bad parenting

All the love in the world

When you fall  in  love for the first time, you always think it will last forever.

Remember the little love letter bantering back and forth promising forever to the boy who stole a kiss on your cheek in the 3rd grade?love hurts

As you grow older you realize there is a lot more than just one kind of love. There is the feeling of love towards your parents, that goes hand in hand with the craving of acceptance, and the love you feel for your children, the very best and most strongest kind (we were born that way).

Then as you grow into a teenager there is the secret love from a star struck boy, his biggest wish to be noticed by you and whom you let take you on one date or two, but feel no fireworks for – and barely notice his affection for you.

 Sometimes you are the girl secretly head over heels in love with a boy who gives you (and so many others) a date or two, and each one of the long string of girls (including you) think you will be the keeper of his heart… but alas, he forgets you and moves on.

And the sad type – the unrequited love, where you are the unseen one, the “friend”, but wanting so much more in your heart than just friendship from him or her.

By the time you are in your early 20’s you begin looking for the real thing,… Continue reading

Bedtime Stories

Now don’t get me wrong. Writing in my blog is not to get back at anybody, or aimed at anyone. My shrink thought it was a good idea to write about my life, and needy person that I am – I still need feedback, good or bad, and anonymous people on the net is a good start, don’t you think?


Like they say in the movies (and in Despicable me it’s my favorite) : “Any relation to persons living or dead is completely coincidental…” *snicker*

But I digress.

So for me growing up in a single parent home was the norm. Now when I say single parent I actually mean my nanny Willemien.   She was our (me and my brother’s) live in maid for most of our formative years.   She was a wonderfully warm, chubby, loving and giving soul, who grew “maroggo” in the back garden, and cooked it like spinach and gave it to us with pap.   She made “Cool Aid” icicles with the ice cube tray and stuck toothpicks in them to give to us on hot summer afternoons after our round of “rugby” with the neighborhood kids in our back yard.

My mother?  well, she was at work.   Always at work.

And when she was not working, she was out with her many male friends, or at a work party.  One of the last visits we had approximately in 2007  I invited them over for a Sunday lunch.  They… Continue reading

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