Monday, 29 April 2013
While driving home after work, a blonde gets caught in a nasty bad hailstorm.
the car was full of dents, so she took it to her mechanic the next day.
The Mechanic looked at the blonde and thought to himself let me have some fun.
He told her to just blow into the tailpipe really hard, when she gets home and
and all the dents would pop out.
When the blonde went home, she got down on her hands and knees and started blowing into her car's tailpipe.
She blew a little harder, and still nothing happened.
Her her friend, also a blonde, came home and said,
"Geez, what are you doing?"
The first blonde told her how the Mechanic had told her
to blow into the tailpipe in order to get the dents to pop out.
Her friend rolled her eyes and said,
You need to roll up the windows."
A blonde was reading a magazine and she saw an advert about milk baths and how they make your skin look awesome and radiant. So she goes to the local shop and asks for 14 gallons of milk.
The shop keeper explained that he would have to order it because they don't keep so much milk in stock. So the blonde agreed and asked when she could fetch it. The shop keeper asked her are you sure you don't mean 1.4 gallons of milk. The blonde said no she wants 14 gallon because she wants have a milk bath.
The shop keeper said, "Alright, i can have it ready for you tomorrow morning."
The blonde agreed, "Thank You."
The shop keeper quickly asked as she was walking out,"Do you want it Pasteurized?"
The blonde said, "No, i don't want it that deep, I can splash it in my eyes."
It was Christmas time again and once again, my daughter Rebecca was asking, "What do you want for Christmas, Dad?"
"Nothing really," I replied. After twenty-three years, she knew that this meant boxer shorts and socks, the kind that help that tender old bunion. This was a Christmas rituals for me.
In the small town of Stutterhiem, Eastern Cape, where we lived, life had a exciting rhythm. After living in Durban for many years, I had returned to my home town to be near my own dad, and life took on a predictable sort of rhythm. But this year, my daughter, Rebecca, and her young husband, Paul, changed all that.
Every day for two weeks prior to Christmas, unable to contain her excitement, she repeatedly said, "You'll never guess, but you're going to love what we got you for Christmas!" The girl was forever teasing me for a reaction. She wanted to impress me.
I'm no Scrooge, so please don't get me wrong. I'm simply one of those people who's been around for some time and i'm a bit cynical and hard to impress. I must admit, however, that it was fun to watch and listen to her excitement and enthusiastic teasing day after day. Her joy of my reaction to this gift was contagious. By the morning of Christmas Eve, I had become more than just curious.
Around 11:00 a.m. on the 24th, my wife and I were asked to join the kids for some last-minute shopping. My wife wanted to finish up her own festive preparations, and Dad, well, I just wanted a cold beer and a snooze. Four hours later, the kids were back at the door from their shopping mission.
"We have your gift out in the car, Dad," Rebecca exclaimed, "and it's getting cold!"
We were then not asked, but ordered to vacate the premises. No, not just to another room, but upstairs and out of sight, "No peeking!" command. Heck, my old army sergeant was gentler. "Get out! Get out!" Rebecca ordered.
Obediently, we retreated upstairs.
The minutes passed in that odd kind of anxious, quiet anticipation that makes butterflies in your stomach. We strained our ears but couldn't hear a thing.
Then we heard them, "Okay, you can come down now!"
As we walked down the stairs, they sent us into the front room where the Christmas gift was waiting to be opened. Immediately, my excited daughter said, "No waiting until Christmas morning. Open it now!"
"Okay," I said. "This is highly irregular, this is breaking the rules, but what the heck is it?" I thought out loud. The three-foot-square, irregularly shaped lump over by the tree was smothered under blankets. Rebecca took out her camera, and the guessing game.
"Maybe it's a coffee machine," my wife offered.
"No, no," I said. "It's gotta be something perishable, otherwise they wouldn't have been so anxious to bring it in out of the cold. Maybe it's a crate of oranges, or maybe it's a puppy!"
By now, my daughter was about to explode with excitement, and I, too, had passed the stage of mildly curious.
"What on earth can it be?" I asked as I felt the lumpy object, looking for a clue. My daughter sharply rapped my knuckles with a classic, "Dad!"
Finally, we arrived at the unveiling. "Okay," Rebecca instructed us, "on the count of three both of you grab a corner of the blanket." She stood by with the camera, and even though I was trying my best to remain unimpressed, I'd by now reached an emotional state frustration. My heartbeat sped. My wife and I lifted the blanket, and the gift was exposed.
The next few minutes were a blur. My heart pounded. The blood rushed to my head. My stomach contracted. Overwhelmed I thought, I can't believe my eyes! Perhaps I am delusional! This is just not possible!
The flash of my daughter's camera went off, rising up out of the of blankets and wrapping me in an enormous bear hug was none other than my six-foot-two, one hundred and seventy-five pound first-born son Peter, home for Christmas for the first time in nineteen years!
What a beautiful Christmas gift, the best ever!!!
Saturday, 27 April 2013
!. Being present
Since that Terrible Twos phase my son seems to be stuck in that stage. For years I tried time-outs, consequences, punishments, rewards, naughty corners – even shouting. I read the books; nothing worked. I didn't know what to do. Then one day while he was having a tantrum, i sat there watching him and i didn't react at all. I saw his anger and frustration and instead of trying to calm him by giving into what ever soothed him i realised he needed my help to contain his anger, which was much too big for a small person on his own to hold. I went into my quiet time and space and began to pray and absorbed strength from God. The next day as soon as he started his tantrum, i tried to just be present for him and sent him love and joy and a positive energy. And he began to change...
2. Being in Control
At nine, my son begged to play rugby. “You’ll lose a tooth, break a bone, become a paraplegic,” I explained. He cried and begged me. “One game only,” I considered it then gave him a warning, “and if you get even a scratch, no more.” Well, that boy was so fast, so proficient (how did he even know what to do with the ball?) that he was crowned Man of the Match. The next weekend, he fell off a fence playing with his friends and broke his wrist. He had to be in plaster for six weeks. As soon as his cast came off, he was back on the rugby field. Being a parent keeps teaching me: I am not God. It’s a tough one to swallow, but I’m working on it.
3. Telling the truth
My friend Sandy told her kids upfront that there’s no tooth fairy. I told my daughter that Sandy was lying so, at 11, she was still hooked on the fantasy – and I began to dread every wobbly tooth. One night, i played a fairy visit, I accidentally woke her and, in a moment of fatigue, I came clean. “I hate you! Why did you lie to me?” she cried. I lied to her because I wanted to give her magic. Before I had kids I believed truth was an absolute. Now I know that it’s grey.
I love to volunteer and give to charity, and I’ve felt like a very nice person because of it. But this generosity is conditional – I’m in control of how much I give. Parenting takes us to a new place of generosity, starting with the time-share of our bodies in pregnancy. I handed over my sculpted abs in labour to the surgeon’s scalpel, and you know the rest. I gave up sleep, exercise, independence, privacy and my charm to the opposite sex. Parenting is the perfect antidote to selfishness. It keeps moving the frontiers of my own generosity (often into the territory of self-sacrifice). Just when you think you’re all out of giving, you find you can always squeeze out a little bit more.
One day my daughter come home from school and told me she was being bullied, I told her to report it to her teacher. “Mum, adults don’t always know what to do,” she said. I told her, in my wisest voice, that soon this bullying would pass, and that those bullies would become delinquents with bad karma. As a tear fell down her cheek, she said, “Yes, Mum, but what about now?” I had no answer. Parenting continually humbles me when I realise that I don’t always have the solution, nor do I know how to fix everything.
My son had these terrible nightmares, just as I did as a child. I hated to see him so traumatised by images I can’t control. As I hold his shaking body, and soothe him with words, I use to pray in in my head I"d feel him slowly relax and sink against me like a bag of sand. In the morning he wakes as though nothing has disturbed his night. It comforts me to witness that even though fear, like a bad dream, grabs us when we’re at our most vulnerable, all dark images fade in the morning light.
7. Unconditional Love
Despite choosing how they dress, where they’re schooled and what time they go to bed, we tend to our children “belong” to us. One day, they push back. They say “no!” and “you’re not the boss of me!” They lie to us; they keep secrets from us. They do not like the jumpers we choose for them – and they don’t care if they were on sale. There's a saying i heard some time back, “Give your children love but not your thoughts. For they have their own”. In parenting, we birth both familiarity and strangeness. Our task is to love it all, without judgement or condition. Our children have their own paths to travel.
It’s astonishing just how many terrible decisions you can make as a parent and scare your children through ignorance, blind spots or, worst of all, best intentions. We miss the cues, we expose our children to danger, we misjudge. My parenting mistakes have given me countless opportunities to apologise, forgive myself and accept my own imperfections. Our children can (and will) blame us for everything that doesn't work out in their lives. We pass the torch of tolerance on to them when we give them a chance to forgive us for our mistakes.
My husband once felt the need to remind me that it’s called “Mothering”, not “Smothering”. But having a child, I've heard it said, is like having your heart walk outside of your body for the rest of your life. Once we bring a child into this world, we can choose to either become neurotically over protective, or we can trust the God with what is most precious to us. Having a child is not for sissies. Loving someone more than ourselves, yet being powerless to protect them from all hurt, is either a foolishness or a quantum leap of faith. I now wear a necklace with my children’s names, as well as the word FAITH, around my neck.
10. Surrendering to the mystery
Parenting books make it seem as though there are simple answers – how to get your kids to sleep, eat and behave. I've read too many of those books. I understand the biology of conception, but remain baffled by the mystery of creating another person. Parenting has taught me that this sacred connection between parent and child is as unknowable as it is scientific. It is a mystery that creates joint history and bonds that unite us beyond this lifetime. It’s a useful insight to invoke just at that point when the whining feels like it’s driving me to an early glass of wine. :)
Friday, 26 April 2013
This is the true story of Glen Reem of Meridian, Mississippi. Glen was going to bed when his wife told him that he'd left the light on in the shed. Glen went to go turn off the light but saw there were some people in the shed in the process of a robbery.
He quickly called the police, who asked "Is someone in your house?" and Glen said no and explained the situation. Then they explained that all patrols were busy, and that he should simply lock his door and an officer would be there as soon as possible.
Glen said, "Okay," hung up, counted to 30, and called the police again.
"Hello, I just called you a few seconds ago because there were people in my shed. Well, you don't have to worry about them now because I've just shot them all."
Then he hung up. Within five minutes three squad cars, an Armed Response unit, and an ambulance arrived.The police caught the burglars red-handed.
One of the policemen said to Glen: "I thought you said that you'd shot them!"
Glen said, "I thought you said there was nobody available!"
A blonde girl decides to do a puzzle so she gets the puzzle and throws out all the pieces and tries to put it together.
After trying for more then an hour, she gets frustrated and calls her boyfriend...
Her boyfriend says: Honey what's wrong
The Blonde says: I've been trying to put this puzzle together but I can't do it.
Her boyfriend says: Well look at the picture in the front and tell me what it looks like.
The blonde says: Okay... well the background is blue and there is a tiger on it.
Her boyfriend says: Honey... put the cornflakes back in the box.