And then the earth shook....

On Thursday we experienced a 4 point something earthquake whose epicentre was only 22 kms (10 miles) north of Tortola, which meant we got the loud bang, ominous rumbling and then lots of rattling and shaking.  This also happenend  to coincide with the day Tyler finally switched on the oven in the bakery, with our temporary water and our temporary electricity.  As posted on Facebook: "That wasn't an earthquake darling; just a mass, global, collective, happy cheer from your friends and family. " So that explains it then! 

Dosn't he look pleased!

Sad to say we did have to switch the oven off again pretty quickly after the photo opportunity, as flames started leaping out the back and then it shut itself down. Sigh. Anyway, it obviously needs some tinkering after its long journey and an Engineer or two. This does not stop us however from  pushing full steam ahead for a bakery opening in the first week of September.

The rest of the week was pretty uneventful. The kids got hold of my camera, and found all kinds of apps I never knew I had:

Not Dads oven

Baking with Kathy

Georgie's view of his younger brother

Gracie the Pirate

Princess Fussy aka Flora featuring Georgie's spelling

 

Apart from buggering around with my camera, the boys had another fun week. Yesterday they went to the salt pond behind Smugglers Cove to look for fiddler crabs. This is definetly not a place for girls. I stayed home and did the housework and then pinned lots of pictures of perfect, clean houses. 

Boy Heaven

Spanish Homework




Prince William, James I and George III

 
Georgie knew he had Spanish homework last Friday for today. Last night was admittedly a late one after putting these ensembles (above)  together for Jubilee Day at school. He remembered his Spanish homework at about 8:45pm last night, cleary too late so Tyler told him to get up early today:

This was the discussion in the car on the way to school:

Annoyed Father: Did you finish your homework George?
George: No, not really
Annoyed Father What do you mean "not really?". What did you have to do?
George: We had to write a paragragh about an animal with a drawing. I did mine on an eel
Grumpy Mother: Did you find out what 'eel' meant in Spanish?
George: No, not really
Annoyed Father: How can you write a paragragh about eels if you dont even know what they are called?
George: Because the class has to guess what they are after you have read it out to them. It's like a riddle.
Irrate Father: So how would you know what the right answer is? El Congero?
George: Yes, that sounds right
Outraged Father: Or maybe it's El Morayo?
George: Could be
Totally Pissed Off Father: George, how did you write the sentence if you dont even know the Spanish word for eel? Did you just translate it on Google?
George: No I didnt, I didn't use Google, I wrote it
Totally Pissed Off Father: But how could you have? What did you say?
George: I didn't use Google, I used Bobble Fish

All this while dressed up as George III.

Mrs Restell, Prince William & Princess Royal

Family Life

The week was productive, in part, and we are a few steps closer to the bakery opening, although it's definitely not going to be the beginning of May, more like the end. We amuse ourselves with reading millions of 'Saveurs' and starting to do a bit of baking now in our test kitchens here in Carrot Bay. The TV series may be a few years off, but Tyler is starting to perfect macaroons and other delights.

The boys have been sailing all week and James is supporting a fabulous fat-lip from a boating accident yesterday, so will go back to school tomorrow like a returning hero.

Yesterday we had friends around for a braai and we had Peri Peri Chicken, which was gorgeously spicy after last weekends disappointment with the super-mild Jerk which we had made without the Scotch Bonnets (big mistake).  Entertaining here is fun and the company always interesting. Because we live on such a small island it's all pretty flat-earth, so we have friends who are policemen, journalists, yacht brokers, lawyers, artists, bankers, chefs, barristers and many other exotic professions (that dosn't look quite right, but you know what I mean) which one wouldn't necessarily bump into in a more suburban existence. This always makes for lively conversation and it's something we simply have not had much time to do up until now given Tyler's filthy hours that he used to work. It's wonderful being a joined-up family again. 

Today has been super lazy and we've been flopping around the house eating late breakfasts and smashing up a bit of furniture (the children) We had a big storm last night which howled around our new house, blasting us with sheets of tropical rain which was all very atmospheric but not so good for sleeping. Tyler has hauled the kids off to the park to try and burn off some excess energy before we  start the whole back-to-school routine of haircuts, homework, backpack finding and all that stuff.

Awesome




Sunbeam - a Tortola Sloop (that's Sunny Jim waving) on Sunday

 
This is a quick post, as I'm squeezing it in amongst work and choosing fabric for the new sitting room, as our laptop at home has died (of exhaustion, I think). Bit of a disaster to say the least, but help is hopefully soon on the way in the form of a new one. One good reason to be a hop, skip & jump away from the US.

We had a lovely weekend, even though Tyler worked pretty much all of it. He didn't work either Friday or Saturday night so maybe Bill Marriott had read my rant. Saturday was the usual (sailing) and Sunday was also the usual (sailing) but this time on Tortola Sloops, the traditional boats built here all out of wood. James & Georgie sailed in a classics regatta off Little Thatch and had a great time. All very 'Swallows and Amazon'ish". Just as well the boys really like sailing, although I suppose there's also surfing. It would be a bit dire for all if they didn't like either of these!

On Sunday we loaded up the two cars and went over to the new house. It was a lovely evening so we stayed for sundowners at a little beach bar and watched the fishermen come in. Idyllic, really.

We're about to go off-line as we have a seriously busy 10 days ahead of us - moving and also working on the bakery. We are both on leave next week and the next time I post, we should be in the new house.

Totally awesome (as James would say).

PS: I'm going to be back in London on the 15th March and in SA until the 24th. 

Hanging in there

Squirrel from 'Ice Age'

OK, this is me today.

Only 2 more days till my hair appointment. 16 days till we move to our new house. 75 days until the bakery opens.

I'm not wishing away time, but I'm tired of trotting out cottage pie and pouring a million cups of orange juice. I'm sick of treading on children underfoot and nagging at them to tidy up their bedrooms, pick up their wet towels off  the floor and to do their flipping homework and piano practise. If they want to end up as uneducated beach bums, there's plenty of that kind of work around here for them. I could then furnish my new house like an Oliver Messel villa, and not have to worry about the extortionate school fees any more.  We'd all be happy.

Things will definetly improve, I know, but it's Sunday afternoon and I've had enough!

Typical Saturday Night

1. Tyler is working

2. I'm on to my third glass of wine

3. I had every intention of making Swedish meatballs (but see 2) and now just feel cross that there is no Mr Delivery on the island and I never have any ready-made meals in the freezer.

4. The younger two are watching Shrek 5, or whatever, having already watched Shrek 1, 2, 3 and 4.

5. The olderst son and heir is in another country racing (sailing). He left last night, sailing into the sunset, too happy for words (literally). Today I spoke to him:

(accompanying soundtrack-crackling cell phone with background wind)
Anxious mother:  "How are you Jamesy?"
Son & heir: "Fine"
Anxious mother:  "Really, are you  really sure you're fine? I can't believe you capsized twice and were hit by your boom so hard you had to sit out the next 3 races. Was it sore, and are you sure you're OK?"
Son & heir: "Yep"
Anxious mother: "Head not hurting, no pain?"
Son & heir: "I've got a big lump, but I'm fine"
Anxious mother: "Lovey, you're a hero and we love you and you really do not need to sail tomorrow, just be OK and not do anything you don't want to. But so wonderful, well done etc"
Son & heir: "I'm fine..."

You get the picture. Hence the 3 glasses of wine. No Swedish meatballs. No Tyler. Shrek 5.

All I really want now, apart from my husband and son home, is take-aways.

Time for egg soldiers, I suppose.

Coach Omari & the Gang

Move on up

Temptation

So much is on the go this week that this post could also be called "Lots of Balls in the Air" but since the blog statistics show that the post called "Hurricane Paula & the Sex Pistols" has been by far the most well-read blog of all time, I'm a bit reluctant, given the pervie possibilties.

In a nutshell: The (new) Bakery Factory in new premises looks like it is on track and will be open 1 April. Plans are busy been drawn up ready for approval, mainly for the DTI, so we can order the ovens. This also means we are on a two month critical path.  Arggghhhhh.

We are also looking at a bigger abode, because as sweet as our little house is now - it's a shoebox in the suburbs (Tortola's equivalent). Not the stuff of dreams.  Can't say too much (this is an island) except that a large kitchen, double garage, laundry, voluminous sitting room, family room, library, four bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms and sooooo much space to make a middle-aged woman who is inclined towards fantasy interior decoration, weep. It's also in one of the most beautiful parts of the island with a lovely local community and the best surfing. What's not to love you ask yourselves (or rather, "how can they afford this?"). Answer: Bitch driveway. It fulfills all my Everest fantasies, except it would be on a daily basis as opposed to that once-in-a-lifetime experience. I think (know) we'll have to run shuttle services for the cleaner and babysitters. I'm actually going to need that Hummer.

Carrot Bay

Next new big thing: William started his 'proper' sailing lessons today. Tyler said watching the squabs of six year olds trying to drag their little dinghies out of the water and de-rig was so sweet as they fell over themselves and everything else.  James (aged 10) may be sailing his first competitive regatta with the RBVIYC over on St Thomas (US Virgin Islands) this weekend, which will mean he will leave on Friday afternoon and return Sunday evening. He's thrilled but we're a bit apprehensive - it being the first time that one of our "babies" has travelled without us.

Clearly we need to start shifting the gears going forward, as IF we were to move to the new house - it would involve the boys tootling around on their bikes a lot, surfing on their own down in the bay (see above) and getting themselves home. Mr Caribbean Man has also said he'll 'machettee' some space for them around the house too, as well as build them a tree house. It's really, really no longer Parktown North.

If you'd like a good laugh and also some insight into what it's really like to live in the Caribbean read this from my neighbour India Hicks.

Happy Christmas

It's Boxing Day and I'm still in bed, albeit with a nighty and an apron on, as I make sporadic attempts at tidying up the hellhole that is downstairs. I'm reading one of my Christmas presents (Marcella Hazan's Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking) catcing up on emails and Face Book and the world and chatting to my Ma and others on the phone. Tyler is, of course, working. The boys are charging around with walkie talkies shouting things like "send the full army NOW" and "turn DOWN THE VOLUME on your walkie talkie to SURPRISE THEM' and such like. We even have some neighbourhood kids as well, wading through about 2 weeks worth of washing (on the floor) and making more mess.

Someone once mentioned that South Africans generally stop whining about housework after about a year. She said she wasn't sure whether it was because they just got use to it or if their standards radically dropped. It's most definetly the latter. It would never be the former!

Christmas day was lovely. We went to midnight mass on Christmas Eve at our local St Georges (just keeping the continuity with St Georges Cape Town, St Georges Parktown and now St Georges Road Town!). A lovely service, all 2.5 hours of it (!) which saw us stagger out of church at 12:30am. We still managed to fit in some midnight shopping to top up with a few things (like presents...) and Tyler put the ham in the oven when he went to bed at 2am and took it out of the oven when he got up at 4;30am. Extreme cooking, or what?
We had our neighbours in for drinks at 1pm with lots of smoked salmon and champagne and we finally ate lunch at about 5:30pm, after Tyler got home from Scrub Island. We then went next door for pudding and more champagne and then collapsed into bed around 9 and slept like the dead.

To say that the last 2 weeks has been a bit of a marathon is to put it mildly. I honestly dont know how Tyler has kept going, but he has. We've been thrilled with the response to our first efforts and now are champing at the bit to bring in our big ovens and get the factory up and running.

2012 is going to a beeeegg year for us. We're going to try and buy a house, start the business and keep standing. There are also a few over sideshows happening, but we wont dwell on those just yet!

We're off to the Blakes for a mid-afternoon barbecur/braai (can't get use to saying barbecue but no-one knows what we are talking about when we say 'braai') and more eating and drinking.

Hope everyone, everywhere had a lovely day yesterday and are enjoying their holidays. I'm certainly looking forward to mine.

In the meantime there's a few hours of washing up to get through!



Coming back fighting

I wish...

Jane said today that she had nearly eviscerated her family yesterday after doing 3 hours of laundry, which made me laugh so much I realised I must be cheering up. I love articulate mothers.

Since the only way is up, here's what I'm listening to at the moment to get over myself:

I LOVE this song. I do keep wondering if I'll ever grow up (along with wondering if I could manage longer than about a week without alcohol) and when I hear music like this I couldn't care less and just flow: Drake's 'They Know'. Play it loudly in your car for pure joy.

Oh boy I think I may love this song even more. Katy B could be the kind of girl that I might want one of my boys to marry oneday. Maybe. Magnetic Man's 'Perfect Stranger' featuring Katy B. So sweet.

This is what I listen to when I'd rather be eviscrating someone, but put on my Skype headphones instead and play this VERY loudly. It puts my Happy Face back on. The Used's Burning Downing the House. (yes it is the old Talking Heads song). Works every time.

Here's an oldie that still puts a smile on my face, Lupe Fiasco's Superstar. Yep, a song has already been written about me (hahahha).

Also need some Empires of the Sun. This one's for you, Susie G. Missing you : (

OK, some MJB because she's a S.U.R.V.I.V.O.R. I've had this song on a loop before and it features 50 Cent who is also fabulous. "I'm gonna shine until my heart stops".

OK, we also need some airline music since I've just done about 60 hours of flying (that's all the movies, all the playlists and the Duty Free magazines a few times). Kazabian. Very Brit Poppish.

Right, need to go and cook the supper, do the homework, sort out the laundry, finish the webpage for family and remember to smile.

Another day

I feel a bit like the kid in the background

I'm going to spare you yet more birthday parties, beach outings, sailing expeditions to Sandy Spit (George) and whingeing on about howmuch there is to do.

Since that's what we did for most of the week, there's not much else to write about.

The christmas tree has already gone up and we trawled off to 'Christmas on Main Street ' last night which is a cross between  going to see the lights in Regent Street and a large Christmas jumble sale - but nicer. Casting aside all the 'Made in China' stalls, there were gems of local produce (soursop ice cream, guavaberry liquer and tamarind paste for example) and some delightful crafts, beautiful straw hats from Jamaica, lots of fried chicken and henna tattoos. As you all know, shopping here is a challenge. We have also set ourselves the task of getting most of our christmas presents 'on-island' - so luckily I did see a few things last night. We also went to visit Jane who was having her first exhibition. Jane paints images of Caribbean life and I love her 'Festival Angels' series.

Jane Clatworthy

I'm feeling a bit flat post-trip and also with starting up the family business, which has to happen in the afternoons, at night and early mornings. We are doing a small range of goodies like Stollen, biscuits and rubs which we are selling by order. I'm also meant to be finishing off the website today but am feeling too tired to have the patience to fiddle around with photos of biscuits and tinsel. It's also about as wintery as it gets here - rainy, gray and cooler - so the kids are indoors driving me nuts.

I'm off to have tea with a friend and hopefully my mood will improve for a chattier blog next time.

PTA-types



Paris, October 2009


My Mother* was 34 years old when I was born, which was considered old for having children in those days. Not being in the first flush of motherhood when I came along and after a 13 year gap from rearing my brothers, she did in fact have a rather jaundiced view of it all, swiftly dismissing a long list of things such as camping, kiddy birthday parties and school sports days with a shudder saying she’d already “done her bit”.

She also did not have too much time for the mothers of my peers. High on her list of irritating mothers were “The Young Mums” who only spoke about babies at birthday parties (boring). Special horror was reserved for “PTA-Types” whom she found equally boring and slightly alarming. But at the top of the list were “Pushy Mothers”. Her much-used example of a Pushy Mother were the ones who would sit with stop-watches at my brothers Western Province swimming training, haranguing their children to do better. This my mother viewed as rather scandalous, not to mention a bit vulgar. The concept of Tiger Mothers would probably render my Mother speechless.

Needless to say, I did not grow up in a fluffy fug of Barbie Doll Cakes, although I did have my fair share of ballet and Guides and all that. Nothing then to explain this born-again motherhood thing which I'm currently experiencing and am struggling to reconcile. Even as I write this, I’m wearing my Halloween Witchy earrings, having just finished a Halloween Costume Sale at the school in my role as a Grade 5 ‘Class Parent”. I’m hanging around waiting for a PTA “meet the Board” meeting – practicing my Count-to-10-Deep- Breathing-excercises, on the off-chance that I may find the meeting a little bit patronizing. I am ‘transitioning’ the experts will tell you from my old life to my new one. I read these things on the Internet, so I know. I  may however, just have become my Mothers worst nightmare, and I havn't even factored in the Sunday School teaching bit either.

"Did I move to a tropical island to join the PTA?” I ask myself, late at night. It wasn't quite what I had in mind. I was thinking more Cowboy-hat-wearing-yoga-on-beach-Mom when I got here and then I went and joined the PTA.  What was I thinking?

It is true that I have a sneaky admiration for Tiger Mothers (although I’m frankly too lazy to be one myself) and I don't feel productive unless I've tried to enhance or improve just about everything around me and then worried about the kids future SAT scores - but does this make me a Pushy PTA Mother?

The biggest compliment that women seem to pay each other these days is to say that “so and so is really organized”. We all glow with that kind of affirmation and feel like we're actually getting somewhere in our rather chaotic lives.

Maybe I've detoxed just a little too much, and have become far too balanced. Happiness is actually quite a tricky state of mind to be in all the time. You sort of worry that you arn't worrying. So then you go and organise something else and pile it on, in order to give yourself something to worry about. It's like writing out lists only so that you can then cross out the things you've aleady done. I do things like this.

I realise that I definetly need to get to a big city fast** and go shopping for random girly clothes and stop worrying. I'm starting to scare myself.

* My mother reads my blog,and since this is all true, she will not be offended, hey Ma? 
** I arrive in Cape Town on November 4th and Joburg on the 9th November.

Party # 24

Georgie at 9

It was Georgies 9th birthday yesterday, his second one already on the island. We held it at a hotel with a large, sparkly pool and slide which I know seems a bit odd when we are surrounded by crystal, turquoise bath water, but it's considered a big treat by the children. So 18 kids spent 3 hours tearing around the pool, dined out on hotdogs and fruit punch and a happy time was had by all.

All of this was justified, I felt, after another late class party on our balcony, Thursday evening. A tiny rivalry may have developed between Grade 3 and Grade 5 in that the latter stayed longer, drank more and was all round slightly more dishevelled on Friday morning. 

Twenty fourth time I've done this already.....

One friend yesterday mentioned that now that her youngest child had also reached nine,  the big parties had come to an end. She also has 3 kids and had worked out that she had stuffed over 4000 goody bags, made hundreds of cakes, sung happy birthday more times than she could count and had done her bit. As you can probably see, I quite enjoy parties, but I did feel a moment of deep depression when I worked out I had 22 years of baby albums to catch up on. My other thought is that if I don't do it pretty soon I'm probably going to have to make most of it up (First Words: urrrrrrr "juice"/"I started crawling when I was"......urrrrr, 8 months?). It could get silly.

The rest of the week disappeared in the usual boiling hot blur of work, PTA meetings (yes me, do not laugh) and the daily afternoon dance of piano-tennis-sailing-judo-football. The low, low season of September is now over and things will start to pick up again. Must say I've rather enjoyed having the island to ourselves during the summer, but tourists make the world go round.

I've started a rather serious detox programme today (well wouldn't you if you had this lifestyle?). I get to live on bee pollen tablets and aloe vera gel for 9 days.  I'm OK at the moment, but it's only 11am in the morning on the first day. I made the boys pancakes and Barefoot Contessa hot chocolate for breakfast and have to do the chicken roast later. It's pure, pure masochism, really.  Anyhow it needs to be done and only I have  to look at any photograghs taken from about Christmas onwards, to feel totally motivated. It is not going to be easy. I really don't want to think about my first glass of Pinot Grigio or my Monday morning coffee in the office, and will save my bee pollen pills for those moments.

Anyhow thought I'd look at a few food blogs today to make me fell like I'm doing something on the family food business front and totally torture myself with. Then I'll get out the Christmas Album. Then I'll have a bee pollen pill and do some ironing, or something. Maybe I should plan a Detox Party for the middle of the week, when I'm really taking strain?



The Big Boys



A Special Day



Franschoek, Cape Town 1999

 When Georgie saw this photo, he asked slightly alarmed  "what's the black stuff on dad's head?" That will be hair, George.

It's our wedding anniversary today and amazingly Tyler got the day off, so reason enough in itself to celebrate. Not that we need another party.

Last night we went to the islands answer to Truman Capote's Black & White Ball held in the 60's, although ours was just white it was equally as glamorous.  This island is very good at enjoying itself. On Wednesday evening we had our Grade 3 class parents round for a drink (I'm Class Mom) on the balcony and despite a power failure and a heavy storm, everyone only went home when the wine ran out. On a Wednesday...

The boys are cooking dinner for us tonight, and I can hear much debate and planning going on in the kitchen at the moment (I've just heard James say "I need some stations"). We have provided the roast beef bought in St Thomas (US Virgin Islands) a few weeks back but the rest is up to them. Tidying up is also part of the treat. William is determined to make an apple pie and Jame's wanted to have chilli con carne as a starter, until we explained that beef folllowed by beef was a bit much. Now I think it's nachos. I've also noticed that there's a bottle of Lanson in the fridge, so who's worrying?

It was exactly 2 years to the day that we decided to move back to the BVI, where Tyler was born and grew up. We had a big 10 year anniversary party in our Johannesburg garden (frankly we never thought we'd see the day, so a party was definetly in order) and at 5am sitting in the bedoiun tent, winding down after everyone had left, we thought "what next" and here we are.

Although the move has been a huge test on our relationship and we have our 'moments'  like everyone else - things have been good. The role reversal has been a shock and Tyler's hours as a chef have been gruelling for all. I've ended up doing a lot of single parenting and still struggle, in my post-modern feminist way, with the housework & endless Driving Children Everywhere. However I have a strong sense that we'll survive (despite dinner tonight) and hopefully grow old gracefully together.

Love you T. Thank you for a wonderful life. xxx

Shoes, caps and sanity

Photo by Ed Childs

I've been reluctant to comment too much on the new found joys of full-time parenting as I still have my big L plates on, but I finally have to say something:

Corporate life had its challenges - impossible deadlines, lovable clients and enough politics to make one feel like the little moonblind owls in Guardians of the Legend. Thinking that I'd be leaving chronic stress far behind me, believe me when I say that it all pales into insignificance when compared to the daily challenge of trying to get three little boys ready & out of the house every morning. 

You think you'd get use to it, but you don't, or at least better at it. I approach this task every day with a mixture of dread and determination. I’ve applied systems, processes, bribery, threats of violence, Oscar-worthy screeching Lady Macbeth monologues and have invoked every saint and occasionally Satan to smite the little darlings down – and nothing NOTHING makes the slightest bit of difference.

Everyday at least one child does not have a water bottle or a hat (we lose a cap a week) or matching shoes . We can never find the right suncream (the one William is not allergic too) but can always find the 10 year old bottle of SPF15 Piz Buin. Inevitably the children are dressed in a peculair mixtures of clashing stripes and checks, to which my general view is as long as it includes a hat, then sod it. 

I cannot understand why it is so hard to co-ordinate 3 sets of packed lunches/3 bowls of oatmeal/3 sets of shoes/caps/the brushing of teeth & hair/feeding a cat, some chickens and a parrot, but it is a seemingly impossible task and quite hard on Madam Type-A-Taurus.

We're all left feeling shell-shocked and full of remorse by 8:30 every morning, vowing to do better the next day.

Until just as you're getting in the car - one child cannot find their hairbrush, one hasn't got a belt on so  he's holding up his shorts (for the rest of the day?) and the cat is doing flic-flacs for it's Ocean Sensations and nobody has noticed. It's like finger on the rocket button, and I'm off into ballistic Lady Mac ranting mode again.

Without sounding too much like Charlie & Lola.... I Absolutely Cannot Wait For My Holidays, which kick off next weekend when we are off to San Juan (yes, I know, another island, but a beeeg one) for 5 days.

I'll be happy to feed the children from the mini-bar all week and they can stay in their pyjamas all day long if they want and watch American TV till their eyes fall out, but I'm determined to have a "Where's-your-hat-waterbottle-shoes-bag-suncream-rashie" Free Week. 

I'll officially be sane again in about 3 weeks, and I'll have my first full year of Parenthood in the bag. In fact we should all be experts by then, just like the corporate world really.

Endless Summer, coming up shortly

RFA Waveruler in the Channel - for some reason this makes me happy

This week just felt like it was never going to end. Mothers and children are almost on their knees by now, counting down the hours till schools out (next Thursday). My first season as a full-time mother has been long and interesting. We all really, really need a holiday.

It is now officially bloody hot. It must also be summer as our Royal Navy friend,  RFA Wave Ruler has replaced the mega yachts (who have all go down to the Trinidad hurricane shelters for Summer) and is moored out in Drake Channel again. The boys keep a watch with the binoculars from the balcony ("I can see canons..."). Apparently an active Hurricane Season is expected – so some compulsive Weather Channel watching coming up again, interspersed with a few moments of potential anxiety for us.....

Many people are disappearing back to England and other places for the next few months. Restaurants are starting to close until October/November and there are no cruise ships coming in. It’s just going to be us locals banging about the island for a while now, panting in the shade and having the place to ourselves for a bit.

Hard to think that it’s already the end of June and that in 2 months time, we would have been here for a year. The children are slowly acquiring Mid-Atlantic accents and James has definitely got the long-haired-trilby-hat-bermuda shorts-island-surfer-dude-thing down pat.

The boys are very excited about doing lots of sailing during the summer and I’m compulsively drawing up lots of schedules in the hope that it will all just organize itself.   

Tyler is back on night shifts again for a bit, so we have a quiet weekend coming up. Our mango trees are covered in hundreds of mangoes and I need to get on with some chutney-making and other domestic delights. Can't wait.

A good friend has just moved in next door, and so we now have a little road of kids whizzing up and down on their bicycles and running in and out of each others houses. Not quite Stepford Wives,  more Melrose Place, but all very cosy.

Time to go and fry the Waitrose Cod Fish Fingers for the children's supper. I know I'm a chef's wife and that the carbon footprint on this one really sucks. Frankly, right now -  I really, really don’t care.

PS: This is what kept me going this week. Magnetic Man - I Need Air (Yes, I related to this sadly). I am really, rather completely  utterly in love with this song. What's wrong with me?  I'm becoming this 40-year old ++  Rave Bunny. Must be the sun. (PS Don't watch the video - too many Hoodies on E).

A Luta Continua*

All of us looking a bit frazzled after Scrub Island

I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that one of the key reasons for us moving halfway around the world was so that I could scale down and spend more time with the boys. Up until very recently, ‘mothering’ used to be something that I did when I wasn’t working. Now, it seems that working is something that I do when I’m not being a mother. The mindshift which this has required, plus the matching skillset, has made moving to a tropical island look like a complete cupcake, by comparison.

Although I spent the weekends and long holidays with the kids in South Africa (and considered myself a “hands-on” mother, as one SAHM* rather pompously informed me she was) Tyler and the nannies were their day-to-day ‘carers’ – the people who sorted out their socks, did dentist appointments, poured a million juices, clipped 80 toe & finger nails and did all the things that children require a hundred times a day, 365 days a year. I just felt like I swooped in for the glamorous stuff.

The kids don’t appear to have suffered as a result of my absences but I always felt like I did. I didn’t want the increasing list of missed birthdays, school nativity plays and other rites of passage to grow – and I was increasingly haunted by that old chestnut about how one reflects on one’s death bed about how one spent one’s time in life.

So armed with my Cath Kitson MBA kind of view on life, I jumped in, nine months ago to being (a) full time mom (b) full time housewife and (c) semi part-time worker in a trust company. I honestly thought New-York-Times-reading- Martha-Stewart- channelling- Domestic-Goddess Yummy Mummy.

Oh hahahahahahahahahha. Oh hahahahahhahaha. Ha ha ha ha. Nothing can prepare one for the endless humility and sheer selfishness which is required to do this, not to mention the torrid amount of mess that 3 little boys can generate. That kids lose their shoes ALL THE TIME, never pick up their Lego and never put the lids back on the felt-tip pens EVER! Nobody mentioned the industrial quantities of Spaghetti Bolognese which has to be cooked, the three PE schedules which have to be remembered and the 60 birthday parties per annum to be endured.

And this is all before any ‘parenting’ as such happens - the guiding of three little souls and the imparting of wisdom and knowledge which we must do as responsible, middle class parents. Most of the time one is just too exhausted for this bit. It mainly seems to boil down to “have you finished your homework/practised your scales/found your library book?” Good, goodnight then.

Mostly it’s a blur from the minute I get up (currently 5am) till I fall into bed. I'm definitely not one of those 'bright & breezy' moms who uncomplainingly makes endless peanut butter sandwiches (“there’s the bread, there’s the butter, do it yourself”) and I seem to spend a lot of time ranting at the children and often can be found muttering darkly about the cavalier qualities of a five year old, an eight year old and a 10 year old.

Like every other mother, I suspect, on the planet.

Being a bit of a novice about all of this - I try and take it as it comes and enjoy it all whilst pondering where a million socks go to die. I have to remind myself to keep my sense of humour, swear less, wait until at least 6:30pm until I have that first glass of wine and dig more sandcastles. I wouldn’t change this for anything in the world and deep in my heart I secretly enjoy being a bit of a martyr – so I clearly have the makings of a matriarch.

So here's to all the real and wonderful mothers that I know – Viva Mothers day, Viva! A luta continua!

* 'A Luta Continua' means 'The Struggle Continues' - for all you post-Eighties babes who dont know your Che Guevaro's from your Sandanistas!
*SAHM = Stay at Home Mother. Also see WAHM – Work at Home Mother

The Simple Life is Hard Work

Just to make things more fun, Tyler fell off his scooter bike yesterday and is now known as the "Limping Chef'.  Lots of 'owieees' and a badly dented rented bike, ups the anti just a little bit more.

I thought I would post my shopping list from  yesterday.  Hyde Park, it is not:

1. Large roll non-stick gauze
2. 1 hospital size pack of clinical gauze
3. 5 boxes antiseptic cream
4. 5 rolls Micropore
5. 20 pound sack chicken feed
6. 3 yards shade cloth (for veg patch)
7. 10 pots (couldn't help myself because was at the garden centre anyway) unidentified pretty flowering plants
8. 3 Bottles of cheap South African wine (to keep me happy)
9. 6 X Heineken
10. 6 X O'Douls (to keep Tyler happy)
11. 1 box Orea 'Funstix; (to keep boys happy)
12. 1 gallon Clorox (bleach) to keep cleaner happy. Her nickname is The Chlorox Queen, as she bleaches everything in sight

The rest of the weekend was spent applying all these things so at least the house is clean, the clothes are washed, we've had enough of a social drinks out  in the dying hours of Sunday evening for me not to feel too martyrish. I think I'm going to have to moonlight in the office this week, I have so much to do by Saturday.

It's the weeeekend , babeeee

It's Friday afternoon, after a good week in the islands.  The daily squall is open us, and once it passes over - I've watched it come in over the sea from St Croix - I'm off to take the boys to swim some laps in the Nanny Cay pool, as we worry a bit about their swimming (sploshing in the sea is not equal to a few lengths of crawl & backstroke). One has to work quite hard on the competitive side of things here, it all being a bit laid back (unless it's tennis or sailing). I'm still transitioning to my Dragon Mother persona, though one has to be pretty single-minded here to get even close.

After a quiet weekend last week and 2 exceptionally abstemious weeks, tomorrow is a Big Night Out. Whilst the annual 'Rotary Gala Dinner Dance' may not sound like the height of sophistication, this is apparently the social event of the year - attended by the Great & the Good, including the uncrowned prince of the BVI, Richard Branson.

I've managed to squeeze into a 6 year old dress,  borrowed some nail varnish and am having the hair done. What's even more exciting is that it's been held on Scrub Island (although this does mean  unfortunately that Tyler gets to do two back-to-back double shifts -7am to 11pm) so we're going to stay overnight on Saturday, and have a nano-weekend break, WITHOUT THE KIDS!  Just the very thought of someone else making the beds and cooking the dinner is enough to get me into a complete froth of excitment.

Only other big news is that we have added 4 chicks to our menagerie, got to see the Christmas pantomime (Cinderella) and finally got our Christmas presents sent from Cape Town.

It's half-term on Monday, and  we're off  with a couple of mums & kids to a little island called Marina Cay, for the day.

I think I may almost be happy.

Bonds, equities & potato prints

Source: BVI Beacon taken on 20 Jan

For those of you who don't quite know what I do when I sit in the office in the mornings (I think that is everyone?) what I'm really doing is paving the way, through my growing knowledge of the stock market, for my first mega yacht - like the one above..  When we first saw it on Monday morning on the way to school  the boys were jumping up and down screeching "look at the submarine" - which it does look a bit like, or maybe something out of a ropey Austin Powers movie

But  I, of course, knew better.  Because of my job (monitoring the performance of our trusts and mutual funds under investment) I get to do a lot of reading of the Wall Street Journal, Bloombergs, the FT & Yahoo Finance,  which means I'm learning an inordinate about Russian oligarchs, 'Wealth & How to Spend It' and mega yachts. So I just happenend to know that this yacht, called 'A' is the largest mega yacht in the world and belongs to some 30-something year old Russian. You can read all about it in the WSJ link above.  Now, we do get to see our fair share of mega yachts in the 'Hood, but this one really takes the prize for unfettered ostentation and FUness - all $300 million of it. Anyhow, nothing like a little bit of bad taste to brighten up a Monday, and T tells me that they went and scraped it on the Scrub Island dock as well, so that made us feel even better.  





Boys at Sailing Club

 We've had a good week with T still doing day shifts and things getting back to the new normal. Our children are becoming as scheduled as any other global, middle class kidsters - with soccer, sailing, extra maths etc. Luckily we get to chuck it all up and go to Cane Bay Garden on a Friday afternoon - the kids get to play with about 30 of their best friends until the sun sets, and the moms have a few Painkillers or GODW (glass of dry white) and relax a bit. This Friday was extra special, as the fisherman trawlled their nets off the beach, and they had 30 over-excited expat children 'helping' them bring in the fish. This was all happening as the sun was setting. The cruise ships had all gone, there were only 'locals' on the beach and it was so magical that we were all secretively thinking that this was exactly the reason why we put up with island life, for moments like that. Wish I had my camera there.

My solution to digging myself out of  melancholy is usually to get hyper-organised and 'do things'.  In a moment of pure madness, I signed up to run a craft workshop for 5 year olds once a week (WHY?) and now I'm faced with my first one on Wednesday. I'm feeling hugely daunted - flat-out terrified actually, and will understand the psychology of it all at some later stage - but there you go. I'm running a toddlers craft group. Amazing.