Moms are their children's mirror

 

Moms are their children's mirror

25 March 2024

I randomly read something this morning, that I found extremely profound. And I can’t actually believe that I’ve never really thought of it before.

 

Moms are their children’s mirror.

 

Such a simply statement. Yet it moved me so deeply.

 

Firstly, I think this statement applies equally to dads as well. And having given it some thought, I think that a lot of what we subconsciously do as parents, is based on this principle. And even though I’ve never articulated it as such, it’s certainly a driving factor for me in the way I parent. How I speak to my children, what I speak to them about, how I build them up and praise them, and how I invest in them as people.

 

The thing is, that once I read this phrase, it struck me with great clarity, that this is exactly what my mom has always practiced. In how she’s parented me, my brother and my sister. And she has also used this with regards to her children’s life partners. Not to mention our children, her grandchildren. Unconditional support and belief in us. In everything. Always.

 

If my mom is my mirror, then I well and truly hit the biggest jackpot of all. Nobody believes in me more. She loves me unconditionally. And I know that it goes without saying, but I’m one hundred percent sure that I could do anything, or tell her anything, and her love would not waver. Not in the slightest.

 

She supports my every endeavour. Is enthusiastic about my hobbies and interests. She knows and loves my friends. She encourages me in everything I do. With utter conviction in my abilities. It’s the most wonderful ego trip. Yet I know that she genuinely means it sincerely.

 

If I look at myself through my mom’s mirror, I am capable of doing anything. I am an awesome parent. A wonderful wife. A phenomenal sister. An incredible friend. A loyal and hardworking employee. I am creative. I am beautiful. I am thoughtful and kind. I’m caring and selfless. I’m considerate of others. I’m mindful of my place in this world and look out for those less fortunate. I am a talented writer and brilliant with words. A magical budding gardener. A fantastic homemaker. A crafting queen. An all round fabulous human being.

 

And, I like it. I really, really like it.

 

I love seeing myself through my mom’s mirror. And it is what inspires me daily to live up to the reflection of myself that I see in there, albeit through her eyes. That I’m worthy of those attributes and wonderful qualities.

 

I know that she most likely does this subconsciously too. The very same way that I do exactly the same with my kids. Building them up with encouragement, support and incredible belief in them and who they are. With true pride and gratitude for the awesome human beings that they are.

 

I quite simply rejoice in them.

 

And thus, I do hope that my kids will also see themselves through my mirror. Cause that is who they are.

 

Beautiful. Worthy. Valued. Special. Incredible.

 

 

My mom, sister and I - each parenting a teen

 

My mom, sister and I - each parenting a teen
14 October 2014

Never in my wildest dreams, would I ever have envisioned this scenario.  The one where my mom, sister and I, are each parenting a teenager.  At the same glorious time.

What a funny twist of fate.

Last week, saw the three of us, spending two nights together.  This is always a highlight.

Yet every so often, we’d find ourselves grumbling about “our” teenagers.  Cause though my mom and sister are each parenting a stepchild, they’re fulltime mothers to those stepchildren.  Kids who live with them, that they’re raising, and that go to school from their homes.

But while I’m whinging about my annoying and hormonal sixteen year old teenager in Grade 10, my sister is whinging about her annoying and hormonal seventeen year old teenager in Grade 11, and my mom is whinging about her annoying and hormonal eighteen year old teenager in Grade 12.  Crazy!

Through consultation with my posse, I can concur that there is definitely a recurring theme.  Self-obsession.  Self-indulgence.  As well as a decided preoccupation with food, clothing, their social lives and their virtual social media lives.  Furthermore, there is large scale disenchantment with parental rules, the necessity for formal education and the by-their-standards abysmal amount of money at their disposal. 

How cruel life treats them.

It is awesome to have my girls on my side.  My mom and my sister.  Who better to consult with, and to bounce ideas off? 

Many of my friends who are parenting teenagers, sadly no longer have the luxury of a parent to consult.  Their mothers have passed on.  Are no longer there.  Not only is my mother still around, she’s also right in the very thick of parenting a teenager.  I can tap directly into the power source, from someone that I greatly admire and respect as a parent (just look how great my brother, sister and I turned out - J).  I can actually see her parenting at the same time as me.  In addition, I thought that without a doubt, my sister’s kids would be younger than mine.  She’s nearly seven years my junior.  Yet three of “her kids” are older than my eldest.  Funny, that!

How peculiar, that we’re all dealing with it at the same time?  The very same joys.  Kids and their curfews.  The dangers of social drinking.  Have they been secretly smoking or not?  Have their cell phones and i-pads morphed into their hands?  Their shoddy attitude towards chores and helping around the home.  Their propensity for thinking they are far superior to us, in every possible way.  Their assumption, that their intelligence far surpasses ours.  Their body language, which portrays their frustration with our pedestrian attitude towards all things they deem we don’t understand. 

It is indeed true what they say – rent a teenager.  They know everything.

Few people can make me feel more thick, dense, and all round stupid, than my teen.  And I’m clearly not alone.  They have a disdainful way of talking down to one.  As if they’re explaining stuff to a toddler.  And not a very bright one at that.

Anyway, such is life.  Grateful for the support.  Cause all three of us, are in the same boat.  At the exact same time.  Perhaps we should look for a life raft for three?  Abandon ship? 

Alas, it is a  wonderfully enlightening experience doing this jig together.  Cause we compare notes, and laugh together.  At our kids.  At each other.  And at ourselves.

So I’ve had a scary thought.  If we’re all parenting teens of a similar age, does that mean we’ll all be grandparents at a similar stage too?

Please click and LIKE on Facebook - Thanx!

Just an average Lombard get-together

Just an average Lombard get-together
15 July 2014

So what to do when a cousin comes down from Joburg for a week?  Well, have a get-together of course.  What else?

My lovely cousin Maria, or Mia as she’s known to most of us, graced us with her presence for a weeklong visit to the fairest Cape.  How lucky are we.

As a fairly legitimate reason to have a family get-together, it was ideal.  However we are known for throwing random family get-togethers for no apparent reason either.  We’re weird like that.

Even a small hang-out, that not everyone is able to attend, makes for a huge amount of people.  And thus, we indulge in the standard practice of bring whatever and we’ll share.  Making a virtual smorgasbord of food, where everything is fair play.

I love days like these.  There are always pockets of people everywhere.  Youngest kids, playing with a ball in the garden.  Teenage kids, huddled over a screen, either watching funny YouTube clips, or showing off something else on the computer or TV.  Huge guffaws of laughter all the time.  Random chatting about whatever interests teenagers.  Sport inclined men, hovering in front of the TV, watching some or other sport.  Admonishing the constant traffic of people in front of the TV, to please move away.  Women mingling in the kitchen.  Much laughter too, whilst sorting out the meal, and chatting up a storm as well.

However, this shifts all of the time.  People interchanging and connecting.  Across age barriers.  And on this occasion, we had four generations.  Pretty standard fair.

Laughter usually forms a common thread, as well as the all-pervasive air of love and family.  I think it is rare for such a large group of blood relatives and relatives by marriage to enjoy one another’s company so much.  To get genuine enjoyment from the presence of others.  Everyone is accepted and celebrated for who they are.  It’s just the most relaxing, and easy feeling of comfort being around these people.  Like slipping into a pair of comfy pajamas at the end of the day.  You can say anything, do anything.  Just be yourself.

Knowing you’re loved, cared for, and accepted simply for being you.

No stress, no tension, no rivalry, no problem.

I had the most incredible stroke of good luck, when I chose this family to be mine.  I could’ve been stuck with a bunch of uptight duds.  Perish the thought!

And so on our family day, we ate.  We laughed.  We chatted.  We scrambled for the best spot in front of the fireplace.  We took photos.  We ate some more – pudding too!  We shared stories. 

We embraced.

And we loved.

Lombard for life and damn proud of it too.

Please click and LIKE on Facebook - Thanx!

A mix of gals in the kitchen - milling about

Cousins Elaine (left) and Mia (right)

Admiring the beautiful photo's on the covered outside stoep

Some of the gals

The womenfolk, from left to right - Charmaine, Elaine, Mia, Alex, Katrine, my mom (Maggie), Ouma Helene, Moi, Amber and little Honeypot in the front

The leeetle gal cousins, though technically, Amber and Honey are the daughters of cousins, and our lovely Alex is a cousin's husband's daughter from his second marriage - which bizarrely still makes her a Lombard. There is no escaping it.

Now just the gal cousins and their offspring

Gal cousins some more

The older gals - my aunt, Charmaine, my gran, Ouma Helene, and my mom, Maggie

Somehow Katrine and I qualify as both younger (wishful thinking) and older (more appropriate) gals

Having a laugh

My decided to aim for a Lombard cousin photo - and it didn't take long, for someone to haul out the big life size Levi's poster of Albert. Well, just because he wasn't there, didn't mean he couldn't be in the photo.

And then we all decided to face the same way as him, with big wide open smiles and laughs. We thought we were particularly funny.

Still, we thought we were funny

It was but a short leap from there... It just takes one warped mind.

And all of a sudden, my brother was sporting black stockings and a mean pair of red boots

He sure loved those boots!

Practically put a swing in his step!

Elaine stepping forward to try and admire her legwork

And then, seeing as the whole leggings look was working so well for Al, he decided to change into a pair of grey leggings, with an awesome pair of black boots. Well, to boot.

And then it was my turn. It takes a fair level of skill to match the real legs with the not-so-real legs. It's all about perfect alignment.

And I happily succeeded. It practically made me burst forth into a skip!

And just randomly hang around. Looking to my left. With two sets of hands.

Even The Pot had a go

Chilling around inside. That would be my man, with his hand on my sister's...hip? Arse? Thigh? Never mind. They're practically siblings too.

Katrine was a knobbly-kneed 10 year old when Grant and I started dating. And they have a very, very special bond. Mutual adoration and lots of love.

Amber-Berry and Pottie. Hogging the fire!

Willem and Charmaine - our charming Lombard hosts. Absolutely adore them! Such amazing, special people.

Cousin best friends - Mia and Elaine

The boy cousins

Dads and dating daughters - Exhibit A - Frank and Grant

Dads and dating daughters - Exhibit A - Frank and Grant
21 June 2014

I remember the first time I had to bring a boy home.  Talk about embarrassing.  I thought I would die.  My family was sure to embarrass me.  They’d most likely swear.  My annoying little brother and sister would do their magic – be annoying.  Flatulence was a strong possibility.  My mom would whip out my baby album.  My dad might tell an awkward joke.  Our home would look so very, very homely (not très chic at all).  My folks would listen to their cringing music.  My mom would definitely whistle.  Or sing.  My adorably cute little sister, would annex him (she did too).  My brother would do something goofy (he did too).  My dad might do the whole heavy-menacing-father thing (he did a bit – or perhaps I only imagined it in my anxious teenage mind).  Our dog might try to hump him.  I mean the list of possible catastrophes was pages long.  Nay, volumes full.

And to cap it all off, I was the eldest.  I’d have to pop the dating cork, so to speak.  There had been no sibling paving the way for me.  In fact, I think my folks thought I’d stay ten forever.  I was convinced they hadn’t realised I’d been quietly growing up on the side lines.  Maturing in to a young lady.  They were kind of growing up at the same time I suppose.  They were still so young themselves.

I put the whole subject of boys off as long as possible.  Doing a rather admirable job of playing along with the whole, “I’ll-just-stay-ten-forever-thing”.  Until I quite simply couldn’t last.

I first gently broached boys towards the end of primary school.  Gently throwing in the odd name or two.  Then, I eventually gained a measure of comfort and became more practiced in the verbal art of discussing boys.  I clearly remember droning on to my mom about a boy called, Geoffrey Garrett, while we were doing the dishes after supper every night.  Night after night.  I think I simply picked up every night, where I left off the previous night.  And to her justice, my mom did a really fair impression of paying attention.  Don’t know how she managed it.  I remember that in particular his hair fascinated me.  It was cut really straight at the top, and it kind of spiked up.  Like a newly cut lawn.  Strange analogy, but there you have it.  I also recall freckles and the fact that he was tall.  Still I went on and on and on.  Extremely repetitive.  Until, I eventually changed topics.  To Darren Sturgess.  It was pretty much an exact replay of the Geoffrey Garrett scenario.  Minus a few changes.  Change spiky hair, for blonde hair.  And he was really short.  And so it went on.  My mom deserved a medal.  I don’t even think alcohol would’ve deadened her senses.  Not that she indulged, but in a similar situation, I would’ve been tempted.

But these were little girl crushes.  Very typical of that age.  I liked the idea of having a boyfriend, and of being in love.  But I wouldn’t know what to do with a boyfriend.  Or what being in love really felt like.

High school also saw a few crushes and young loves.  Until I met Grant.

And right from the start, I knew he was the real deal.

My dad was not overly impressed.  In fact he was far less friendly with Grant, than any of the previous and very few guys that had come to our home.  I clearly sensed some hostility.  And I think my dad only pulled himself together on my mom’s urging.  And “gentle” prodding.  Putting on a polite face.  Humouring me.  Alas, he was not a very good actor.  He wasn’t really rude.  He was just not charmed, and seemed to hang on to his fatherly reservations.

But I think that for a father, this is a very difficult thing.  Would any guy really get the nod?  Meet the requirements.  Get paternal approval?

But as day of day, week after week, month after month, and eventually year after year passed, he warmed up.  Just a bit.  For me.

There was nothing wrong with Grant.  He was a perfectly nice man.  A good person.  I know for a fact that my dad knew this.  But ultimately, I think my dad realised that this would be the man that took me from him.  And making Grant sweat a little bit, would perhaps take the sting out of it.  Make it hurt a little less.  At least for him.

My dad and Grant had a good relationship.  They had an understanding.  And mutual respect.  Perhaps not so much fondness, but a certain liking.

Until we got married.  I do believe that my dad only really warmed up fully to Grant, once it was inevitable.  Once he was a part of my family.  My dad could see that I was happy, so that counted hugely in Grant’s favour.  And thus he treated him with love.  Said to me, that Grant was one of his kids.  Which was kind of odd, as the age gap between them wasn’t very big.  About sixteen years only.  And when Grant and I started dating, my dad was only 37.  So ridiculously young.  Can’t imagine having to contend with a daughter’s serious boyfriend at the age of 37.  But when my dad spoiled me, he made a point of spoiling Grant too.  On one occasion, he put R200 in an envelope for each of his kids as a random spoil.  He wrote a personal note on the envelope and handed it to us.  And rather than give Grant and I one envelope, we each got one.  It was very sweet.  R200 was a lot of money then, and my dad wasn’t flush.  In addition, Grant gave him Luke – the only grandchild he got to meet.  I also remember being married for a short while, and me making some or other comment about Grant.  And my dad saying to me, “Don’t speak about your husband like that”.  I was completely and utterly shocked.  Floored.  It was true.  My dad had finally bought into Grant. 

I was “the women”.  And they had bonded as “the men”.

Tomorrow, Dads and dating daughters – Exhibit B.  Me-thinks Amber’s in for a bumpy ride…

Please click and LIKE on Facebook - Thanx!

 

Handshake between Grant and my Dad, as my dad hands over the bride to the groom

And he's one of the family

 

 

Dad and daughter dance at our wedding - very special

Maggie's 60th Birthday Party - Hidden Track

Maggie's 60th Birthday Party - Hidden Track
15 May 2014

In time honoured and true Rock ‘n Roll befitting tradition, I thought it was only fair that I added a little Hidden Track to my blogs about Maggie’s 60^th Birthday Party.  Apart from the obvious A Side and B Side of course.  In a sort of nod and salute to some of the great musical giants so admired by Maggie (and me).  And the rest of the world too.

Though for many people, Maggie’s party was the actual evening music doo, for us lucky few, it really was a weekend.  A family reunion, even though we generally see one another extremely often and have a very busy and very active Lombard Family Group Chat.  Therefore it wasn’t just a few hours of fun.  It was two nights and three days of friggin awesome!

On the Sunday morning, after the party, we decided to quickly take a family photo of Maggie and her three kids outside in the garden.  As we hadn’t really taken a proper one of the four of us all together.  And one needs to commemorate these occasions.  But here’s the problem.  Some clever photographer (there were many, and I don’t want to name and shame, but the main guilty culprit photographer has a really big beard and his name rhymes with Bob), decreed that we should face the sun, so that we wouldn’t have shadows, bright light behind us, dark pic, etc.  Problem being, that the sun wasn’t so much bright as it was blinding.  We had five, I repeat FIVE people taking pics at the same time.  And every single one is dismal.  Horrendous.  A hideous and very funny joke.  Scrunched up faces.  Watering eyes.  Closed eyes.  Hands covering eyes, looking down, etc.  Truly terrible. 

But what was so extremely funny, was that once I saw my photo’s that my Grantie had taken on my phone, I started asking family members if they had better ones.  And being the kind people they are, the Lombard WhatsApp group was quickly pinging away, with everyone sending in there pics.  And though they are absolutely awful, there is a certain charm to them as well.  I will include these at the end of the blog.  (Btw - on the blog the pics look really small.  If you want to have a good look at them, for those that are interested, just click on one of the pics, and it will pretty much fill your screen and give you the option to scroll on to the next pic.)

However, first I thought, I’d share the speech I did at the party (Yip, definitely going to disinherit my brother and sister for once again nominating me to speak – at times, being the eldest really sucks!)

 

As the eldest child, apparently I am the chosen one – having been selected to make a speech on behalf of the three Loubser children, in honour of our amazing Mom.  The one and only Maggie-Lombard-Loubser-Frost-Nagel.

Few people have the honour and privilege of inspiring so many.  Of being a role model and example to all who have basked in her light.  Cause that is what Maggie is – she is a ray of light.  Touching and changing the lives of all who know her.  And making the world a better place, simply by being in it.

I propose that the word Maggie be included in the Oxford English Dictionary.  The Oxford Russian, The Oxford Chinese, Portuguese, French, Italian, German, etc.  In fact every single copy in every imaginable language.  As it is a word that means so much.  It means love, warmth, acceptance, enthusiasm, caring, kindness, dedication, perseverance, being ingenuous, loyal, innovative, mother, friend, helper, creative, thinker, joyful, gracious, encompassing, forgiving, passionate, nesting, home-maker, gardener, bright, generous, unique, quirky, giving.

Maggie is capable of whipping up the same level of enthusiasm for a wedding, as a chick flick movie fest.  A simple slab of Cadbury’s Whole Nut is appreciated as much as a designer five course meal. 

One of her greatest gifts, is her ability to make someone the sole focus of her attention.  Everyone is equal, valued and loved.  She truly listens – not only with her ears, but also with her heart.  She has time for everyone.  And therefore everyone has time for her.

As a mother, she was always different to the moms of my friends.  Funny ha-ha as well as funny peculiar.  A defining characteristic.  And the amount of funny-Maggie stories are legendary.   Like the time, she gave Grant, Luke and I an awesome little wicker basket filled with tiny little white eggies for Easter one year.  We were at Kirstenbosch watching the Blues Broers at the time, and we were munching away.  They were absolutely delicious.  As we were about to leave, I asked her where she got them from.  “Oh” she replied, “It’s those Smartie Easter Eggs”.  So I said, “Really!  They were so good.  I thought they only made multi-coloured ones.  Didn’t know they made plain white ones.”  To which Maggie calmly replied, “Oh, I licked all the colour off”.  Grant gagged for ages afterwards!

 

At any large scale Lombard gathering, the most often heard refrain is, “Ask Maggie”, or “Maggie knows”. Everyone turns to her for advice from what to wear, what to eat, when to eat, where to put things, where things are, to where to go.

 
She is unforgettable.  Is revered and loved by many.  Held up high. 

Mommy, I wish only happiness for you – today and always.  No one deserves it more. 

Your children and their people adore you – one and all.

Please click and LIKE on Facebook - Thanx!

 

Albert really suffering - the rest of us trying valiantly

 

Now Katrine and I are suffering

 

The gals are trying really hard, but Al's given up

 

Maggie and I sort of holding it together - Albert looking really weird

 

Ironically the pic of our backs and bums is the best one

 

Still suffering!

 

 

Clever plan - we thought. All look down and then at the count of three we'd look up and smile, minimising sun exposure.

 

Epic fail - again!

 

Two scrunched faces, one closed eyes and another grimace

 

Hysterical laughter and losing it completely

Realising it's probably not going to work out after all - still laughing uncontrollably

Albert can't even open his eyes!

"He did it!" - it's all Albert's fault - the rest of us tried really hard!

Decided to make my Mom a Memory Box for her birthday. First I took a plain tin, which I covered from top to bottom with stamps.

Used Modge Podge glue goop which I got from the craft shop. Took about half an hour to make from top to bottom and it dried practically instantly. Way cool and I love the way it completely transforms the tin. Bummer was the fact that I used my Mom's stamps - very cheeky I know. Longest part of the project? Sorting the stamps out first and making sure I only used stamps that she had duplicates of.

Got beautiful Scrapbooking paper, and cut hearts out of it - 112 to be exact.

 

Wrote a personal and special memory message on each and every heart. Some of them unique memories that just my mom and I have or stuff from my childhood. Things like, "I remember watering the garden with you when I was little", "Lying with you, Al and Kat on Daddy's arms in bed", "Making Flap Jacks on the glass stove tops", "You being at Cole's birth", "I love the way you know my kids", "Having Cheese Meltz for lunch on Saturday afternoons", "Playing piano duets together", etc, etc. etc. Writing down the memories and recording them for my mom was really special and I absolutely loved doing it.

 

Put all of the hearts into the tin

 

And filled up the empty spaces with Kit-Kat fingers - her favourite chocolates