Easter


Soon it will be Easter.

Easter was one of Vic’s favourite times of the year.  She loved the Easter Egg Hunt ever since she was a toddler… Traditionally we always celebrate Easter Bunny Day on the Monday and not Easter Sunday.  (I did not want the Easter Bunny Hunt to be confused with the true meaning of Easter.)

As a toddler the EEH build-up started on the Sunday evening.  If she went to bed early (and without a protest) the Easter bunny  would come and visit the next day….  Monday morning she would wake up early and ask us whether the Bunny has arrived…We would tell her she has to have breakfast first… then we told her to keep an eye out for the Easter Bunny….    Our friends would arrive with their little ones who, for once, would be as good as gold.  The Daddy’s would walk Vic and the other little ones around the block whilst the Mommies’ would hide the Easter eggs. 

A daddy would proclaim “Oh I think I just saw the bunny!” and the dash for home would start!  To the great disappointment of the little ones the daddy’s were always too slow and all they ever found was a trail of Easter eggs.  When the children were young the eggs were just the marshmallow type.  As our cash flows improved the marshmallow Easter eggs improved to hollow chocolate types.

I would start buying Easter Eggs almost immediately after the Valentine’s shelves were emptied and restocked with Easter Eggs.

IMG_0059

Sadly we got to a stage when Vic was too old for the hunt.  Vic no longer believed in the Easter Bunny but humoured me, or rather discovered the advantage of humoring me.  Marlene, my BFF, and I made massive hollow chocolate Easter Eggs, and not even Vic was able to eat her whole egg… We toasted Hot Cross buns and ate far too many Easter eggs.  Easter remained a special  time of the year.

Then we had our first grandchild and the game was back on!  Vic LOVED Easter.  (Actually, to be honest, Vic loved any gathering whether it be friends or family, but she especially loved Easter!)

I will never forget our first grandchild Easter Hunt.  Vic was so excited that her baby would have his first Easter Egg Hunt.

A radiant Easter Bunny hiding Easter Eggs...
A radiant Easter Bunny hiding Easter Eggs…

Colin and Danie started walking Jared whilst Vic, and I hid the Easter Eggs.  The poor baby could never eat all the eggs and I ended up taking bag loads to AIDS homes.  Then grandchild two and three arrived, and the game was truly on.

Over the years we developed a wonderful system where the little ones would collect the eggs and Vic would divide it equally between all the children.  At a certain stage I decided to cut down on the chocolate and bought the kids pyjamas and less eggs….Well I suppose I tried to cut down but wasn’t too successful.  The thought was noble.

Vic Easter Monday 2012 - her last Easter...
Vic Easter Monday 2012 – her last Easter…

Even though Vic’s boys have been too old for an Easter Egg Hunt for several years, they have enjoyed the thrill of helping the younger cuzzies look for the bunny and the eggs.  Aunt Vic never stopped sharing the Easter eggs amongst the kids.

Last Easter the two Cape Town girls were with us for the first time.  I loved their joy.  I missed the three little ones who live in the UK.  Vic had a good day.

This year will be the first year in 16 years that we will not have an Easter Egg hunt.

I still have the Lindt bunny Vic bought me last year.

I knew it would be our last Easter.

The end of Maxine….


This was so funny I just had to reblog this. I do plead guilty to sharing most of the behavioural traits listed below…..  Thank-you Shirley for reblogging this.  
 

Reblogged from 

http://boudicabpi.wordpress.com/2012/12/10/the-end-of-maxine/

The end of Maxine….

Posted on 12, 10, 12

maxine

 
As we progress into 2013, I want to thank you for your educational e-mails
over the past year. I am totally screwed up now and have little chance of recovery.

I can no longer open a bathroom door 
without using a paper towel,
nor let the waitress put lemon slices in my ice water without worrying
about the bacteria on the lemon peel.

I can’t sit down on a hotel bedspread 
because I can only imagine
what has happened on it since it was last washed.

I have trouble shaking hands 
with someone who has been driving
because the number one pastime while driving alone is picking one’s nose.

Eating a little snack sends me on a guilt trip because
 I can only
imagine how many gallons of trans fats I have consumed over the years.

I can’t touch any woman’s handbag 
for fear she has placed it on
the floor of a public toilet.

I must send my special thanks 
for the email about rat poo
in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet sponge with
every envelope that needs sealing.

ALSO, 
now I have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.

I can’t have a drink in a bar
 because I fear I’ll wake up in a bathtub
full of ice with my kidneys gone.

I can’t eat at KFC 
because their chickens are actually horrible mutant
freaks with no eyes, feet or feathers.

I can’t use cancer-causing deodorants 
even though I smell like a
water buffalo on a hot day.

Thanks to you 
I have learned that my prayers only get answered
if I forward an e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

Because of your concern , 
I no longer drink Coca Cola because
it can remove toilet stains.

I no longer buy 
fuel without taking someone along to watch the car,
so a serial killer doesn’t crawl in my back seat when I’m filling up.

I no longer use Cling Wrap 
in the microwave because it causes
seven different types of cancer.

And thanks for letting me know 
I can’t boil a cup of water
in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face, disfiguring
me for life.

I no longer go to the cinema 
because I could be pricked with a
needle infected with AIDS when I sit down.

I no longer go to shopping centers 
because someone will drug
me with a perfume sample and rob me..

And I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask
me to dial a number for which I will get a huge phone bill with calls to
Jamaica , Uganda , Singapore and Uzbekistan ..

Thanks to you 
I can’t use anyone’s toilet but mine because a
big black snake could be lurking under the seat and cause me instant
death when it bites my butt.

And thanks to your great advice 
I can’t ever pick up a
dime coin dropped in the car park because it was probably placed
there by a sex molester waiting to grab me as I bend over.

I can’t do any gardening 
because I’m afraid I’ll get bitten by the
Violin Spider and my hand will fall off.

If you don’t send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in
the next 70 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land
on your head at 5:00 p.m. tomorrow afternoon, and the
fleas from 120 camels will infest your back, causing you
to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it
actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor’s
ex mother-in-law’s second husband’s cousin’s best friend’s
beautician!

Oh, and by the way…

A German scientist from Argentina , after a lengthy study,
has discovered that people with insufficient brain activity
read their e-mails with their hand on the mouse

Don’t bother taking it off now, it’s too late.

P. S. I now keep my toothbrush in the living room, because
I was told by e-mail that water splashes over 6 ft. out of the toilet..

NOW YOU HAVE YOURSELF A VERY GOOD DAY…

Dummy’s Guide for the Parents of a Terminally ill Child


Danie and I with a happy and carefree Vic at Mabalingwe!
Vic and the boys before she had her blotched back operation

I often read about a child that had been ill for a long time and the parent being in denial. Death is never discussed. I know it may take months or even years for Vic to die. Maybe, with a bit of luck, I will die before she does. But when either one of us dies there will be nothing unspoken. Vic and I talk a lot. We talk about many things. If ever I think of something that I am not certain of, I ask her immediately.

I have fully accepted that Vicky is always walking the tightrope even when she is doing great. It is the nature of the beast and the beast can take you by surprise.

We have spoken about heaven and what a peaceful, healthy place it will be. We often speak about meeting again in heaven and Vic always says she is not scared of dying. Vicky feels terrible about leaving us behind.  She worries about leaving us all behind. She worries about how sad we will be. I wish I knew what to say to truly put her mind at peace and to let her “let go”…

It was very difficult to first raise the question of death. It started approximately 8 years ago with a tentative “Sweetie, is all your paperwork in order before you have this surgery?” and progressed to discussing and shopping for 18th birthday gifts, Confirmation bibles and 21st Birthday Keys. It was strangely “pleasant” going shopping with Vic. I knew that her mind was at ease having done the shopping. Maybe she will be around for these milestone events. Maybe not….. But Vic is prepared. She is far more prepared than I am. She has written letters to be read after her death. She has “special events” cards that I will give the boys when the occasion or need arises.

To arrive at the point, where we are, has been hell! No matter what age your child is, when you first find out that your child is terminally ill, your initial instinct is to shelter the child. (Regardless of the child’s age – the child will always remain the child!!) The parent’s first instinct is to leave no stone unturned. You watch the child like a hawk, looking for small signs of improvement or deterioration, looking for symptoms, hoping against all hope that the doctor made a mistake!

I analyze every ache and pain, hoping that the stomach cramps are merely side effects of the medication. I know when Vic is heading for a UTI; I know how her body reacts to different medications. Unfortunately there is no “Dummy’s Guide for the Parents of a Terminally ill Child”.

Professional counselling is available at a terrible cost. By the time your child is diagnosed or rather sentenced to terminal illness, hundreds and hundreds of thousands of rands has been spent on medical bills. Within two months of the new medical year the medical aid is exhausted….. The medication and treatment cannot stop regardless of the claimable amount left on the medical aid limits…  I have said it before – morphine or counselling???? No contest! Morphine wins hands down. Now in a civilized world Hospice should enter the picture at this stage….. Unfortunately we live in South Africa and Vic does not have AIDS or cancer. I pray that she will find the peace that I know she does not have.

No-one in the world can live in so much pain for so long!

It has to end sometime.