The Antidote to my Cabin Fever

Just when I was about to commit the final act of desperation i.e. posting an ad on Craigslist, I was invited out by a nearly random stranger.

God bless my neighbor who passed my number on to her friend's son, V last month. After two weeks of a silent phone, I gave up on the slight chance that a random guy would drive to the ends of the earth to take out some forlorn American.

But, he ended up coming through and I was most pleasantly surprised.

V picked me up for a night on the town with some mates. My first impression was extremely positive- his stereo played local hip hop in the vein of Spank Rock. It turns out his taste in music is keenly similar to mine, a rare and highly valued quality in my book. As my father says, "music is vibration- common interest is common vibration."

Not only was V a gentleman, his friends were quite the party. Comprised of designers, students, and hipsters, they lacked nothing in the spontaneity department. I didn't even have to be overly amicable to gain their favor.

A hot summer's night in Cape Town is sultry and balmy- a prescription for late night shenanigans such as drum circles, last call at psychedelic pizzerias and skinny dips with (near) strangers.

I can't tell you how happy I felt the next evening when I joined V and his crew for another jaunt. After sixth months sans Gainesville (more-so, anyone who identifies as the same brand of crazy), its so relieving to fall in with a great bunch. That night, a similar string of events ensued concluding with dancing at a lesbian bar in the pink district. Next weekend's activity: an overnight electronic music festival.

I think my fever has finally broke.

desperate times call for desperate measures

Its pretty well known that I am not a member of the church going community.
I went to church tonight.
And I have to say, the first 45 minutes were a bit awkward.
Raised Lutheran, the most conservative of Protestant faiths and schooled by Catholics, I am not accustomed to services led by 20-somethings with musical instruments. The band held the audience/congregation captive for the first half hour while prayers were sung and the tone was set for jiving with Jesus. I actually wondered if I stumbled onto the set of Saved as the crowd waved their hands up in the air and closed their eyes while the spirit of the Lord filled their aural pathways.

But the sermon was actually fantastic and made me reconsider my initial reactions. Perhaps there is more church in my future after all.

Scriing

Happily asleep, dreaming about the spa, cries of death enter the picture. My heart races. Amelie?! I jump out of bed to find the girl balling outside my door.
It's 2 am and I am so sure she has woken up the entire house if not the block that I close the windows.
Her scries (cry + scream) are due to a sore throat- trauma more intense than any other temper tantrum or missing daddy episode. I try consoling her, giving her a hug, etc. These things only amount to more tears and higher pitches.
By the time I've given up on sympathy there is no turning back for sleep.
20 minutes later her crying session has been replaced by her brother Laurent's. Great. a tag team.
30 minutes later she took over again. I assume he's feeding now.
-8 points

*I never, never wish sickness on any child. Its absolutely awful for them and even more for the parents.

I'm the nun on the loveboat

Whenever I see a good looking guy, I'm reminded the toddler and infant accessories catapult me into a black hole of hotness.
I'm taking care to not appear like a mom. I've buried my favorite ring in my jewelry box so I won't give off the "engaged" signal. I'm so hungry for a once over that I make it a point to not have laurent over my shoulder when the pizza delivery boy (Butler's Pizza guys are always good looking and wear tuxedos) or our pool guy come to the door.

Everyone I know with the exception of the French surgeon downstairs, is in a relationship. I'm living in the geographic equivalent of the love boat!!!
I must resign myself to the fact that the probability of obtaining a South African lover is slim.

My brother-in-law mentioned that I no longer have my pick of strapping, young single men, but have moved into the divorcee set. shame.

knick knack

At my bohemian friends' party in a student borough, I realized I finally have the kiddie knack.
Two children, ages three and five were present. While the other 20-somethings interacted with the kids wearing expressions of confusion, apathy, or awe, I instinctually knew how to handle them and was not at all bothered by their demands.

Having envied the men and women who charm Amelie in two minutes, I have been waiting for this... knack... to develop for some time now. (It took two weeks for her to say my name and six weeks to achieve attachment.)
Procreation points: 5.25

As for Laurent...
he's getting bigger and smarter and fussier.
I must say God was smart to make babies so damn cute; otherwise the days of incessant crying would be enough to make me deny the existence of my reproductive system.

The crying I've endured this week is to the level that any minimization of hearing loss from not attending concerts or going to dance clubs is negated by the 64 decibel screaming baby attached to my shoulder for a good part of the day.
Procreation points: -3

To procreate or not procreate

A wise friend of mine said the best contraceptive is watching other people's children. Since then, I've been reminded by the cajoling of acquaintances if this experience will make me or break me as a potential mommy. Every day I find myself vacillating between the possibility of making a family and an all out moratorium on conception.
To numerically track my feelings I've devised a metric.

The system works as follows:
Negative Points
1-3: annoying but manageable
4-6: pulling my hair out
7-9: I'm considering women
10+: bring on menopause

Positive points
1-3: awww... how cute
4-6: Its my duty for the gene pool
7-9: the rewards outweigh the suffering
10+: I see a mini me in my future

The Mom Song

Because I said so...

I am Kamphey Approved

Letters from Amelie

Dear Grandma & Grandpa,
We are all doing very well in South Africa. Lee Lee is very nice to me even if I'm difficult sometimes. I love it when she gives me sweeties!
I'm trying to pee-pee and poo on the toilet, but its not going too well. I did manage to tell mommy that I made a b-i-g poo in Lee Lee's room. I got it all over the floor, the duvet, the curtains, and a pair of Lee Lee's favorite shorts. That was funny!
Love you,
Amelie

SWF

Single-White-Female
So far two girls have reacted to this fact as if it was preposterous. My friend the dance instructor and our maid, Portia. This seems so natural to me, being young and single, especially for someone who is currently moving about the world.
But here, as opposed to Switzerland and my set, people get married- and they get married in their mid twenties. Oh the glamour of it. In the land of diamonds, magazines are filled with ads of scintillating solitaires and glittering wedding bands.

I do not find one inch of myself taken up by this. Infact, everyday I'm more and more aware of how I am quite content on my own. If I can't be whole and complete now, when will I ever be? I can see how here, locking yourself into a relationship with a male has the additional benefit of increased sexual security. South Africa has an alarming number of rape cases, and in a place where a good portion of the population has HIV, the single life is not so glamorous.

Under the Laser

There is an intoxicating feeling when one realizes that some cash and a bit of pain tolerance is enough to permanently change one's body.
In the past month, I've had two laser hair removal sessions. They are going quite well. Its a rush, really- knowing you can choose where you will allow hair to grow on your body. I won't deny that its a tad bit painful. I mean, no one will argue having the moisture inside your hair follicles vaporized is a walk in the park.

Feeling this sense of empowerment over your genetics is a pretty impressive feeling. I'm giving ingrowns, razors, and aesthetically inconvenient hair the boot.

nanny 101

Everyday I get a step closer to Amelie. I'm trying my hardest to come to her level to engage in play and empathise with her ability to understand the world around her.

I yelled at her today. It occurred after a sundowner swim and a gleeful cry of "poo-poos!" from Amelie. To our horror, Steph and I realized she indeed, took a shit in the pool. I was not too phased by this act, as she is a nappy-wearing 2.5 year old, but the temper tantrum that followed grated on my nerves.

During the rush of getting children and poo out of the water, Princess Amelie decided to return to the 1000 liter toilet sans arm floats. Holding Laurent as Steph fished turds from the pool floor, I attempted to verbally convey the message of NO but alas, there was no getting through to the excited toddler.

As the second foot entered the pool, I took hold of Amelie's hand while holding baby Laurent in the other. Once I retrieved her from the water, I sat down to appease the crying baby. Amelie began a screaming session centimeters from my face. I calmly explained we must take a bath since the pool had been contaminated. 40 decibals later I raised my voice which led to another 10 decibal increase. Steph cautioned that a reaction as such would only make her cry louder. I changed my approach: calm comfort. 60 decibal screaming + crying infant. At this point, I cut my losses and led Amelie to the bath without a word.

-5 points LeeLee, 1 point Amelie

Lessons learned:
1. there is no such thing as rational thought for a toddler in the midst of a temper tantrum
2. children have the super power of breaking the sound barrier standing still