Touched With Fire...

Layla has gone down for her second nap of the day. And I am deeply peeved that I cannot seem to gain the upperhand in the fight for control over my domestic bliss!! It always seems like an uphill battle. Maybe I need to stop, breathe and simply make peace with the vaguely chaotic set-up I call 'my house'. The truth of the matter is that I am not married to Mr Perfect (but who the hell is?!) AND there is a little miracle of a person whose needs are much more important to me than achieving domestic-goddess status. Admittedly, Craig is becoming more and more marvellous in his attempts to keep my house-rants at bay: i.e. making the bed as many mornings as a non-morning person can manage, and sms-ing me on the days he couldn't to say he was sorry. And so, this journey towards domestic/familial enlightenment wends its twisting, winding way closer towards the light of peace and understanding. (Why would I want to be a wife who spends more time bitching at her husband for mundane trivialities instead of building him up with kind, loving words? I have DEFINITELY noticed the difference in the quality of our togetherness when I focus on the latter. A HUGE difference. Fact 1: a generous, gentle, funny man can be turned, in the space of a single, embittered accusation about housework, into a sulking, hurt little boy. Fact 2: this makes me even more critical. Fact 3: this makes him even more defensive and sulky.... And on it goes.)

So, though the dishes may not all be neatly stacked away, and the countertops flawless in disinfected cleanliness and tidiness, we have sufficient dishes to cook dinner for ourselves and our dinner guests. And though the lounge is strewn with all manner of Layla's toys, it is a happy mess with plenty of space on the two sofas for everyone to chill out on a cold Friday night with a delightfully yummy plate of food on their laps. (i.e. Bengali aubergines (in garlic and cumin-scented yoghurt) and lamb kebabs --- and hopefully, some red wine which I am praying Craig will remember to pick up on his way home from his last day at school before a week-long break. Pinotage or Shiraz, please!)



On a less exuberant note, I am devastated by the news that Alexander McQueen committed suicide yesterday. I'd never heard a peep about him struggling in any sort of way... but hearing about his mom dying a few days before helped the penny to drop. Often, artists of great genius are prone towards bi-polar depression - which is a common denominator in most suicides. A brilliant book to read on this subject, actually written by a psychiatrist, is "Touched with Fire". I read it a few years ago and was so touched by the obvious, tenderly told truth - especially as it helped me to understand my own cyclothemia and my ups and downs. (I'm not saying I am AT ALL a 'creative genius' like Beethoven! It is just that many creatives suffer with varying degrees of emotional roller-coastering. The author of said book explains how the bleak lows are vitally important as part of the creative cycle - actually 'feeding' the artist before a 'high' hits. Being able to change my perspective on my darker days to this has been a lifesaver. In every sense of the word.) But going back to the genius-tailor/designer, Alexander McQueen, he must have had a devastatingly close relationship with his mother for it to have so broken his heart. He had a big collection due for showing at the beginning of March, and perhaps this pressure, coupled with his mother's passing, was just too much for him. Rest in peace, Alexander. I hope you are with your mother.

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Breaking News: Laziness Cured By Nap!

Today is one of those days. You know those days when you feel blah about absolutely everything? I don't feel like doing anything - not even making myself a cup of (yes, sugarless) rooibos tea. I don't even know why.

The snow storm from America has hit us, and that little journey on foot to the village post office no longer seems like a possibility. Soft, white and flossy, the snow looks deceptively gentle: until you open the door and step out into it. Then it bites you. Bitterly, and with vengeance. Nope - I'm not going to bother going out there AT ALL today. But how am I going to cure this lethargic ennui that has paused me in my tracks as if I were an interrupted song?

More than anything, I think, is this sense of being overcome with exhaustion in my body. My blood feels thick, dark and heavy in my veins, and my brain is certainly not firing on all cylinders: my perception feels distorted and vague, like I am viewing life down blurry, back-to-front binoculars. Oxygen and endorphins created by exercise could definitely help. But hell, I am just not in the mood. You wouldn't be either, so don't point your finger at me, ok?! (Sheesh - add 'paranoid' to the list as well then.) But anyway, getting back to why I think I feel like this can be put down to the fact that I didn't get enough rest on the weekend. With Craig at home, I try and take complete and utter advantage of the fact that I have a babysitter I don't have to pay but can emotionally blackmail with things like, "Oh, so you don't want to spend any time with you daughter then? Nice one, Craig. Nice." But my poor little Pudding-Pie struggled with teething all weekend... This time, it's her molars. Has any medical professional ever been able to measure the extent of the pain our little ones go through due to teething? My mom says that by the time I was 15 months old, all my teeth had come through. Maybe Layla will suffer the same fate?

................. as is to be expected, I was interrupted (maybe I should change my blog name to 'Girl, Interrupted') by needing to put Layla down for a nap, the Tesco delivery guy being unusually exuberant and the never-to-be-missed opportunity to ask 'Is that a South African accent?' followed by the usual questions regarding the weather, crime, blah blah blah -- which woke Layla 20minutes into her nap. Bugger. With my groceries sitting and defrosting in the limbo of the passage, I climbed into bed with my baby while nursing her back to sleep. Two hours later, and I feel FABULOUS, darling! That was all I needed: a bit of extra sleep. Now I feel ready to conquer the world (and that toppling pile of clean laundry to be folded)! Also on the Domestic Goddess Cards, is
1. Roast that Butter & Herb chicken - then divide the cooked meat into small portions for Layla to have through the week with meals or snacktime. (She needs more protein and fat in her diet.)
2. Continue to try and solve the increasingly irritating riddle of why my .avi files won't write to CD...
3. Get dinner on the go: Bengali aubergines in yoghurt, served with lamb kebabs. (Packing my groceries away, I spied a lonely garlic clove in its antique pink bowl next to the olive oil, sea salt and black pepper grinder. How, oh how am I POSSIBLY going to get through the week with only ONE garlic clove??? PANIC STATIONS!! I'll have to ring Ang down the road to see if she has any to share!)
4. Have a bath with Layla (while I pray that this dratted snow stops before it causes the mad mayhem of previous occassions!)