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    Day 5 –  Mirror mirror on the wall


    Somewhere between Saturday and Tuesday I lost it. 

    No all my marbles are still rolling around happily in this mad head of mine.. I lost something even worse.. THE LIST

    I carefully constructed my wish list last week. In detail describing exactly what I have in mind and how I want to do it. In total 50 things that I deemed important.

    Now that list is gone. And for the life of me I can’t even start to think of more than 15 tasks that needs doing.

    I suspect one of the Brady bunch is part of the disappearing act. For the last 5 days Ive been reminding them of exactly what still needs doing. On asking them they were too helpful as well. Looking everywhere even moving objects around on the shelves. (Miracle!!)

    It is also convenient that the garbage truck came early this morning.

    How amazing is it that they fight and taunt each other but a time of need they stand together like one. ALL 5 of them.


    I wish I could forget that the garage and basement is still filled with boxes or that the garden needs weeding. Unfortunately I remembered them first. Honestly, Im not up to doing that today. I then remembered that I have a cupboard bursting of old clothes that is begging for my mercy and attention.


    So I started with clearing out my cupboard. Middle child decided to join in the fun.

    First the fat clothes… Threw them out unceremonially  I never want to fit into them again. After some thought I returned it to the lonely corner on the top shelve. You never know how long this lockdown will continue for so Ill keep it for incase…

    Then the clothes that I’ve outgrown. Looking at some of it, I giggled outload. How on earth did I in any universe think that they were suited me? This was way before the Windpomp craze. This was right after the all black is back and just before layering started. 12 year old girly flinched when I offered them to her.

    This pile was pretty easy to ditch. Not even my teenager liked it. Apparently there is such a thing as NOT cool vintage.

    Next came the skinny clothes. The ones that you love so much that you keep just in case you ever loose so much weight that they will fit. They are usually Pre-baby wear and some of the jeans won’t even go past my calve. Let alone my thighs and love handles.  I tried. I jumped up and down on one leg trying to balance myself.. At this stage junior’s eyes lit up.

    She took a couple and fitted it. Some of them sat unlawfully right and some had some space to grow in. It hit me like a rock on the head that my little girl is now a women. In every sense she is not the small huggable cute ladybug that snuggled in my arm for bedtimes. The one that I could carry easily on my back to bed when she fell asleep next to me.

    I looked at her and saw a 1.82m tall young lady with the most gorgeous starry brown eyes and legs to kill for. She smells like Candy, her favourite perfume. I teared up and gave her a hug.

    I was once her. I had the world at my feet with all the time in the world to concur all my dreams and demons. I had plans. I spent 4  years abroad and had no urgency what so ever. Tomorrow was also another day.

    She left the room with her newly founded stash skipping down the wooden stairs.

    I turned around looking in the mirror. The face looking back looked familiar. On closer inspection I saw my mom.

    Her crow’s feet deepening when she laughed, the loose(er) skin around the neck . I used to make fun of her Turkey neck. Now mine is starting to show.

    I saw a stubborn grey chin hair that I missed in my morning ritual of plucking and pruning. This is a sign that hormones are setting in.

    The grey regrowth that comes too quickly after a visit to my hairdresser.

    Somewhere in there I also see me.

    The fine lines are part of the roadmap that I followed to get here. The love handles are visuals of all the times I cooked my kids’ favourite meals and my long black hair is a sign of my husband’s adoration. ( I was threatened with corporal punishment or something alike if I dared to cut it shorter than bra length. On the other hand….. mmmm…)

    Then I hear an excited “Mamma, Mamma!!!”

    Behind me stood my 7 year old. She had a lady bug in her hand. “Mamma. Dis ‘n liewenheersbesie”

    Her grandma taught her that a ladybug brings good luck. She felt the need to bring me some together with an I love you and looooong kiss.


    I don’t want to be a young adult again. Goodness gracious. Going back to the time where I had more guts that brains sounds like a bad Idea to me. I barely made it alive through my first round. Thank goodness there werent any cellphones with cameras back then. If Insta was a thing I would have been in so much trouble! Luckily all the evidence that is left of those carefree days are conversations with friends that catch up every now and again, and some old pictures somewhere in a stuffy album.

    I can still stand my ground when the kids dont want to listen. I know better.. I lived through 1999

    I’m content with what I have now. I am loving this mom thing (sometimes) and I adore my kids (mostly). I married the love of my life that understands me (debatable).


     I am ME