Something Fishy (A story about value judgement)

Our seafood platter arrived and it was spectacular! I grabbed a fat king prawn, downed it and chewed hard on the shell, spitting the crushed muck into my cupped right hand. Next, I broke off a piece of sweet lobster and sucked hard, making sounds my mother would not have been proud of.

 

Then, just as I reached for that second scoop of lemon butter for my crisp squid heads I heard a loud smack.

 

The recipient: a red-faced 8 year old.

The smack-deliverer: his father.

His crime: eating with his hands.

 

That blow was right in the face. Hard.

 

My little people kept working their mussels and muscles too. Dipping, twisting, licking, squeezing. Hands, hands, hands is all you saw. I reckon they were quite delighted that I lost my appetite. You know, more Cajun calamari for them?

 

I tried hard to shift my focus away from the child and more towards the delicate Sole before me but my head was spinning. Not from salmonella setting in, but from the shock horror of that smack and the many young men I had the displeasure of seeing with that very expression in my life.

 

When my husband got back from talking to a friend at the bar, I whispered to him that I was upset, and when I pointed (discreetly) in the direction of the smacker, all he saw a smiling dad kissing his son on the forehead as the happy mom snapped a holiday pic for their album with the caption #blessed, no doubt.

 

My husband said he “smelled something fishy”. And, of course it did look like I was drunk and just trying to distract him from the sad chips and 3 pieces of dry hake left on the “Deluxe Seafood Platter for 4”. 

 

I tried to sleep but could not. So, I wrote a note:

 

“Dear Sir

 

I noticed with absolute horror that you hit your son in the face at the dinner table last night. 

 

Sadly, I cannot get his face out of my mind. 

 

I have no doubt that your intention was to teach “discipline”. I also have no doubt that your family business is “private”. 

 

But, I do believe there is a better way. 

 

I speak from experience. 

 

Love,

Tired Voyeur

 

P.S. You know what they say hey?…Once you know better, you have to do better. Aluta continua, as they say. it is indeed easier said than done” 

 

What I did with the note is a story for another day.

 

…but, let’s just say that my head won.

 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2016

Free Upgrade (A story about ceasing opportunity)

The man sitting next to me on the plane threw apple juice into his wine. A good wine. I could have cried.

 

Then he rubbed a strong menthol ointment on his eyelids. Tears were imminent.

 

We were seated together in the emergency exit and as the stewardess was showing us how to help other people in an emergency, the smell from the Vicks Vapour Rub stuff began to burn MY eyes. That shit was strong and I am certain that the manufacturers did not intend that it be used in that way.

 

Next thing, I am being upgraded to a lovely seat in the front of business class.

 

That’s when the “tears” really started to gush! My “fear” was apparently palpable and they were glad I was “feeling better” by the time we landed. I accepted their apology.

 

I waved Mr AJBE (Apple Juice Burny Eyes) well. He had no idea just how grateful I was to have met him. 

 

And, just like that I learnt another important LIFE LESSON:

THINGS TURN OUT BEST FOR THOSE WHO MAKE THE BEST OF THE WAY THINGS TURN OUT. 

 

Aluta continua, as they say.  I urge you to look for those magical opportunities to carpe those damn diems too!

 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Power of “Thank You”

I have always marveled at the way mothers perform their miracles. 

To me, these superpowers seem to really come alive at Christmas, Eid, Diwali, Birthdays, Weddings and Barmitzvahs. You know, those milestone moments that go on to the mantelpiece for a lifetime. 

It fascinates me the way these moms press-on despite limited budgets and family dramas, despite the exhaustion and lack of appreciation to create something out of nothing for their loved ones. 

It also fascinates me how “thank you” seems to be the spark that ignites their hearts and gives them enough energy for another 600 rounds of madness. Those two little words seem to be the magical formula. 

I had sat down to write a story about Gratitude for these mothers (and my own miracle worker mom) when another story fell right into my heart. 

He was drunk. No, he was pissed. He said that he was drinking because he was sad but I thought that he was sad because he had been drinking.

The man told me about the loss of his kids to drugs, the loss of his cash to gambling and the fact that the red wine in his hand was his only real friend. 

His wife was home preparing Christmas Eve dinner for 20 people. He told me that she always went “overboard” and that it was a complete “waste of time and money.”

I would have loved to listen to the rest of his story, but I had to dash. My husband sent me a text message telling me that the coast was clear to go and set up the “milk and cookies” scene at home.  

As I left, the grumpy man proudly showed me some pictures of his family. I noticed that they were all special occasion pictures of birthdays, Christmases and graduations gone by.

I prayed that one day he would remember how to say “Thank You!”

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015.

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and http://www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction t

Not Part of The Deal!

I take my children to the park to WATCH them play. So when I see another mother jumping, sliding, tumbling and screaming “weeeee” on the roundabout, I get annoyed.

Not because she’s got more energy than me. Not even because she’s getting the cardio workout I need much more than her. No, I get irritated because it gives my kids ideas. Stupid ideas.

So, there I am acting cool in my new trainers (that have never seen a treadmill), with my  Cosmo lying next to my smoothie when my daughter decides that they need an extra person to make the see-saw go down. That was NOT part of the park deal. 

I would never had been a play contender in the first place but the happy mother-from-Disney had planted that stupid seed. 
So, I reluctantly put my shades down, while Miss Disney flashed me a thumbs up. Just as I sat my bum down, and made everyone happy with the sheer force of gravity, I heard a man’s voice say “You stupid girl!” 

I thought he was referring to me and he would have been right, in a way. He continued, “Look at you! Crying like a bloody girl. THIS is why I don’t take you anywhere! You idiot!” 

My blood began to boil as I saw the tears streaming down the face of a 10 year old boy. 

I looked straight into the eyes of the woman on the see saw with me and said “I think I am going to kill that piece of crap of a man.”

She responded “You will have to beat me to it.”
Knowing that she had already kicked my ass in the Hot/Fun/Fit departments, I gladly stepped aside and let her proceed to gold. She walked straight up to the man.  My heroine! 

Without waiting to see the rest of the movie, I hurried to abruptly whisk my kids off to the car. As I drove off, I noticed the weirdest thing in my rear view mirror : Miss Disney and Mr Douche Bag getting into the same car!

I died.
  
© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015.

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and http://www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content