Men and boys

Last night Wouter had lots to say about my lack of humblicity humility.  <— dankie Tif!

Which leads one (me) to the conclusion that he thinks he is equally awesome.  It isn’t fair to criticise someone if you can’t do better, right?  Huh.

My awesome husband and his equally awesome son (please note how deftly I shift all blame to the mentioned husband) caused me to oversleep this morning.  In fact, by the time I woke up it was time to leave for work.

Backgroud:

Our usual routine is quite complicated.  My iPhone alarms at 06:30.  Boeta then takes it to go and play games until 06:40, when the phone alarm goes off again.  He brings it to me, still screeching, and I wake up and get up and everyone gets ready for work / school.  The children need to be on their way to school by 07:30.  If Wouter takes them I go to my mom’s for breakfast and tea until I leave for work at 08:10.

The spanner in the works at the moment is that it is currently school holidays.  So everything is a bit more relaxed.  And Wouter decided to work from home this morning.  Which meant that I was the only person in our household on the clock.

Imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning at 08:00.

Boeta played games from early until my telephone’s battery died and then returned it to my bedside table.  I asked him why he didn’t tell me when the alarm went off and he replied, baffled, “You didn’t answer”.  Rightyo.

Next I asked Wouter why he didn’t wake me.  His answer?  “I didn’t think of that.”  Upon my eyebrows hitting the ceiling at that bit of genius he added with his lost-little-boy-look “I forgot….?”.  OK then.

Suffice to say, I had a very fast morning.  And I am seriously doubting the general state of mind of the men in my house.

On being humble

Discarded post headings include:

Humbility

Humblecy

Not being braggy

What is the word for describing being humble?  “Your *being humble* is commendable.”  I am too lazy right now to Google.  Which goes a long way to describing just how lazy I am at the moment…

Back to humbility.

Yesterday Deirdre and I saw a regular supporter of the trust about upcoming events.  And my acceptance of my awesomeness came up. Knowing me, you won’t be too horribly surprised at me telling this VVIP about my better qualities.  And there are a few of them.  Face it, I bake kick-ass cake.  And you should have some of my pancakes.  And then I am not too shabby as a public speaker (usually).  And now I’ve run out of examples to hold up to illustrate my amazingness.  But just make it up as you go along.  I am quite good at blowing my own horn too.  I am sure I could even convince someone that I am good at returning phone messages.  <— as long as that person isn’t one of those whose messages I haven’t answered yet

Either way, Deirdre made a comment about my lack of humble-ocity.  So I tried to explain to our benefactor what Wouter has finally accepted (it only took him 12 years):  I was created as an example of perfection.  For better or worse, “perfection” didn’t include “humble”, and adding a blob of humble to my perfection would be like putting a hat on Michelangelo’s David. Not that the David couldn’t do with a well-placed blob here or there, but that is another discussion completely.

Moral of the story?  I am fabulous.  Mostly because I believe I am, and that is wholly as a result of me telling myself that I am.

Who said words don’t have power?

Do something remarkable – donate blood

A while ago (the beginning of May?) we spent a large part of a Saturday to shoot an ad for the WPBTS.

There was a make-up artist who received strict instructions (from me) to take 10 years and 20kg off my appearance.  Poor woman.

We (the four of us) were photographed extensively and then Woutertjie and I had to do an unscripted advertisement.  Those where you tell your story in your own words.  On the surface, not a problem!  I spent a lot of time doing awareness talks and after all, my job involves addressing hundreds of students at a time.

But.

I am not a stand-in-one-spot speaker.  Noooooooo.  Not me.  Give me the mic and I will walk from one side to the other, looking this way and that, gesturing with both hands (or at least the elbow of the hand holding the mic) and be quite interactive.  Last year Deirdre and I were at a paediatric cancer workshop where I had to do the talking.  The moment she saw that all the speakers had to use a lectern (for recording of the speeches) she gave me this very worried look.  With reason.  It was the toughest second toughest speech I ever gave.  But at least I could stand while doing it.  And I could use my hands.*

Now imagine me having to sit quietly, hands still and look at a camera while telling our story.  <—- this was the toughest speech I ever gave

Oh – to add misery to my agony, Woutertjie was sitting next to me.  And he hates it when we talk about his journey.  He prefers to just forget about it.  He is fine with the overall thing but Do Not Go Into Details.

Fortunately the production company employs very competent editors and they managed to get some usable bits together.  Here is the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HJqtzEq-i18

I was soooo proud when he read the scripted bit.  For a 8 year old Afrikaans child he did good!

*I am sure I have Italian blood.  If you tie my hands up I have a speech impediment…

You know you haven’t posted in a long time

… when you finally get round to popping into WordPress and the interface changed so much that you have no idea how to post.  

I feel like the new kid in school, trying to sort out who goes with who, what not to say to which person and all those fun things associated with starting over in a new town.  Of which I had enough, seeing as my dad was in banking and we moved at least every 3 years.  In fact, I attended 6 schools in my 12 school years.  Have I told you that before?  Well, now I have.  See you soon!