could do his job of steering it the right way.
Now I’m not saying it’s a man’s position to steer a marriage, what I am saying is that you have to believe your partner is going to fulfil their roll, whatever it is, without you peering over their shoulder second-guessing them.

2. You learn it’s about communication.

Sometimes a gear is too hard for me to push, or I need to crank it up a notch because spinning can hurt a ladies undercarriage (really it’s impossible for a guy to understand this), those are the times I need to speak up. Try as woman have over many centuries, men just have not mastered mind reading. The problem with speaking up when you’re so exhausted is that sometimes it comes out as more of a yell than a speak. Your normal climate and pressure controlled voice becomes raw and direct. Which brings me to point three.

3. Understanding.

When you know where your partner is, mentally or physically, you can quite easily determine what is worth fighting about. If one of us has a particularly terse note to our voice, realising it’s because we’re in a race and beyond exhausted, will prevent a needless feud over a trivial tonal matter. Not everything is worth fighting about, understanding can carry your marriage a long way.

4. Support.

Going it alone is a heavy burden. Obviously it is impossible to actually go it alone on a tandem, but you can most certainly feel like you are. You can ride side by side yet feel depleted and abandoned. There is something incredibly uplifting in hearing your spouse acknowledge your efforts and offer words of encouragement. You don’t have to be on a bike and completely exhausted to have that kind of encouragement bring tears to your eyes. Knowing someone’s got your back and can see your efforts, does everything in helping you trudge that last mile of uphill. In short; support fosters trust, which is invaluable in assisting blind faith. It’s synergy folks.While I can calmly sit here and muse over the similarities of marriage and tandem riding, being in the race allowed for less contemplation. With Shaun’s competitive spirit we catapulted off the start line at a pace I strongly feel is reserved for cars. The lead tandems set a gruelling speed which we managed, until we hit the first big climb – that’s where the wheels began to come off, figuratively speaking of course. We realised that in our excellent attempts to service our bike the night before we had screwed up the gears enough that we couldn’t change down to allow us to climb up hill. Every change into our smaller chain ring required my unclipping my right foot and timing a perfect kick to the de-railer (whilst peddling of course) while Shaun changed the gears. It sounds easy enough, and probably is when you’re not riding up a hill that looks like you’ve reached base camp at Mount Everest. The day was freezing and the hills got progressively steeper as the race went on, this did nothing to help our inexperienced arses reach the end of the race. In fact, up one particularly steep hill I managed a whopper of a kick and succeeded in hoofing the chain right off, requiring us to stop and fix it. This too sounds easier than it was. Our poorly matched cycling technique and lack of fire-drills came into play rather heavily as it took us the better part of five minutes, lots of bad language, Shaun loosing his temper (which has only happened about twice in the eleven years we’ve been together) and a bruised undercarriage, for us to get the bike going again. As our collective profanity echoed its way down the mountain, we managed to summit Everest, whilst simultaneously stomaching the humiliation of all the riders who had passed us and seen our attempts at starting on that camber climb.

This was not the last mountain we had to climb either.

I’m pretty sure that holds true for our marriage as well. No matter how prepared you think you are, sometimes you just don’t have it. Sometimes the mountains are bigger than you expected, or your gears wont change. Sometimes the temperature (or your partner) is freezing and there is nothing you can do to warm yourself (or them) up. But persevering through our less than ideal race gave us something to laugh about afterwards, and left us with such a feeling of accomplishment about something we did together. And although in the moments of utter physical, mental and emotional depletion in the race I wondered whether I would voluntarily put myself through that again, I know I would. I also know that when it comes to our marriage, practicing the same faith, communication, understanding and support that is essential when riding tandem together, will lead us to a place of deeper respect and love at home.

Jun 12

How It Came To Be

By Mary | Musings, Our Travels | One Comment

This post is for those of you who, like me, just want to know more, who want the small details, the in between, the how. I’ve often read travel stories and when I’m saturated with the beauty and adventure of the lands they’ve discovered, I am left wanting to know more about the people. I want to know why they did it, why they chose that place. I want their whole story, well at least the good bits. So I’m going to try and give you our good bits here. This is our story.

August 2008, at a time that for good reason I cannot be more specific, a round and happy little egg, met its match. Shaun and I had been married for two years, and this kind of thing is to be expected, but we were blindsided. We had moved from Johannesburg to Cape Town the year before and we were very happily living it up in our beautiful new city. Wine tasting on weekends, days spent lying in peaceful oblivion on the white sandy beaches, and evenings out with friends enjoying one of the world’s most charming cities. Then rather abruptly, we were faced with the news of a new little life. It was unexpected, but we were delighted. And then we were overwhelmed by our desire to travel!

In all the years we had been together (six by this stage) we had never had the desire to spend months or years in other countries, either trying to stretch our Rands (South African currency) or earning what ever we could in what ever minimum wage job was allowed for foreigners. Suddenly we felt the need to stretch our legs and gain a little perspective on our lives, and suddenly that was exactly what we couldn’t do.

Shaun and I are not people who take no for an answer very easily, in fact, we are the type of people who will make a plan, we will make it work, we will do what we must. But at this particular juncture in our lives, we knew what the right choice was, and we were in a whole other ball game; should I go natural or C-section, should I bottle or breastfeed, disposable diapers or cloth ones? Life had turned in a very different direction. With this adult like decision on staying put while having our little girl, we made a firm decision to embark on our round the world trip when she turned one!

May 2009 – Lola was born.
July 2010 – Proposed date for travelling the world…
July 2010 – Lincoln was born.

Uh, yes. That happened. As it does in life, particularly ours, our plans were discarded like a used diaper. Out with the old and in with the new, a beautiful bouncing baby boy and a fourteen month old big sister. We had gone from travelling the world to creating our own world in which we were wrung out, sleep deprived, messes of human beings, just trying to make it to another day. Not exactly what we had envisaged, but our cards had been dealt and we played the hand as best we could, always looking forwards and upwards, (when we weren’t crying with our heads in our hands that is) waiting for a time we knew we could drag an active, accident prone little boy and his calm and accommodating big sister on an adventure of a life time.

14 month old Lola meeting her baby brother for the first time.

The truth of it is that for the first two years of having two kids, it was just about survival. Not only had we doubled the size of our family within fourteen months, we also threw buying a new house and starting our own business into the mix. Not something I would ever recommend to anybody, ever. The earth continued to turn however, despite my being stuck in a deluge of diapers and tantrums, and finally we started to see the light. Lola turned four and as Lincoln neared three he became rather more manageable than he had been as a feisty toddler. His tantrums became less and we suddenly thought; this child is capable of sitting in an aeroplane for twelve hours without trying to pull the emergency exit lever because it’s red and shiny and hell, why am I saying that, he never needs a reason to do outrageous things! He tripped over everything, including his own feet, fell backwards down stairs he always knew were there, took nose dives, managed to cut his face open on anything that wasn’t wrapped in cotton wool, but that’s no reason to keep us all home. Why don’t we let him do that somewhere we’ve never been. So the epic planning commenced.

We started by looking at our calendar and finding the only time between big events when we could be away. We had a six-month window, which happened to fall between October and March. What started out as a round the world trip, was quickly modified into something more plausible in the time we had. We decided to pick a continent, or more specifically, we thought about places we would love to go given the weather at that time of year. We didn’t pick the place we wanted to go to the most, or I would have ended up sightseeing Europe in the snow and freezing cold with three less than happy travel companions, and Shaun would have ended up backpacking myself and two kids through South American jungle at its hottest. Thus there were a number of reasons why we chose North America:

1.     It was the only place Shaun and I could agree on.
2.     We could see incredible cities and awe-inspiring national parks.
3.     Depending on how we angled it; both challenging for the kids, but also very kid friendly.
4.     I could have a hot beach holiday and Shaun could ski – two essential elements, one continent.
5.     It was the only place Shaun and I could agree on!

All the decision making happened in July 2013. With a trip two months away, we launched into the frantic planning. Thanks to Google Maps, Yelp and Trip Advisor, no maps or guide books were necessary, literally folks, my unwavering gratitude! Planning travel in the twenty-first century must be a gentle scotch mist in comparison to our predecessors’ torrential downpour of an event. We literally had to book our flights, and the rest we could have done on the fly, I mean, we kind of did. We booked our only large blocks of accommodation before we left; New York, Mexico and skiing over Christmas, and the rest of the time we played it by ear, staying slightly longer in some places and dodging other places all together in lieu of some wonderful off the beaten track place we heard of from fellow travellers or Americans who have made a habit of exploring their country. I mean we had a plan, we chose our route based on the cities and national parks we wanted to see, but we let ourselves drift off course because this was an adventure after all. Nothing like a bit of deviation to spell “I’m on holiday and I can do what I want to”!

What our final route looked like. 5 months. 24 000km’s.

To fill you in on the hows, I’m going to have to correct that last sentence, it wasn’t exactly a ‘holiday’, ‘adventure’ would be the more accurate word. The background info you need here is that Shaun is an electrical engineer turned software developer. He is a coding genius. With all that genius-ness floating around his head coupled with his greatest desire – to spend more time with his family and actually participate in his children’s everyday lives, he decided he needed to untangle himself from the irritable bowels of money clogged corporates. This was one of the best things we ever did. With less than ideal timing, we managed to pull it off, successfully creating Customised Applications, a company designing and constructing apps for phones and tablets. This is the sole reason we were able to travel for 6 months.

By our working, we would either have had to save up for years in order to afford a trip of this kind, or we would have to take our working on the road with us. Being far less saving savvy than we should be, we knew our only option was to work, so that is exactly what we did.

Shaun. Headphones. Computer. (Mexico)

With careful planning, an uncanny ability to block out the world, and time management skills that I yearn for, Shaun was able to pop on his headphones no matter where we were and disappear into his own world of coding and design. While this worked very well when everything was running smoothly, when the company hit speed bumps and corners (which it was bound to do while we were away), it caused ripples that had serious repercussions on our side. We would be in a new city, with hundreds of things we wanted to see and Shaun would have to put out fires, sometimes not leaving our apartment or hotel for two or three days at a time. Sometimes conducting business calls in the middle of the night, in the bathroom, because we were in a one room hotel and it was below freezing outside. Things certainly weren’t always ideal, and we had days, in fact weeks, where juggling it all was almost too much for us to handle. But somehow we always pulled through, made it through the tough days and onto brighter ones where skiing, sightseeing or exploring America’s extreme backyard made the trip worthwhile again. We were fully aware that without Shaun’s ability to work abroad, a trip of this kind would never have been possible. So we endured the tumultuous waters, and focussed on the days when the sun shone down and the waters were smooth.

With the gift of hindsight, there are many things we could have, should have perhaps, done differently. But half the beauty of our trip was the way in which we did it. We never took no for an answer (well almost never), we pushed ahead when seemingly everything was against us and we learned through sleepless nights and days of tears how sticking to your guns and doing what you yearn to do is possible, not always easy, but worth every glistening tear you shed. Until you realise that it isn’t, and then you know the time has come for you to go home.

Life doesn’t always go the way you planned, there are undoubtedly more obstacles than you anticipate, but there are also joys you don’t anticipate too. Travelling with our children forced us to do things slightly differently, not much, but there were obviously a few things. But by doubling the size of our family, we also doubled the size of our joy; there is nothing as amazing as seeing the world through your children’s innocent, enthusiastic eyes! They pushed us to experience more, as we pushed them as far as their little legs would go. We grew as a family in a way that we could never have at home. Persevering with our travel plans through not just one but two children, didn’t just give us the satisfaction of showing the naysayers we could, it showed us how strong we are, (maybe obstinate is the more appropriate word) and forged roots that can only build our family stronger.

May 28

Sharing Is Detrimental To Your Sanity – But They’re Playing Us

By Mary | Musings | No Comments

As I was driving home yesterday with my preschool age kids, the silence couldn’t escape my notice. Maybe not complete silence, Lola had requested I put up the volume on Katy Perry’s most recent musical genius, but other than the bitter sweet sounds of a 4 year old singing ‘…are you ready for, ready for a perfect storm…’ there was decidedly a lack of child created noise. After a long day of working, home schooling, swimming lessons and the daily grind, some peace in the car was nothing short of heaven. I know that sounds confusing, but when I say ‘peace’ what I mean is no fighting, loud playing or name calling (we’re into the hilarity of toilet humour so ‘poo-face’ makes a frequent occurrence).What made this particular event unusual however, was that after swimming there is always a scuffle and a huff over who gets to hold whatever post swimming treat I have brought. These morsels are usually in the form of a packet of crackers, flavoured rice cakes, or chips. By this time of day they have usually eaten their weight in sugar and there are more peaceful things I prefer doing in my evenings than pinning my sugar-high children to their beds and threatening a night without their favourite cuddly toy.

Having two children so close together has been an education in many ways, it’s like having twins, but sometimes harder. Lincoln wants to do everything Lola does, eat everything Lola does and stay awake when Lola does. Those of you who have kids know that the difference between a two and three year old is big, sleep schedules are still in full swing and there are some things that a two year old really shouldn’t be eating yet (refer to earlier comment on sugar mass). Now that they are three and four it is easier, but the fact that Lincoln is fourteen months younger is still something I need to consider.One of the things I am thankful for in their close age gap is that neither of them can remember life without the other one, well obviously in Lincoln’s case, but Lola certainly can’t remember being an only child either. So there have been some life essentials I have tried to put in place from early on; tolerance of each other and their differences (of which there are many), kindness as well as open displays of affection and love, particularly after events like socking your sister in the eye or tripping your brother when he spends most of the day tripping himself anyway, helpfulness – because the sooner they can start cooking me meals and cleaning up the better, and then the obvious gem at hand – sharing.

Mention ‘sharing’ to any mother and she will probably hang her head and weep a silent tear for that which cannot be. It is hard to fully understand the extent to which a young child will not share until you have seen it for yourself. It can be extreme! I won’t go into the logistics of it, kids can be freaky and down right inhumane, but don’t let me put you off*. I must be an open book here and confess that my children are actually rather sweet with each other and are incredibly good at sharing, I think a by-product of being forced into it, but when it comes to food, they behave like half starved children you would think have just escaped a concentration camp. There has been more than one occasion when a fist has been flung in order for another morsel to reach their mouths. It baffles me. This behaviour isn’t limited to things like sweets and cakes either, they are just as willing to squabble over who gets to hold a packet of dry crackers.

This brings me back to the relative silence in the car. For a change, I had brought two packets of crackers, the ingeniousness right? I feel this needs an explanation, not because I’m up for most thoughtful mom of the year, but because I don’t regularly perform this action with regards to bettering my mental state and injecting calm into my frazzled veins. Generally swimming is a late finisher; therefore hunger needs to be kept at a seventy to eighty percent in order for the kids to eat their dinner. More crackers equal less dinner. That, and I mercilessly soldier on with forcing the sharing.

The calm of my drive home highlighted my potential stupidity with forcing something that should come to them one day without all of my incessant ‘life lesson’ planning. But then something else occurred to me; day in and day out we mothers tirelessly try and teach our children to become masters of the universe (maybe without the oversized sword) and then the day comes when their training begins to pay off, and in mastering their universe, they master you. In fact, we’re probably the easiest targets on their list. They begin with us. With almost 9 collective years of training in the art of mum manipulation, my two are getting very good. So good in fact, that it has taken me a while to realise how well they play me. But I’m seeing the golden lining, if they can outsmart me, even for only one car ride at a time, they are well on their way to conquering their universe. In a completely backwards way, I should be pleased with my handiwork. Let the lessons recommence, and let me find the strength to persevere with two sharp whited preschoolers who can both outmanoeuvre and outplay me!

*Kids are also scrumptious little puddings who giggle and give big hugs.