Getting Lost In A Maze…

A maze of a mall that is!!

On Saturday we sorta slept late and had a slow morning for a change, and then we took ourselves off to Primi for lunch. This used to be a regular thing for us- eating out for lunch or breakfast on a weekend I mean- and its been a long time since we could afford to just do it. And it was SO cool to do it again. I had the most divine G&T cocktails- one with grapefruit and mint and one with blueberry and mint- that were perfect for the hellishing heat, and we had a lovely lunch with just us two.

blueberry and mint G&T

Last week I went to an Oriental mall near where we live and I literally got lost inside once or twice- the place doesn’t seem to have any kind of layout plan, and I am usually pretty good in a shopping mall! I’d never been to a Chinese mall though, and I had a very entertaining trip around looking at all the funny stuff the shelves are filled with. I was actually looking for a Sibling Supper gift, but I found LOADS of baking tools for next to nothing! It was awesome!
Then on Saturday afternoon my Glugs and I headed for the same mall as we had been told there was a big open “warehouse” type shop I hadn’t seen.
I had such a giggle at some of the shop names inside the mall section, like “Lady Chamber” and “Happy Sundry“! 😀
We strolled around for a few hours, acquiring jewellery, shoes, hair accessories, fans (all for me) AND I found my horrendous Sibling Supper gift too!
Its quite incredible what you can find in these shops! Everything from feminine hygiene products (in the party shop no less) to wedding dresses! There are wigs, cooking and baking utensils, clothing, decor, crockery and Christmas decorations! Granted, some of the stuff I wouldn’t touch with a barge pole- like the hair dye- but there are other items that are fabulously affordable.

I thought these were perfect for a Sibling Supper gift but they were too pricey

the feminine hygiene products in the party shop

anyone on a REEEEEALLY tight wedding budget?

It can be “convoluted”… Um…

these are jewellery boxes…

Yes, it actually says “FONY”… And its a PVP…

Just a disclaimer- I wasn’t asked, paid, bribed, invited, or otherwise coerced into writing this blog post, nor did I receive anything in exchange for writing this blog post.

Children With AD/HD And Friendship

I was reading Friendship Friday: When your Child struggles with friendship on Unwritten and she asked several questions at the end of the blog post:

  • Do your kids struggle with friendships? If so, how do you help them?
  • Do you assist them with nurturing their friendships?
  • How do you suggest I navigate the friendship issue with Child1?
  • Do you think that our kids learn  HOW to be good at friendship based on how WE are as friends?

My comment was long enough for a blog post so I thought I’d post it as such right here!

Children with AD/HD are- sadly- notoriously bad at maintaining friendships. They get home on a Friday and get so involved in self-indulgent weekend activities like PS2 or Xbox, they forget all about their friends (or girlfriends) who then assume they don’t care enough to make contact. On Monday the friends don’t want anything to do with them and the child with AD/HD has no idea why!
Many continue with this battle into adulthood- bosses, friends, girlfriends…
For one thing they do not read body language very well and don’t understand sarcasm or jokes. They take things very personally and over-react. Friends and family members will battle to understand this.
On another level, their immaturity annoys children their own age so they often gravitate to older kids who think they’re cute, or younger kids ‘coz they’re on the same “wave length”.
Because they like to be the centre of attention; “the boss of the game”; they battle to wait their turn; and more often than not are sore losers, other children are quickly put off playing games with them.
My recommendation, when asked, is to find a mom you can talk to (or make contact with someone you already know, obviously :) ) who has a child your own child might like, tell the mom of the other child about your child’s diagnosis and then arrange supervised, one-on-one play dates at your house.
This way you can keep an ear and an eye on the interactions without hovering too much, and you can use the play dates as learning opportunities for your child. How to wait your turn during board games, how to share, how to talk and laugh in company.
You can develop signals you can practice to use as social cues. Mine and my son’s were related to volume and channel controls on the TV, so I didn’t have to embarrass him. If he got too loud or obnoxious I asked him to turn the volume down a little. If he went off on a tangent I’d remind him that we had changed the channel and were now playing a different game or doing something else. In fact, we still use those little cues when we’re in company.
If the play date goes well, fantastic! Wash, rinse, repeat! If it doesn’t, you call the other child’s mom to fetch the friend and you try again another day.

An Oldie But Very Definitely A Classic!

My mommy darling emailed me this today, and whilst I wasn’t a child in the fifties, I can totally relate to the woman telling the story!

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When I was a child in the 1950’s, the bathing suit for the mature figure was-boned, trussed and reinforced, not so much sewn as engineered. They were built to hold back and uplift, and they did a good job. 

Today’s stretch fabrics are designed for the prepubescent girl with a figure carved from a potato chip.

The mature woman has a choice: she can either go up front to the maternity department and try on a floral suit with a skirt, coming away looking like a hippopotamus that escaped from Disney’s Fantasia, or she can wander around every run-of-the-mill department store trying to make a sensible choice from what amounts to a designer range of fluorescent rubber bands.

What choice did I have? I wandered around, made my sensible choice and entered the chamber of horrors known as the fitting room. The first thing I noticed was the extraordinary tensile strength of the stretch material. The Lycra used in bathing costumes was developed, I believe, by NASA to launch small rockets from a slingshot, which gives the added bonus that if you manage to actually lever yourself into one, you would be protected from shark attacks. Any shark taking a swipe at your passing midriff would immediately suffer whiplash.

I fought my way into the bathing suit, but as I twanged the shoulder strap in place I gasped in horror, my boobs had disappeared!

Eventually, I found one boob cowering under my left armpit. It took a while to find the other. At last I located it flattened beside my seventh rib.

The problem is that modern bathing suits have no bra cups. The mature woman is now meant to wear her boobs spread across her chest like a speed bump. I realigned my speed bump and lurched toward the mirror to take a full view assessment.

The bathing suit fit all right, but unfortunately it only fitted those bits of me willing to stay inside it. The rest of me oozed out rebelliously from top, bottom and sides. I looked like a lump of Playdoh wearing undersized cling wrap.

As I tried to work out where all those extra bits had come from, the prepubescent sales girl popped her head through the curtain, “Oh, there you are,” she said, admiring the bathing suit.

I replied that I wasn’t so sure and asked what else she had to show me. I tried on a cream crinkled one that made me look like a lump of masking tape, and a floral two-piece that gave the appearance of an over-sized napkin in a serving ring.

I struggled into a pair of leopard-skin bathers with ragged frills and came out looking like Tarzan’s Jane, pregnant with triplets and having a rough day.

I tried on a black number with a midriff fringe and looked like a jellyfish in mourning.

I tried on a bright pink pair with such a high cut leg I thought I would have to wax my eyebrows to wear them.

Finally, I found a suit that fit, it was a two-piece affair with a shorts-style bottom and a loose blouse-type top. It was cheap, comfortable, and bulge-friendly, so I bought it. My ridiculous search had a successful outcome, I figured.

When I got it home, I found a label that read, “Material might become transparent in water.”

So, if you happen to be on the beach or near any other body of water this year and I’m there too, I’ll be the one in cut-off jeans and a T-shirt!

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I laughed till I cried!!

A Glimpse Into Another Life

Today I popped into my favourite Pick n Pay, the one on Nicol, and when I got to the till I found someone’s shopping list in the bottom of my trolley.

When I read it it made me smile. I loved the normality of it. It looked a lot like one of my own lists and I especially like the “Lucy’s toothpaste” and “my toothpaste” entries.

And to me it seemed like a mom’s list, but when I mentioned the list to my sister on the phone she said it could be a husband or a boyfriend’s list, perhaps written for him by his other half, which made me realise that the list could be interpreted differently by anyone who found it!

What do you think about who may have written it?

So What IS In A Name…?

My friend across the big pond and fellow mom to a child with AD/HD, Bex, did a blog post and it brought back a few memories for me…

Neither I nor any of my sisters have family names but we all have second names. My brother has a third name as well, and his extra two names are family names. My knucklehead has a family name for his second name. It wasn’t going to be a family name originally, but when I split with his father I changed my mind and he got my dad’s name for a second name.

My full name is Angelique. My mommy darling only calls me that when I am in trouble though. I have always been “Angel”. I have considered changing it officially, but I don’t want to hurt my mommy and daddy darling’s feelings.

The meaning of my name is “angelic” and “Messenger Of God” and the origin of my name is French. According to the 1998 U.S. Social Security Administration data, my name was not a popular baby girl’s name in Arkansas with only 5 babies sharing my name. Across the entire United States a total of only 548 babies were given my name during the same year. From 1880 to 2011, the highest recorded use of the name “Angelique” was in 1970 with a total of 941 babies. Go figure- I was born in ’73.

My second name (everyone in our family has a second name) is Laverne.

Stop giggling.

The name is for both boys and girls and its origin is less than glamorous… Laverna was the Roman goddess of thieves and the one who heard the prayers of robbers. Her name is thought to be based on the Latin word latere which means ‘to lurk’ or possibly levare which means ‘to relieve’, as a thief might relieve someone of their possessions. The patroness of petty criminals. It was probably adopted as a name based on a mistaken belief that it means ‘”the green” (the French word for green is “verde”).

How’s that – I am an angelic crook! I don’t know how my folks came up with either of my names.

😀

My knucklehead’s name is Damien.

When I found out I was pregnant I knew it was a boy, and I knew his name would be Damien. I never considered another name. I also thought I was being terribly original but the name was immensely popular in the early nineties. At the time, if someone asked what his name would be, I immediately got the “Oooh like ‘The Omen’!” response on informing the person of my choice. I’ve never seen the movie.

The meaning in Greek and French is the same – to tame or subdue, though the Greek root is also close to the word for “spirit”. There was a Belgian priest named Father Damien who is honored as the man who gave his life helping the lepers of Molokai in Hawaii, and Saint Damien is known as the patron saint of physicians. Demyan is the Russian form. It has absolutely NOTHING to do with the devil.

My Ouma Jean, bless her heart, decided that I had named my son after the Belgian priest.

My darling Glugster’s first name is Cornelius and I love the name! Every time I hear it I think of the movie “The Fifth Element“. And of course we call him Neels, not Cornelius.

Cornelius is of Latin origin and it means “horn” or “horned” (from the word ‘cornu’) which had me in stitches and has my hubby very pleased with himself. There was also a Roman centurion Cornelius in the Bible’s New testament, who was baptised by Peter and is usually thought to be the first gentile convert.

His second name is Jacobus.

Both his names are family names and several of his male ancestors have the same name. Jacobus is of course a derivation of the Hebrew name Jacob, and means “he who supplants” (as Jacob supplanted Esau).

So what does your name mean? How many names do you have? Do you like your name?