This seemingly interminable winter is finally coming to an end. For many reasons, this winter has been my most gruelling in years. We spent the start of it enveloped and then embedded in that grey wet fog-cloud. That didn’t bode well for someone like me with weather dependent moods. Then we had minus slap-in-the-face cold temperatures for a few weeks, then snow, then snowdrifts, then constant grey and now I’ve had enough. I’m fed up of walking outside and feeling as if someone has thrown a bucket of ice water over me.
Earlier this week I sensed something different in the air. It started off very slight, almost imperceptible. I was sure there was a hint of spring in the air. I’m like a bird that is so in tune with nature that I can pick up these small shifts in temperature, air and light. Now it’s becoming more obvious and I’m almost certain spring has arrived. All of a sudden, I feel so much more buoyant and I have this urge to clean up the house. That’s probably where the word ‘spring clean’ comes from. I’ve noticed dust and grime and things that need to be cleaned or repaired. I want to declutter and sort and chuck out junk I don’t need.
Spring cleaning in Switzerland
The problem is that getting rid of stuff is not so easy in a place like Switzerland. That is why I’m so militant about not accumulating possessions other than what I absolutely need. If we want to dump items, our village charges us per kilo to dispose of it. I don’t want my old junk going into landfill because I detest this kind of waste. I prefer to find a decent new home for my old belongings but this is often difficult to do. Some things that I would like to get rid of are not worthy enough to be sold so I would like to give them away. It’s not that simple. ‘Give it to the poor’, my mom said. What poor? Where? In a place like Switzerland, there are needy people around but finding them takes some time and effort.
When we redid our kitchen, our renovator dismantled our old kitchen and tossed it in the rubbish dump. He chucked an oven that was old-fashioned but in perfectly good working order. ‘WHAT!?!?!!’ I shrieked when he told me. ‘I THOUGHT IT WAS GOING TO THE NEEDY!!!!’ He shrugged and explained he didn’t have time to locate the needy nor did he have the money to ship my old kitchen to Eastern Europe where it would definitely be appreciated. I was mortified and ashamed at the excess and waste. That’s a big problem with the world. If only there was a cheaper, easier way to connect those who are so willing to give with those people and places that are in need. It sickens me when I see the food and possessions that end up in landfill in rich, first world countries.
It is not like South Africa where the impoverished are so visible. My mother said that every Thursday afternoon when her complex puts out the bins for collection, women gather round to rummage inside them. At least when you dispose of things in South Africa, you can be guaranteed your second hand stuff is appreciated and put to good use and you feel as if you are helping someone.
My neighbour kept giving me her children’s old toys. At first, I thought she was so kind and generous but then I realised she was palming old crap on me as she didn’t know how else to get rid of it. Stuffed toys, for example, are near to impossible to dispose of and even charities refuse them for hygiene reasons. My cleaner gave me her daughter’s old bike. When she handed it over, I was so touched that she wanted to give me such a big gift for free. I was prostrate with gratitude until I realized the damn thing has no brakes and it will cost more to repair them than replace the entire bike. She passed it on to me – ‘last touch!’ – and now I must dispose of it at my hassle and expense.
Moving on to other news. Al has had an intense and gruelling time at work. He described January and February as his worst year end ever. For the last while Al’s work has sunk its greedy fangs into the soft flesh of his neck and sucked and sucked and sucked the very life out of him and left him a dried up old husk of his former self. Now that the whirlwind busy period is supposedly winding down, his mission is to rediscover his mojo and joie de vivre.
Recently Granny was here for three weeks. No one gets down on their knees and relates to my children at their level with such love, interest and patience in the way my mother does. Megan and Jessica adore her so much so that, when she is not here and they are in a tight spot with me or Al, they always wail ‘Granny! Granny!’ as if they hope she will appear in a puff of smoke from South Africa and rescue them, like a genie out a magic lamp.
The girls are delightful as usual. I just wish they listened more. The most challenging part of motherhood for me is asserting my authority and maintaining discipline. Parenting would be a breeze if the kids followed instructions and obeyed when I spoke. Supper’s ready, come and eat. Get in the bath. Get out the bath. Put on your clothes. Wash your hands. Stop that now. No, you can’t eat that. Turn off the TV. Come here. Tidy up. Brush your teeth. Turn out the light. Bed time. Go to sleep. Etc etc etc. Megan and Jessica rarely listen first time round and they generally always opt for the path of most resistance. I once thought they had auditory issues and could do with a visit to the ENT to unblock the canals or syringe the ears but then I noticed that if unwrap a sweet in the kitchen or whisper, ‘chocolate?’ then they scuttle to me and fall at my feet in submission.
Children so clearly reveal the inherent rebelliousness in human nature but the other, more precious side of the coin is that they also highlight the beauty and creativity within all of us. These are the moments I treasure. They make parenting so rich and rewarding and worthwhile.
I love watching Megan play. It’s so interesting up there in her head. I’m not sure whether all kids are like this but Megan has a highly creative, borderline whacky way of playing. She tends to create small piles of random toys around the house, little toy turds. Her playing generally involves reorganising, redistributing and rearranging rather than organised, structured entertainment. Lately her playing always includes her underpants. She has Sophia the First and Disney Princess pants that she prefers to play with rather than wear. I once walked in on her neatly arranging them on the lounge carpet. She explained this was her garden and in it she was growing undies.
In the picture below, you can see she has created a mountain out of sheets and blankets and then tossed books and a sprinkle of undies on top. The other photo is an arrangement of animals, finished off with undies poking out the chest of drawers.
Megan continues to write her name as ‘Amahit’ even though she can write her proper name. If I look for a picture of hers on the wall at her school, I can’t look for ‘Megan’. It will be ‘Amahit’.
I love letting Megan and Jessica’s creativity loose. Their free expression is so pure and beautiful. I see it in the grungy, bohemian, off-the-wall way they dress themselves. Their teacher once asked if they ever wear matching socks. I don’t think they realize socks are designed in pairs. Who cares! Anyway, who says socks need to match?
Ok, that’s all for now folks. I feel I haven’t written in a while and I have more to say but, since this has become long enough already, I’ll save it for other posts.