Tag: Ex

Old Year’s Eve

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

As I was getting ready to take Robert for the weekly Pram Jam at the Sea Point library, we get another text message from his father.  He wondered again about our plans and thought we could take Robert someplace. I arranged for him to meet us at the library then to go to the Company Gardens.

Today Robert and I were the only attendants for the Pram Jam and the session was suspended until my son perked up from his nap in the buggy. Thankfully we were later joined by a three-year-old boy and his dad, otherwise it would have been such a waste of Ronnie’s efforts, trying to read and sing to Robert who always has his attention somewhere else. The library provides a fair amount of distraction with toys, stuffed animals and rows upon rows of book. Robert takes pleasure in pulling books off the shelves, always from the Afrikaans section for some reason, and thus keeps me busy tidying up behind him.

When  Robert’s father joined us,  he suggested that we make a stop at his place in town. He came from gym and wanted to have a quick bite to eat.  My curiosity about my ex’s dwelling was finally satisified. He does not live next door to his girlfriend, but in ground floor flat in a small city block. The flat has a small private garden but no parking.  When I took my flat, price and proximity to local ameneities and transport were the main criteria. Therefore I sacrificed a lot in the area of presentability and creature comforts.  My ex in contrast worries most about presentability and creature comfort, and apart from the missing dedicated parking the flat is modern, well appointed and immaculate; at least in my humbled estimation.

My ex lives within walking distance of the Company Gardens and this is where we headed. He took charge of Robert, carried him around and showed him the bird cages and the squirells. When Robert got too antsy I managed to get him into the buggy, plying him with some snack and we set on a brisk walk into town.  The idea was to get him to sleep in the buggy, and as soon as he did we headed back to the Company Gardens for a drink.

The drinks turned somehow into a lunch (nothing fancy just a couple of burgers). It was the same as the old days, but so totally different.  We still had the same brands of bear and a frugal meal, but we split the bill and the tip. The toast I proposed was “to a better 2009” and he agreed. We talked a little about how terrible 2008 was. I related some of the story of my ordeal and the subsequent fallout with Jackie. My ex chimed in that he felt sorry for me, for the treatment I got there, he said he was sorry. I did not know how to respond to this, yes perhaps I have chosen to bury the hatchet and move on, maybe I will eventually forgive, but I will never forget.  My ex showed me little or no consideration at all in 2008, and in fact his maltreatment made me an easy prey for others.  What can I expect from other people, when my husband of nine years literally throws me out? How do I measure the damage this has done to my self-image and self esteem? Will I ever recover enough trust and courage to be able to surrender myself into a new relationship? – Even the way I pose this question betrays the extent of the damage you do not “surrender” yourself into a relationship.

It is perhaps surprising that with all these questions and emotions boiling under the surface I manage to appear completely neutral towards my ex. On an intellectual level he is quite interesting, and great to talk to, but he does not appeal to me as a mate anymore. The only relationship I want with him from now on is one that revolves around Robert’s best interests, and that is how things are going to be from now on.

Robert started crying and clinging to his father when we arrived home, so I relented and invited my ex in for the second time.  In my disorganized place -among the mismatched assortment of old, new, borrowed and cast off furniture- Robert got to play some more with his father, and on impulse I decided to share my Christmas Pudding. This treat was so symbolic for me because I never got to enjoy it when I was married to the man – too extravagant he considered it.  We both had a second helping and even Robert took a liking to brandy custard and started asking for “mo”. Later we still managed a quick trip to Queens Beach, and returned as soon as Robert looked tired. I wanted to get him ready for bed as quickly as possible to enjoy my solo New Year’s Party.

So Much for Easy

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment
I am ready for the beach now Mommy
I am ready for the beach now Mommy

Surprisingly, Robert’s father sent me an SMS today to ask whether I have plans with Robert.  I was just thinking of a gentle stroll along Main Road in Sea Point, doing some light shopping, but since his plans included taking Robert to the beach I thought I might as well get my long delayed visit to the Traffic Department over with.

Since I lost my wallet in October (the one I really lost not the one I thought I did) I started the slow process of getting all my cards back and the last was my Driver’s Licence. There was no urgency because I am not driving at the moment, and it is unlikely that I would start in the near future, since I can ill afford buying a car at this time.

My last visit to the Traffic Department  was recorded in this post, which I imported from a defunct blog I started an eternity ago. I am happy to say that the experience was far less spectacular this time.  I mean who would waste a perfect day of sunshine and holidays to stand in a queue and get rankled by ill tempered government workers who would rather be at the beach instead. Well, apparently there are quite a few of us losers out there, but not enough to make the visit a whole day excursion.

I skimmed a local magazine while waiting at the first queue, then was quickly rushed through eye test and finger prints.  There was a substantial queue before the notorious counter 8, but it was moving quickly since the cashiers of other counters were also chipping in; there wasn’t really that much work otherwise.  I pocketed my temporary licence and the receipt for the permanent one, roughly two hours after I entered the department. Before Robert got dropped off I also managed a quick trip to the shops, to buy supplies for my New Year’s Eve solo party.

Robert apparently had lots of fun on the beach. Before his father left him he said that he might see him again tomorrow. I carried a sleeping Robert to our flat, but he only slept for a few more minutes and carried on spinning until about eight. I am not sure I want to do the same thing tomorrow. I am planning a party !

Robert’s Adventures at Sixteen Months

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

The most remarkable progress Robert made in the last month was with his vocabulary and with recognizing himself as a separate entity.

When I recently ask him where is Robert, he points to himself and says: Ah-Peh, which is what he calls himself these days.

Among other words and vocabulary: , Out, hat (at), ball, up (refers to both up and down for him), water (Ah-ti), book, back (he orders me to put back the food he does not want), bike – the new toy he received from his father(sounds exactly like back), Apple (ah-pi, and refers to all round fruits), open (ah-pi), baked (for baked beans), head (ed),  hug (ug), kaka (anything dirty), tick tak (his name for the clock or anything that looks like a clock) bucket (bah-ki refers to the small play buckets he has), cup (for his play cups) and baby. This in addition to his favourite sentence : don’t go down (dungoda).

Britt gave Robert a big picture book of all the animals and among those he recognizes are : dog (pronounces it like duck), and puppy. The cat in the book looks remarkably like Petey, and perhaps this is why Robert points at it and just grunts. Him and the cat do not like each other that much.

There are other words that he says, that I do not remember at the moment. He says car (cah – which is the same sound he uses for cow referring to the milk bottle), and he says papa, but unfortunately whenever he says mama he is referring (and demanding) the part of my anatomy that still provides him with a comforting snack. Lucy said that perhaps this is his pronounciation of nana (with a Xhosa click sound) which is their baby language for food, but I do not think my son is that gifted to speak Xhosa as well.

Gregarious as my little one is, his new flair for words sometimes only makes for new frustration for both of us.  There are many words that sound the same in his diction, and for them I go through a process of elimination. Robert’s patience sometimes runs out and he does not understand why it takes me so long to get him what he actually wants.

Apart from the words he can actually say, there are many more he understands. Today when I said Christmas he turned and pointed to the Christmas tree, and when I asked him whether he wanted music he pointed to the radio.

I am starting to notice patterns of behaviour as well:  He gets very impatient and frustrated when things do not work, and this is when he has a fit with a pointing finger. He also cannot tolerate any dirty hankies in his vicinity, this includes the paper towel which I keep handy at feeding time. He keeps, however, throwing it to the floor with the exclamation: kaka !

When he wakes up and finds me working on the laptop he starts trying to get my attention, and usually demands : Back ! ( I should put away the laptop I guess).

During these days we spent at home Robert’s appetite returned and he started picking up weight again. Maybe it is because he is away from the daycare and all the germs from other kids, but it is could also be attributed to less teething pain, as two more molars have already cut through (he now has a total of three). When it comes to food, Robert is very hands-on. He opens the fridge himself taking out the food he wants (or the food he thinks he wants).  Baked beans are by far his favourite food and he calls them by name, or finds them in cupboard, fridge and pantry and brings them over. He amazes me by holding the can from the top using only one hand.

Today and after our busy time at Christmas and Boxing Day, we got to the beach, and this coincided nicely with Robert’s 16 months birthday. It was an outing sponsored by Robert’s father who bought him a bucket and a shovel to play with. We went there in the morning and it was a perfect day for the beach, the sky was clear and we could even say the cable car on Table Mountain from Clifton Beach. Robert enjoyed the cold water, he still hasn’t learned the word for ocean but he recognizes it as a body of “Ah-ti”. His favourite game was to fill the bucket with water and then walk with it back to the shade of the tree where we set up our temporary camp.  He made quite a few walks back and forth and was whipped tired by midday. I let him sleep sandy nappy and all until three in the afternoon.

Christmas Day

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

The holiday is one thing and getting enough sleep is quite another. The situation is not helped when Robert wakes me up every few hours, or when I am second guessing myself even in the subconscious of sleep, about inviting my ex over, and giving him access to my space. As things went though, I shouldn’t have worried.

Robert’s father arrived with his present, a little plastic bike that is so popular with toddlers, and which I suggested as a present for this year. He also brought the large coffee press, since I only have a single cup press.  We had the usual breakfast with some festive stollen. Later Robert got to open his presents, which I had bought from different sources and saved for this day in particular. The biggest hit was a book of nursery rhymes with music.

After breakfast we took Robert for a walk, which he followed by a very short nap.  During all this time and until we returned home, my ex and I talked about general things. No recriminations, minimal talk about troubles, and mostly focused about Robert, I do not mind this sort of interaction at all.  Robert was still asleep when we arrived home, but a  s soon as he woke up, I had to move again to a friend’s place where we were invited for Christmas lunch.  The lunch was a small affair, very much to my liking, and there was only another couple invited. We still managed to get in the party mood,  cracking party favours and wearing paper crowns. The hosts were very generous and included both Robert and me with Christmas presents, whereas I only had a present for their little boy Zach, who is only one month older than Robert. The other guests received funny presents, while Robert got another noisy toy to add to his collection. I will get to enjoy that in the next few months.

Once home we had another visit from Lucy’s daughter and her son Tando. It was the perfect occasion to call Lucy in the Eastern Cape and wish her Merry Christmas. Even Robert got to say something to his nanny for this day,  it didn’t matter if nobody understood what he wanted to say, we just assumed it was a fitting Christmas greeting.

Robert tries to figure out the funny shaped present his father brought him
Robert tries to figure out the funny shaped present his father brought him

Silly Season Stories and Christmas Eve

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

The glorious South African weather apparently always turns to the worse (cold, wind, rain) for Christmas. Perhaps because heat and humidity are hardly fitting companions for the celebration, or maybe in sympathy with the housewives and kitchen employees who do a tremendous amount of cooking for the occasion, I mean who would even want to think of a roast when it is roasting hot outside.  This held true this year, as Cape Town witnessed gale force winds, unseasonal rain and almost wintry temperatures in the past few days.  The rough seas brought some unexpected consequences for a coastal resort, as people were treated to a white Christmas landscape on the beach, with the ocean foam that settled on the beach. The cool weather which was with us since late Sunday afternoon was an excuse for me to take a break from my daily jaunt to the shops.

Sea Point is becoming crazy in these days. There are tourists, holiday makers, and shoppers and the Main Road is covered with bumper to bumper traffic. These are the days when it is good to be on foot.  Like everyone else I had a busy day today. Robert and I made to the library for story time then off to the bank for some unfinished business. I was grateful that this boring stuff was dispenses with while Robert napped in his buggy. Later I nipped into the post office for some late mail – this is quite a habit with me as you will notice, everything to the last minute.  Actually all the work that I have done today (except for the holiday mail) could have easily waited until after the holidays, but there is nothing like a long weekend to put you in panic. Some of the shops are even open during Christmas day for some time, but still there is a sense of panic to get everything done and bought because some of the businesses close and the shops are not open for twelve hours. Humans are really strange.

As I write this I do not need to buy anything anymore. This year I went overboard, maybe it is to compensate for the long months of hardship, or to prove to myself that there is life after divorce. Perhaps to spite my ex I went out and bought all the things that he did was loathe to waste money on, it is kind of retail therapy I guess.  The last few days were no different, and I was running around for last minute shopping trips even as far as the Waterfront.

I did my last shopping trip to the Waterfront on Friday as Robert was with his father. And on that day I witnessed an unfortunate exchange between a bus driver and an irate would-be passenger, who tried to hail the bus to stop at a traffic circle near the Waterfront shopping complex. The driver did not stop and the irate South African continued running after the bus through the traffic and knocked so hard on the door that he shattered the glass.   Like a horror movie scene the same guy waited with his bloody hand and the next bus stop and screamed at the driver to wait on the side of the road because he had just called the police.  The driver, he claimed had risked injuring him gravely when he drove on as he was holding on to the bus, and his hand got stuck.  I was in the seat next just by the door of the bus, and I remarked that I could not see any of that. The man had irritated me so much with his crazy outburst, but he was adamant that from my vantage point I could not see everything.  The bus driver drove on and did not heed this man, but I can tell that he was shaken by the incident and he took my cell number for reference in case he got further questioning from his boss.  This crazy incident and the total lawlessness of the shopping frenzy at the V&A Waterfront made me vow to avoid it until the end of the holidays. It is a pity because Robert and I could spend a lot of time at the Aquarium, but we will get much more out of it if we wait until the out of town crowd leaves.

My shopping was later restricted to the supermarket in my direct area, and I started planning elaborate but easy menus for a quiet Christmas at home. I bought Stollen, Christmas Pudding, sparkling wine and some cold ham (no roasting for me thanks, I do struggle with simple cooking). But my plans where altered when I received two different invitations for lunch on Christmas Day and on Boxing Day.  Two different moms from my playgroup with Robert, which would be quite nice.

Last Sunday I noticed that the Church on my street ( literally two houses away) is holding a Christmas Carol evening, so I thought I could go there with Robert. We went directly after he went for a walk with his father on the beachfront.  I expected music and a lot of hymns but what I got was somewhat disappointing. The church must have been one of the less famous ones, since the congregation consisted of barely a dozen coloured people.  When I arrived the band was “rehearsing” Silent Night, and there were many miscues and mishaps, and even when they managed to get through a segment without someone dropping out, it just did not sound right.  In the end Robert and I managed to stay for roughly half the prayer evening.  I started out in the last pew but the Pastor asked me to move forward, as it was a relaxed prayer session today. The children, he said, can walk freely and look around, because this is a house. All fine and good but when Robert started chattering in front of the pulpit, I thought it was perhaps getting too much. Although I swear the little one provided some entertainment value for those who could not concentrate on the religious message.  I did not get to hear Silent Night, but managed about half of Joy to the World and one hymn at the beginning.

Personally I like the prayers that offer a universal message of peace, kindness and love, but the intricate issues of Christian faith are rather beyond me. Perhaps I cannot comprehend these ideas because  I was raised in a Monotheist faith.  This is neither the time nor the place to throw my religious convictions (or the lack of them) around so I will desist right here. Next year I will go to a proper Carols by Candlelight, either in Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens or in one of the more glamorous Churches in town.

After all these adventures this week, Christmas Eve is finally upon us. Robert’s father took him again today for a walk on the beach front, and this time I spent most of my break from baby at home. I did tidied up and wrapped up all of our presents, I only had one present to go by the time Robert came back.  As Robert drifted off to sleep I decided that perhaps it would be a good idea to invite his father over for breakfast on Christmas Day, he struck a dejected and sad figure as he dropped off Robert. Maybe I am naive but I am hopeful that he we will maintain a cordial relationship that will benefit our son.

Staycation Report

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

As of Monday Robert and I are on summer vacation, and I cannot believe we have been at it already for five days now. So what have we all been busy with.

Monday I met one of the mothers from my playgroup at the park. This is a mother from my Friday playgroup, which I used to enjoy so much because there were moms from many different backgrounds, and almost none of them a native Capetonian.  This apparently can raise the temperature of personal interaction between moms to a comfortable degree.  Perhaps this is a gross generalization, but I must admit that the Thursday group was decidedly frosty for me, and that was one of the reasons why I decided to quit the play group, it had served its purpose.

On Tuesday Robert and I took the window shopping route, along Sea Point Main Road. We went to the book sale held at Sea Point High School. Robert was excited by the number of books he saw.  He started to babble : book.. book; I am pleased to announce that this is now one of his favourite words. He especially asks for “book” when it is time for sleep, and his favourites are usually the ones that I am keeping away from him until I get a chance to repair the destruction they received at his hands.  Today, I found a couple of books that I thought he would enjoy.  On the way back I bought us lunch at the supermarket and we had an impromptu picnic at the Mount Nelson Park, which we visited together today after a very long time. The park had changed and I had trouble getting in there because they added an invisible childproof lock at the back of the gate, and I had to push and strain at the gate for almost ten minutes before I realized the problem. We had the park to ourselves, which was really strange considering that the day was a public holiday.  But being summer it is safe to assume that everyone was headed to the beach. It is a good thing that I did not go to the beach on that day because I received my first light sunburn of the summer on my shoulders. It is also a good thing that I always put sunscreen on Robert.

Yesterday though was the strangest day of all. In the morning I took Robert to the Pram Jam at the Sea Point Library. It is a story and song session hosted by the children’s librarian, and attended by young tots and their moms (or their caregivers as was the case with most the attendees this time).  Robert’s father picked us up from the library and he took us to the Waterfront.  It was the first time we go on an activity for Robert’s benefit since our divorce and I must say that it was a little surreal for me.  The sights and sounds were all the same, but the dynamics between the three of us was completely different. Robert was on his father’s arms the whole day, and was behaving most of the time.  First we stopped at the toy shop where Robert spends a lot of his time with his dad. The array of toys is mind boggling and they all vie for the attention of children of all ages, and it is a great way to waste time with a toddler even if the intention isn’t really buying. I got a chance to go shopping for some discount items not available in our area, and also for a sandal for Robert. Lastly I got to replace my lost Aquarium card, but we did not get to visit the aquarium because Robert was starting to get over tired.  When we finally got home we were both exhausted. I thought Robert would sleep for hours but he only managed one hour and then continued to spin around the flat until about half past eight, and this time we both dropped to sleep dead to the world.

The next morning my ex had sent me an SMS telling me it was nice to see how much of a mother I was to Robert, and that he felt strangely removed although still close to him. He suggested we go to the beach next time. I really do not know about spending time with my ex. On the one hand the peace is good for the soul, I spend less energy fighting with him and more on being myself and mother to Robert.  However it is still exhausting on another level, because I have no idea who I am dealing with. I have seen so many faces of the man it keeps me wondering what next. Wait and see, that’s the only thing to do.

Lost and Found

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

My absent-mindedness almost caught up with me today ( yet again).  This happens two months after losing my wallet on board a bus – a situation I haven’t recovered from yet, I might add, since I haven’t had the time yet to replace my driver’s license. The near miss today was my cell phone.

The day started in the usual rush to get Robert to day care and myself to work. I had arranged with his father to pick him up early today so that we can take him for his immunization, but in the rush I forgot to take his immunization card.  So the day did not bode very well from the start.

At the Cape Town Mediclinic Robert sat through two injections on each shoulder crying only for the second one. He was however very fidgety as I carried him to the parking lot. I took out my cell phone to call his father who was out of sight as we returned to the car, but before I could use the phone, my ex showed up and we quickly got into the car and headed home.

I only discovered that I misplaced my phone two hours later as I was ready to leave with Robert. I went through the usual routine of phoning it and was dismayed that I did not hear it in my flat. The next check was to phone my ex, which is rather embarrassing for me, because my ex always lambasted me for my absentminded and disorganized nature. Surprisingly this time he was rather accommodating and went through searching the car twice, and then offered to walk to the Mediclinic and ask at the desk. He came up with nothing and I resigned myself to the fact that I have seen the last of my cell phone. The only question in my mind was when should I actually give up and order a new one ?

I researched and located a replacement at a cost of R2500, it could have been worse I thought. Then I remembered with dismay all the photos I took yesterday and never had time to download. I also realized with shock that I lost everyone’s number including my nanny’s. I managed to find her number somewhere else, which was somewhat of a relief because my only contacts to her -Jackie and her mom- are not talking to me anymore. In the end and after futile phoning to my lost cell, which was always ringing forlornly somewhere, I decided to go to the shops. For some reason I started buying the things that I was putting off, never mind the fact that I was going to have a huge bill for a new cell phone shortly.  Robert was oblivious to my trouble and slept peacefully in his buggy. Today he wore a lime-green shirt on top of his army camouflage pants and looked so cute, and again I thought of my missing cell phone and its camera.

Shortly after our return from the shops I made one more call to my cell phone and to my amazement someone answered, saying that they found my phone on the sidewalk; I had dropped it right in front of our block. The kind man explained that his housekeeper found it and I was so pleased I told him I would give him all I have in my wallet as a reward, he said that his housekeeper will be pleased.  A few minutes after this phone call the kind man arrived with my cell phone, and he only took part of  the money I offered in gratitude. My good Samaritan lives and works a few blocks away as a children photographer, so I am certainly going to see him again for photos with Robert.

What a surprising and pleasant end to another misadventure. Thank you Cape Town, there are still good people out there.

Update on Robert: My worries about Robert’s eating calmed a little after his measurements at the clinic. He actually put on a few grams since he recovered from tonsillitis.

Today his stats today are as follows:

Weight:  10.35 kg

Length: 82 cm

Poor Joyless Man

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

Many years ago my ex husband and I saw the film American Beauty. In the movie we meet the protagonist Lester, a married man with a teenage daughter. We watch as his marriage (and life) derail in bizarre circumstances. I can still remember the scene where Lester laments to his wife Carolyn : “How did you become so…. joyless?”. If there was one word to describe my marriage or my ex husband, that will be it… joyless.

Two weeks ago my ex and I came into another awful confrontation. He had expected me to pay him over the occupational rent (money paid by the buyer to the seller for occupying a property while it is still registered in the seller’s name) for the house that was sold in the Eastern Cape. He thought that it was his right, in lieu of the maintenance he paid us (?).  Stupidity prevented me from disputing such ludicrous proposal when it was made, but I figured out how unfair it was a few hours later. The money from the sale of the house was supposed to be my divorce settlement and my ex has washed his hands clean from every expense that related to finalizing the sale of the house. Out of my pocket I paid for the auction which turned out to be an absolute flop, and from the proceeds of the sale I paid the real estate agent commission the rates and taxes, the costs for cleaning the pool and a final municipal bill that amounted to over R 8000.  Whenever anyone asked him something about the house in Gonubie he referred them to me, saying that the house now belongs to me. So I do not understand under which pretext does he want to claim the amount of occupational rent ( R 9000 for two months). When I stated my case in these words my ex went ballistic and called me names, and threatened -as usual- to withdraw Robert’s support.

Obviously he was still resentful even days later because he indicated that he wanted to be out of my medical aid. He still asked me though for prices of discounted flights to Canada, which I get as a benefit of my job.  I have to say here that I have come to a point in my life where I am no longer resentful of my ex. I can write horror stories of his maltreatment of me, his emotional abuse, his selfishness and stinginess.  When he flies at me with unfounded accusations, throwing at me what ” I did to him” I want him at the other end of the world. Perhaps this is one reason why I want to facilitate for him getting a ticket to Canada. It is the perverse wish that something will happen to keep him there, and out of my hair for good.  But all this notwithstanding, sometimes I still feel sorry for the man, and his damaged personality. He is a person incapable of feeling love, not the way I feel it anyway.

My ambiguous feelings towards the man came full circle yesterday. I phoned him to ask him again whether he was sure he wanted me to take him off his medical aid. I found a confused and agonized person. His plans of spending Christmas with his family were derailed by his mother’s frosty reception. His “relationship” isn’t what he expected. He paid me a backhanded compliment by saying that I was intelligent in comparison and although I seemed to do everything wrong I was a hundred times better than other woman (this type of compliment is typical to him so I cannot take offense). He even said that he is starting to realize that he was probably better off married to me, and all he wanted now was to see Robert grow.

Now I am not going to make too much of what he said.  He will soon revert to his old self again, and once he is strong he will believe again all the lies he tells himself. Still I found myself once more in my familiar role as psychoanalyst and adviser. I offered some tepid advice, and tried to avoid to many ” I told you so”s.  I am certain though that the man will never change. Sometimes his conscience catches up with him, it is usually when someone else offers him the type of coldness and cruelty he dispenses to others. But then he runs away from the truth again, mixing up with people who would tell him how great he is and convince him he is not a horrible person person after all. His mother by her very existence uncomfortably gives him a mirror of the very characteristics he hates about himself; he is too weak to change, and too proud to accept them. Instead he escapes into self delusion, with whoever wants to live the lie with him.  I feel sorry for his wasted joyless life, at the same time I am grateful that I was given the chance to escape it. I only hope those misery genes will not get passed on to our son.

Lawyers, Telkom, Ex-husbands and Hospitals.

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

I feel drained and very upset today. My eyes are red and itchy from crying and my head feels like I am suffering from a hangover, but it is just the pent up frustration and depression.

My depression started yesterday afternoon, as I was desperately trying to finish a translation assignment before the deadline. Robbie was hanging around me, crying, cranky, clingy and unhappy. I should have known that something was wrong with him when his teacher at the day care said that he slept during his five hours there. Later he became warmer and I gave him a suppository; but it didn’t do much. His appetite hasn’t been good since he had the ear infection last week, but today he didn’t want to eat anything, and when I managed to get something into his stomach he threw it all up after a few minutes. This is the second time this happens in the last 24 hours. The first time he threw up on Sunday afternoon while we were out for a walk; the mess was phenomenal but he didn’t seem worse for wear, and was quite chirpy while we had a bath so I discounted it as an isolated event and took him to the daycare Monday morning.

As if work and a sick baby was not enough to keep me busy I also had a Telkom technician install my phone line yesterday. The phone proved useless when I wanted to phone Robert’s pediatrician and I had to use my cell phone. The pediatrician advised me to give Robert only liquids tonight and see how he is tomorrow. He told me to bring him into hospital if I was still worried. I was trying to control my feeling of worry, but once my job was safely sent I started to feel guilty and decided that perhaps Robert needed more medical attention. His temperature was still high, he was unhappy, and had a dazed look in his eyes. I had to call my ex-husband to take me of course, and although he agreed readily enough it was again one of those days when I wished I had an alternative.

Robert’s dad moved out of our area, and now lives closer to Cape Town center, so traveling must be an issue for him. By the time he arrived I was getting exasperated and felt my nerves fraying. Robert’s condition probably did not justify my intense reaction but my feeling of helplessness towards his sickness did. When we arrived at the hospital I fumbled with filling forms, and was unable even to remember my own cell number. I felt completely inadequate and emotionally out of control; I did not cry but I dithered and blabbered endlessly. I must have felt sorry for myself and my situation as a single mom. My ex-husband brought up the name of a woman a couple of times; how she helped him move and stored some of his furniture at her place. In contrast I felt alone and helpless, having to rely on him again if I wanted to provide my child with proper medical attention.
I watched the rapport between him and Robert and how my little one preferred him to me as a playmate, even in his sick condition. It brought a lump in my throat to see them together and I wished my ex-husband really had in his heart the love he was outwardly projecting onto his son. I also wished I was in a position to provide my boy with a substitute father.

Between myself, Robert’s dad and a kindly nurse we gave Robert a sponge bath and his temperature was brought down. A terrifyingly young-looking doctor examined him and diagnosed an ear infection. He did not give any medication for the stomach ailment and only prescribed an antibiotic. Obviously Robert’s earlier ear infection was not cured. My conscience bothered me about this one; perhaps I should have given him the whole bottle of anti-biotic, but for god’s sake it was a huge amount that would have lasted 14 days. The GP initially prescribed five days and when I feared that he was developing a cough I continued with it for three more days, what is wrong with that?

On the way home my ex and I spoke and again the name of the woman was dropped and I felt really miserable. I always suspected the existence of a woman, but now she has a name, and I am sure she cares about him (or whom she thinks he is) a great deal. Life is so unfair ! A single man like him gets the help and devotion of some willing woman, while I struggle with my child without any help. Even my supposed friend has decided to shut me out of her life because of a dispute over money.

Yesterday was also supposed to be a good day because I finally received the revenue from the sale of the house in the Eastern Cape. My lawyer’s behavior, however, left a bad taste in my mouth.  He charged me a fee for supervising the sale of the house in Gonubie, and took a dent out of what I figured would be my net sale revenue.  When the house was sold some lawyer in East London (who was contacted presumably by the real estate agent) started the process of transfer. When my lawyer found out he wanted to be in on the process because the order of divorce stated that he was the one who was supposed to do the transfer (and collect the fee from the buyer). From my perspective, I did not give a bent farthing which lawyer did the transfer as long as I did not get to pay anything, and that was what I told my lawyer. His response was : He had to be involved to look after my interest and make sure that I get paid my money, and no I needn’t pay for the transfer.  I did not pay for the transfer, but the dear lawyers decided to share the cake : The purchaser pays the lawyer in East London ( as it is normally the case) the lawyer in Cape Town crooks his client for a fee and everyone is happy : both lawyers get a cut (when normally only one would), and the ex husband gets his money in full (because the lawyer did not act on his behalf duh), and the poor client gets to pay for the pleasure of everyone. Crooks or what? The bill for my lawyer’s “supervision of the transfer” read like a bloody essay and there is not a single thing on there that I couldn’t have done myself for free. The only thing that I might have missed is the commission that they charged me for the occupational rent, but that was about R 1200. So in effect the lawyer charged me four thousand Rands to save me twelve hundred. I was quite unhappy with this and wrote to the lawyer who gave me a discount (returned to me 15% of the fee he unfairly charged me). I accepted the discount because I learned that when one is in a losing position, anything is better than nothing. The business relationship however between me and this lawyer is over. I am going to make some other crook’s day for estate planning (a fancy legal word for writing a will, maybe to justify the horrific fee).

Today things started crumbling further for me when I discovered that what Telkom technicians installed for me was an analog line, and I had to wait another 30 days to upgrade it to DSL. Again, I spent hours on the phone trying to get some sense out of anyone. Mostly perhaps WHY did they install me a normal line when I specifically order a DSL line? I tried to explain to the machine-like people on the other side that I would now be waiting for 2 months to get my internet connection, which was the main reason why I wanted the phone in the first place. Their bland voices just said that they do understand, but in the end Telkom does what Telkom wants and never mind the wishes of the customer. I have had every possible unpleasantness from Tekom, yet they are somehow regarded as above reproach. None of their consultants is ever willing to give you information on how to submit a complaint.

I was still reeling in shock with all these developments, but my baby looked fine and I decided to go to the bank and collect my replacement credit card. I am slowly starting to replace the contents of the wallet I lost over two weeks ago. So I am here standing at the queue, and I it was almost my turn when Robert decided that it is time for another episode of projectile vomiting. This time I was mentally and physically unprepared and I just abandoned the queue and ran out of the bank. At the next block there is the pharmacy where I usually buy our prescriptions, I stopped there to get some tissue and wipe my son up and bought a pack of re-hydration fluid. At the checkout I just broke down and started crying in front of the cashier, who was trying to tell me that things will be alright, but at that point all I could think of was : Enough Already !!! I am done.

At home I was in for another episode of dealing with a sickly child. Cleaning him up, trying to make him eat, trying to get him to drink and wiping up the resulting mess, from his face, from the floor and the carpet. Tomorrow I am taking him to his regular pediatrician which means another call to a reluctant father and another unpleasant day, but let us just get over this one first.

Another Irrevocable Breakup?

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

The hardest days for me to work are the Sundays, because these are the days I leave my child into the reluctant care of his father, and today was an extra bad one in terms of work pressure.  As I was nearing home my heart sank further when I saw the car of Jackie’s “boyfriend” parked in front of the house. I simply despise the man; I find him vulgar, impolite and simply stupid.  On one occasion, not even my closed door hindered his imposition, and unfortunately whenever I tell him directly what I think of him, he laughs it off as an attempt to hide my weakness to his physical charm, or should I say his impressive physical attribute which he never ceases to speak about.  I was not looking forward to an evening of listening to his vulgarity, which somehow amuses Jackie.

There was more crap waiting for me behind that closed door, however, but mercifully I did not know that, and when my cell phone rang I took the call just outside the house. I remember looking at the afternoon sky when the real estate agent told me breathlessly that she sold our house in Gonubie. My heavy heart began lifting a little when I asked her for the details. She told me that she brought me the price I was aiming for after her commission, and promised to fax me the offer to sign early on Monday.

I did not get to tell Jackie my good news because when I entered the house she met me with that silly “boyfriend” in tow, there was also another friend of hers present. I saw her smile while she told me that Petey had left a present on my bed, and indeed the room smelled of it. I was just too angry to speak for a few minutes as I raced to peal off the sheets of my soiled bed, and tried to clean up the mess and the smell before my son arrived.  In one moment I knew that I had enough, I have had Petey for three years, and not once had he done this, not even while he was crippled from his fall out of my third floor window.  I just knew that he only did it this time because he was locked in the room, and was not used yet to getting out of the window. As I snatched the dirty sheets, and steeled by the knowledge that my days of penury are almost over, I blurted it out: Look, it is not because of this, but I cannot stay here anymore. I am moving out in two weeks, when she asked me what I meant I told her I am moving out and that she should put that in her pipe and smoke it. Jackie took this very hard and hurled accusations at me, attacking my integrity and implying that I deserved what my ex did to me because I lacked decency. It was not composure or good manners that kept me silent, it was just shock, she went on and on about notices, contracts and money for electricity that I “owed” her.  What about paying these? she said, I just answered we will see, and kept on topping my avocado toast. I marvel now at how cool I remained, but I simply had no recourse against her poisonous tirade.

In the middle of all that my ex dropped off my son,  so we took a break from the fighting, but then I heard Jackie speaking to her mother on the phone and I asked to speak to her after she finishes, because she was my landlady like my dear friend Jackie pointed out. I wish I could say that the mother was harsher on me than the daughter, but it is not true, we only get hurt from those we care about.  Mrs L pretended that she did not know the story, so I told her that I found another place and will be leaving in two weeks.  I was more or less prepared to her line of argument: The contract I signed (the piece of paper I insisted to have in order to apply for my own phone line coming back to bite me), and how supportive they all were of me, etc. The only thing that unsettled me was my landlady’s claim that she gave me her maid Lucy.  She said that Lucy will no longer be allowed to look after Robert, and this was something I was not prepared to think about since Lucy’s help was central to my ability to show up at work.  I was shaken, but I managed to keep a clear mind. I went immediately after this conversation -while Jackie was busy in her room with her friends- and fished out the “contract”. My copy was the only copy available, and I could not trust keeping it in the house, so I just shredded it to pieces and flushed it down the toilet.

Soon after this I took Robert out and walked with him to get the anger out of my system. But before I left I called Lucy and asked her to meet me opposite her daughter’s place. Lucy has been good to me always, I told her everything, and she calmed me down and told me not to worry. She said that Jackie’s mother cannot prevent her from working  in her own time in the afternoon, and if she insisted on preventing her then she has to pay her whatever I pay her. We both knew Mrs. L well enough to know that she would not do that.  Speaking to Lucy felt good and I was calm again.

I remember coming back to a darkened room and having to put my boy to sleep on a blanked on the floor to avoid contact with the still soiled mattress.. As my little baby snuggled against me to have his evening snack I felt so empty, drained and abandoned and the only thing I thought about was phoning my ex.  I had nobody to share the joy of unloading the house, or the pain of losing a friend. As I explained to him what had happened my voice chocked and I cried. I do not know what I expected from him, but old habits die hard, and after the ugly argument with Jackie I had nobody else to talk to.

When Robert slept safely in his crib.  I cleaned up the mattress and washed out the worst dirt from the sheets. I asked Jackie for new sheets and she gave me some. We talked somewhat,  and she tried a more conciliatory tone with me this time.  She claimed she cared about me, and there were a few tears shed from both of us. My tears felt cold on my cheeks, they weren’t the hot tears of remorse and healing.  They were tears of calm acceptance, something has been irrevocably broken.