Back from hiatus

I went away with the in-laws last week. Beautiful holiday, with lovely company. Including GBM's two nieces, 2-year-old and a 3-month-old. I love them dearly, they are both sweet, good-natured and will soon be independent happy little girls. Just in case anyone is wondering, spending a week with them did not grow me a maternal bone. Rather, it had the opposite effect. 

But it did give me a renewed appreciation for just how hard it is to be a parent. 

I can barely get myself out of the house in under an hour. In fact, it's usually closer to two hours, from wake up to closing the front door. There's feeding and burping and at least two potty-breaks. Then there's the usual fight to put on clothes, with the obligatory 10 to 20 minutes of running around in underwear and having a temper tantrum about hair. And that's just me on a normal week day morning. It's three times worse with two kids. There is no ways I would cope on a daily basis. No, thank you ma'am. 

And all this palava, after nights of most-likely very disrupted sleep, because the little one needs a feed and the other one has been up because of bad dreams, or insecurity or just generally screaming, "noooooooooooooo!" which is apparently the only word in her vocab at 3am. 

Nooooooo... thank you.

Again, it's not because of these two girls specifically. I would drop anything for them. 

Speaking of dropping...

Well, I didn't actually drop her. It was more a topple. Out of her rocking chair. Which thank god, was already on the floor when I tipped her out. And she was strapped into it, so she didn't have far to go. But, the fact remains, that I was the supposed-adult responsible for looking after the 3-month-old. And I knocked her chair on its side, sending the little one sprawling. And that's all it took to give the kid a black eye. 

They call me Aunty Bruiser. 

At least, I think that's what they would call me. If they were talking to me.

Thank god, it was the second child. As it was, I was not left unsupervised for the rest of the week. Which is fair enough. Thank god, both mom and dad have been parents for long enough to know that these things happen. If it had been the first child, or if - god forbid - I had been the very first adult to drop either of their kids, I doubt I would've been let back into the house. 

The poor baby had a slightly swollen cheek below her eye, which was visible for less than a day. But I still felt sick to the stomach every time I saw it. I honestly wanted to cry, and was nauseous with guilt. Is this what it would feel like every time your child gets hurt? Or just when you feel responsible for letting it happen, or worse, are the accidental cause of the injury? Or do you get over it, does it become easier to see a scraped knee or hear your child screaming from fright and pain? 

No thank you, ma'am. I'll not be signing up for that emotional trauma, exhaustion and under-appreciation. 

Gimme a puppy any day. 

MAYHEM

Sigh.

Stepping away from politics. It's hard to do... I have so much more shout about, but unfortunately I can't type any louder than the gazillion idiots who are merrily declaring that South Africa is the most unstable country. Ever. Apparently, we are the only country to EVER suffer from political tension, and crime, and high-profile people doing stupid things and possibly being targeted for the trouble they cause. And because we are the first - and only - country to ever be inflicted by wounds of the past and subsequent differing points of view, the whole nation is clearly going to implode in the next few weeks (oddly enough, this hasn't happened yet, despite this doom being declared with certainty on a monthly basis). On the bright side, such implosion would spare SA from enduring the apocalyptic crisis that the world is going to experience in two years time.

Anyway. While ET was inadvertently making the wrong kind of headlines this weekend, I was in the UK moors with Mills and his siblings. I feel I need to educate you all on what it means to spend Easter with the Mill-family.

Step 1:
Argue about where you are going to spend Easter. This has to be somewhere where you haven't been before. It does not matter if it is in the house next door to the house from last year, you cannot revisit a location.

Step 2:
Once suitable accommodation is found, Easter Eggs must be purchased. This is not a simple case of one egg, one mouth. There are various categories of egg entry to be considered. The first is the Most Impressive. This is normally a collaboration of one ostentatiously large egg, with a selection of fine chocolates in a basket the size of a shoe box. Bonus points are awarded if the giant eggs are individually labeled, with the recipient's name hand-painted in icing. The second category is Quantity Over Quality. This entails sourcing the smallest - but most numerous - eggs commercially available (these will then be hidden individually). Shopping completed, the eggs must be transported with care to their final destination. Breaking eggs en route is considered sacrilege and will be result in a loss of status at the family gathering.

Step 3:
Set aside at least one full evening before Easter Sunday to coordinate the rules and allocate hiding areas for the Mills' Annual Yolk Hunting Easter Madness (MAYHEM). The first and most prominent rule of MAYHEM is to take MAYHEM seriously. Jokers and non-Mill family members who do not demonstrate the expected reverence for the occasion are not welcome or appreciated.

Step 4:
Once each couple has been allocated their hiding location (i.e. one pair will have the kitchen and garden, the next will have lounge and driveway etc), the pairs divvy up their collection of eggs and hide them for the various seekers. There are no rules as to where eggs can be hidden. Removing light bulbs from ceiling fittings and replacing them with appropriate sized eggs is accepted - and applauded. Curtain linings, dustbins, vacuum bags and full baby bottles are also on the list of approved (and used) locations.

Note: Attempting to peek at another couple's location prior to hunting is NOT appreciated, and will result in severe reprimands.

Step 5:
Eggs hidden. Now everyone must gather to listen - and pay close attention - to what they must each look for. Serious participants will have pen and paper ready to take notes. "Koekie - you are looking for nine thumbnail-sized eggs, three have white wrapping, three are red and three are black. You are also looking for two bunnies - one with gold foil, one with green. You must also find seven Milka eggs, about the size of your pinky nail. Mills- you are looking for nine thumbnail eggs (two white, five red and two black). Your two bunnies are in gold foil and red foil. You have five Milka chocolates and one marshmellow egg...." Each couple will do the same respectively for their recipients.

Finally...

The hunting can begin. Shoving, tripping and snatching are allowed but considered unsporting if done to small children.

I generally just grab whatever I see and stash it all away like a rabid squirrel, whether I'm supposed to find it or not. That's how we did it in my family and old habits die hard. I also find it comes in handy at the end, because I have tons of leverage to barter with. This is considered good game strategy by non-Mill family members, but is not appreciated by MAYHEM founders.

Every event will end with a MAYHEM audit to check that each participant has in fact collected the correct number - and colour - of eggs. This audit is also used to tally how many eggs are still outstanding.

Eating eggs before the final audit is completed is frowned upon, as consumption of Easter Eggs is not the MAYHEM objective. If all Easter Eggs are found and accounted for, the MAYHEM event is deemed a monumental failure by true participants.

The ultimate goal of MAYHEM is to hide the eggs so well that the only chance of them being uncovered will be during a future spring clean, or archeological dig.

MAYHEM. The True Easter Spirit.