Blog 4 – Fantastical Fantasy?

I was watching a movie earlier this evening (it was a pathetic thriller) I can just hear Chad saying: “What a waste of an hour and a half of my life”. The one character states she will never allow her children to believe in Santa, the Tooth Fairy, or the Easter Bunny as the disappointment would be too much when the children find out that’s all fantasy. (Wait a minute – you do realise these are fictional – right?) It immediately took me back to when I was a little girl. Ok, before we go back on a journey with Dizabeth as a little girl it is quite an interesting topic. Besides religious reasons, what’s your opinion? I will let you know mine at the end of this, so yip, if you are intrigued as to my opinion, read on dear reader, read on.

I am very sure my precious sister will recall our childhood and fantasies in it. No, no, don’t get sidetracked here, I am not talking about that kind of fantasy.

So, not dissing my mom, but she wasn’t ever really a contender for mom of the year award, ever, in fact she was an oddball. I am not saying this disrespectfully, I told her plenty times, she was a mom’s A (arse). She and I fought plenty in my growing up years, she was quite strange and very, very strict. But you know, in a very big way, I thank her. I (Gary and I actually) have always, always received the most amazing compliments regarding both our gorgeous boys. When sleeping over at friends as kids, be it at school, where ever they were, they were always well mannered and just damn nice, salt of the earth boys. They still make us proud every day. (Well no, not every day that’s a huge exaggeration but you know what I am meaning).  So, I do believe, in some bizarre way both Karen and I took the nice things that my mom had instilled in us, and did our best at raising damn fine kids. Yip, now I have added Karen’s kids into the mix. But truly they are four damn fine humans, they really are. So thanks Mom for that strange bit of spice you threw into the recipe of Life, and our teachings.

Right, casting my mind back now. I recall when we were kids, my mom used to instruct (yip I told you she was strict!)  Karen and I to bath, eat dinner, and then right after dinner, she would tell us to meet her on her bed, and story time commenced. Now before I go on, it was only when I was in Matric (yip took me this long to figure it out!) at around 6amish I would be getting ready for school, my dad would lift us (that’s a whole new story) and my mom would be sitting in the lounge, (she was an early riser, and would be up at 5 am) with her really, really tall glass of “water”. Now this really, really tall glass of water, had a yellowish tinge to it, and she would always, after taking huge gulps of it say she was really thirsty and so loved her “water”. It was odd to me, how this “water” used to really change her, she would start speaking Swahili. I finally worked it out! The water was in fact wine. Yip, my mom was an alcoholic. I have to say, I do believe I am too. You get different types of alcoholics I know. And it’s for this reason, I do believe, I am one of these types (that, dear reader is also a story for another time and oh my word, trust me you will be needing tissues from wiping away your tears when you read that and not because it’s not a sad story, it’s a hugely crazy, funny one). So yikes I really digressed this time! So, there are Karen and myself sitting on my moms and dads bed (No it wasn’t a big feather bed, shucks remember that song “Grandma’s Featherbed – we once had a class assembly and I remember us singing that – good memory that – truly lovely memory).  So there we were, on the bed, and my mom, clearly having consumed a glass (hmmm more than likely a bottle) of wine, would truly take us on the most incredible journey. Their headboard was quite plush, with buttons on it. Do you remember that fashion? In fact, I still see it around. So, mom would let either Karen or I choose a button to push, oh wait, that’s right, each button represented a different Land. The Land of Chocolate, or Toys, Princesses etc., and once we hand pushed that button. Oh my word, she truly was amazing, inebriated or not I recall truly, truly believing we were visiting that land we had chosen. Shame even as I type this, I get a warm fuzzy feeling, those were really special times.

When it came to Christmas and Easter mom really made it a magical time. I do recall my dad’s attitude. Oh, my word he was a cantankerous father. In fact, he was a cantankerous human.  He would always say “this is just commercial god damn bullshit” if I think about it now, he was probably always so bummed at the amount of money my mom spent on making sure our Christmases and Easters were the very best. Now, this dear reader is my favourite season. Funny, Karen, doesn’t enjoy Christmas time. (Not too sure how she feels about Easter) but she always says she finds Christmas stressful. The rushing around, the crowds the whole shebang are not for her. Me, Oh my word Christmas especially is my absolute favourite. Decorating the house – I collect Santa’s. My collection is truly truly magical, the real old-world Santa’s. They range in different attire, but ah I treasure them.  I wonder if the boys will love them as much as I do one day when I pass on. Interesting that? When Ryan in particular was small, I recall taking a pair of Gary’s work shoes and throwing baby powder on the floor, from the front door leading to the Christmas tree. I was so chuffed with myself for my originality. (Never mind the total waste of a whole tub of powder and the blady sore back I had). That is till Ryan came stumbling through, glanced at the “snowy” footprints, and asked why I had thrown baby powder all over the floor.

Who agrees with me, the kid’s advent calendars were a true waste of money when bought when they were three or four (maybe even five) they would eat them all in one swoop. Talking chocolate Easter fills me with wonderful memories of my childhood.  Each Easter we had an aunt and uncle (now I am not sure if they really were our aunt and uncle – when we were young even the folks’ friends were classed as our aunts and uncles) so not too sure to this day which Uncle Les and Aunty Renee were, but my word they used to arrive with the most impressive, biggest Easter eggs I had ever seen. Karen would – I actually don’t know how the heck she got them up there, but she used to display them on her curtain pelmet. I of course had wolfed all of mine and would look longingly at hers I don’t recall if she ever did eat them, or shared them with me. Funny enough, my brother-in-law, Gerard, apparently did the exact thing as Karen as a kid. But his siblings were way cleverer than me, they used to carefully remove the fancy foil wrapper, take chunks out of the back of the molded bunny and Gerard would never realise.

When the boys were much younger it was our Easter Tradition, friends and ourselves would hire a bunny suit, and with the kids in tow, we all trekked down the South coast. Each evening us adults would party up a storm, and I recall Easter Sunday before the kids awoke we would drag ourselves out of bed and go hide a copious and wide variety of eggs in the garden. An Easter egg hunt was order of the day. Gary would dress up as the Easter bunny, and we would ensure the kids got a sighting as the Bunny hopped around the garden. All ran swimmingly every year. Until one year, Ryan sidled up to me and asked “Mom how come the Easter bunny has the same watch as dad, and mom, where is dad?”  He probably was about six and Ricky seven, the next Easter we had to swear both boys to secrecy as their younger brothers watched in awe as the Bunny hopped around.

Talking Bunnies. When both boys were small, they loved their dummies and bottles. Ryan in particular truly loved his bottle. We were on holiday in the Cape and I recall Uncle Percy telling Ryan that when it was his birthday the Birthday Bunny would come and take his bottle for the baby bunnies. I remember us prepping him for weeks before his birthday. The day his birthday dawned my heart quietly broke for him (I know how I feel to this day when someone says the bottle of wine is finished) but he did us proud and bravely accepted that the Bunny had taken his bottle. Chad, now he adored his dummy and as much as he adored them he also constantly lost them. He loved the Honey dummy, remember that one, it was all rubber? Actually the majority of his photos, I never thought to remove his blady dummy! So yip his photos are a bit like the little ones and actually us, these days we are going to have heap of photos with our stupid masks on. When I read the newspaper I swear I am always flummoxed as to why the heck they have the top students, with 80 distinctions (another exaggeration) and this award and that award and the next award, all posing with their frikken masks on! What the heck, one day when these kids brag to their kids about how good they were at school how academic they were, the kids looking at their parents photos are going to be: “Ja right as if – who even says this is you mom!” Oh, my word, I totally digressed here, even re-reading this now, I was thinking ok so Liz what was the whole point of Chad and his dummy? Well as Ryan adored his bottle he adored his dummy. That is till the Sunday we were at the Stables (the flea market in Durban back in the day) and he lost his dummy. Shame I will never forget his little mouth, sucking in and out that night as he slept with no dummy. Poor little chap.

So last but not least, we have the Tooth Fairy. How many times did you only remember you hadn’t put money under their pillow, that morning when you heard your little one stirring as they rumpled up their bed linen desperately searching for the money the Tooth Fairy had left? You drop the egg lifter discard the eggs sizzling in the pan and race through to grab your purse, you frantically race around looking hitherto for your bag – finally you find your bag but your purse isn’t there and stubbing your toe on the foot of the bed you race from room to room finally finding your purse back in the kitchen – right where you started this big search! The other debate was just how much to leave under their pillow. I remember the excitement when that first tooth fell out (Or you helped them yank it out) you so, so happy to leave twenty rands, but you not really thinking this through, I mean there are plenty of teeth still to fall out. By the time all their milk teeth have fallen out, you’ll be needing to take out a second bond on your house. Yip I know you also fell into this trap. The other day I was at a market and saw the cutest little Tooth Fairy kit, it comprised of a big stuffed felt tooth, with a crown sewn on it, a little note pad and a cute little pencil. I started retrieving my purse out of my bag when I had a flashback to my younger Tooth Fairy days and my bruised big toe and decided against being the Nana that puts my kids through the Tooth Fairy situation.

So in conclusion dear reader. Yes, I do believe in allowing our kids (and grandkids) the pleasure of believing in Santa, (or Father Christmas – how do the Americans say it – tomato or tamato?) the Easter bunny and the Tooth Fairy. Our world back in the day wasn’t as hectic as it is now, and it was magical then.  I do believe more than ever these days it is a great fantastical fantasy jam-packed with FUN and definitely in my case, some awesome, full heart memories.

Have an amazing week ahead.

Thanks for all your kind comments. You truly make my heart so, so full.

My word, you really are an amazing bunch of humans.

Take care, be safe, and remember whether there is a camera around or not….wear those masks!