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June 25, 2009

Rain drops on roses

BEEEP BEEEP. The digital clock next to my head awakens me rudely and as usual it’s dark and cold. Winter in Cape Town. Freezing cold mornings. Frosted up car windows. Kids bundled up looking like Eskimo’s. The ducks who live on top of ‘my’ windmill squawk wildly. My daughter wanders past my bedroom wearing a pink blanket wrapped around her. When I ask her why, she replies that she is practising to be a queen. She already has the regal, slow walk down pat. My cat cranes his neck as I open the bedroom curtain and makes a pitiful mewing noise.

The mad rush of the morning ensues. I do a fairly good impression of a movie on fast forward but the multi tasking version. As I paint my eyelashes, I am reaching for my handbag while screaming at the ‘Queen’ to brush her teeth or hair or both but preferably not with the same brush. I glance out at the grey day and sigh quietly to myself wondering why on earth we do this. Then I remember that pesky need to eat and provide shelter for one’s offspring.

Checking said offspring’s room, I notice that she’s half dressed and singing a little ditty while staring at herself in her dresser mirror. I count to ten before gently reminding her for the 10th time to get dressed. Idly I wonder what you are doing at this moment. Are you alone? Nearly tripping over the cat who is not so subtly asking to be fed, I am interrupted in my reverie. A very un-PG curse escapes my lips as I nearly fall facedown onto the passage carpet.

Finally we are all done. Dressed, fed, teeth gleaming, bags packed, it’s time to race to the car dodging rain drops (on roses) and cats (whiskers on kittens) as we go. I am anything BUT a Mary Poppins song at this moment but I can’t stop the constant stream of consciousness in my head incessantly playing a show tune or two.
Once in the car it’s always a small power struggle. Why do I have to remind offspring to put on her safety belt – why? Do I have to remind her to breathe also? We back out the driveway, tyres screeching and drive the three minutes to her school. I walk her to the gate, quick kiss and hug and it’s off to start my work day not that I’m in any way motivated mind you. I turn back and watch her hurrying with her bag on her back that looks way too big for her and my heart melts. I watch her until I can’t see her anymore and then I turn back to my car.

It is morning and I miss you.


  1. Heh. You aren't a mother, you are a lady in waiting.

  2. Did she get to wear the royal vestments to school?

  3. @Briane P: Vestments were allowed in the car but sadly would be frowned upon at school, so no. :)

  4. oh god. i think you stole this post from my head. and then wrote it down.


    you aint alone bee. XX

  5. @cathjenkin: I know this darlin - we are one - simunye! Mwahs

  6. What a beautiful post... incredibly warm and loving Bee!

  7. Awww - you were missing meeeee.