girls « Angry African on the Loose™

October 18, 2009

Love Is In The Air

Posted by Henk Campher under children, dad, dancing, daughters, family, girls, happiness, kids, life, live, love, mom, music, people, personal, wife | Tags: dad, dancing, daughter, daughters, family, father, girls, happiness, kids, life, live, love, music, wife |
[13] Comments

I have two girls. Two beautiful girls. A little princess. And a slightly bigger angel. My girls. My life.

My girls they love to dance. Ballet. Jazz. Hip Hop. Tap. Crazy. You name the style and they have it. Just a shame their dad was born with two left feet…

I have the dancing ability of the Elephant Man. Some say it is cute. And then laugh when they can’t keep a straight face. Others just burst into laughter straight away. But it hasn’t stopped us from dancing our life away. It hasn’t stopped us from having our music moments. Let me tell you a bit about those moments…

I lie in on Sunday mornings. Not too late. But a little. My beautiful and suffering wife takes on Sunday mornings. Making Belgium waffles or pancakes or vetkoeke. And bacon. In the words of my little princess… “I loooove bacon”. But it sounds more like “I luuuuuuuuv bay-kin”. It’s Boston you see. It is rubbing off on her. But I lie in like a lord while the smell of love fills the air.

But I don’t lie alone. My big angel comes to join me. Just the two of us. Little princess is in the kitchen with mom learning how to cook. So we lie in bed. She lies in my arms and together we listen to music. No. We “play argue” about music. Channel hopping between VH1 Classics and MTV. She laughs at the big hair of the 80s and the crap music back then. I laugh at the lack of proper lyrics and new styles in the music of today. And we argue about who has the best music taste. She rolls her eyes when I go “Yeah” to Springsteen dancing with the Courtney Cox or do my MC Hammer impressions to “Can’t Touch This“. I laugh at her doing a hip hop impression with her skinny legs and the girlie voice when she goes “Yo!”

But sometimes we go quiet for a moment. A song comes up that makes us go quiet. And we just lie there. She in my arms. And I hold her a little bit tighter than before. It’s then that the music knows no age. It’s when the music goes straight to the heart. And the stomach. It just tells you to lie back and listen to the voice and melody. The words doesn’t even matter. It’s just a song that reminds the two of us that we are lucky. Lucky to have a mom who loves us. And a mom we love. And a little sister that’s a little bit crazy. And lucky that we have our little Sunday morning of music. And love.

We always goes quiet when Sinead O’Connor tells us Nothing Compares. Because we know. Nothing compares. Nothing compares to the laughing and the music in our house. To the love you can almost touch in our house. And nothing compares to the big angel and me lying back and enjoying our Sunday morning of music. Just a dad and his girl.

Sinead always does that to me. I look at her face and remember that she was the first crush I had. But it was just that video. And when she cries. When the tears starts rolling down her face. All I wanted to do was just hold her and say “It’s okay Sinead, we love you”. Of course I knew it was just a video. Just a song. But I always felt that she just needed a hug and a whisper that “it’ll be okay”.

But there is a new song that also makes us go quiet. A song of today. It’s not the words. Like Nothing Compares wasn’t about the words. It was about Sinead being lost without love. She reminds me about those out there with no love. Those with no Sunday mornings. This new song just reminds me that there isn’t enough love out there.

It’s different from Sinead. This song doesn’t make me feel sorry for singer. The song doesn’t tell you about the love that is missing in that life. But this song hits me. Always. I don’t know what it is. But it reminds me that most people don’t know that love. Love that hurts because it is so good. Love that makes you cry because you are so happy. This song haunts me. It makes me miss people I don’t even know. And I can see my angel feels the same when we lie in bed and listen to this song. Watching the tv. But not seeing the song. Just letting it flow.

That’s my Sunday morning of music. And love. And then there is the Sunday afternoon of music and love. Crazy music. Crazy times. Crazy love. That’s my little princess. And Love Is In The Air.

It’s from one of my favorite movies of all time. Strictly Ballroom. Make no mistake. I am not into ballroom. Or musicals for that matter. But this is one awesome movie. This guy can dance. And you should see me and my little princess make our moves on this song.

It’s just crazy. I never tell her when I am going to play it. Never. I just switch it on and watch her reaction. She’ll be in the lounge and I’ll put the boom-box on in the kitchen. Loud. No. LOUD! All she needs are those first few keys to play. And then she runs into the kitchen and shouts, “Louder dad! Louder!” So I turn it louder. Max. And then she jumps up for me to catch her. And hold her. Hang on baby, here we go!

You start off with a few slow swings. Her legs clamped around my middle. I take her hands and she falls back. Her long hair almost hitting the ground. And I wiggle her arms for her whole little body to shake. I swing her up and grab her by her middle. And flip her up in the air. Her head almost touching the roof. Her eyes jumps open wide with a mixture of exhilaration and happiness. I can hear her laugh and giggling throughout the song. I swing her around my body – over my shoulder and around my back. Her feet never touching the floor. It’s wild. And it gets wilder. She stretches out like Superman while I hold her up in the air and move her forward and backwards. And spin her a bit more. And then the song hits a high note and beat. And I swing her head back. Holding her head with one hand and her back with the other. And I start spinning. Around and around. Keeping up with the beat. And going faster and faster as that piece builds up and builds up. And then… BANG! “Love is in the air!” Full swing. I see nothing but her face laughing. Her mouth open with the happiness of just dancing. Her eyes wide open with pleasure. Her arms swinging outstretched. Complete trust that her dad will hold her tight enough no matter how fast we go. Her complete love for her crazy dad dancing his silly dance on a Sunday afternoon.

And when it is over? “Again dad! Again!” Love Is In The Air. On a Sunday afternoon.

But this song is also different. The words are true. The beat belies the words. The words…

Love is in the air
Everywhere I look around
Love is in the air
Every sight and every sound
And I don’t know if I’m being foolish
Don’t know if I’m being wise
But it’s something that I must believe in
And it’s there when I look in your eyesLove is in the air.

Love is in the air
In the whisper of the tree
Love is in the air
In the thunder of the sea
And I don’t know if I’m just dreaming
Don’t know if I feel safe
But it’s something that I must believe in
And it’s there when you call out my name

Love is in the air
Love is in the air

Love is in the air
In the rising of the sun
Love is in the air
When the day is nearly done
And I don’t know if you are an illusion
Don’t know if I see truth
But you are something that I must believe in
And you are there when I reach out for you

Love is in the air
Love is in the air

Sometimes with music. Always with love. Sometimes on a Sunday. Always every day. Love is in the air. In my home.

Love Is In The Air

December 13, 2008

Me dance pretty

Posted by Henk Campher under 2008, ballet, child, children, culture, dad, dancing, daughters, family, freedom, friends, girl, girls, happiness, hope, humor, kids, life, live, love, marriage, parents, people, personal, ubuntu, wife | Tags: ballet, birthday, children, dad, dancing, daughters, family, girls, life, live, love, wife |
[10] Comments

I love Saturdays. Come on, don’t be so cynical! No, not only because it is weekend. See, Saturday is my day at the dancing with the little one.

My girls love to dance and they are always off at some dance class. The older one does tap, jazz, ballet, hip-hop, modern, post-modern and existential. I think the last one is a bit of a rip-off. The teacher only shows up if she wants to and it is a continuous hit-and-miss as you never know if you want to go in any case. Even if you do, you pick your own time to show up anywhere you believe a dance should take place. I think Jean-Paul Sartre’sinterpretation of the Nutcracker hurts in any case…

Wait… Where am I? Oh yes, dancing and Saturdays…

I miss all the dancing sessions of my oldest daughter. Her classes are during the week when I am at work. I don’t think she would like me there in any case. Dad’s cool but also a little bit embarrassing. As you will see…

My lovely suffering wife lets me lie in a little bit on a Saturday. Just for a little while for the little one to hop into bed with me and for the two of us to play draw-on-the-back. I draw a picture on her back with my fingers and she must guess what it is – and she does the same on my back. Heck, it’s the only way I get a bit of a back tickle in our house. I don’t know whether it is the hairy back or just a girl thing, but none of the girls likes giving me a back tickle – including my lovely suffering wife (Yes, the same one that gets a back tickle almost every single night.) I’m not too picky, but I do think that my daughter is cheating. How many times can you draw a ball? A round one? And how many times can I say, “I don’t know what that is. Draw it again!”

Anyway…

We lie in for a few minutes and then it is a rush downstairs to slurp down some serial – Coco Pops! And for me to get my coffee fix. Then we race upstairs (with a giggle or two) to brush our teeth and for me to get rid of some of the coffee…

And then I dress the pretty ballerina.

That takes a while. First I rub her body with some cream so that the stockings and ballerina outfit don’t make her itchy. She’ll stop half-way through with me still trying to get her clothes on - she stops just to do a little twirl and to shout, “Look at me dad! I’m a pretty ballerina!” We are now officially running late. Again… It happens every Saturday morning. We always run late. We always have to work out an excuse for being late while rushing to at least try and make it in time.

“Hurry up you two! No time to play!” That’s my wife reminding us that it we really don’t have time for this. Especially not this morning. It’s a special day at ballet today…

My wife does the little one’s hair while I put on the rest of her clothes. The ballet tag team. I’m not good at hair but can do pants and shirts. Done! Get jackets on. Hats. Gloves. Scarves. And anything and everything else we need to face the cold outside. Then we jump in the car and rush down to ballet class – swearing softly (and sometimes loudly) at the slow driving oxygen thief on a site seeing cruise ahead of us.

I usually go on my own to the dancing with my little one. We are not allowed inside “the room” to watch in any case. So I sit outside in the hallway and read a book and listen to my iPod. I sometimes even blog from there. But not today. Today I can watch! And…

Every now and again the family can come in to watch. And our gang always goes in full force with all the troops accounted for. No one left behind. Today was going to be even better – A special holiday show just for us. The Nutcracker!

Only the little ones and a few of the older and more experienced dancers to show them the way. Always a ball. They were all there – the Nutcracker, Clara, the Mice, the Russian dancer, the Chinese dancer, the Spanish dancer and the Arabian dancer. No, I don’t mean that the class is very international – I think it is a bit of a twist of the original one. I laughed my ass off so many times that my wife had to tell me to shush a few times. And to tell me and the oldest one to keep quiet because we kept on whispering and giggling while pointing at the little one. She was just so damn cute. Our little ballerina. What fun. What a Saturday. And with any luck, it might just get even better for me today…

And then came my moment. The one I have been waiting for. I was made for moments like these. All my years of training. Just for this. Deep breathe…

“Any of the dads want to volunteer to come and do some dancing with us?”

Yeah! Wait…

Play it cool…

Don’t look to eager…

Let them beg just a little…

“Oh, come on dad!” from my kids and the teacher saying “Come now Mr H. We know you want to!”

The big African-American guy sitting next to me gave me the “look” and laughed. The look of you-are-not-really-going-to-do-this-are-you. I laughed and noticed that he never took off his Timberland boots before sitting down. Amateur…

Ha! I took my exact matching pair of Timberlands off before I even came in. I left it outside knowing that I can’t dance in them. I came prepared…

I shook my head as I got up “reluctantly”. A few laughs from the crowd – especially from that section where my gang of girls were sitting and my new boet sitting next to me. I went over to my spot and took a deep breath. Closed my eyes slightly to compose and then… First position…

Or what I thought was first position. The “proper” guy dancer looked over at me and gave me the “sorry sod” smile. He’s a nice guy. But he is about 16 and I am turning… hum… slightly older tomorrow! (Yes, 14 December is my birthday!) He was going to “lead” me through my steps. As if I needed any instructions or help…

“Plié.” WTF? Oh! No. Wait… I know this one. Bendy knees!

Head straight and bendy knees. Done. Just look at that composure!

“Again!” Damn… I hardly got up from that last one…

“Again! Three times and then a jump like this!”

What? Who? Where? Hey!

Bendy knees and a jump. And again. And again!

I started losing track of the stuff we were doing. Changement de pieds could have been one. And fouetté rond de jambe en tournant must have been one. The twirling around 360 degrees. No problem… (Getting slightly tired and maybe a bit of huffing and puffing…)

Running around in circles and jumping those scissor jumps or whatever they call it. It looked like I was doing hurdles unsuccessfully. I was losing track of what the guy is shouting at me. More of the jumping in the air and bendy legs stuff. And all I heard was, “Again!” I couldn’t really hear much else from all the heavy breathing and wheezing…

Damn! I was actually enjoying it. But that young dude sure had a wicket little smile on his face. Did he like seeing pain like this? Better watch it buddy… Hope you can handle pain when I grand sas d’action or frappé him in his Nutcracker…

Me? I saw glimpses of Mikhail Baryshnikov whenever I saw a bit of myself in the mirror. So gracious… So composed… So stupid!

I love it. I love watching my wife and kids look at me making a fool of myself. Hearing the other dads (and moms and kids) laughing at the stupid guy doing the silly ridiculous attempts at ballet. I just love it and kept on doing it with a big stupid grin on my face.

I’m a pretty ballerina…

Okay. I’m not.

But boy, do I love doing it. I love it when it was done and I did a little curtsy to the parents and to my danseur. The big smile and big shiny eyes I see from my little one. The high five and giggle I get from my oldest one. The smile and you-silly-you-I-love-you look I get from my wife.

Yes…

I love being the stupid dad that always “volunteers” to go do the silly stuff. That’s me. Just call me Volunteer Dad. Anything to see those faces and feel their love. Anything. Especially when I can be silly and have a laugh as well.

Next time you see the guy doing the stupid thing in front of his family – that’s me.

You should know this by now. Remember Things To Do Before You Die? Or When Dad Came To Watch? That’s me. Stupid, silly and madly in love with my gang of girls. Anything and everything just for them. Because it is also for me.

And me dance pretty…

September 20, 2008

Quick! Pull my finger!

Posted by Henk Campher under burp, children, culture, dad, daughters, family, fart, funny, girls, humor, kids, life, live, love, men, mom, parents, personal, wife, Wii | Tags: burp, children, family, fart, funny, girls, kids, life, love, manners, parenting |
[15] Comments

We all have our roles in our little family. My wife is the one that holds it all together. The glue that we stick to. The level headed one. The one that looks after us. And the one we all run to when we bump our toe or just feel like a hug. She is the centre. The foundation. The pillar. The sun we spin around.

And I mean spin. The rest of us are slightly out of control. Spinning in all directions. Not adhering to rules like gravity or being a grown up parent. My poor wife. All she can do is look at us and shake her head. And shake her finger at us if it looks like the house might just cave in. Bring balance back to our world.

My role is clear. I am the crazy one. The one that gets them all worked up. Throwing them in the air. Racing them up the stairs. Carry them like a bag of potatoes. Jump on their beds. Dance crazy dances with them. Chase them around in the garden. Swing them too high. Play Wii with them and lose. Tickle them until they say “Pretty please with a cherry on top” – although I learnt that one from my wife. You know. The one that is more playmate than parent. The one that gets the “I can’t teach the girls to behave if you carry on like this” speech almost weekly. But I know she likes it. She laughs too often not to! And behind the pointy finger is a smile saying “You are impossible. And I love you for that”.

Talking about fingers. One of the skills I truly believe my girls should have is an ability to… hum… fart… I mean… pass wind on demand. It is a rare skill. You never know when it might come in handy. That’s why I taught them the “Pull my finger” trick.

It can be in the middle of a conversation. We can be talking about anything. “So, how was school my girl?”, I’ll ask. She’ll say, “Just fine, thanks dad.” I’ll follow up with a, “What did you do?” Back to her, “Well, we all…” An abrupt interruption, “Wait! Quick! Pull my finger!” General response, “Oh dad. You are disgusting!” But she’ll pull it in any case and then laugh at the result. I make them so proud.

And they’ll do it back. I might be busy drying the little princess right after her bath and she’ll say, “Hey, dad. Pull my finger!” And even if she can’t create the exact desired result… She’ll make the noise with her mouth and throw her head back and laugh. She makes me so proud. A real princess would be proud at her gracious manners and sophisticated etiquette.

The big angel is starting to get more control. We’ll be lying in on our Sunday morning music hour and she’ll go, “Dad! Quick! Pull my finger”. And she’ll do the deed under the duvet. Little angel feathers dropping off due to the lingering effect. Thank God she hasn’t learned the “Duvet over the head” trick yet. I am keeping that one for a special occasion.

My girls. They have beautiful refined fingers with magic in them.

But I have taught them another trick as well. The “Good one!” trick.

I can burp at will. Sometimes even do a little tune. Maybe for a special occasion I’ll sing them a “song”. Like “Happy birthday”. Good times. But I taught them to respect the burp.

A burp should not be wasted. It should be remembered. Honored in a way. It is a reminder of the good food that gave us this little gift. So I taught them to say “Good one!” if they burp and then we high five each other. For some or other reason my wife doesn’t join in the fun. She does roll her eyes and give us a wry smile though. But sometimes the girls get their timing slightly wrong…

We were eating our dinner. Another one of our many favorites made by the hands of their suffering mom. I think it was maple syrup chicken or goggas. We have so many favorites I can’t remember which one it was. We have favorites every day! Anyway, little princess wasn’t really behaving. Getting up and adjusting her chair the whole time. Messing all over the place. Eating slower than a sloth sleeping. We were trying to hurry her up. And she knows that at the table we need to have manners. It’s mom’s territory. It teaches them how to behave at school. And then she let out a huge burp…

My wife gave her “the look”. A serious look of disapproval. You don’t burp at the table. And if you do? Well, you know what you should say. So my wife looked at her with “the look” and said, “What do you say?” And little princess immediately shot back without blinking, “Good one!” She looked at me with a big smile and gave me a high five.

Boy. Did I get “the look” and the finger saying “You! See what I have to put up with? How can I teach the girl anything when you teach them this? What am I going to do with you three?” And then she just burst out laughing. And gave little princess a high five and more wise words, “Rather out than in I guess”.

My girls. They make me so proud. Now, pull my finger! Quick!

_________________________________

Note for South Africans: I also taught my girls this little rhyme…

Ouma en oupa sit op die stoep

Oupa gee ‘n harde poep

Ouma sê wat makeer?

Oupa sê my maag is seer

Ouma sê dan eet ‘n peer

Oupa sê dan poep ek weer

Remember that one? Hehe!

August 6, 2008

When dad came to watch™

Posted by Henk Campher under birthday, children, dad, family, girls, kids, life, love, marriage, mom, mother, personal, school, wife, Wii, woman | Tags: birthday, children, dad, family, fun, girls, husband, jokes, kids, life, love, mother, school, special, wife, Wii |
[14] Comments

Today was the birthday of my youngest daughter. She turned the Big Five. Yes 5. So I took the day off. To spend with the girls. But let me tell you a bit about me as a dad before I tell you about today.

My permanently suffering wife always tells people that we had kids so I can have friends to play with. Someone at my level. Someone to grow up with. And then she rolls her eyes and laughs. My friends just nod their heads knowingly.

I am a joker. I know. I am just not the “tough dad”. I can’t discipline them at all. I wish I could (not really), but I just can’t. My oldest daughter (11) even jokes about it. She’ll say something like “Yeah, and what are you going to do about it?” But not in a nasty way. In a joking fun way with lots of laughter. They listen to me. Sometimes. They know that dad is fun and a joker. And we’ll have fun as long as we are nice to each other and listen to each other. Respect and love each other. Continue to be a family.

I even joke about being becoming an ”all tough new dad” and frown – and flip up one eyebrow. And then we burst out laughing. Cue my oldest daughter with a snap of her finger, “Like that’s ever going to happen”. Being strict just doesn’t flow in my blood. I always joke with them. And we always tell jokes – even the youngest one. We go to the park. I read for them at night. We dance to silly songs. Dress up. Pull faces. Wrestle and flip them over. Wise crack – always. Fart and burp – and then say “Good one” before mom tells us to say “Excuse me please.” Tickle. Run riot. Eat funny in restaurants. Dive into the pool fully clothed. Just havoc whatever we do and wherever we go – one rule: HAVE FUN. Wave at people we don’t know. Giggle at everything. Love and hugs 24/7. And lots of laughter. In general, just drive my poor wife crazy. All she can do is shake her head and laugh. She married a crazy one. But I think she likes it. I bloody well hope so. I am NEVER going to let her go.

But I also work. I get up at 6 and leave before they are awake. Sometimes my youngest will be awake and give me a hug and a kiss and say, “I love you dad”. But they are generally asleep when I leave. And I get back at around 7:30 – just in time for us to sit together and eat. And then I bath my youngest one and read her a story. And they are off to sleep. “I love you my angel” – my last words to them in the evening and the first in the morning.

We still have fun, but we have less time. And I don’t see everything they do. I miss the dance classes. And the summer camps. And the trips to the shops. And the hanging out at the house. And the school trips. And the…

And we wait for the weekends. Or “mom and dad days” as my youngest calls it. That’s when chaos hits the house. That’s when we go wild. And when my poor wife suffers the most. The three kids and a suffering mama.

So today was a special day in more ways than one. Dad was home in the middle of the week. We had fun. We got up and sang “Happy Birthday” and opened presents. We had breakfast and went to say a quick hello to the teacher across the road. Family phoned in from South Africa. Off to swimming to see the girls in their swimming classes – it was the first time I came to watch. Back home for a lunch together. Played some Wii and other games with the new toys. Off to the party across the road with all her friends – and more presents to open. Played outside with the friends for while and then back home. It was a great, great day. A full day. They had a blast. And they did loads. She had fun. And so did her sister.

And then we got together to sit and have dinner together. It was a favourite of hers – mash, sausage, butternut and chicken in crumbs. And we joked a bit more and pulled faces at the table and ate funny. Mom gave up and just put her face in her hands and laughed – this is when we know she is the matriarch looking after her den. And we looked at the girls and asked, “So what was the best part of the day for you?”

And they both said, “When dad came to watch us swim”.