According to my kids, I live a Disney Channel Original Movie life.
To them, I “make Afrikaans version Spanish soap operas,” “teach drama like Miss Honey in Matilda,” and “forever on Mom’s laptop.” (Still not sure what that last one means, but it sounds impressive, so I let it ride.)
They picture me in cool headphones, walking into studio with a clipboard, yelling “Ready, people? ” while the sound engineer starts making magic, and the voice over artist breaks into song like a Broadway fever dream. In their minds, I am equal parts Beyoncé, Spielberg, and Mary Poppins.
What I actually do:
Translate dramatic Telenovelas where characters scream “¡Bastardo!” 14 times in one scene while I try to make it sound natural in Afrikaans.
Voice a sassy Spanish woman with attitude… for three hours straight… while responding to school WhatsApp groups.
Direct a school play where one child refuses to be anything but a tree and another keeps yelling, “This is boring!” mid-scene.
Email 17 clients asking for payment and receive one reply that says, “New phone, who dis?”
Cry over an unpaid invoice while my beautiful children break my television. Because I never told them that playing with a ball in the house is not allowed. I honestly don’t have the energy to discuss this last one. Because we ALL clearly know the house rules.
But the truth?
I love it. Even the messy, weird, sassy-voicing, invoice-chasing parts. Because when my kids hear my voice on a telenovela and yells, “MOM! That’s YOU!”, I remember that I’m not just building a career — I’m building a legacy of courage, creativity, and caffeine addiction.
So let them believe I’m a superstar. One day, when they’re older, they’ll understand. (And maybe they’ll finally stop eating all my snacks.)