They said I should write a book

Dear Mom, I love you so much. You are strong and truly the best mom. I hope you believe that. 🥹You are so strong and brave. (She reads from the same Encourager book as Mrs Chikwariro!) Well done mommy. (For not complaining about surgery. Before it, she’d asked if I was “Nervoused” ) I love you a lot.

Get well soon,

From Ammy

Hello, Mommy! I love you. I hope you get better. Mommy, I love you so much! (And the outside of the envelope her missive was in said), “From Nalo.”

My sweet second son – as you heard in the video- said he didn’t have time to write a card. That’s ok! Even he can’t read his scribbles when we try decode what he has written 🥰

We are zooming past certain Maths lessons that Nalo has already mastered. It’s kind of freaky. And she complains that the Maths is too easy. So now I’m balancing both Reading, Language and Maths! Crazy! It reminds me -again- of the educational psychologist who has seen both the others and assessed their extreme and severe disorders, asking, “So you have NO worries about her academic abilities?” Not yet! I have added Computing and Geography from Cambridge and so far so good! It’s simple stuff! And as I might have stated, she uses the information she learnt throughout the day, a form is rehearsal so it sticks! One lesson was on air. When she was cooling her porridge down and blowing on it hours later, she reminded me that she was using air to cool something down! It’s awesome.

You know what else is awesome? My children’s current (Life changes!) choices. The first complaint from certain people was how we dress our children. And the same person who has always complained about our dressing said she hopes the children rebel against us because I’m basically acting like their prison warden. They have no ‘freedom.’ The other reason this was said was because a different relative had told this one that I don’t give the oldest two who were the only ones at the time, snacks between meals. So when they offered something to the children who were asking me if they should take it as it wasn’t mealtime, I said “Thank you, they will eat it after lunch!” I’m cruel, apparently.

Yeah, children at school don’t have freedom either! They don’t eat during class, so why should my children be eating all day between meals like they wanted? (Ironic that the unwanted-by them- kiddies basically HAVE to eat between meals for their sensory needs. And one is just always hungry anyway🤦🏾‍♀️😂.) Most schools in our country have uniforms. No ‘freedom’ there either.

So when the children live the things that have been thrown at me as being bad, I rejoice.

It began young with all of them. Their consciousness of God as a real Being. And it was brought to the fore this morning. Our non speaker wanted the mattress off the bed again today and the pain is building from knee to toe. I truly believe they messed with a nerve that stupid lipoma was stuck to. The pain is getting worse, sharper, more electric even with the sheet touching my pyjama’d leg. JUST like my elbow nerve surgery recovery.😥After a horrendous night, I just wanted some peace. So I sent them to Wynberg Park. A park the youngest have never been to. Now, it is recommended to make social stories for your autistic kiddies who do better with routine and struggle with difference. You tell them in advance about where they are going, what to expect…But this was spur of the moment so I was limping by around making juice, encouraging our talking twin to get dressed and she herself took care of the social story lack by asking what the park looks like.

I showed her some photos from a Google search.

And you know what that six year old little girl said, “Wow, it looks holy! It looks like you can go there and pray!” I NEVER thought like that when I was 6 years old! It’s so cool! I love comparing myself as a child to them. They are so far ahead of where I was.

As for my girl who is meant to rebel against me and dress whichever way asked me to help finance a bunch of clothes – undergarments and leggings and these. Prices change drastically so I don’t know what the prices were on the day we bought them.

People change. Peer pressure is real. Fitting in with the world is the norm. And so I will be thankful that for NOW, my first girl has still chosen to live by what she’s seen and studied. Those skirts late sweet. They have cute little bows on the front. I focus on feeling sad about her anxiety about entering a brand new church on her own. But the teachings are still there wherever she is. Same with not wanting to write an exam on Sabbath and asking what to do. I was so proud of her for not even considering writing.

The mysterious thing is how the very people who wish ill upon you for living differently. don’t exactly have perfect lives. For this person, loyalty to them is her god. As long as her children are loyal to her, she’s happy. So she discounts the one charged with statutes rape who she whisked out of prison with the help of a married magistrate boyfriend she had. She doesn’t see the sorrow in a son who has now been divorced twice because he can’t keep his vows and her other son also being the same – no morals – means nothing to her. The other children? Both have been to prison- one for fraud from their company, the other for GBH! That is the product of going to school. Surely she should welcome a different approach? Maybe the children won’t be as reprobate as hers? Wouldn’t you wonder and hope that the younger generations won’t be as twisted as the older? I would!

And you know what, dead or alive, if they rebel, it won’t be about me, it won’t be because they were homeschooled it will be about God and their choices regarding HIS principles. Most youths DO ‘rebel.’ And it will not be because I taught them from Christian curricula for as long as possible, living pure principles and praying for them. It will be for the same reason Eve rebelled against God and Adam. Nothing to do with Eden being too rigid. But everything to do with a heart that wanders away from God and His principles.

And the last thing I’ll blog about that naysayers have said? “They won’t know how to interact with peers.” My girl has a larger friendship group than I had at her age! And I came from a regular girls’ school. Our children aren’t caged up, talking to nobody. We – the family members- are somebody, by the way. They have other people they interact with, different ages and backgrounds. It’s perfect. Not just an adult teacher and then other children. But ANY body. (Parks, shops, church, helper, outings.)

I know I’ve done my job fr my oldest two. Now they must do theirs. For God. 🙏🏾 For now, I’m thankful that young and old have God and principles on their minds. And I think Nalo is thinking of Jesus praying in the garden of Gethsemane (Our current Bibkebstory focus is on the crucifixion) so maybe that’s why she said the park looks holy. Who knows? Maybe it just does! It’s just cool figuring out what prompts the comments.

The curses thrown at us have not deterred me. The silent treatment because I live a Titus 2 life, have not destroyed me. The actual hatred because I don’t pay someone’s drug debts… Ridiculous! The hope that my children revel? Evil.

Here I stand. I can do no other.

Let me enjoy the current bliss while it lasts. If even Solomon could mess up for decades, who knows what the future holds? I would rather they were Daniels and Josephs, but I can’t choose. I can only plant the seed and how nothing chokes it or burns it.

I know why I made the choices I made. I thought love naturally included being hit so hard you can’t breathe while you ask what you did wrong. I thought love included looking at your father as he towers over you and he berates you for trying to understand him because he says you’re looking at him rudely, when really, your glasses’ frame was in the way and you were trying to see him properly. I thought love included criticism and comparisons to others who were ‘better’ than me. And that all Black mothers have DNA that makes them tell their daughters that they are ugly, that ask their daughters if they’re serving lunch at church to catch a husband…

And so, I chose a love that wasn’t as bad.

Yesterday evening, I checked on my first daughter, asking how she was, telling her the new thing her non-speaking sister did that killed my back at the end of a long day. It’s complicated by my having to be off Rinvoq. The pain and fatigue are that much worse. I pray I heal ok so I can resume on day seven post op! (Not cancerous! It was indeed a disgusting looking lipoma. And not the smooth ball type but it was irregular. The surgery is a whole other discussion. Being awake to be able to tell the doctor you can feel the scalpel slicing into your calf is not something I would suggest you do!)

Let’s go back to yesterday. She has started this thing where she has to be in my bedroom. One- that’s bad because she’s still very infectious as are her siblings, so being on my bed when I’m trying to not hurt my body more, is not a good idea. As you know, each sickness reduces lung function. And, it can be dangerous. What kills lung people like me is that one infection they couldn’t recover from. Two- I knew I was having surgery today. Not only does she want to be on my bedroom, she wants the mattress off the base! And then roams around! Not comfortable. The least painful position for me is leaning against the headboard.

I told my girl about her nutty sister and she sent me this last night.

It was my flowers, lol. Flowers for surviving the newest autism baptism by fire. But, she denigrated her efforts. And in my home, that is not on. I build up, not tear down. No sarcasm, no putting you down, no telling you there’s a better app to do better than this… I will raise my children to hear my voice and God’s voice. Her efforts are worth all the gold in the world, because God loves compassion. I don’t see anything negative, and if there was, I’d still not say it because it truly is the thought that counts! I want her to KNOW that I see her heart and soul, I don’t judge her based on shallow standards. I judge her through the eyes of love. And love wants to make you happy.

My other children… My Amarissa who doesn’t want a big birthday celebration buyout does want cake but no singing. We decided we will sing on Family Day, remembered mommy saying a while ago that I used to wish I could have a Mother’s Day. I think she does, because with me being their School Teacher, I’ve never told them about it, I’ve only asked their father if he could do one with them and he said no, as I’m not his mother.

But what my son said here, means she discussed it with him because he’s never said it before. And it’s not Mother’s Day. This is post op. The bleeding is scary as it’s more than when I left surgery. I hope it stops. If you fear blood, don’t look. Just go to their sweet video.

This is now as I type

And this was earlier when I got home

Let’s not forget. Besides Rinvoq causing a higher risk of blood clots, complications, infections, it also slows wound healing. This is going to be a scary ride! Let’s hope by the hoped for 14 days, I’ll be able to get the stitches out.

So, that’s my plea. Lift your children up! Yours might be the only voice that empowers them, that allows them to see every have value just by existing. Not in status, not in job roles and positions, but because they are alive and wanted and loved. True unconditional love. A love that cares about character not about qualifications, principles not positions! And so though my IBS stops me eating some of the things my angels bought me with their pocket money, they won’t know that.

I used to give a certain person gifts they made very clear they didn’t like. “Yes it’s a black watch but it must have a third clock inside.” The exercise so I bought them a water bottle. Never used not even as token. They didn’t like that, didn’t like the words accompanying the gift. But when it came to me, different rules. They’d praise the gifts they bought me. “I know I bought them, but I really like those balloons I got you.” They had NEVER seen me with a teddy bear. Never heard me saying a teddy in a display was cute. But years ago, they kept giving me teddy bears and not once did I show any ingratitude. Then they got upset that I lovingly passed it onto their child, who DID love teddy bears. You actually have to be quite mentally disordered to be upset that a stuffed toy that had just been lying there, is being cuddled by your own children who are handling it gently. It’s yet another sign that they didn’t want to LOVE their children like a father SHOULD. And also, it was a gift for me. So I should have been able to do with it what I wanted. I didn’t even think to challenge that part!

I don’t ever want the children feeling like they can never show me how they love me, correctly. I can’t control what others say to them, but I can fill their minds with knowledge that their heart is important to me. They hold my heart. Plus, I loved it because they did it with pure intentions. And didn’t praise themselves for giving me things I’d never expressed a love for. ❤️

This is disjointed. I can’t even sleep. My non speaker keeps coming into the room. She coughs and breathes with her mouth open. And -of course- might not speak to me, but does make noise so I am not sure this flowed as much as I wanted it to. I just wanted to mention the gifts I am thankful for, and to undo another generational curse. All my children must know that they have given their best and their best is MY best. Nothing insignificant about it. Nothing to criticize.

And my last point. My prayers for children who will feel safe telling me anything. My sweet girl, my oldest daughter, asked me if it’s ok for her to go to Gold Reef City on the train with an Indian friend and others, using the Gautrain, as requested by the Indian friend who is leaving South Africa. I never asked my mother if I could do anything when I left home to move into university. It didn’t even cross my mind to. She will be using her money, going at her time – in the morning (I asked) and not on the Sabbath. But she recalled reading how places of mere amusement are a waste of time and energy, whereas recreation was the ideal. A place to go contemplate Christ, His nature… So she wasn’t sure she should go!

This girl tells me about her friends’ interesting boyfriends…. But I never thought she’d ask for permission to go somewhere based on a principle I got them to study years ago. I told her that seeing as it is a farewell ‘gift’ for her friend and they aren’t going just to go waste money, and if she will budget properly so she doesn’t ask me for more money before the month is over, and if she will be true to her principles, I am fine! And I also requested their names which she gave me. I bet she will be excited. I don’t think she’s ever ridden on the Gautrain. It was so different to my childhood trains. Though she’s never taken a trip in ANY train so it might seem normal to her.

But man! I’m so chuffed! She asked for permission when really, unless something went wrong, I’d not have even known anyway. More generational curses being broken by our daughters! What a blessing to know that if you give to the right heart, you will receive in return. She knows she’s my child, but she also knows she matters. So she is able to tell me anything.

Love begets love.❤️

It’s funny. I spent so many years crying to God for Him to just kill me. Put me out my misery. No more Ankylosing spondylitis. Just peace and rest. But He didn’t.

Yesterday, a friend sent me a message about the high school my children’s father went to. The phone caller and my friend’s husband and my husband had all been at the same boarding school- the caller was senior to them. The caller asked my friend’s husband how she and their children are, then told him to cherish them, as more than a half of them (He said 70%) who had been at that boarding school were divorced.

There is something about their boarding school that also made them unable to be husbands in the full sense of the word. And he isn’t exaggerating. When my children’s father used to tell me about his ex school WhatsApp conversations, he’d mention another family that had broken up. Some, couples we’d visited together, people I’d come to love. It was awful!

That school is cursed. And include my ‘ SDA’ in law who was also there and has been divorced twice now.

That school did not create men. It created big egos and fragile pride. It created men who boast of their team exploits but can’t boast about their own wives and the sacrifices and work they do for their families because they do not SEE their wives. (Something my friend has noticed about her husband.) This is BAD. They wept and mourned when part of the school burnt down. Now I wish it had entirely burnt down. That school raised a generation of heart shredders.

Even the last person from the high school that I knew who died, died in suspicious circumstances. Questions around his infidelity and MAYBE his wife hiring someone to do the ultimate, a modern day Old Testament punishment for adultery- stoning to death but with modern weapons.

And everywhere they go, they marry and make children before destroying their wives and children.

And so, the wives to pick up the pieces. And they WILL! Because know like them, theu have so much to live for!

Some of the things that force me to stay alive.

Our angel has been active but then causing us to be active too. She has spent maybe five days now, going to the slide every possible moment. One memorable afternoon last week she pulled me out at just before 5pm. (She needs support climbing up the ladder part’ and she needs us to watch her cos she doesn’t have a concept of safety) and stayed out there till we had to bring her in as she screamed and cried to stay out, at 18:20. It has been hard on the body and mind. But then, she switched things around on me suddenly and made it even worse. She started going UP THE SLIDE itself. But she can’t! So now I had to push her up, with my dying arms, and also make sure she doesn’t fall off. One time, her foot left the actual side and was in the air, she couldn’t tell she wasn’t stepping on the slide. And the higher she went, the heavier and harder it was for my arms and strength. And that’s not forgetting the hips, SI joints and back that are also taking strain.

But… I have also been impressed with the folinic acid. I believe it is making a difference to her speech. She tells herself, “Let’s go down the slide… Weeeee!!!” I have her circles that each had one number, and she put them in order from 1-5. So there’s life in that little brain of hers, it just needs you to pull it out so you can figure out what she knows without you needing to give directions or instructions her brain doesn’t yet understand.

And there are simple wins like small Temu windmills.

That is one of my reasons for living.

An SDA wife in Barbados has been having hectic trouble with her husband and nobody to listen till she told me. We’ve been watching each other on Facebook for over eight years.

Our SDA churches don’t have people who check on abused or neglected women. And they shut their ears and still keep smiling and encouraging the man to keep leading. It has made attending church very difficult for her, seeing him ‘serving’ a God he doesn’t love nor obey, and seeing those who know, condoning his hypocrisy. She only realised recently, that it was all stemming from narcissistic abuse. Her husband is cruel to her in different ways, and like all charming narcs, people who pretend to care about values and principles actually don’t. So they don’t disapprove of, rebuke his actions and treatment of his wife. And this includes her one and only mother figure who said, “Well, he hasn’t wronged ME, so it’s none of my business. He’s still my son and I’ll treat him like I always have.” Which means she will admire him. Showing him his wrongs are rights. And that is the other problem with abuse. The narc’s flying monkeys who encourage the evil by never speaking out. That betrayal by others who are the opposite of what Titus 1 wants, which is “lovers of GOOD men,” has hurt her the most. She said communicating with me has helped her more than she could ever express. She too has had money taken from their family by the man. Used for his wants and pleasure and not on her and their children. She said she is finding strength and courage. People don’t care, don’t want to listen, but she will never stop speaking the truth anyway. Now I owe her my life.😅 Can’t exactly go kill myself when I’m helping someone else stay sane and in the process, gaining too!

In the morning in Sabbath, I receive that WhatsApp text sent above. I felt strengthened, encouraged, firm. But by the afternoon, I was sad. Recalling certain events that now made sense and my heart was heavy again. My friend hadn’t replied all messages I’d sent in the morning so I knew she was busy and didn’t want to overwhelm her with feelings she also finds difficult to navigate. So I went to check if my SDA Sister in Struggle had written. If she hadn’t, my next step was another lady who told me she was offering herself as someone to vent to when things become hard and I need to cry it out.

But my Barbadian friend had written. And it gave me the strength I needed to hold my head up, keep nursing my sick children, and keep nursing myself too. Surgery on Wednesday and I’m praying hard I don’t catch the virus the children have. Poor Twin B has a horrible cough deep in her chest, others noses are broken, they’re tired and falling asleep, I didn’t even bother with afternoon ADHD med dose because they’re so miserable anyway. Twin A keeps asking why she can’t get BETTER!!! As if we can control it. Ammy’s throat is horrible sore. She struggling to swallow even liquids.

(Did you know that it takes me days to type just one post? Too much to do, think, research, plan…And now I just remembered I promised I’d order more sand for the sandpit. BRB!)

And I have my oldest daughter to live for. Gaining confidence in spades! She had complained about how she hates that she has the answer the lecturer wants, but is too shy to say so.. then by the time she has the courage, he has answered it himself or someone else has. But this past week!!

And my other daughter…

Her mother’s psych treatment is treating nothing. Mom is still so depressed that she hasn’t even noticed that the signs of neurodivergence in my girl’s youngest bio sister that she mentioned to me a year ago, have gotten much more pronounced. When little sister turned two, her verbal world went silent. Autism allies and parents know what that could be. She had quite a few words she said. But they disappeared and instead, she makes nonsense sounds (vocal stims like our Twin B, perhaps?) Baby girl was already a late developer but now she’s regressed. Crucially, she no longer turns to the person when her name is called. And she hates touch.

How will this 20 year old handle a sick mom and a neurodivergent toddler sister and her own baby? It is HARD parenting alone when there’s an adult there. It’s an empty promise of possibilities. But instead, the adult becomes part of your heartache. And worse yet, the one strong emotion mom shows, is anger when little one has what we believe is a meltdown “crying over nothing.” She beats baby girl. She only turned two this month.

I have to stay alive to see her and my other two graduate.💔🥹

I keep praying for breakthroughs for her and my son. Next year needs to bring more school than this year did. They need to manage their courses, do their work and thrive! And I need to see them achieve that together with my girl in the other province who is making leaps and bounds in her education and is still serious about school. She was lamenting her friends who don’t pitch for lectures just because they don’t feel like it, while also sad for her oppressed Muslim friend who wants to attend lectures but her father said educating a girl is a waste of time and money so refuses to take her to school. And sadly, she is an a hour away from campus in a different direction completely, so my girl can’t go fetch her and take her to school. Sad! We have space for her in our house that our girl is in. But that would definitely be a taboo to her father too.

There is just so much misery in the world!! Her mother is a housewife. Can’t pay for Uber to get to school though she agrees that her daughter needs her degree. So frustrating, the control men have over homemakers!

Anyway, I can’t stay alive for HER. So let’s move on.

I stay alive because of God, of course. Until my lungs fail, or something else kills me, I have to believe I have a reason He has created to stick around this miserable planet. And therefore, I have to reduce the misery others feel while I’m at it. There are so many selfish people who focus only on their own woes when they speak to you. I pray to be able to succor others with the same grace God succours me with. I’ve already mentioned my friend on here before, my other reason for living, so I won’t bore you about HER this time.

I also have to continue being teacher. On Friday, I was in excruciating pain, I settled the children with an activity to keep them busy and went to my room to rest for five minutes before calling pupil number one for class.

I took off my shoes, turned around, and there she was! Seated and ready for school!😩😩😩

So, school it was.

Here’s to another week. My children can’t breathe, are coughing, sniffing, spreading tissues everywhere, one can’t eat or talk or drink because she’s at the sore throat like cut glass phase. I am sad. As Twin B’s OT repeated an adage I’ve seen recently, “You’re only as happy as your most unhappiest child.” Ie If there’s a child who is struggling, miserable, sad, you can’t feel any happier than that. A loving mother frets and feels sorry and tries to reduce the suffering. More with all five being miserable and the terrible fear of catching it myself, that level of ‘happiness’ is extremely low.

And I guess that’s why I will fit ever feel sad. Having a child who can’t express themselves is a pain in the heart that we carry everywhere we go. Having a child who is aware of their academic weaknesses and doesn’t want as narrow a future as their learning disorders allow, does not lead to ecstasy.

But sadness does not need to be shown. It does need to stop us from being what we need to be. And so onwards and upwards we go. We have so much to live for. We have so much care and empathy to give. I hope the last memory I leave for those who have put themselves in my life is one of care and compassion.

Who are you living for?

This is a question I was asked by my children’s educational psychologist, and a friend we had supported and I still support through his parenting challenges when his wife alienated him from their children, preferring to go live a life of freedom with her drug addict family.

I had a parent intake meeting with the psychologist, in preparation for the third child to have an assessment- this time not because I found any learning disorder, but because the pediatrician had suggested she confirm the severity of her PDA and autism and for me, to convince him that my poor child is heavily under medicated. If she was in a school, she’d be in trouble all day, every day. She even stops a task she is busy with, to go off on a tangent. School with her, lasts three times longer than it should! By the time her ten year old sister comes to learn, my body is already extremely sore.

She had traced up to number five, then suddenly gathered three pencils and held them in order of height. Do NOT ask me why she thought to do that while reaching numbers! So, I took it as an opportunity to teach her comparatives and superlatives, and trappe van vergelyking. In English, “tall, taller, tallest,” and in Afrikaans, lang, langer, langste. Hey, she might as well have a headstart to the topic, right?

Anyway, as you know from my recent post, the psychologist was asking how I’m coping physically, and I told her that I was meant to have stopped teaching last year already. And she asked what support dad gives, what he does with the children to make the burden lighter and how involved he is.

Let’s just say, her answer, and my telling her that he doesn’t respond to her assessment reports I send him but instead sends them to his floozy in Sandton made her angry and worried. “If you die, then what will happen?? You’re the only one who knows the children!” He has no clue who does therapy where, who sees who when. And he refused to learn the vision therapy exercises, so no matter how sick I am, I’m still single parenting it. “Are you sure you’re not feeling suicidal? As a professional, knowing what you’re going through, I have to ask that.” And, “How is your church supporting you?”

I told her the only ‘church’ I have is a friend who lives far away and doesn’t have the luxury of just getting here when I want her. But she’s there. She’s listened, prayed, tried to act in a way that doesn’t encourage certain traits when she’s video calling or visiting… I told her she has wept for me over the years. The children, the spouse. She is my church. Worried about salvation and not about saving self ruined reputations. Caring about me and not protecting abusers. Hating breaking of principle and violation of vows. She is my church.

But she’s far away. And that’s ok. Because I have God. I know He sees me. Sees all my hard work. Knows I’m working, smiling, hugging, teaching, cooking through intense pain, but never losing my temper. He hears my conversations with the children, He watches me as I read His word and apply it to my life every morning. God knows the valleys I’ve traveled and the steep mountains I trudge along. He sees and He will reward it.

People talk about giving someone their flowers while they are alive. My children are the flowers I give to myself. They are proof of the thought, research, hard working, early rising, not sleeping that I go through to be the best Christian mother I can be.

The hugs are acknowledgment that I am loving and safe, gratitude for being an ear and a cuddle giver. They are my reward. A reward borne through great sacrifice. It reminds me of Isaiah’s prophecy of Christ. All the suffered by for an ungrateful world, but, “He shall see the travail of His soul and shall be satisfied!” Before the second coming, was the cross. And THAT satisfied Him because He knew there would be sheaves to harvest when He comes again. We are His reward. We are his crown of joy. We are His flowers if we live by every word and love Him more than life, money, fame or popularity.

What support do I have? None that is like my fired, my church who comes not just to talk, but to make life skewering had. BUT, I see my efforts in the children. The suffering is worth it. Not having anyone to share the highs with is bitter, but I’m thankful there ARE highs! Look at THIS! My girl rehearsed every new thing she learns so she doesn’t forget it. We are doing counting in tens so she did THIS in her spare time.

She is my joy. Her love for learning is unparalleled.

Her brother’s mistakes make us laugh. Mickey, then twin B and then oldest brother all went down with a horrible virus. Extremely sore throats, the usual nasal sinus blockages with noses streaming down, all round yuckiness and watery eyes and a cough for our non speaker. I told Mickey to keep a mask on when he’s near the girls. (I always wear a mask while they girls lose theirs ) but he was on his tablet and was in didn’t have it on but was instead swooping hands to hold it while playing. So I told him to put his mask (elastics) behind his ears.

My boy made us all laugh. His sister couldn’t believe him! She took a mask and copied him with great glee!

That’s what he did.

My ten year old said she, her sister and I should go to a hotel to escape the plague. But then she quickly said, “No way! You’d never survive me stuck in a hotel room! THEY should leave!”🤣

They are my jokesters, my flowers, my affirmation.

They are my reward while I wait for the white robes and crown, for the the healing and the peace that He promises to His long suffering ones.

No. I’m not suicidal. God holds me up and gives me moments of laughter to counteract the seriousness of our situation.

Like a six year know it all who says, “I give up!” when trying to teach her older brother, my telephone number.

Keep moving on even when moving on means accepting that pain is your portion.

I had to sort out the girls’ fight. We’re back in the danger zone of our tween’s hormones and she’s becoming extremely volatile. We received no reply from the neuropsychologist after the paed referral so I’m going to ask the paed if I’m meant to follow up. (This is now Thursday here in brackets. I did phone the office but there was no reply.) They didn’t even grace us with a, “We have an 18 month wait” reply like with rheumatologists when you’ve never seen them before.

So I have to play referee even more. Hang around them even more which means I have to be there with them more. Extra physical strain on me. But my non-verbal angel decided to need EXTRA care today. So I’m TIRED and in physical and emotional pain, so I tried to medicate everyone and retreated to my room after I fed them all.

Someone very close to me who I had tried to trust that they have the best plans for our family turned out to be a cruel liar, and that shook me this past Sabbath. Literally. I even got scared I’d die. My chest was so sore. It was like my heart would explode. And when I got an alert about it on my Apple Watch, I wasn’t surprised. My heartbeat while RESTING climbed up to worrying levels for ten minutes. As if I was racing fast. Then it remained 20 beats per minute faster than normal for maybe two days. Then ten beats faster than my norm. I can see how people die from broken hearts.

So, I had this broken heart and shock I’ve been nursing for some days now. I had been strong. No tears. Then boom, the pain and betrayal overwhelmed me. I retreated to my room to try get a breath, some silence. The children were fed, Naynay was reading a book, the others playing.

I sat down, leaned back to be as flat as possible on the bed, started talking to God asking how someone could be so callous and then the door opened. A VERY cheerful five year old who doesn’t talk came in. I painted a smile on my face. She looked around and left. I took my phone and was about to type about how heavy my heart was, and then the twin came in. Very, VERY happy twin, talking nineteen to the dozen about the book she was reading to her older brother, how it has many words, how she likes reading to her friends even through there lots of words in the book.. On and on she prattled while my heart sank. Not only did she not go back to the front like she usually does at this time of the evening, she even jumped onto the bed and sat on me. “Ok, now is NOT the time to think deeply. To let it all out, then.”

Then her older sister walked in looking angry and miserable. I wanted to cry now. I was FEELING miserable and instead of being able to be alone to express the heartsore feelings, I had to pretend even LONGER! My girl then not only needed me to pretend, but she needed me to absorb HER heartache.

Adoptee woes. I’ve seen these written. But I wasn’t expecting them at age 10. It was hard. My poor girl cried as she (not for the first time) stated that she doesn’t want to celebrate her birthday because it reminds her that she wasn’t with us when she was born.

You can’t fix that can you?😭

She said a LOT. I listened, hugged, dispensed a LOT of tissues, told her her feelings are valid, other adoptees have said the same thing – birthdays are difficult. One said that it’s because the day of her birthday is not something she experienced together with her mother, so it was not nice.

Like others do, I told her -like I did last time- that we could then celebrate her presence in our family on the anniversary of the day she entered our family. Then I asked, “So do you want us to act like your actual birthday just a normal day then?” Of course not, this is another issue the adults had. They do not want to celebrate. But if that desire is honoured, they feel sad that nobody is saying ‘happy birthday!’ Yep, it’s complex and they too don’t know what to say or do despite therapy. How much more a sad crying girl and a brokenhearted mother?

“I wish I hadn’t been born! I wish I’d been from YOU..” I seconded the second one. Told her that if she’d not been born, we’d have missed all her creativity and snuggles.

Conclusion? I told her I’d allow her to cry anytime she wanted, I don’t expect her to fake being happy like she says she does. And I’d also say or do SOMETHING on her birthday.

By this point, my body was screaming, and so I rubbed my painful calf, rubbed my terribly sore ribs and that made her burst into a fresh bout of tears. “..and why are you in PAIN!?”

Another one I can’t solve!

It didn’t end there.

Guys, teaching an AuDHDer with PDA is an exercise in patience. They have their own timeline, they ADD extra tasks they think should be done during the lesson, they dawdle, they get distracted. “Yes, I’ll trace the capital R. Did you know that I like lions? Look at my bag! Look inside!”

It takes so much longer to teach a child with such severe symptoms. And then she burst into tears too. That was this morning.

“I’m sad!” She told me. I didn’t know where that came from. Was her hayfever really bothering her? I asked why she was sad. She said she was sad because my back and my legs are in pain and it makes her sad.

I hadn’t even indicated any pain! I was just teaching! Though I do rest on the bed when they’re doing independent tasks, I don’t tell them why I’m lying down. “What can’t you be better!?” And I hadn’t even lain down yet. But she cried and cried. I couldn’t even promise her I’ll be fine. We know I won’t be. We know it’s incurable and gets worse.

Another one I can’t fix!

I’ve felt so helpless this week. I can’t fix the person who is so broken that they go and destroy other people’s souls too, destroy me and take money meant for my children and give it to a girlfriend.

I can’t fix my body.

And I can’t fix my children’s hearts.

So, it was a bad Wednesday AND a sad Thursday.

But. I will rise. I haven’t had that teary moment again. Granted, it’s only a day I’ve been strong in my God. Last time this happened, I wanted to die. I pictured am driving at high speed and smashing into a pillar that holds the bridge or overpass to. But then I wondered if I’d have the courage to continue with the speed or be so scared at the last minute that I’d end up only permanently maiming myself.

The last time I found out I was the only building this home while the other was building another one’s ego, I thought God had forsaken me, that I had sinned a terrible sin that I couldn’t recall and so couldn’t repent from. I had prayed every day, every chore, lovingly cooking and ironing, serving, overlooking how it was mostly me doing the parenting. And instead of growth, there was backsliding.

This time, it’s different. My worth isn’t found in how truthful, faithful and faith-filled another human is. I’ve read God’s word enough to know that I’ve served Him with all my heart and that I deserve honesty and integrity just like I give it despite.

No tears yet. Leopards truly don’t change their spots. Not when they are happy being spotty.

The rest of us Christians? We shall walk the narrow way, ask Christ to make us spotless and pure.

And we shall rise.

I came across this now on YouTube. I was looking for a song I like but it popped up.

It IS indeed painful to ignore a person right in your face who talks to your children but doesn’t talk to you. Someone who tells you YOU should have stopped being hurt when they hurt you and so there’s something wrong with YOU for not healing from a wound they never apologised for causing, for being upset that you have a heart they broke and didn’t do anything to fix.

This video HERE… Why didn’t we have this information when we were still young? I’d have known what red flags to keep an eye out for, I’ve only learnt this in the past year!

1. I’ve even asked, “Why can’t you just listen without turning it to YOU?” Eg. Earlier this year, “My neck is really getting sore at night, it’s harder to sleep. I need a flatter pillow.” Expectation- “AS is cruel,” or “Shame man, I hope we find one. “Reality? “I also need a more comfortable pillow. I’m a CIO. CIOs deserve to sleep comfortably.”
2. Apology? “Well, I’m sorry he feels hurt but seriously, why didn’t he hear it!?”
3. Dim your light and compete? My first ever blog had so many people thankful for it, or just interested in my culture, autism moms grateful. Even this very week, he said it was “bad.” When I got praise for making wonderful bibs and burpers which I was selling, he told me to stop selling because it makes him look like he’s not a good enough provider. Any positive comment from YouTube watcher? Disinterest. But I must read 47 pages of his work assessing him.
4. Subtle control that shuts you up? Sarcastic put downs that hurt and then when you state it hurts, they say they didn’t mean it, I’m just too sensitive…I then asked him to pray before speaking. Enforcing the boundary of politeness and kindness. Nope. Then even when you need a quick answer, the sarcasm, “Well, you said I must pray before I answer. So I’m praying!” Punishment.
5. This one hurts. I literally break my body for our family. I work hard every single day. I teach and prepare, choose curricula, medicate and soothe. But that is never seen, never appreciated. The same man who preached that men must say something positive and affirming to their wives every single day hasn’t said anything affirming to me in ages. He told his woman in Joburg that he appreciated the photos she sent of herself though. This is why he never spoke his proposal. He’d need to ask me for permission to marry me. But he’s too superior. So he wrote it down and sat there… No need to look into my eyes and tell me he loves me. Just write it down.
6. Me expressing how I feel unseen. Begging for help and appreciation because I feel alone. This year, he handed me a package and said I could open it. It was gifts from females at his workplace thanking him for going the extra mile for them, for checking that they were ok. THAT is the strongest example of using my vulnerability to hurt me. “See? I’m seen and you’re not. I get gifts while I breadcrumb you.” It REALLY hurt and I don’t know what else it was except a method to hurt me. NO loving spouse will hand a gift they know is for them from someone from the opposite gender and tell them, “Here’s something for you.” And it’s actually not. I bet he’s never done that to the woman he’s given thousands of rands to. I think that’s when the shell around my heart grew stronger. You don’t love someone you purposely hurt. I am not loved. And though it hurts so much, I have to accept it to survive.
7. Not choosing growth. Instead, descending, regressing. Not willing to humbly reach a higher state. Not willing to admit being wrong. Instead I’d get, “ Well, YOU were wrong the other day too. I don’t remember but you also aren’t perfect.” Or, classic one I tell. We have two supermarkets called Shoprite and Checkers. They are both owned by Shoprite but are two separate shops. Our nearest mall had a Checkers for years, then they started renovating. As they rebuilt, they added a Shoprite sign on the outside of be building and I commented, “So there will be Shoprite here AND Checkers!? Unusual!” The dry sarcastic, “ You DO know Shoprite owns Checkers, right? It’s just there because they own it. I replied, “ I KNOW Shoprite runs them both, no way a mall would have the supermarket sign for it. They will open up a Shoprite.” He told me, “Remember, I work in retail. There’s no way they’d put both stores in one mall.” And I thought, “I may not work in retail. But I have common sense. I’ll wait till the mall is done and then take a photo and PROVE both shops are there.” And of course, I was right. But unlike other times where I kept quiet because it’s not like he’d ever apologise for talking to me like I’m an imbecile, I took the photos and sent a message telling him how we lay men can also reason.

She starts setting boundaries, he says she’s changing. I went to a relative’s funeral where no relative greeted me except for one. I went to my mother’s funeral where again, it was only the one, and my cousin who I had asked to preach.

Now, the person who cursed my children is dead and he says I’m not Christian for wanting to expose myself to pain like that. I spoke to my aunt the day I was burying my mother, she never replied, why would I go where I’m not NEEDED? But that boundary has resulted in me being called bitter and unchristian. A man who has a secret relationship with a woman while married, gives her money, admires her photos, looks at her work info that should be confidential – how much she paid people as incentives!!-is NOT qualified to decide what’s Christian or not. He himself doesn’t know, going to church while having this extramarital relationship.

All these and MANY more, helped shield me. Maybe one day I’ll cry. It hasn’t happened yet and I hope I never DO cry over a man who proposed to me but never wanted to grow as a husband.

I took this photo to marvel at how finally, our girl is at ease with him. As you surely know by now, he comes half days Mondays to Thursdays to do the driving for our little AuDHD angel, and them, and the playground and vision therapy appointments and at home, for teaching Ammy and Mickey, much of Mickey’s school subjects, doing vision therapy exercises and finding anything to help Micaiah learn to be more coordinated.

She pulls him to the car, sits close. I’m glad she’s relaxed.

But this is not about her. It’s about my ten year old, Amarissa. She told me this morning that she misses him. Yesterday and today he couldn’t get public transport to come to work and his car was being repaired so he didn’t come in. I told her, I’m sad she misses him. And she added, “Because Bk is too friendly when he teaches Maths.” I asked her for clarification. Her brother is too playful? She explained that when she makes mistakes, he’s not strict like a proper teacher, he just says, “Well… It could be… But…” instead of just saying, “Oh that’s wrong try again.” Now that is a novel complaint!

I thought about it, and told her I believed he had trauma. When they were struggling with the more difficult level of Maths for their IGCSEs, their dad would tell me that he doesn’t get why they’d want to move to the less rigorous Maths. Now bear in mind, for decades, I’d heard from their dad how he was in the A stream at school, the clever stream, and did so well with his subjects and was just soooo clever. (Though when I came to his O level and A level certificates, the marks did not reflect the reality I’d been told.) So given no video, tutor could help them, I asked him to help the children seeing as he did Maths in A levels.

It was bad. “But how can you NOT understand this question? What’s wrong with you? Aren’t you thinking? Why is this difficult? Anyone can do this? This is easy!” I told them to stop and we would do our less rigorous Maths for which they got good marks for but translated to a C on their certificates. Good enough for every course they ever considered.

So, I told my dear ten year old that I believe her big brother was over compensating for how their dad made them feel when he made them feel like they were stupid.

And that, is why she misses him. Because he doesn’t let her get away with being wrong by acting like a correction is not indeed, a correction.😅

I’m so proud of her!

We brought our oldest back because he was messing around a LOT instead of studying. Which meant, my girl was left alone in a house in a complex! (Gauteng house prices are so much better than Cape Town!) People told me she should get a housemate or two but I’ve been there before. Strangers don’t always treat your house well. We once rented our home out when their dad got a job in Stellenbosch. She seemed a decent woman (with two decent school aged sons) who was leaving her cheating husband. But then she decided to reconcile. (I hope she doesn’t regret that now. This was in 2013) and left and went back to him. And oh my word, left a MESS! It’s like they’d poured cereal, crisp crumbs, out into the cupboards, they’d broken even toilet paper holders, empty boxes, mess, mess and part of a bathroom mirror also broken. That was reason number 1.

Secondly, the person would be an adult. You can’t stop adults from doing adult things. Unless you are brave enough to write, “No loud intercourse allowed” – something I suffered from with one of the girls in my residence-day and night. And that was my major concern. What if the person makes noise or is a disturbance?

But thirdly, my girl did not want anyone else anyway. So, she has been living ALONE! That’s actually crazy for me. Alone in a totally different province. She asks me about coolant and things like that for the car, and that brings us to the car.

She is alone and has access to a car! When I was in high school, I believe I shared before that there were maybe three girls that had their ‘own’ cars. It was soooo cool. And in university, there were maybe five out of 24 speech therapy and audiology students who had cars. None were African origin. Thankfully they somehow liked me so I always got a lift to our hospital practicals.

The first car we got was in the UK. Cars were very easy to get! We worked in a warehouse setting but could afford a lovely one bed flat and a not too old car and a proper diet. On warehouse wages! Never possible in SA. And when we came back, my mother got us our first SA car because she felt it was beneath us to be using public transport while job hunting. It was old but working ok minus lights we had to keep fixing.

Our first REAL African car was probably two years after marriage so I was probably 25. No, I think it was three years so I was 26. But I always felt sad that I didn’t have a car to give OTHERS lifts when I was a student.

And now here we are. My girl is friends with a bunch of girls who also live alone, also mostly in gated secure complexes. It’s so foreign to me! I’m sure it’s the norm for many others. But not for me! When I was in first year, everyone either rented student accommodation or lived in university res or lived with their parents. None in my class lived alone in a private house.

I’m proud of my shy, anxious girl. She’d been nervous that people would stare at her as she washed the car. But she still did it. And shared the fruits of her labour with me.🥰❤️

Here’s to learning how to work hard, take good care of your possessions, and pour coolant with men driving slowly past who act shocked you have your bonnet open and are doing something in the engine YOURSELF.😎

This level of independence will really help set her up when she has a job wherever in the country and is living..alone. She’s done it! This was a girl who needed the light on in her bedroom then negotiated to it being on in the corridor even into her teens sometimes keeping her lamp on all night, she was that scared of the dark and there were lots of us at home. I am truly proud of her for overcoming her anxieties and fears. I hope this last set of exams this year will bring great results and that her spirituality grows.❤️🙏🏾

Proud mom. She’d worked hard to help me when she was on holiday and she’s working hard away too.

I’ve been having some deep conversations with my girl’s birth sister. She’s the same age as my firstborn but wiser and more mature. I also bet that caring for your mother and sister and own little one will make you grow up quickly.🥹 I was telling her about how manipulative and sneaky our girl can be. The shoplifting, the constantly telling on a sibling when actually, SHE was either the mastermind between them all, or she did it herself. The copying of the little girl who had encephalitis, leading her to being admitted to hospital and getting tested for no reason because she was faking the hallucinations and headaches she claimed to be having.

Now we have the cutting. Also copied. But it gives her extra attention. And as her big sister noted, she already gets MORE THAN ENOUGH love, attention and way more “ No beating” like she’d get in a typical Black family. So why the need for extra attention? She does it with the cutting, a true self harmer doesn’t tell everyone in the family what they’ve been doing! A true cutter doesn’t proudly show their wounds.

And so, when we met with the paediatrician, we had a long talk about how she needs a neuropsychologist to get a proper assessment as her manipulative behaviour is not normal. And I remember a friend and I commenting on how young she was to be thinking so sneakily. She’s older and it’s worse.

Just now, we were discussing the Alphablocks episode I’d downloaded for them which they were watching. She was telling us that at first, she hated the whole concept and didn’t understand. She said she hated it so much what she came to me and told me that they say ‘bad’ words so that I don’t download any more videos.

That is sad! It has helped Twin A with the already great spelling and why not just not watch it then, instead of making it so none of the others could watch? How did she think that up?

Why?

I am so glad I didn’t believe her after a while and made time to watch for myself. But it’s things you can never get evidence of. Or you have to take someone else’s word. You don’t automatically jump to, “She is lying.”

My girl is dangerous. And she’s only ten years old. What will she plot and plan as she gets older?

Yet, as her sister and I said, she is so sweet too! She has redeeming qualities in abundance! But the other actions just make your heart sink. Telling her to throw her pull up away and she innocently says she did, only for her oldest sister to find it in their wardrobe. Or Vi finds it under the bed.

After watching Ms Faith yesterday, today after breakfast, she decided to copy what she saw. Slice of apple with peanut butter to help grapes stick to it. “A Mickey healthy snack” as Twin A exclaimed.

We won’t talk about the mess. We will talk about how she recalled and performed something POSITIVE that she watched.

I wish our life had very little of the behaviours that challenge, and much, MUCH more of this.

One can only hope and pray.🙏🏾