Goldfish with Fin
Sharks in my Fish Tank
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
A Mom is always needed.....
When my sons were younger, I was comfortable in the security of knowing that they needed me - whether it was for food, shelter, or a plaster on a cut finger. I was needed. It kind of made me someone. There is nothing like being needed. Then as they grew older, their needs changed and I always wondered when they would stop needing me. (I must confess that sometimes I wished it would be soon!). But you know what? Their needs change as they grow up into adulthood - now they need me for encouragement, advice and as a confidante. It's as though the cycles of parenthood evolve - I've been through nurturing, mothering and now I'm mentoring. And that can be very scary. Am I equiped to be a mentor to these individuals whose minds are sponges and take in everything they see? (I know I'm better than Metalica!) All I know is that I need God to guide me, so that I can guide my sons. The road gets pretty rocky, and many a time I am lost for words and my heart aches for them, be it sporting disappointments or failed loves. But thanks to my GPS (God's Precious Spirit), I can keep my feet on the right track..... and can help out where I'm needed.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Haircut Dilema
My boys have lovely hair which is their pride and joy. I have always cut my sons' hair for school - in fact, they won't allow anyone else to cut it for them. The only problem is that they push the boundaries at school and only let me cut their hair after a warning. So I started threatening them with the Cubans.
The Cubans own a barber shop in a quaint shopping complex not far from the school that the boys attend. I took Dennis, my eldest, there a day before he was due to fly to Prague with the school choir. They are a very friendly lot - always smiling and they greet you so pleasantly that you have no problem putting the R50.00 into their hands at the end of the cut. The only problem is - they don't seem to understand English! Dennis had lovely hair, just a little long, when I took him to the Cubans. They sat him down - smiling all the time - and asked me how I would like his hair cut. I said short around the back of the head and above the ears - about an 8, and longer on top. "Yes, yes, I can do that" was the reply, so I sat down and started reading a magazine. When I looked up, I looked directly into Dennis's frantic face. I started giggling from pure shock. They had cut it short around the back and above the ears - about a 2! and the top was about a 6! They then proceeded with an Indian head massage and I could see that Den was about to collapse in a heap - but I couldn't interrupt them, this was the whole deal! Dennis took very long to forgive me for that experience, but you see, it had its good points - Dylan and Divan were with us and they were terrified of them!
So it came about that I said that should I ever get a call from the school to say that they were being sent home because their hair was too long, I would take them to the Cubans.
Sure enough, the call came at about 08h30 on a Tuesday morning. At the school, I found Divan in the reception area, big smile on his face, school bag on his shoulder. I pushed past him to the receptionist: "I've come to sign out my son." On the way to the car, Divan, still smiling, says: "The headmaster says I don't need to come back to school." That did it! "There is no way you are going to stay at home because of your hair." I ranted "You WILL return to school as soon your hair is cut." But Divan didn't think that I would carry out my threat of the Cubans...... until we turned into the shopping centre parking area. "No!" he said. "Yes!" I countered. We stood outside the barber shop until 09h00 when the three friendly Cubans rounded the corner, all smiles, and opened their shop.
"What can we do for you madam?" the thinner of the three asked. I plonked Divan down in the chair and, regaining my composure, looked the Cuban squarely in the eyes, smiled and said: "Cut it short around the back and ears - about an 8. And a little longer on top." "Yes, yes, we can do that." he replied. "I know you can." I replied, still smiling sweetly.
The Cubans own a barber shop in a quaint shopping complex not far from the school that the boys attend. I took Dennis, my eldest, there a day before he was due to fly to Prague with the school choir. They are a very friendly lot - always smiling and they greet you so pleasantly that you have no problem putting the R50.00 into their hands at the end of the cut. The only problem is - they don't seem to understand English! Dennis had lovely hair, just a little long, when I took him to the Cubans. They sat him down - smiling all the time - and asked me how I would like his hair cut. I said short around the back of the head and above the ears - about an 8, and longer on top. "Yes, yes, I can do that" was the reply, so I sat down and started reading a magazine. When I looked up, I looked directly into Dennis's frantic face. I started giggling from pure shock. They had cut it short around the back and above the ears - about a 2! and the top was about a 6! They then proceeded with an Indian head massage and I could see that Den was about to collapse in a heap - but I couldn't interrupt them, this was the whole deal! Dennis took very long to forgive me for that experience, but you see, it had its good points - Dylan and Divan were with us and they were terrified of them!
So it came about that I said that should I ever get a call from the school to say that they were being sent home because their hair was too long, I would take them to the Cubans.
Sure enough, the call came at about 08h30 on a Tuesday morning. At the school, I found Divan in the reception area, big smile on his face, school bag on his shoulder. I pushed past him to the receptionist: "I've come to sign out my son." On the way to the car, Divan, still smiling, says: "The headmaster says I don't need to come back to school." That did it! "There is no way you are going to stay at home because of your hair." I ranted "You WILL return to school as soon your hair is cut." But Divan didn't think that I would carry out my threat of the Cubans...... until we turned into the shopping centre parking area. "No!" he said. "Yes!" I countered. We stood outside the barber shop until 09h00 when the three friendly Cubans rounded the corner, all smiles, and opened their shop.
"What can we do for you madam?" the thinner of the three asked. I plonked Divan down in the chair and, regaining my composure, looked the Cuban squarely in the eyes, smiled and said: "Cut it short around the back and ears - about an 8. And a little longer on top." "Yes, yes, we can do that." he replied. "I know you can." I replied, still smiling sweetly.
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