When I started this blog, I had no intention – or dream- for it. I love writing, and apparently, other people like my writing too, which is why, I guess, I get paid to do it. I write whenever I feel compelled to: when I can’t use my voice to express; when I need an escape. Just the other day I found my pregnancy diary. It did not include inserts of doctor follow-ups or an eating plan. It had a letter to my unborn child on every page, written to her as if she already existed outside of my body.

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Hanaan, ready to step into a magical world at Uncle Paul’s Christmas Party (2015)

So, I’m writing today, because this week put me through my paces, and it hasn’t stopped. The thing is…I quite enjoy it and I’ve stopped feeling guilty about it. This week, my position as a project manager, writer and creative director, had me working 12 hour days. I’m at my desk right now, preparing for another long day.

While I do sometimes battle with guilt because during weeks like this, I see my daughter maybe one or two hours for the day, I’m a quality over quantity kind of mom.

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The time I do see her, it’s magical. Like treating her to a foot-spa treatment at home (using all her natural products of course) or making yummy Rice Krispies and marshmallow sticky, chocolaty treats. (I remember making those as a kid…Mmmm)

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She’s three. A three year old who understands that I absolutely LOVE waking up and going to work. Not because I want or have to, but because I choose to. I choose to show her that leaving her in the morning is a choice I make and stand by. That may sound harsh, but here’s the facts:

A year ago, she’d ask: Mommy, why are you going to work? I’d say: Because I have to, my darling. I set a precedent for her to believe that work TAKES me away from her. Now, when she asks, I say: Because I love what I do and I choose to go. For just over a year now, her understanding of the working world, at least my working world, involves love, choice and fun, and guess what, I still come home.

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When we tell kids to share, we hear: we’re teaching them to be kind (nothing wrong with that), but what do they hear? If I have to share with her/him, I have less of what’s mine. (that’s a fact). I always try to say things like: “She does not have that particular toy, and she thinks it’s very interesting. Would you like to show her how cool that is?” Not always, but most times, she chooses to let go of her stuff even if only for a few minutes.

A few months ago, she got some money from her ma she found under the couch – a R1 coin. We stopped by the superrette for bread, and a kid (roughly five years old) approached us for money. Hanaan asked me why she asks for money. I explained that she may not have of her own, and if we can, and feel like we want to share, we should give to those who have less than us. We drove off after I checked my purse which had no cash. Between leaving the store and driving to the traffic lights a few meters away, she shouted at her dad to turn the car around. “But mommy, I have and I want to give it to her.” We immediately turned around, and she gave the money (the only money she believed she had) to the little girl. I told her that it was a very nice thing to do. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Her face showed me that she got so much more than a R1 could buy.

I always try to be a mom who is present. Present in the moment, present to her feelings, her reactions, the connections she makes. It is my feelings, reactions and connections I make in her presence, that she absorbs and uses to form her own view of the world.

I want her view to be hers, not mine.

Here’s to a long and productive Friday, because I know there are 10 little toes waiting for me to massage them this evening 🙂 And to top it off, she always insists on doing mine afterwards 😀

Happy Friday, all!

Shaf

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