Tag Archives: memories

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Yellowed Collars, Old Photos and Time Passing

“Ordering school photos might not be a thing in a few more years. I think I’ll miss it.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

May 16, 2024

How do you get sun-cream stains out of white school shirt collars? Tell me you’re a mother without telling me you’re one.

Apparently, a combo of baking soda, vinegar and fairy dust works. Other suggestions that have come up on searches included toothpaste, lemon juice, sunshine and a paste of Vanish. The collars are still yellow.

Maybe it’s the hard water on the farm here. Maybe it’s my woefully lacking knowledge of the types of material and what each needs to stay sparkling white.

Don’t bleach it, say the eco-conscious and the health nuts. (Also, this fades out the school badge!)

So, on photo day, it’s the least yellow collar that went on, alongside a hope and a prayer that Photoshop includes whitening collars in annual photo shoots. Say cheese, but don’t spill any of the yellow onto the collar, please.

These school photos really are something. It’s one day a year, but from my own school career, it was often the only photo.

I came from the era before digital photos. That time when mommies who could attend sports or other events had to bring a tripod or a steady hand and an extra spool to capture one or two good images of us precious darlings. Sports photos? Hopeless.

I have vivid memories of walking into Clicks to collect that little packet of developed photos. It smelled funny. Mom would flip through the photos and laugh or snort at the blurs, missed shots, and fingers in front of the lens. She’d take the good ones and put them into real-life albums with sticky plastic things you lift up.

When they get old, the photos don’t stay behind them anymore and get all mixed up when you take the photo album off the dusty bookshelf. But the images are still there. Immortal, for a while. That eighties hair on my friends’ moms was something else, I tell you. Perms, beehives, and bright colours stand out, even in faraway group photos.

It jogs the memory, even if you have to flip back a few pages to slip the lost photo into its correct place. In the history of things, photos feel like treasure to me. A silent glimpse into what’s come and gone that speaks far louder than many of the stories people tell.

Ordering school photos might not be a thing in a few more years. I think I’ll miss it.

Oh, and the answer is that green sunlight soap bar, of course. That’s the cure for yellow stains and everything else you want to sparkle.

Publish here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: The Beach Never Gets Old

“Where did those twenty-something years go in the blink of an eye?”

Heather and Robin Lind.

April 23, 2024

An old friend’s son has just turned 18. He was 11 just last week. A certain Oribi Dad’s big midlife birthday is also fast approaching. I can still remember the moment our eyes met for the first time like it was five minutes ago. Toes in beach sand, but wearing a jersey because it was the middle of July. South Coast living is very kind in that way. You can grab a jacket but still get away with shorts and slops most days of the year.

My 15-year-old self was a little different from now. Bolder, and much cheekier, with a smaller waist and an even narrower worldview. All of the people there teased us about a summer fling that was sure to end once we all got back to school. We didn’t even live in the same town. Twenty-three years later, our fling is a ring, three sweet sons, two dogs, and many memories of other beautiful beaches we’ve explored together. What are the chances?

Also, where did those twenty-something years go in the blink of an eye? We’ve already moved past so much life and so many changes. I still like Turkish Delight, but it sits on the hips a little easier these days. He still likes Greenday and jokes about it near the end of every September. The Lion King still makes both of us gulp back the tears. It’s 30 years old. Thirty! That’s as old as the new South Africa!

What was I doing thirty years ago? Grade 2, I think, with Mrs Bentley, who loved tennis and dyeing her hair strange colours. She was certainly younger then than I am right now. There’s a thought. She loved tennis, as I did, which is probably why I remember her hair and mini skirts. That was what we wore to play tennis then. Little skirts with ball holders clipped on the back of them, so we could serve with only one ball in our hands and not throw it up skew. We must have been so cute! We thought we were the bee’s knees.

In another thirty years, I’m sure I’ll have a more mature perspective on my life right now. What will it look like from over there, to look back in this chaotic and exhausting mother-of-three-little-boys phase? Why did I use to think it was so hard? Who knows?

That’s why we do it as best we can in each moment. Isn’t each of those moments life itself?

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Welcome to the Farm

“It was a wonderful weekend.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAYJune 19, 2023 

So, there’s this welcome sign on our cottage front door, a relic of some previous tenants that have long since moved on to other adventures. It’s pretty, and kind of green. A nice touch for a little one-room space that’s seen quite a few people come and go.

Time For Some Visitors on the Farm Again

There were a few less while we were in the middle of the pandemic, but the other day we opened up the cottage to visiting family members for two nights. We managed to get it looking quite fresh. We even removed the giant black scorpion that had made its home in one of the corners.

It took around a week of mad cleaning, scraping, scooping, spraying, and wiping. Endless layers of dust seem to accumulate so quickly from cane fires, dusty roads, and the cement factory down the valley.

Nice Visitors Are Always Welcome

At some point, we noticed a hornet or two staring at us from a wall or a window. A baby brown house snake appeared and then disappeared, hopefully to the garden. Thankfully we didn’t find mold or bigger slithering residents. And the windows opened up the whole place to a nice breeze and the beautiful smell of the basil outside in full bloom.

It was a wonderful weekend. We celebrated. We chatted. We hid from the massive rainstorm that brought about 45mm to the farm in less than two hours. Some of us whispered prayers of thanks under our breath that the storm only managed to find two drips from the ceiling. Nothing came crashing down.

And then, we waved goodbye armed with lots of photographs, including one of a tiny little tilapia that an ecstatic three-year-old fisherman hooked.

Some Not So Nice Visitors Aren’t As Welcome

Cleaning up just took a few minutes. And, we closed up the cottage again so that the next guests might have slightly less dust to contend with.

For good measure, I sprayed the old ant nests we’d vacuumed up from all the inside walls. Then, I sprayed the welcome sign as an afterthought, just in case the ants had started eating through the wooden door under there… and, I had to run fast!

As I sprayed, about thirty hornets angrily emerged to show me what they thought of my cleanup efforts. They didn’t get me. Thankfully, they hadn’t got my guests, either.

Still, the irony of that warm welcome wasn’t lost on me. Next time, we’ll at least warn our unsuspecting visitors!

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: No Wedding Video To Show Our Sons

“If we had invested in a professional videographer that day, we could have shown our sons what their parents, aunties, uncles and other friends looked like.”

The reward of reaching 15 years with three kids and a full memory bank has been worth it so far.

October 1, 2022

Many of you may already know that it sometimes pays to go through your cupboards and boxes. All three boys are transitioning into the next clothing size and I was taking a hands-free 20 minutes to fold laundry and sort things out.

When the piles of clothing were finally back into the right spaces, my eyes fell on a shoebox right at the back of the shelf. Oh yes, Mom brought that over a few months ago and I haven’t had a chance to look in it yet.

As I opened it up, I realised it was a few things from my childhood room; some wedding invitations, a photograph or two; printer’s tray items. How sweet to remember the little ornaments I spent so much time looking at and playing with as a girl. Too delicate to pass on to rough and tumble toddler boys just yet, though.

Look Closer at the Memories for Treasures

As I scanned the items, I saw an envelope with a single name on it in my handwriting. Who is that? Let’s call him Ben.

I only remembered one person by that name – a boy in my primary school. I didn’t remember ever writing him a letter, so I opened it. Three R100 notes fell on the floor! And as I read the note, it became clear.

“Here’s something to say thank you for taking our wedding video. Hope 2008 is a wonderful year for you!”

Oh, that Ben.

The one who offered to film our wedding almost 15 years ago. The friend who never arrived.

Still Frames in the Mind Are Treasured, Too

That’s right, we don’t have a wedding video to remember our very special union at 21 and 23. Those fresh-faced young people in the photographs are captured in still frames only. Their sincere voices and excited celebrations are a distant memory now.

Wedding guests didn’t have smartphones to capture clips of the day. There wasn’t even WhatsApp.

“Car trouble, sorry,” the message said as we were dressing for our long-awaited big day.

We’d dated for six years and were finally old enough to tie the knot. As we stood overlooking the ocean and said our vows, only the guests and gulls bore witness. We signed papers and we beamed at the prospect of what the future might hold for us.

Guests swam between the ceremony and the reception to stave off the oppressive January heat. Speeches and friends’ songs made everybody cry and laugh. And then, we moved on with our lives.

Maybe We’d Do It Differently But Time Doesn’t Rewind – Enjoy the Moments!

Maybe if we had invested in a professional videographer that day, we could have shown our sons what their parents, aunties, uncles and other friends looked like and how they sounded at the start of something beautiful.

Thankfully, we’ve invested more wisely into marriage. Love takes work, but the reward of reaching 15 years with three kids and a full memory bank has been worth it so far.

And, now we have some cash to go on a well-deserved date night one of these days to celebrate. Happy early anniversary to us.

Published here.

Oribi Mom, Travelinds

Oribi Mom: Great Memories Don’t Need a Shelf

“My expensive collectible 2012 Korean Grand Prix mug stared back at me.”

Heather and Robin Lind at the 2012 Korean Grand Prix.

April 15, 2021

I was washing my dishes in the outside sink (my kitchen renovation is three months overdue). The skittish lesser-striped swallow couple were feeding their cheeping babies above my head. Monkeys were starting to forage nearby. My fluffy, white bunnies were napping under the washing after a usual night of exploration and mayhem around the yard.

I reached past the terrifying earwig that appears on my sponge each morning, and picked up an item from the soapy water. Confused, I did a double take as my collector’s mug emerged with bubbles and coffee stains.

My expensive collectible 2012 Korean Grand Prix mug stared back at me.

The Mug Was a Genuine Collectible From Not So Long Ago

I could not believe this heirloom had been used for coffee. But I remembered that it had been a crazy week with too much work, too little sleep, and no energy for regular dishwashing in my scenic scullery. It had been sick babies juggled with looming deadlines. It has also been a month of several power outages, including a five-day streak after some lightning.

That mug represented all that came before this chaos, when we still contemplated having an adult display shelf instead of only toddler-friendly zones. It told tales of calm and adventurous years of travel, extended honeymoons, and lots of sleep. It was a different life stage; not better, just different.

That Time That Felt Like Another Lifetime Now

It was a time when it was the two of us taking a last-minute road trip in a foreign country to see a real Grand Prix, an event we only dreamed about attending during our lifetime. Vettel fans, we put the track into our Korean-speaking GPS – no small feat, I promise you.

In a comedy of errors that we laughed about afterwards, there was no room at the hotel. There was also no way to park at the track without a permit. Luckily, we chose a hotel that was full of press for the Grand Prix. Two kind French journalists overheard our predicament and shoved two press parking passes into my husband’s hand, saying, “Follow me,” just like that little shrimp in Finding Nemo.

Our borrowed Matiz kept up with their Mercedes as if its life depended on it.  It was living up to its local reputation as the mosquito of the highway.

Follow the Adventure and Don’t Get Pushed Off the Road By a Celebrity

The journalists told us explicitly to zoom through the checkpoints as if we belonged there, so we did. Before one of these obstacles, we were almost shoved off the road by a pompous black sports car carrying none other than Heikki Kovalainen.

Still, we found our seats in time for the parade. Those F1 drivers waved right at us as the thunderous Korean air force formation zoomed overhead, more deafening than anything that raced around the track that day. Even when my broken collector’s mug is a mosaic on an old pot plant in fifty years’ time, it will still be true that we raced our Matiz against an F1 legend.

Great memories don’t need a shelf. Oh, and Vettel won.

Published here.