Lee.

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

My chest feels heavy and every now and then I feel myself gasping for air. There is a lump in my throat as a cry wants to escape. A wetness in the corner of my eyes. Breathe.

I miss my Liam. Writing the words, the wetness escapes my eyes and I feel the tears running down my face.

It has been a month since my boy left for England, yet it feels much longer. It is painful. I feel a desperation I don’t know how to describe.

Every smidge of news I absorb. Every picture shared I save and print it into my memory. I don’t want to miss a thing.

I don’t want him to feel sad. I want him to see things, do things I’ve never done. Go places. Laugh. Be you. Touch the world as only you can.

My Liam James is doing just dandy over the sea. It is only me who is not. There is this hole, this empty space in my life where Lee fits in that I don’t know how to fill.

Does it get better?

I wish you enough,
Liam’s Mom.

I’m not a Queen 👑?

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

Let me set the murder scene.

The husband is sitting outside, very proudly looking at the fire he made. Fast forward to after the Boer War.

The fire is inside a built in braai.

In the wall.

With a light inside it, so you can check if you are Afrikaans or English.

The husband is drinking a beer. I ask him where my Strawberry Daiquiri is. He replies bravely… actually, I should be serving him drinks as he is making a fire for me.

A fire for me? I’ve already suggested the use of the oven twice, and yet he keep mentioning a fire. (Must check out his schizophrenic tendancies with therapist.)

Back to the drink. Now … I know my heritage is a touch of Portuguese, a slap on the ass of Italian and a karvoevel with a Cape Coloured somewhere, but none it includes me serving beer! (Wench – – – naaah!)

Then the realisation hit me. I’m Egyptian! Clearly right? I’m Cleopatra. A queen!

Husband says “Even if you were Egyptian, which you are not, what makes you a Queen?”

#LeSigh… “Well, there is no way I was going to be Egyptian AND a peasant!”

I wish you enough,

Wenchy

The Tale Of The Potent Brownie

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

If you have grown children with a sense of danger, humour and me as a Mom… this delight may await you.

BTW, calling your kids assholes can be a term of endearment. #wink

I am NOT impersonating a vlogger. I don’t have the skills for that. This was totally just me telling a story!

Click here :

The Tale Of The Potent Brownie

I wish you enough,

Wenchy

#wenchytude