Tag Archives: children

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Dirty Footmarks on White Passage Walls

The author said it feels like time is flying by.

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

April 8, 2025

When we renovated our little cottage to join up the next one, it seemed to fit just what we needed. It’s cosy, but it gives us bedrooms that are big enough and an extra bathroom. We went back and forth a bit on how to maximize the space and landed on a long length of cupboards down a long passage. That’s just how the existing foundations all fit together, but it worked out well, I think.

A few years on, the eldest boy has grown daring. He’s now able to shimmy up the passage wall and touch the ceiling. He uses his arms and legs pressed hard on both sides, like some sort of parkour move. Of course, the middle one tries to do everything in the same way. He’s got it right now but stays in the bottom half and isn’t yet moving up. It’s still quite impressive.

The youngest – the two-year-old boy – has had a few near misses as the boys fall, and he runs underneath them, narrowly escaping being as flat as a pancake (or headless). Sometimes, it’s not an escape, and there are tears. He does it again, though, which I’ve given up trying to understand.

The youngest can’t even touch both walls with his short little arms, so it’ll be a while until he can climb up like his brothers. I say that, but there are only two years between the youngest and the middle child, so I expect to see him up there in 2027 or so. Saying it that way makes it sound further than ‘just two short years’! It feels like time is flying when I look at them wrestling, showering by themselves, and tramping off to school every morning. Where did my little babies go?

Maybe when they’re at school, I’ll try the passage wall out myself. I’m not that old, am I? If I fall and break my ankle, that would be quite a lot of explaining to do if the doctor asks what happened, so maybe not. There’s a time for everything under the sun – and my time for climbing walls might be over. It’s okay. Watching my sons get it right brings the same thrill.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Cheers To a Year of Discovery and Now… A New Word

“The more I thought about my experiences and most recent memories, the more it fit.”

Pixabay

January 19, 2025 

Happy New Year! It’s late, but that feels normal. It’s been a little busy in our patch of the world. It’s not only with general festive craziness but with a few other things, both unexpected and unavoidable. That seems par for the course in this time of life. We’re parenting three littles, trying to scrape together enough to feed said littles, and wondering why on earth we did PGCEs 10 years ago.

There are a lot of ideas on the train track of the mind these days, especially when I’m running, cycling, or walking to keep the crazy slightly at bay. On one recent run, there was a sudden idea – an epiphany, really. This Word of the Year concept isn’t such a waste of time.

Really? Choose Your Word of the Year and Life Will Be Better?

Maybe there have been too many American podcast episodes on my playlist. Choosing a Word of the Year has always felt a bit like one of those trendy How To books. People buy it hoping for answers and then realise it doesn’t have that much to say. It felt like a selling point or a gimmick.

But then, while I was watching a spur-winged goose flying over me and feeling the nine-kilometre tiredness starting to set in, I suddenly had a word flash across my mind: DISCOVERY.

Yes, Really! Discovering That Life Is Full of Newness

Last year, 2024, was most certainly a year of discovery. The more I thought about my experiences and most recent memories, the more it fit. Yes, that was what the year had turned out to be. Discovering (or maybe re-discovering) that I really like to move.

Discovering that sticking to a stricter routine on normal days makes me feel more secure about those times that make me deviate from said routine. Discovering that regaining a few hours of uninterrupted sleep after weaning, truly makes me a nicer, more productive, and more rational person. It was also a year discovering how deeply my soul feels loss, but let’s not get down that rabbit hole for now.

I discovered that showing grace towards my growing children when they were acting out can be relationship-building. I discovered that some birds like to do something called ‘anting.’ I discovered that I am capable of consistent exercise three times weekly for almost a whole year. I discovered that God is closer than I ever imagined.

And 2025’s word? I guess we’ll see. What’s yours?

Published here.

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: Egg Not on My Face

“As I walked back in from the laundry, my eye caught something unusual on the floor next to the fridge.”

The ‘joys’ of a cracked egg in a home with three small boys. PIXABAY

May 8, 2024

It was a bit of a manic morning at the farm. Three snotty, rowdy boys and a droning weed eater meant slight sensory overstimulation.

The baby spent the morning clinging to my leg because… loud!

The others were playing ‘cheetahs’ and putting on their cheetah power suits with reeds for tails and dry wors for meat.

Finally, after a stinky nappy change, the baby wanted to doo-doo and took me by the hand to the room. He fell asleep quite quickly, and I went back to the lounge. The brothers were watching some Australian cartoon dog family.

Time for some tea.

Surprise! Mom

While I was up and my leg didn’t have a baby clinging to it, I went to check the washing. We’d run out of water. A quick pump from the borehole sorted things out.

The kettle boiled a while ago, but as I walked back in from the laundry, my eye caught something unusual on the floor next to the fridge.

Those cheetahs probably spilled something in their hunt for dry wors. Unfortunately, a closer look tweaked the nose. It was egg. One of my last two in the house for the weekend.

I called the cheetahs for an explanation. The sheepish smaller one said yes, sorry, he’d cracked an egg by mistake. But don’t worry Mama, as ‘he’d put it back in the fridge on top of all the apples’. Great, thanks very much.

Tea would have to wait for the shelves, apples, floor, and containers to be washed and dried and checked and put away again, egg-free. The smell isn’t as easy to get rid of.

On top of this, there was a pear with one bite out of it that was going rotten. Classic Oribi baby (or any baby really). I guess the fridge needed a wipe-down anyway.

Small Wins and Big Wins

I decided to boil the kettle just one more time. The baby was still peacefully asleep, thankfully.

Just yesterday, our entire community here was celebrating the amazing news that the big-city prospectors had decided to withdraw their prospecting rights application to mine minerals on our farms in Oribi Gorge.

Apparently, the operation would be environmentally unfeasible. What a surprise, right? The oribi, ground hornbills, and Cape vulture colonies are safe for now.

A little bit of egg cleanup seems like a very small price to pay for a farm that’s still ours and still so beautiful.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Ever-Changing Gardens for Those Who Walk in Them

“It’s time to prune in order to grow.”

Lavender in bloom.

 

September 5, 2023

The thorn tip that attacked my wrist is finally out, and the scratched-up wrists and arms are almost healed already. This garden is thorny, and I’ve left it quite a long time to itself with small babies growing in me, and then being on my hip these last few years.

But this time of year is the final opportunity to get things chopped and pruned and weeded while everything is dry and dying. It’s easier to pull things out. It’s also easier to see into the dense bush and tree in case there are one of the many venomous snakes hiding. We have so many here.

Blood, Sweat, and Some Tears in Our Thorny Garden

So, bleeding arms, blisters, and cut up shins are just par for the course when trying to handle lantana and the many other thorny things I’m trying to get under control.

There’s even an extremely poisonous vine that pops up, with three pronged leaves. Apparently, there are a few species around. The ones with purple flowers are okay. The orange-flowered ones have poisonous fruit and leaves, so even pulling them out is a bit treacherous.

There’s always a bit of sadness, too, at seeing the gaping holes in the garden where the weeds were or where we chop it back. But come summer, that fills in rather quickly. I’m almost through the blackjacks here now. But the moon-shaped burrs are still going crazy. They’re much harder to pull out than blackjacks, too. We’ll get there.

Looking Back, It’s Worth It

If I look back at the garden we arrived to six years ago, or rather the dense, weed-filled bush that surrounded the house, a little bit of pride pops up at how far it’s come. It’s still bushy and rough, but it’s beautiful to me. It’s growing and changing. It’s thinning out here and there and showing some results for all my hours of work.

Like our family that is growing up faster than the weeds, it’s worth the struggles and the blood. And in twenty years or so, we might look back in wonder at all the progress. I hope so.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Daddies Deserve Their Silver

“They give him grey hair rather than gratitude, but that’s a vice the young sometimes only acknowledge when they’re no longer young.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

June 22, 2023

“Can you say Mama?”

“Dada.”

And that’s how it’s been for all three of our munchkins. They really love their Dad, and that’s never something to take lightly in this crazy, mixed-up world of ours.

Fathers are so important in children’s lives. Where else would they learn how to play practical jokes on their mothers or their future wives? How else will they learn how to braai the perfect steak or spot a forward-pass when the ref misses it?

Everyone needs a father figure, even if there isn’t a biological Dad in the house. Our home is blessed to have a mommy and a daddy present, and still, it’s a challenge to be the role models these little people need.

Life gets busy. Tasks take the place of time. Housework steals moments for reading books together or watching a bird in the garden. But we do our best because we recognise that it’s an utter privilege to have these small ones in our care.

I’m not sure our boys are old enough yet to realise what a treasure they have in their Daddy. They give him grey hair rather than gratitude, but that’s a vice the young sometimes only acknowledge when they’re no longer young. When they’re suddenly less young, and they need to become responsible for someone else’s well-being, they might see it.

The grey hairs were tokens earned, a priceless collection of all the moments of love.

I hope that our boys see that value invested in their lives as soon as they are able because it might just change the way they see the world.

To all the Dads and Dad-fill-ins out there, I hope you collect many grey hairs and that the young see their worth. Keep sowing love. You’re storing up treasure that won’t rust or fade.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Should I Change the Name? Bark Once for Yes

“We thought that getting a dog would also deter some of the brazen Vervets that keep stealing all our fruit – oranges, guavas, bananas, blackberries – but I’ve actually watched a whole troop casually raiding the tree at the back while said dog is snoring on the porch.”

Oribi Mom Heather Lind and latest addition to the family, Ranger (aka Marley). 

June 5, 2023

It’s been a long five years or so keeping chickens, rabbits, and yes, having three bouncing boys join our family. Now, we’ve finally gone ahead and completed our family with a large, beautiful fluffball called Ranger.

His family emigrated, and was relieved to find ours a perfect fit for their beloved Golden Labrador. Except, I’m suddenly understanding how the screenwriters got all their fantastic material for that movie. Should I change the name of my column to Marley and Me?

Dog Stories, Boy Stories, and Family Memories

It seems that I’ve already acquired a file’s worth of stories surrounding this new addition to our family. For example, did you know that dogs like to chew wooden alphabet blocks?
The ones I had big plans to teach our eldest to read with.

I’m still waiting for that miracle to happen by itself because I’m a little bit too busy to force that on a completely uninterested farm boy preferring his free time in the sun. He’s started Grade R, so playtime is precious for him in the afternoons. There’s plenty of time for reading, right? He’s only five.

That’s a good thing because those wooden alphabet blocks keep appearing in pieces on the porch. The 10-month-old inevitably takes a block out there on his travels, and then the family dog shows the baby how to break it into pieces that he can choke on. Can you see my eye-roll?

Slap “Watch” Onto This Dog and Watch the Fruit Disappear

Marley, I mean Ranger, has also managed to chew a hole in my compost bin. What on earth is a grown-up dog looking for in the stinky lettuce and potato pile? Probably a rat. We get some gigantic ones around these parts.

We thought that getting a dog would deter some of the brazen Vervets that keep stealing all our fruit – oranges, guavas, bananas, blackberries. But I’ve actually watched a whole troop casually raiding the tree at the back while said dog is snoring on the porch.

It doesn’t seem like the eagle owls mind him, either. One landed on the roof the other evening and he made a few obligatory warning barks at it. It just looked at him.

But I think the noise disturbed the quiet hunting spot, so the owl flew away after a while. Ranger also stepped right over a night adder the other day without even noticing it. That’s why our kids wear gumboots in the yard.

But I must say, this beautiful Golden Lab is phenomenal with our three boys. What a patient, wonderful dog to play with and love. They are so lucky to have him, and we are, too.

I’ll only call him Marley when he’s naughty, which is not that often it seems.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: How To Get Rid of an Uninvited Guest

“January has been busier than expected but also an exciting time of growth for our family.”

Life on the farm can be full of surprises. See that baby snake there?
February 6, 2023 

It’s still a mystery how these things happen, but life in Oribi Gorge is certainly keeping me on my toes. Last year would grind to a halt after almost a whole December of sick children and not much beach weather. But January was beckoning with new beginnings in so many areas.

Grade R. School runs. No plan to return maternity outfits. An action plan forming for feeding the bottomless pits who share my home. And I don’t mean the infuriating troop that strips my fruit trees and vines before we even get a taste.

The second week of school was going well. One of us even managed to make the parents’ meeting in the evening so that we could hear all the things we still had to organise for our eldest’s education. Big school is a lot of work for parents.

I’d left the stationery labelling to the very last minute with all the viral invaders vying for my children’s respiratory systems. I didn’t realise that sticking on over two hundred labels and covering books would be such a tedious exercise. Granted, I only had time to do it at around 9pm when I was already exhausted, but it took almost a week to finish. And that was without the plastic. (Did you know that self-sticking plastic covers are not very good at self-sticking?)

So, January has been busier than expected but also an exciting time of growth for our family. Other families seem to have grown too, including the Western Natal green snakes that live by the far porch. However, I didn’t expect to see one of their brood on my kitchen counter.

It was hiding behind the utensil bucket, right by the bread I was reaching for. At 20cm, swishing it quickly into a jug was enough for a very undramatic capture and release. The uninvited guest only needed a few prods but, like the crab, I have no idea how it even got up there. I guess one of this year’s tasks will be to investigate in case it isn’t such a harmless visitor next time.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Almost Enough To Get the Blood Boiling

“About five minutes in, I hear screams and shouts and running feet outside. “Mom, come quick!” The husband is shouting for me to come get the baby. Where is my middle child? Is it another mamba?”

Oribi Mom: Heather Lind

February 5, 2023

 

The heat draws out strange things, especially in the humans in my home. Everyone is a little grumpier, a little lazier, and with toddlers, far less covered in socially appropriate clothing.

As the jackal buzzards enjoy the thermals far above, we sit in any cool spot we can find and try to act normal. The garden doesn’t have much shade right now but my grandchildren should have a few big trees to sit under if I can help these saplings survive a few more Januaries.

Hot and Bothered Under the Collar

On one of these sweltering days, I was casually trying to dry four days’ worth of washing and get the housework under control. I heartily agreed to the husband’s request to take our three little farmboys to the pumphouse to put off the water.

Off they went for the 20 minute stroll, with the five-year-old refusing to don clothes and only wearing his costume bottoms. The two-year-old would not put on more than a nappy. And the baby would not wear a hat for more than twenty seconds.

Well, it might be worth 20 minutes of housework.

About five minutes in, I hear screams and shouts and running feet outside. “Mom, come quick!” The husband is shouting for me to come get the baby. Where is my middle child? Is it another mamba?

As I race in the direction of the gate, said middle child comes waltzing over the grass, completely naked, and not at all concerned about his mother’s worried face. Behind him is one of the farm workers who lives nearby, looking sweaty but definitely coming up to the house. What is going on?

Everybody Calm Down and Move the Wardrobe

It turns out that there was no big emergency. We needed help carrying a large piece of furniture into the house and our friendly neighbour had agreed to come in and help with the load on his way back from town. So, now we have a beautiful wardrobe in our room and I didn’t have to break any vertebrae or toes on the way. Isn’t life funny?

It’s still hot, but there’s a cool breeze blowing calm onto my porch in 2023. Maybe, it’s going to be a good year.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Post-Apocalypse? No Just the Mall

“Dim lights greeted us, thanks to yet another load shedding cycle. Empty shops had papered windows and scratched off signs.”

PHOTO: Unsplash

October 25, 2022

I had a strange experience the other day. Work stuff had been tedious that day and the afternoon brought a very strong craving for fish and chips. So, we took the half-hour front into town.

After some fresh fillets and a little runaround, we went off to the mall. Why? Because that’s what rural farm people who live thirty minutes from the nearest shop must do. We tend to buy groceries whenever we come to the big city (fresh milk is such a luxury). Our family also loves the fresh smoothies on sale for R10 at our favourite fruit and veg shop. Steel straws trump the disgusting paper ones for these delicious and refreshing fruit concoctions.

Warning: these smoothies do not do well when dropped onto the floor – and they slide easily out of the baby seat in the trolley!

Anyway, with two children under five and a pregnant lady, a bathroom break is inevitable on these trips. This time we ventured into the family bathroom, the ones with the tiny toilet next to the big toilet and a low basin next to a normal one. The children think it’s a huge joke. And, at least we don’t have to make excuses for wet tyres on the car in the parking lot.

Walking through the mall was incredibly strange, though. We haven’t really been out much in two years, especially as a whole family. We let the boys have a few minutes on the jungle gym. They were the only children there!

Four years ago, we used to go weekly with our toddler and happily let him play with any other children he found. How life has changed. Now we run the other way if another person is in sight. We sanitise. We stay vigilant about where they are at all times, especially near the surfaces people lean on.

As we walked over to the final leg of the grocery shop, it was equally disturbing. Dim lights greeted us, thanks to yet another loadshedding cycle. Empty shops had papered windows and scratched off signs.

ATMs had ‘Out of Order’ pages taped onto their screens. Is this the South Coast post-apocalypse? What did we miss? Maybe we should just go back to the farm again. Though, I’m happy to say that we repeated this trip more recently and everything seemed a lot more ‘normal’.

There’s hope.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Escaping the Black Death To Die Another Day

Oribi Mom: Escaping the Black Death To Die Another Day

Black Mamba found in chicken coop.

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

June 28, 2022

Well, it has happened. After five years of peace, we are now in the club of locals who have had a close encounter with a big black mamba. It was in our chicken coop this afternoon, and we didn’t see it.

The two-year-old and four-year-old asked to feed the chickens as they do each day. Their dad gave them each a cup of feed to put into the bowl. The bigger one was behind his brother and happened to look up as they walked to the entrance. Thankfully, he saw a large snake curled up in the corner of the enclosure and held his little brother back without thinking about why.

He called his dad with a casual “Snake, Dad.” Dad walked to the cage to have a look, but instead of seeing the usual Herald, egg eater or green snakes that are often around, he saw a very large, still relaxed black mamba! It’s like looking death right in the face and wondering whether you’ve stepped too close to change your mind.

He scooped up our tiny boys and ran to deposit them safely into my care. He went back to handle things with a fast-responding neighbour and too much adrenaline. I stripped my sons down to their undies to check for marks, a mother’s worst nightmare to be sure. They protested loudly but seemed intact and free of death-inducing puncture marks.

All they needed was a hug, a wet wipe bath, and some juice and popcorn chips to calm down from their big fright. Fortunately but terrifyingly, the snake was gone when dad went back to look for it. Hopefully, it is somewhere far, far away.

Where Was the Black Mamba Before This?

Earlier that morning I had taken a long walk around the farm. In five kilometres, I had seen a handful of colourful birds, a tractor, and a lizard. Was the mamba near my gate the whole time? Probably.

At 29 weeks pregnant, I could probably still run faster than I ever have before if I saw that thing next to me. The experts say that even big snakes like this specimen have a first instinct to get away. But, my two little boys were directly in front of its easiest escape route, well within the recommended five-metre distance you should be away from any mamba you happen to see in the wild.

God’s angels live here, too. So, we are alive for another day in Oribi Gorge. And, very grateful.

Published here.