Oh, Betty, where are you?

Tertia writes in her blog, So Close, of her kids that needed to see the paediatrician while she was away on a business trip. She organized her father's driver (!) to pick up Rose and the children and take them off to the paedi.

Oh! Sigh! Why didn't I cherish my Meisie / Betty / Katrina more? I remember the day I was catering for a wedding and she phoned me to work to tell me that the dog had jumped on the table demolishing the pork roast, which was already neatly sliced and sauced. I sent her to buy a new one, cook it, garnish it and have it ready by the time I got home to rush to the function. And she did! What about all the times she cooked, cleaned, folded and sorted for me, that I didn't find so spectacular. I even grumbled when the laundry was less than spotless! I was particular about the spider webs BEHIND the toilet. I frowned at the carpet not being 100 % square to the door. What a pain I must have been as an employer!

As a Cleaner, I'm absolutely useless. OK, granted, I do work (teach) full time. (And if any of you have any illusions that teachers work half-day or have holidays, think again.) In NZ we have no Betty, no Rose, no cleaner. I just don't feel comfortable having a strange woman in my house, that is not Betty, or Rose, or Happiness, or Beauty. Djy wiet!

Now this is my predicament. I'm leaving for SA in 2 day's time. The 4 teenagers are staying alone, and I've arranged for a cleaner. Now I've had wonderful cleaners over the years in SA. I've felt comfortable having them inspect my house / scrub the toilets / fold the laundry. My cleaning ladies have become my confidante, my children's other mom, and a trusted friend. I knew what to expect, and knew how to act. And I was never embarrassed my house's lack of cleanliness. I could always blame it on the just-departed Betty / Rose or Happiness.

But now my new cleaner is called Karen de Vos. She sounds really well educated, and speaks Afrikaans, like me. We're on the same social rung! Only I'm a teacher, and she's a professional cleaner. I won't elaborate, but if you're South African, you'll understand my feelings about this! (Of course she'll be getting a professional cleaner's wage, too!)

'Mev. Karen de Vos' is coming to see me on Saturday morning about the job. I'm so nervous. I hope I'll have time to tidy up and clean before she comes! How would you feel in this situation?

Permanent Residency - At Last!

After months of admin, waiting and paying very large amounts of NZ$ to Immigration NZ, we finally got the letter this week: Our Permanent Residency has been approved. Just a final payment, stamps in the passport, and the children and I are set.

Having PR is a huge, huge benefit. Firstly, no more annual visa applications. Hospitalisation and some other social benefits come our way. And university study is so much cheaper and easier. We are so excited - more so, because we're on our way to South Africa for a short visit, and having the all-important documentation means no stress at customs when we come back. Hooray!

Best of all - the two older kids can now legally find part-time jobs. No more pocket money. No more excuses. No more sullen teenagers hanging around the house. (Actually that's not fair - they're mostly all quite nice.) But it will be nice for them all to have some extra cash, like all the other Kiwi youngsters!

He'll always be my little boy!

Just moments ago, he was a little toddler with dark, brown eyes, grabbing my finger to walk around the swimming pool.

A year or so later, he was sitting on the couch with his arms folded, lisping "Alleme Dalla kly net altyd laas". (Afrikaans for 'Poor Dalla is always in trouble' - after all the busy grown-ups had kept sending him away from one to another...) Eyes looking trustingly up at his mum, knowing I would come to his rescue.

In my mind's eye I still see his big, serious brown eyes looking at me with such ernestness the day after his father died. He was only eight, and he told me that I was not to worry - he would be the man of the house now.

My little boy woke up with a severe tummy ache at 2 o'clock this morning. After hours of waiting, worrying, waiting some more, he was taken for an emergency appendectomy! Today I had to watch while they stuck needles in my baby. Prodded him and poked him. He was so brave, and stoic and trying not to upset me. The worst moment was when he was wheeled into the operation theatre, with me waving teary-eyed from a distance. More waiting around, worrying, a few nervous tears and poor hubby trying to keep the show on the road. Eventually after 3 hours we were told he was in recovery. At last, the waiting was over. I just wanted to be with my son. After the surgery he looked so helpless, and sweet and I longed to cuddle him on my lap.

But... today he would have none of this. Obviously annoyed and embarrassed by his doting mum, he closed his eyes, much like he used to when he was small, and he had thought that I couldn't see him if his face was covered. Problem is, he's eighteen now, taller than me, quite hairy, and making eyes at the nurses!

image: http://polvo.org/april07/Emergency.jpg

Home Again... in three weeks!

In little less than three weeks, I'll be back on African Soil. Hubby and I are going for a quick visit to see his 13 yr old daughter and other family. I'm excited and filled with trepidation all at the same time!

There's so much to do before we go. So many things to organize. Gifts to buy. Kids to worry about.

So much to be excited about. So much to worry about. So much To Do!

Excited about...

• The day we'll spend en route in Singapore - never been there before!
  
• Seeing all our family, especially my sister's babies!
• Shopping in shops I grew up with. Oh Pick & Pay, Clicks and Woolworths, how I miss you!
  
• Spending NZ Dollars, which convert nicely to R6 each!
• A meal at the Spur. I'll probably have a Manhattan Mushroom Melt, with a Salad Valley on the side. Yummy! (Probably about 6 million Kj, but who cares - I can't have them here!)
• Spending time walking on the long Jeffreys Bay beach, hopefully in the sunlight!
• Listening to music with my Dad. Painting with my Mum. Arguing with my brother-in-law (who's a lawyer, and such a lovely man!) Chilling out with my sister. Giggling with my Aunt. And sharing a couple of Tassies around a braai with all the rest.
  
• Playing with the new puppy. (We can't have a dog - we're renting!)
  

Worried about...

• Will I want to come home to NZ again? Will I like what I see there?
  
• Crime... I have been held up at gunpoint before - don't want to go throught the trauma again... Yikes...
• Will my R6's be able to buy there, what my $NZ dollar buys here?
• Will the family be nice to me? And the step-daughter? And the Mother-in-law(s)?
  
• Has my accent changed? Will they think I'm different? Am I still in fashion in SA?
  
• Will my kids, who are all staying behind in the care of the Eldest Brother, be OK?
• What if they stop me at customs when I come back? What if they don't let me back in the country? What if our money runs out?
  
• What if, what if, what if....

TO DO's:

• Shopping lists for kids to do Internet grocery shopping.
• Emergency fund for my friend Tina, in case the kids need emergency care.
• Get Tina, Faith and Marcia to phone the kids on alternate days.
• Arrange for the twins to stay with friends on weekends.
  
• Stock up on cat food, toilet paper and bread and milk.
  
• Arrange for a cleaner the day before we get back.
• Pack.
• Call a taxi.
• Get on the plane.

See you soon!