Behind blue eyes

Heya sexy!

Sorry I’ve been so quiet, but this last week has been a hectic one. Deadlines, toddlers who think it’s funny to give parents 4 hours of sleep…that kind of thing. Plus, I didn’t think anybody would notice my short leave of absence (thanks Crez). Flattered.

Anyhoooow…let’s get down to the nitty gritty.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about who I am. Who I REALLY am. To the core of me – what makes me tick? What do I like? Who do I see when I look in the mirror – someone I love, a dear old friend, or is this love clouded by all the things I “need to” change about my physical self? What makes me laugh so much that my stomach hurts? What makes me sad beyond belief? What DEFINES me? What makes me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt? Am I a good person? Am I worthy of other people’s love? Can I keep a secret? What am I passionate about? What single word could be used to best describe me? What legacy will I leave behind? In essence: WHO AM I?

When I grew up, I was a very awkward kid. Outspoken, but awkward. I had these eyes which were wayyyyyy too big for my face, and as a result, I got teased.  A lot. I didn’t have one sporty bone in my body. I was an “early bloomer”. I loved books and writing (not much has changed in this department). I had no self esteem. I was that token kid who always got chosen last for those damned PE (physical exercise) classes. After a while, I just had my mom write me a sick note so I could get out of those stupid classes. I was always deemed “different”, and I was painfully aware of that fact from a very young age.

If I could go back in time, say to where I was about 10 or 12 years old, I’d look myself in the eyes and say, “They’re the ones who are different. You are perfect just the way God made you. Don’t ever change because you don’t fit the mould. Stand out. Stand up. Lift your head.”

But I can’t do that, and over the years I did change – or I tried very hard to. It wasn’t so bad while I was in high school, because I had friends who were just as “different” as I was. We sang in the school choir. Read and wrote poetry under the big trees in the school courtyard. We dressed differently. “Arty people”, in layman’s terms. We were not the “cool kids”, but we didn’t care. We had the “edge”. Of course there was always the overwhelming pressure to be skinny and to attract the attention of gawky boys with pimples, high on a cocktail of hormones. Gag. Equally impossible when you’ve got braces and the school uniform was designed for someone whose body shape is the opposite of yours.

Then came my varsity years, starting in 2005. My self-esteem wasn’t too bad – I was an “adult”, 1200km’s from my hometown and I could pretty much do what I wanted to. I was studying BA Communication Studies majoring in Creative Writing. The world was my oyster. Sure we were heavily restricted as part of our hostel “initiation” period, but looking back I know it was to make sure that the “Head Girls” – those over-eager prom queens/Stepford wives/Martha Stewarts that you encounter in life, whether you are 8 or 80 years old – are brought to earth. Varsity, in my mind, was the great leveller: the playing field was equal.

And then I met him.

And lost him.

And myself.

Over and over and over.

Let’s fast forward to 2007. To a place where he dropped me off at Johannesburg airport. My life’s belongings in a suitcase. My studies long forgotten – years which were supposed to be my most carefree and happy ones, tainted by the horrible, bittersweet aftertaste of this cruel, twisted illusion I called “love”. My mom waiting for me on the other side. I had aged by about 20 years. I didn’t smile – I couldn’t. I was broken. I was empty. I was lost. And I didn’t have a clue who I was, because over the years I had morphed into a weak, watered down version of him.

And then I decided to move to Johannesburg in 2008. Alone. I didn’t know anybody, or have anything. No car, no job, no house. Nothing. Those things were just “details” in my mind. And you know what – this was probably the single most significant thing I ever did for myself. For me. My defining moment. I was alone and I couldn’t hide behind the familiarity and the safety of my family and friends. I had to face the music, and rediscover who I was. My mom cried when I left, my dad said “go”. I owe him for believing in me in that moment, even though I had screwed up so much.

I was alone, but I wasn’t, because I had God. And slowly He took my hand, gained my trust, and lifted me into the blinding light, out of that dark pit that was my so-called life. He lavished me with His love, bathed me until I was white as snow, clothed me in the finest silk, fed me until I didn’t look like a ghost girl anymore. Loved me. And slowly I started smiling again – genuine smiles that would reach my eyes. Writing again. Daring to dream again. Living again. And facing my demons. It had to be done, and I did it.

I owed it to myself to become whole again. How could I expect someone else to love me - nevermind marry me, something that I desired since I was about five years old - if I didn’t even love and know myself. Hard to attach the word “love” to someone or something if you don’t know them or it inside out. Love is permanent. Love is true. Love is good.

And here I am today. A far cry from the girl I was five years ago. A wife. A mom. A whole person in the true sense of the word. Left-off-centre and totally random at times, but 100% me. I was able to give all of me to Adam when we got married, because I knew he could be trusted with what I was giving him. I knew it didn’t mean I would have to change into him – that would just be weird. And sick. He’s a sport freak, I love (read prefer) the company of my books/Kindle. I’m a writer; he struggles with filling in a simple form. He is an early riser; I am the worst morning person you’ll ever encounter. I like going to the opera, cinema nouveau and the theatre; he’d “rather peel his skin off and roll around in salt” than entertaining the fine arts. I am irrational, slightly OCD (or CDO, because that’s how the letters appear in the alphabet) and over-think most things; he centres me and sees the bigger, “this is not as bad as you tell yourself it is” picture. Chalk and cheese. Wine and water. He is North and I am probably South. But he is my true North. And it works, because we are both two whole people.

Of course discovering and rediscovering who you are, is an ongoing process – you are stuck with yourself for life, baby. But it is one that is SO worth it. A journey that you take yourself on and heck, a journey which sometimes reveals some very shocking, surprising and downright nasty things about yourself. But that’s the beauty of it: only you know. Only you have to know. And above all things: only you have to love, yes LOVE all the things about yourself.

Everyone else does already.

Maryke

Foodie Friday - NO BAKING Chocolate Biscuit Fudge

First of all,I'm a bit emotional today.I'm very tempted to post a recipe containing tears,tissues,photos and first locks of hair.Errrrmmmm,that sounds freaky.

My baby boy is no longer a baby - he is 18 months old today *Sobs into pillow*

He has a vocabulary of 70+ words,and we are able to communicate with him AND he responds.He is funny,witty,smart,practically dresses himself,brushes his own hair and teeth,runs into and kicks a soccer ball and he looks like a real little person now *Does the ugly cry*

I am so grateful for him.Grateful that he is growing so well and excelling in everything he does.Running through his milestones at high speed.I'm excited about his future:bright and wide open,rich with promise and possibilities.I'm proud to be his mom.I don't know how we ever coped without him around.

Eli Hunter,not even a day old here

Moving swiftly along,today's Foodie Friday recipe is another quick and easy one (like I said before - I live for quick and easy).On some foods  - like a proper curry (no Rajah curry powder allowed!) - I wouldn't dream of taking shortcuts.But other things are certainly open for debate.

This recipe literally takes about 10 minutes to prepare,and then it just has to chill in the fridge for an hour.It's a classic sweet treat that has been around for many generations - I've seen it at every school fete or church bazaar I've ever been to - and it's a firm vacation-food favourite.You all know what I'm talking about,so here it goes (where's your pen and paper?):

NO BAKING Chocolate Biscuit Fudge

Ingredients:

250g salted butter - melted
1 Extra Large egg - left whole
1 Tsp vanilla extract
1 Pkt (200g) biscuits,crushed - here you can use Boudoir biscuits,Marie biscuits,digestive biscuits or tennis biscuits
500g icing sugar - sifted
4 Tbs cocoa,sifted - use a good quality cocoa,like the brand NoMU (www.nomu.co.za), as it gives your squares an amazing dark chocolate quality
Sea salt flakes to sprinkle

*Additional flavourings: You can add 1 Tsp instant coffee,grated zest from an orange, 5ml rum or a couple of finely chopped Maraschino cherries to your batter for a different taste*

Directions:

Melt the butter,then whisk in the vanilla,egg,sifted icing sugar and cocoa,and whatever additional flavourings you chose (if any).

Add the crushed biscuits and mix together.

Press the mixture into a square pie or baking dish.

Sprinkle over some sea salt flakes (sparingly).

Put in the fridge to set for about an hour.

Cut into squares and ENJOY!!!

(If you're pregnant,you should probably not eat these squares because of the "raw egg" element.Just thought of that).

I hope you all have a fantastic weekend - I need this one,it's been a very emotional week for me.But all good now.

Maryke

xxx

I'm not giving up,I'm just giving in

"I call this one surrendering"

It's that fine line
between pleasure and pain:
what I'm giving up,holding back on.
What I'm losing,what I gain.

It's that fine line
between now or never:
what I'm missing out on,my regrets.
What I build on rock,what ties I sever.

It's that fine line in red:
Intricately laced between want and need.
Oh God,please erase the grey!
Oh God,please take the lead.

(17 October 2012)

There comes a time in your life when you reach a certain space in your heart and in your mind,that you realise you are not as strong and in control as you thought you were.This is a good thing.

"There's beauty in the breakdown" - Frou Frou,Let Go (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3MRhQ1LXxfw)

There comes a time in your life when you realise the load is too heavy for you to carry,the burden is too heavy for your weak and weary flesh,and you surrender.This is a good thing.

"I'm not giving up,I'm just giving in" - Florence and the Machine,Never Let Me Go (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zMBTvuUlm98)

I came to that space today.
I don't want to be in control anymore - quite frankly,I suck at it.
There are some areas of my life that I've been secretly holding onto...one in particular...and it's time to let go.
I'm letting go.

"Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him" - James 1v12

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;" - Proverbs 3v5

"I delight to do your will,O my God; Your law is within my heart." - Psalm 40v8

"And he said,'Abba,Father,all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what You will'." - Mark 14v36

I'm surrendering.

And it feels amazing.

xxx

Foodie Friday - Cheesy Wheels

Good morning pretties,

Well,it has pretty much been raining cats and dogs since last night,but the rain actually refreshes me and everything smells so crisp and clean.Oh and let's not forget the sound of Joburg thunder rolling in the distance.I am reminded today of God's greatness and the way He created everything in heaven and earth for His glory.

So,I've been thinking about what recipe to post next,and I've actually been struggling because my head is so full of ideas and inspiration.I must admit that watching cooking programs is my guilty pleasure,and if I had the luxury to do so,I'd sit and watch them all day long (but I know I'd be a drooling mess by the time Adam came home).I'm especially enjoying Junior Masterchef Australia that's currently showing four nights a week (on DSTV channel 101, at18h00 from Monday to Thursday).Whoever thought that putting a bunch of 9 to 12 year-old kids in a kitchen would be a good idea,was right.It's a flipping great idea.And those kids have me in tears nearly every day!

Anyway,let's get back to today's recipe.This has been a firm favourite of mine for years,and one of my best friends' mother showed me how to make "Cheesy Wheels" while I was still in school.I've made this recipe over and over again,and it works great as an appetiser,or even as a light meal (when served with salad).What's great about "Cheesy Wheels" is the fact that they can be prepared well in advance,frozen for months,and when your guests arrive you can just cut the wheels and pop them into the oven.Easy,convenient,delicious and very addictive.So here we go (pen and paper ready?):

"Cheesy Wheels" (makes about 12-14 wheels)

Ingredients:

One roll of ready-made puff pastry
One packet of lean bacon,cut into pieces
Roughly one and 1/2 cups of grated cheese
Dried herbs like oregano or basil

Method

Pre-heat your oven to 200 degrees Celsius,and lightly grease a baking tray with cooking spray/butter.

Roll your puff pastry out onto a flat surface.This works best if the pastry is NOT frozen,so leave the pastry in the fridge overnight to defrost (if it's coming out of the freezer).Make sure your pastry is not too soft either,otherwise it gets near-impossible to roll up again.

Sprinkle the pastry evenly with the cheese.

Put the bacon pieces on top of the cheese,making sure they are spread out evenly too.

Sprinkle with the herbs of your choice.

Now carefully roll the pastry up again,making sure there are no cracks and that it forms a firm roll/sausage (almost like you would roll up a towel).

If your pastry is still semi-firm at that point,use a knife with a serrated edge to cut "wheels" off the roll,starting on the one end and working your way to the other.Make sure you don't cut the wheels too thick,as you want them all to bake evenly.

(Quick tip:If you have an hour or two to spare,you could wrap the entire roll back in its plastic,and pop it into the freezer again - this makes the cutting process easier,but it's not a must if you're strapped for time).

When you cut your wheels,try to hold all the fillings together,and when you put them onto the baking tray,make sure to shape them into nice-looking wheels.

Now place the baking tray into the pre-heated oven,and bake the Cheesy Wheels for 20-25 minutes,but check on them regularly to see that they're not burning.When the pastry is flaky and golden brown and the cheese melted,your Cheesy Wheels are ready to come out of the oven.

Remove the Cheesy Wheels from the baking tray by using a spatula,and put them straight onto a plate and serve them immediately - fresh from the oven and full of deliciousness.You can serve them with a sauce of your choice,I found that sweet chili sauce works very well.

Voila!

Variations:

I know cheese and bacon isn't for everyone,but the great thing about this recipe is that you can put just about anything into these wheels.Here are some variations that you can try out - there are also many great vegetarian options available.Improvise,me hearties:

- Basil pesto and Mozzarella
- Tomato paste and Cheese
- Olive tapenade and finely chopped mushrooms
- Tuna mayonnaise with spring onions
- Spinach and feta cheese

And as a dessert option:

- Nutella with pieces of banana,served with ice cream.

I hope you all have a brilliant weekend,filled with love,laughter,quality family time and just plain put-your-feet-up goodness.

M
xxx

I RAN JOZI (well,sort of)

Hello!

It’s been quite a while since I’ve checked in, but my hands have been itching to write this post. This has been an incredibly busy week for me in terms of work (which I am eternally thankful for), so I’ve pretty much had to put everything else on the back burner. Also, it is mighty hard to move fast and to do things fast, when you’re walking like a granny and even grunting every time you sit down or get up. There’s a first time for everything.

And when I say there’s a first time for everything – I mean it in the literal sense. On Sunday morning, I ran my first 10km race (the NIKE We Run Jozi race), thereby reaching my first fitness goal, putting a ginormous “CHECK” into an imaginary check box, and lifting my “not so nice” finger to those who thought I’d never be able to do it.

On Saturday, my husband and I lay all our gear out for Sunday and a huge sense of excitement started building inside of me, although I did threaten a few times that I’m not going to do it because I “just don’t feel ready”. But the truth is, that’s exactly what the “old me” would do…commit, commit, commit…and then bail. But not this time. I actually did the hard work, put in the long hours and I was ready to reach my goal.

So after a night of tossing and turning (once again, the nerves), Adam woke me up at 6 o’clock and we got ready to make our way to the Gautrain station, where we’d hop on the train to Sandton where the starting point was. And man, the beautiful luminous green and black NIKE Dry Fit shirt with the words “#BELOVED” on the back (I chose that, because that’s what I am) felt so good against my skin. I applied sunscreen like I meant it. I carbo-loaded like a boss. Armed with my little running “moonbag” (this is the best word I can use to describe my little bag) filled to the brim with chewing gum, energy gels, a little bit of cash in case I need to buy something en route, tissues and my MP3 player: I was ready to rock.

We are singing the national anthem (everyone pretty much at their own pace, as it is near impossible to orchestrate 20 000 people). It is 8h45, and the race is due to start in 15 minutes. The atmosphere in the air is electrifying, and the sun is baking down on us. We’ve done some warm-up exercises. We’ve witnessed a marriage proposal (how to cash in on an audience, eh). And now we are all pretty much rearing to go. Even the guy with the massive Afro wig on his head. The moment of truth.

And then the countdown. The gun blazes. Fireworks illuminate the Jozi sky and helicopters do back-flips. I anticipate hitting the ground running, my feet start moving, a slow walk to the official starting point. And then we stop dead.

And over the next 2 and a half kilometres, we stop dead many times, sometimes moving as slowly as 20 minutes per kilometre. I start getting frustrated, because this is not what I signed up for. This is not what I had in mind for my first race. I saw myself running to the cool beats of aKing with the wind in my hair, strong and fit, reaping the rewards of months of training. Instead I was walking with my elbows out, one amongst 20 000, huffing and puffing to get past people and getting seriously annoyed that 70% of people were taking a leisurely Sunday morning stroll. Sigh.

Eventually the crowds started thinning out, and I was able to get into a groove. The groove being that place where I can keep on going and going for kilometres and kilometres , aware of every step I take, and of every breath that enters and leaves my body. Probably the one thing that got me addicted to running in the first place. Fierce, fearless and determined. And then Alexandra (probably the biggest, smelliest township in Johannesburg) hit me. And what I saw – and smelled – took my breath away. No really, I was holding my breath.

What I saw over the next 3 or 4 kilometres was not a pretty sight. Dilapidated buildings and houses made out of tin. Muck running in thick streams through the streets. Livestock being slaughtered. I thought to myself, “The next time you want to us to run through Alex, NIKE, make sure you tip an entire container of Dettol over each and every house.” Sis man!

And then I had a change of heart (mostly because being “annoyed” while you’re running apparently uses up more energy, and you definitely lose focus). I started to notice the smiles of all the children who so desperately wanted you to touch their hands as you were passing by – like you were a world class athlete and you touching their hands, meant everything to them. So I touched their hands. And I listened to some of the conversations going on around me – the playful banter – of my fellow Run Jozians, and I started to smile and even crack a joke or two myself. I switched my MP3 player off and I decided to enjoy Jozi, and man, I did.

To the little girls who made up a cheer leading song on the spot, and sang it with such enthusiasm, I saw you. To the wise-ass spectator who rubbed his chin and chirped, “Heibo, this race should be called Walk Jozi, not Run Jozi. Marra this is a fun walk,” – thanks for making me have a good chuckle. To the “good Samaritan” who sprayed me with his garden hosepipe IN THE FACE…I think I’ve said all there is to say to you on the day. And to all the pigs I dodged on the way, thanks for the bacon.

After Alex, we were about 2 kilometres away from the finish line, and a new determination got hold of me. I ran reverently and I started focusing on what needed to be done. I could see the finish line a mere few hundred metres in the distance, and the masses of people who cheered for everyone, accompanied by strategically placed photographers, made me feel like I was invincible. I did it. I finished my first race – a distance of 10.83km in a time of 1h37 (according to my watch). I received my first sporting medal EVER and shed a few tears (luckily I was wearing sunglasses, nobody could tell) and I wanted to start dancing. Leaping. Shouting with joy: I CAN. I DID.



I WAS HERE!!!!!!



And I’m doing it all again on Sunday.

:)

(PS: You do NOT want to miss tomorrow's FOODIE FRIDAY)

The First "Foodie Friday"

I'm sure you're all familiar with the expression,"you can have your cake and eat it".If you think about it logically,it is actually a pretty dumb expression and the person who coined it probably didn't win any prizes for it (just a hunch,I've got no evidence - and I'm too lazy to Google it).Because what else would I do with my cake BUT eat it?

"Why thank you for my cake,I think I'll just look at it for a while."

"No no no,you can have your cake,AND eat it".

Haha - just my random thought for the day.

Anyway,talking about cake and all things delicious,I've decided to make Friday a dedicated recipe/food-related day on my blog (and here you thought my post about the cake was just for the hell of it - ha!).

So,to start of "Foodie Fridays",I want to post one of my favourite recipes of all time (which I got from my mother-in-law,Liz).It is a recipe I swear by,I always have the ingredients in my house and it comes in handy especially if you have many guests.It is also the perfect recipe to serve with ice-cream on hot summer days,AND it won't do too much damage to ye ol diet (bonus).So without further ado - quickly,go grab a pen and paper - here's my "Foodie Friday" recipe.

ONE Minute Chocolate Sauce

Ingredients:

3/4 cup cocoa
2 cups sugar
Pinch of salt

1 and 1/2 cups of boiling water

1 teaspoon of vanilla essence

Method:

Sift together the cocoa,sugar and salt (I usually do this straight into the pot I'm going to use to allow for minimal dishes).

Add the boiling water to the pot with the above ingredients, and stir till the sugar is more or less dissolved.

Now put the pot on the stove,bring to the boil and boil for EXACTLY ONE MINUTE (I'm serious,you can't guess here - time yourself).Stir frequently to make sure there are no lumps and to see that it doesn't boil over.

Remove the sauce from the stove,and add the teaspoon of vanilla essence.

Allow to cool and put into a jar with a tight-fitting lid and keep in the fridge until needed.The sauce can be served hot or cold,and can be kept in the fridge for months.

When re-heating the sauce,stir well (this can also be done in the microwave oven).

VARIATION:You can also add about 1/4 to 1/2 a teaspoon (depending on taste) of cayenne pepper to the mixture for a chili chocolate sauce.I wouldn't recommend doing this if you plan to refrigerate the sauce for a long period of time,but rather use all of it immediately.

This sauce is better than anything Milky Lane has to offer,and I'm sure you'll love it just as much as my dad does (and he has the biggest sweet tooth in the world,so that says a lot).I would also recommend using a good quality cocoa,as this just adds to the awesomeness of the sauce.

You're welcome! :)

Hope you all have a great weekend,and please remember to cheer for me (telepathically) on Sunday as I run my first 10km race.I'll come and post some pics.

Maryke
xxx

I Resign! (Author Unknown)

I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an 8 year-old again. I want to go to McDonald's and think that it's a four star restaurant. I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make a sidewalk with rocks. I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them. I want to lie under a big oak tree and run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summer's day. I want to return to a time when life was simple: When all you knew were colours, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know and you didn't care. All you knew was to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset. I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible. I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again. I want to live simple again. I don't want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and loss of loved ones. I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow. So...here's my chequebook and my car-keys, my credit card bills and my 401K statements. I am officially resigning from adulthood. And if you want to discuss this further, you'll have to catch me first, cause.. "Tag! You're it."

(PS: I'm just having a horrible day today.This sums it up perfectly...even though I know the sun will shine again tomorrow.Hope you all sleep tight - I have a press release to write now ((imagine my excitement)).Coffee first.Maryke xxx)

Why "Mom" is not an excuse (grab the tissues...)

Heya sexy,looking mighty fine today aren't we?

I'm baaaaaaaaack.Eli is taking a snooze and he is all tuckered out from his first class at Moms and Tots this morning.We had a good time...he just doesn't seem to listen to me very well when he's around other kids/new toys/in general,and that stresses me out a bit.Maybe it's just an age thing.Or maybe,that's just what kids do.I'm going to go with the former and leave it at that for now.I was supposed to have a Skype meeting with one of my clients now,but seems like that's only going to happen later today.Ah well,I never complain if I have an hour or two to myself.

So,now that you all have an idea what my blog is all about,the just of it,I want to dig a little bit deeper than that.

In my introduction,I mention quite a few labels - things which I would easily call myself and laugh about it.Come on - Grammar Hitler sums me up so well.One night Adam and I were chatting,and he said to me,"You are Grammar Hitler".To which I replied,"There's no such thing - it's called Grammar Nazi".His response?"No,but you're the boss".See,that's hilarious,but it's also a label.

There are many labels I can give myself,many boxes I can put myself into.There are many words which aptly describe me.Some are nice,and some less so."Paranoid" - there's one I like less."Moody" - and that's not even limited to when I'm PSM-ing."Eye-roller" - it's a nasty habit,but I've got it down to an art."Cries-a-lot" - when I'm happy or sad.Especially when I'm angry."Insecure" - mostly about myself and my abilities.And I can go on and on and on.Then there's the one that this blog is centred around:"MOM".Wow,it packs a punch.It comes with responsibility that blows your mind.It gives you more joy than you've ever imagined.It teaches you things about yourself that you never knew.Not to mention the lessons.And it mostly brings you to your knees,to a place of realisation and dependence on God,where you know you can't possibly do this alone and you need help.But MOM is never ever an excuse.

As I mentioned in my previous blog,I've always had an issue with my weight.Ups and downs,highs and lows.We are given one body to see us through till the day we blow out our last breath,and to be honest,I've been very hard on my body in the past.I smoked for eight years (and breaking off my love affair with Nico(tine) was the best thing I ever did for myself),I had one too many drinks in my college years,I don't always wear sunscreen when I go outside even though I have very fair skin,I don't floss my teeth every day,I eat junk food,I've tried just about every crash diet/fad diet/pills&potions that are out there...the list goes on and on and on.If my body was a child,it would call childline and report me for abuse.

Then in 2010 (3 months after got married) I fell pregnant.Naive and dumb as I was - first pregnancies being the great universal leveller of moms - I managed to gain an enormous 18kg during my pregnancy.I remember going to the gynaecologist for one of our last check-ups,and of course I had to get on the scale (as if I wasn't depressed and uncomfortable enough at that stage) and I remember Adam looking at me and saying,"You now weigh more than me babe".FML.That's the only way I can possibly sum that moment up.

Then Eli was born (happiest day of my life EVER) and I left the hospital...still looking about 8 months pregnant.Ohhhh the things they don't warn you about before you decide to have kids.Bastards.Luckily I had a very hungry baby,and soon the kilos started dropping and before I knew it,I was 6kg lighter than when I fell pregnant - best feeling ever.I managed to lose 24kg AND I looked like Pamela Anderson in the boob-department.Unfortunately that joy was short-lived,because as soon as I weaned Eli (he was 9 months old when I stopped breastfeeding),I was left with two little deflated balloons.And I couldn't eat "what I wanted to" anymore.

19 February 2012,Eli is 10 months old to the day.I remember that day like it was yesterday.We had a family photo shoot on the Saturday,and on the Sunday I took a home pregnancy test (more out of curiosity than anything,my cycle was messed up anyway because of the breastfeeding).I gave it a minute or so - ok,negative - and chucked it in the bin.When we can back from lunch,I picked the same test up and suddenly it was positive.Uh-oh.I did another test the next morning - positive.

And that's where I want to end that story for now.Our "BIG surprise" baby bean only grew for 10 weeks,and I lost her (it was without a doubt a girl) at 12 weeks.A day after our precious son's first birthday party.The day I felt like dying...but I woke up the next morning with an emptiness that echoed through my entire being.

And over the following months,I found my comfort in food.I was feeling sorry for myself (ok,who wouldn't).I was feeling unloved.I was feeling angry.I was feeling alone.And I was feeling so dissatisfied with myself and my body...but I didn't care.I was using "mom" as an excuse.I just lost a baby.My body had let me down in the biggest way possible,even though I know (now,5 months later) that it wasn't my fault.

I knew from the moment that I lost that baby,that I shouldn't fall pregnant again soon (even though the Dr said I could if I wanted to).I was in such a mixed up space emotionally and physically,that I knew a "replacement baby" would not be a good idea.But still my heart ached and yearned.Then I wanted to fall pregnant,then I wanted to lose weight first.Then I was 100% convinced I was pregnant in June (I had a chemical pregnancy,so you get a positive test and all the symptoms are there,but no implantation),so I let go of my efforts to lose weight...what a freaking rollercoaster.

And then it finally happend:my "AHAAAAA" moment.

Eight weeks ago,me,myself and I had a chat.A fight.A battle of wills.And in the end,I won.I had to sit down and face the music."WHAT DO I WANT IN LIFE???"That is the question I asked myself over and over again."WHAT DO YOU WANT,MARYKE???Because if it is another baby,then go for it,but you won't be at a healthy starting weight,and you'll end up looking like a baby elephant again during your pregnancy,which puts a lot of strain on your body and on your baby.AND you have a toddler to look after too and he needs you.So decide,make a decision like an adult,and stick to it."So after many tears and days of wrestling with myself,I made a decision.

I want to be healthy.
I want to be strong.
I want to be fit.
I want to fit into those tight size 34 black skinny jeans that have been taking up space in my cupboard.
I want to be hot.
I want to be skinny.
I want to be a wife my (very active) husband can be proud of.

I want,I want,I want,I WANT TO BE the BEST ME I have ever been DESPITE the fact that I am a MOM.Despite the fact that I lost a precious baby.Despite the fact that I found my comfort in food.Despite the fact that I don't even believe in myself.

And right there and then,I started designing a game plan.I want to set myself up for SUCCESS,not failure.I need goals.I need to motivate myself,because I'm doing this for ME and for nobody else.Nobody told me to do this.

So I:
Signed up for SHAPE magazine's "12 week to 10km" plan (www.shapemag.co.za) - great if you have absolutely NO level of fitness like I had
I took my brand new pair of Sauconey trainers out of their box
I printed out a running log
I measured and weighed myself
I stocked up on lots of delicious fruits,vegetables,whole grains and lean protein
I got hold of an eating plan that a dietician worked out for me last year,and decided to use it as a guideline.

And here I am now,eight weeks later,6kg lighter and 38cm less on the measuring tape.A far cry from the mom,the girl,the wife I was eight weeks ago.I am not "there" yet,but I'm sure as hell a lot closer to the goals I have set for myself.I have never been committed like this in my entire life,because I have never given myself such a wonderful gift.Only when I made a conscious decision to steer my boat in the opposite direction to where it was heading (straight for the rocks if you ask me),did I realize that it's not about food controlling me.It's not about hating exercise.It's not about the way I can't stand they way I look when I see myself in the mirror.It's about me taking the control back and DOING something about all those things,making them know that they are MY bitch,and not the other way around,as it has been for so many years.

There are still days when I really don't feel like going for a run - it is bloody hard work - but I can also attest to the fact that the only workout you'll regret is the one you didn't do.There are still days when I have junk food,but they happen maybe once a month.There are still days when I feel fat and ugly and insecure,but then I remind myself how I felt when I didn't exercise and I didn't eat healthy.I have come a long way.

I have probably irritated so many people on Facebook and BBM,because I'm constantly updating how far I've run and what I've had for lunch and I post pictures of half-clad women with amazing arms and flat stomachs (it's all about being accountable).But I know moms who actually look like that (I'm not mentioning names,Samantha Pearse),and that INSPIRES ME because it lets me believe I CAN HAVE that...IF I'm willing to do the hard work.And for the first time in my life,I truly am.It's a marathon,not a sprint - I WILL get there.

I'm running my first 10km race in exactly 5 days,and even though I am a bit nervous - and I've got that "you're writing a massive exam" feeling in the pit of my stomach - I am excited beyond words,because I know I have put the hours in,and the solid foundation I have worked on in the last 8 weeks (I'm currently busy with week 9) is there for me to fall back on.

Now do you guys get why I say "Mom is a title,not an excuse"?

One final thought before I go feed Eli his lunch:

For as long as I can remember,I've given myself a present for Christmas,even if it is something small like a nice pair of shoes or a stunning shade of red lipstick (Bobbi Brown "Crimson" is my current favourite).This year,I've decided not to buy myself anything...because NO money ON THIS EARTH can buy the nice ass and flat stomach I'm giving myself.The gift that truly keeps on giving (bhahahahaha).

I'll catch you all on the flipside,thanks for reading this.Oh,and for the AMAZING feedback I've had as a response to my blog.

Maryke
xxx