World Mom: Simona Rinfreschi of Spain

World Mom: Simona Rinfreschi of Spain

Mama Simona has been a World Moms Contributor for more than a decade and has written many posts for us over the years. She first started contributing from South Africa but left that world behind in 2021 when she moved to Spain with her husband. You may know her from her posts or be one of the many World Mom friends she’s made over the years. For this month’s Meet A World Mom, WMN sat down with Simona, in Spain, to to find out what makes her a World Mom.

What country do you live in?

It used to be South Africa but I moved to Spain in 2021

What country are you from? 

I was born in Italy but lived in South Africa from the age of eight until last year.

What language(s) do you speak?

I speak English, Italian and Afrikaans fluently and am currently studying Spanish, German and French

How many children do you have and what are their ages?

I have a son and a daughter. My son  turned 29 in January and my daughter will be 26 in May

How did you connect with World Moms Network?

I responded to a request for mom writers who didn’t live in the USA back when our founder, Jen Burden, first started this group as World Moms Blog

How long have you been a part of World Moms Network?

Almost from the beginning, which was in 2011.

How has your life changed since you joined World Moms Network?

Honestly, most of my life I felt like the Ugly Duckling did. I didn’t have any true friends and just didn’t “fit in.”  Since joining WMN, I have found many kindred spirits and the true friends I always longed to have. I was very fortunate to meet up, in-person with Senior Editor, Kirsten Doyle, when she visited South Africa, and I have had a one-on-one video chat with Chief Strategist, Purnima.

Now that I’m in Europe I hope to be able to meet more World Moms (as soon as COVID lets up enough to make getting around the EU easier). Even though I haven’t met anyone else in person, I consider my other friendships just as real. Jennifer Burden also went above and beyond to help out my daughter when she got sick in the USA and I was unable to help from South Africa. That’s the definition of true friendship in my book.

How do you spend your days? (work, life, etc.) 

Before emigrating to Spain, I completed a Level 5 TEFL (Teach English as a Foreign Language) course, as well as How to Teach Business English and Teaching One-on-One and Online. I work as a freelance ESL teacher.  I don’t have a lot of students yet, but luckily my husband’s income is sufficient for us to live comfortably here.  Since I don’t work every day, I usually take care of household chores in the morning then spend my afternoons studying Spanish, German and French.

What are the top 5 places on your travel wish list? 

I would definitely love to visit the USA to meet up with a lot of my online friends. Disney World and Disneyland are also on my US wish-list, because it’s never too late to have a happy childhood. And I want to go back to Italy because it has so many beautiful things that I haven’t had the chance to see yet. I also hope to get the chance to explore the rest of Europe and the world once COVID restrictions lighten up.

Is there a book, movie or show you recommend?

One Day at the Time (series on Netflix) – A very clever comedy similar to Jane the Virgin (which isn’t what you’d expect and is also a very good comedy on Netflix). 

What is your favorite memory with your children? 

Hard to pick just one! Strangely enough, the first thing that came to mind were the middle of the night/early morning feeds. There was something very special about that intimate time when the world was sleeping and I was able to give my baby my undivided attention, free from the inevitable daytime distractions.

What is your best motherhood advice? 

Never forget that every child is an individual and what works for one child won’t necessarily work for the next one. Comparing children is the most counterproductive thing that you could possibly do. Also, forget about being the “perfect” mom, because nobody is that. Trust me, some of the parenting mistakes I used to beat myself up for, my kids (now in their 20s) don’t even remember! Take advice as well-meant, but then trust your own instincts / knowledge when it comes to your children.

What is your favorite place you have traveled to? 

Thanda Safari Game Reserve in South Africa. It’s smaller than the Kruger National Park, and as a result the odds of you being able to spot most (if not all) of the “Big 5” is much greater.

What is your favorite family travel destination? 

Warner Brothers Theme Park near Madrid in Spain. It’s open from noon to midnight. Despite having to wear masks at all times, my family and I thoroughly enjoyed our day there – although one day only isn’t enough to take in the entire park.

What is one random thing that most people would be surprised to know about you? 

I am unable to strike a match or use a “flint type” lighter. I have suffered from pyrophobia since I was a little girl, even though I love a fire in a fireplace or BBQ (just as long as I am far enough away from the actual flames myself). Ironically I allowed my children to use matches and lighters from a very early age, because I didn’t want to pass on my fear to them. I only revealed to them, when they were adults, that the reason I allowed them to light their own birthday candles was because I couldn’t do it myself!

How did you get through quarantine/lockdown (2020/21)? 

I know lockdown was hard for many people, but I didn’t suffer at all—except for the inconvenience caused by the shortages of some goods. I was very fortunate because in South Africa (where we still lived in 2020), I lived in a large house with a large garden and was able to work from home. My husband and I were perfectly happy on our own. Our children had already moved overseas prior to 2020, so video calling was nothing new for us.  We miss the garden now that we live in a flat in Spain, but here we’re in a very small town and (apart from having to wear masks) we can do whatever we want. I am extremely grateful every day for my life.

What brings you joy?

Hearing a child laugh – there’s nothing better in the world than that.

If you had the power to change one thing about the world, what would it be? 

I would love to be able to make EVERYONE understand that the health and welfare of every creature in the world is more important than money.  There would be enough resources for everyone if they were equitably distributed. John Lennon said it so well in his song IMAGINE (you can fid the lyrics here: LyricFind)

What UN sustainable development goal are you most passionate about? 

United Nations SDG poster

Although all the goals are important and worthy,  as someone who lives with several auto-immune disorders, number 3 –  Good Health and Well-Being – is the one I’m most passionate about.  My grandfather was a doctor and he always used to say that good health is “the one (1) that gives value to all the zeros (0) of the world” – In other words if you have education but no health you have 0, but if you are educated and healthy then you have 10. If you’re educated and wealthy you have 00 but if you’re educated, wealthy and healthy you have 100 etc. 

The fact that your income determines whether you can access the medicine you need, just so pharmaceutical companies can make exorbitant profits is abhorrent to me. It’s the same all over the world, even places where “free” medical care is provided (because the “free” care isn’t of the same calibre as private care).

SDG 3: Health & Well-being

In South Africa, my aunt’s domestic worker (I’ll call her Miss X) was ill. My aunt took her to the free, government hospital. They kept Miss X overnight and discharged her the next morning with some paracetamol. My aunt then took her to her own (private) physician (whom my aunt had to pay) and he discovered that Miss X was HIV positive and had an active case of Tuberculosis!

Armed with these results (which had to be paid for) my aunt took Miss X back to the hospital and refused to leave until she ensured that this time Miss X was going to be treated appropriately. This time they gave her antiretrovirals and other medicines but they didn’t take the time to explain what the medication was for and when to take them! My aunt took her home and not only explained everything to her, but also used a pill divider so that Miss X would remember which pill to take when.  If it wasn’t for my Aunt’s involvement, Miss X would have died years ago instead of having an undetectable viral load and be fully recovered from TB. Lack of money should never be the reason for someone’s death!

World Moms Network

World Moms Network is an award winning website whose mission statement is "Connecting mothers; empowering women around the globe." With over 70 contributors who write from over 30 countries, the site covered the topics of motherhood, culture, human rights and social good. Most recently, our Senior Editor in India, Purnima Ramakrishnan was awarded "Best Reporting on the UN" form the UNCA. The site has also been named a "Top Website for Women" by FORBES Woman and recommended by the NY Times Motherlode and the Times of India. Follow our hashtags: #worldmom and #worldmoms Formerly, our site was known as World Moms Blog.

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Archbishop Desmond Tutu: A Man Who Changed The World

Archbishop Desmond Tutu: A Man Who Changed The World

Many years ago, when I was still living in South Africa, I was on the organizing committee for a national conference at which Archbishop Desmond Tutu was the keynote speaker. There were about ten of us on the committee, and we were all unspeakably excited at the prospect of an in-person meeting with this great man.

All of us had witnessed in real time the dismantling of Apartheid. Desmond Tutu played a major role in this process, and he helped shape the landscape of post-Apartheid South Africa. He was, without a doubt, one of South Africa’s greatest heroes.

At the time we were putting the conference together, South Africa was still a fledgling democracy. The first democratic election in which everyone had a vote was still a fresh memory, and the nation was in the early stages of its healing. Desmond Tutu was a bright light that all of South Africa’s people looked to for guidance.

On the day of the conference, the committee members were assembled in the room that had been allocated as our centre of operations. This was where the logistics happened, it was where we took our coffee breaks, and it was where we greeted the speakers and presenters.

When word reached us that Archbishop Tutu had arrived in the conference centre parking lot, we arranged ourselves in a line down one side of the room. We knew that Archbishop Tutu would only be there for a few minutes before he was whisked to the auditorium to deliver his speech. Each of us would have the opportunity to shake his hand and have a brief exchange with him.

I was standing beside my friend Dave, who seemed unaccountably nervous. There were little beads of perspiration on his face, and he was jiggling his leg so much that I kept nudging him to stop. As momentous as this occasion was for me and the other committee members, it was doubly so for Dave. He was the only Black person in the room, the only one whose life had quite literally been saved by the demise of Apartheid.

When the door opened and the Archbishop was ushered in, he instantly won all of us over with his grace and charm. He moved down the line of people, engaging everyone in a brief conversation, presenting himself not as a global celebrity but as an equal. When it was my turn, he grasped my hand with both of his. I told him what an inspiration for change he was, and he told me that I had the power to change the world in my own way.

He moved on to Dave, who was standing dead still, looking absolutely terrified. Dave managed to extend his hand for the Archbishop to shake, but he was unable to utter a single word. Archbishop Tutu told Dave he was a trailblazer for the generations to come, and Dave just – stood there. When the silence was on the verge of transitioning from mildly awkward to downright uncomfortable, the Archbishop started moving to the next person.

All of a sudden, Dave blurted out, “You’re a lot shorter than I thought you were going to be!”

There was a beat of stunned silence, followed by a guffaw of laughter from the Archbishop. He shook Dave’s hand again and moved on to the next person.

When all was said and done, I said to Dave, “You had the chance to say one thing, and that was it?”

“I didn’t know what else to say,” Dave said. “Anyway, it’s true.”

It was true. Well, kind of true. Archbishop Tutu was small in physical stature, but he carried himself as if he was ten feet tall. He was one of those people whose presence could fill an entire stadium. We saw on multiple occasions how he could sway the sentiment of an entire nation with just a few words. In a country that for decades was torn apart by racism and government policies designed to pit groups of people against one another, Archbishop Tutu’s message was one of peace and unity.

Desmond Tutu believed in the interconnectedness of all humans. He promoted the message that everyone has value, that the path to peace lies in talking to people whose views differ from our own, and that there is strength in diversity.

As South Africa – and the world – reels from the loss of this great man, we can take comfort in the fact that his legacy will be with us forever. He leaves behind lessons that all of us can teach our children as they strive to make their own marks upon the world.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu

This is an original post for World Moms Network by Kirsten Doyle.

Kirsten Doyle (Canada)

Kirsten Doyle was born in South Africa. After completing university, she drifted for a while and finally washed up in Canada in 2000. She is Mom to two boys who have reached the stage of eating everything in sight (but still remaining skinny). Kirsten was a computer programmer for a while before migrating into I.T. project management. Eventually she tossed in the corporate life entirely in order to be a self-employed writer and editor. She is now living her best life writing about mental health and addictions, and posting videos to two YouTube channels. When Kirsten is not wrestling with her kids or writing up a storm, she can be seen on Toronto's streets putting many miles onto her running shoes. Every year, she runs a half-marathon to benefit children with autism, inspired by her older son who lives life on the autism spectrum. Final piece of information: Kirsten is lucky enough to be married to the funniest guy in the world. Connect with her on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Be sure to check out her YouTube channels at My Gen X Life and Word Salad With Coffee!

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Growing Up In Apartheid South Africa As A White Kid

Growing Up In Apartheid South Africa As A White Kid

When I was six years old, my father’s job took us from South Africa to the United States. The year was 1976, and South Africa was reeling from the Soweto uprising, a student-led protest against the Apartheid government that ended in the deaths of at least 176 Black school students, with thousands more being injured.

Being a six-year-old child on the privileged side of Apartheid, I didn’t really know what was going on. I was vaguely aware of something big happening in the news, but I didn’t know what any of it meant. At that age, all I really understood about Apartheid was that Black people only ventured into white neighbourhoods if they happened to work there, usually as someone’s maid or gardener.

When we moved to a quiet suburb of Connecticut, things didn’t seem much different. The small town we lived in was decidedly WASP by nature. Formalized Apartheid may not have existed in Connecticut, but the segregation was just as real. If anything, I had even less contact with Black people in the United States than I ever had in South Africa.

The Connecticut house the writer and her family lived in

My first week of school in Connecticut was uneventful – until the bus ride home one afternoon. What my brother and I didn’t know was that some of the other kids on the school bus were hiding rocks. As we got off the bus, these kids stood up and threw the rocks at us, taunting us for being the bad South African kids. I remember walking from the bus stop to our house under the protective arm of my brother, with blood gushing from a wound on my head.

It took many years for me to understand that as traumatic as that experience was for me, it was a curious embodiment of the privilege that I had grown up with. For us, this was an ugly isolated incident. For Black South Africans back home, being on the receiving end of attacks like that was a part of everyday life. They woke up each morning with no real certainty that they would still be alive at the end of the day.

When we returned to South Africa, I was three years older than when we had left. I was beyond the age of accepting things without question: now I was observing the world around me and asking questions about what I saw.

When my mother was driving me to school one morning shortly after our return to South Africa, we were stopped at a traffic light. As we waited, a police van drove up and parked on the shoulder, where several Black people were walking and chatting to each other. Two police officers jumped out of the van and approached the group. A few of the people showed papers to the police officers and were allowed to go on their way. The rest were forced to get into the back of the van.

“What did those people do wrong?” I asked my mother, as the van drove off, leaving a cloud of desperation in its wake.

“They didn’t do anything wrong,” said my mother. She looked immeasurably sad.

“So – why did the police take them away?”

“Because they’re not supposed to be in this area.”

When I got home from school that day, my mother offered me a fuller explanation. I got a lesson about “pass laws”, a draconian set of rules that made it illegal for Black people to be in white neighbourhoods without documented proof that they were employed by someone there. What I had seen was a typical police arrest of people who were, quite literally, in the wrong place at the wrong time.

As I adjusted to being back in South Africa, I frequently saw these arrests taking place. It bothered me every time, especially in the context of other hallmarks of Apartheid South Africa. The Group Areas Act, for instance, meant that South Africans were allocated areas that they could live in. The land allocated to white people was proportionately far greater than that set aside for other races. This led to chronic overcrowding in most of the Black neighbourhoods, which in turn resulted in a shortage of resources like water and access to healthcare.

From time to time, the government would reallocate land, usually in favour of white people, and whoever was living on that land would be forcibly removed. In many cases, there would barely be time for families to gather whatever belongings they could before bulldozers moved in and destroyed their homes right in front of them.

I was too young at the time to understand anything about politics, or to question why such grave human rights abuses were being allowed to take place. My parents, like other white people of their generation, couldn’t speak out for fear of losing their jobs, and possibly their freedom. But when the wheels of change finally started turning during the 1980s, the vast majority of white South Africans were in full support of reform.

The abolition of pass laws in 1986 was a major turning point for the country. That era also saw an end to the prohibition on interracial marriage, and the desegregation of public facilities such as parks and public restrooms.

There was still a lot of work to be done, though. The fight for change was not over. My aunt, who in earlier days had lost her position as a teacher because she refused to recognize the national anthem of an oppressive government, spoke to me about complicity.

“Every white person in this country who does not contribute to change is part of the problem,” she said.

I carried these words with me to university, where student protests against Apartheid were the norm. I was not a central figure in the protests by any means. I was never the one standing up front with a megaphone and an angry message, but I was there. I was part of several crowds speaking up for reform, demanding the unbanning of Black-led political organizations, calling for equal voting rights for all.

On a hot summer’s day in 1990, when I was in my final year of university, I joined the throng of students who went to witness the release of Nelson Mandela. I couldn’t see much from where I was standing, but that didn’t matter. The intensity of the emotion of that day swept through the crowd like a wave, going back and forth and back again. Strangers clung to each other, sobbing – partly from joy, partly from the pent-up sadness and despair that had built up over decades.

A newspaper headline on the day of Nelson Mandela’s release

To me, the true end of Apartheid happened on April 27, 1994 – the day of South Africa’s first election where people of eligible voting age from all races were allowed to cast a ballot. My parents and I stood in line for eight hours to be part of this momentous occasion.

Those were eight of the best hours of my life. No one minded being in line for so long. Impromptu barbecues sprung up here and there, and everyone was invited. Every now and then, people or groups would break out into song, or start to dance. There were no strangers that day: just millions of people nationwide who were participating in history. For that day, all that mattered was unity and healing.

But the spectre of Apartheid is still very much there. Millions of Black South Africans are still impacted by the damage done by Apartheid rules. The inequities in education will take generations to rectify. Overcrowding from the days of the pass laws persists to this day, along with the associated problems relating to healthcare and access to resources. The poorest 60% of the population, most of whom are Black, own just 7% of the wealth.

My experience growing up as a white kid in Apartheid-era South Africa impacts my life to this day. It is on my mind every time I hear about a Black person in the United States being murdered during a routine traffic stop. It was part of my visceral reaction of grief when George Floyd was murdered. The tears I shed that day were shed for George Floyd, and for the thousands of lives that were taken by Apartheid.

Most of all, it is present in my conversations with my children about race, racism, and white privilege. My husband and I are raising our kids to be agents for change and not bystanders. We encourage our boys to call out racism when they see it, to acknowledge their privilege, and above all, to keep quiet and listen to the voices that really matter – the voices of the people who have been marginalized because of the colour of their skin.

How has systemic racism shaped your view of the world? How do you talk to your children about racism?

Kirsten Doyle (Canada)

Kirsten Doyle was born in South Africa. After completing university, she drifted for a while and finally washed up in Canada in 2000. She is Mom to two boys who have reached the stage of eating everything in sight (but still remaining skinny). Kirsten was a computer programmer for a while before migrating into I.T. project management. Eventually she tossed in the corporate life entirely in order to be a self-employed writer and editor. She is now living her best life writing about mental health and addictions, and posting videos to two YouTube channels. When Kirsten is not wrestling with her kids or writing up a storm, she can be seen on Toronto's streets putting many miles onto her running shoes. Every year, she runs a half-marathon to benefit children with autism, inspired by her older son who lives life on the autism spectrum. Final piece of information: Kirsten is lucky enough to be married to the funniest guy in the world. Connect with her on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Be sure to check out her YouTube channels at My Gen X Life and Word Salad With Coffee!

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SOUTH AFRICA: What is Love?

What is Love

What is love? I believe that each one of us understands “love” differently. Our upbringing has a lot to do with the way we show our love to others, and in the way we interpret loving gestures. Sometimes this leads to hurt feelings and misunderstandings. In this era of internet communication there are myriad ways of being misunderstood and / or to be taken advantage of, because of our imperfect understanding of what true love means.

I’m sure that every single one of you reading this has a clear idea of what love means to you – and I bet no two ideas are the same. That said, love is a universal need. According to Maslow’s Hierarchy, as soon as the basic necessities of survival (such as food, shelter, warmth, rest, safety and security) have been met, the next thing humans crave is love and the feeling of belonging.

For the longest time I felt unworthy of love, until I was exposed to the work of Dr. John Demartini. In his book The Breakthrough Experience, Dr. Demartini defines true love:

True love is a synthesis of the two aspects of one wave, and one full wave is light, which can also be called love. Love is a full quantum state. In physics they know that a full quantum state is massless, chargeless, spaceless and timeless, which by definition is spiritual and unconditional. Consciousness is light, and it comes in full quantum states. God is full quantum light.

Many people have different ideas of what love is, but I’m defining it as the synthesis or perfect blending of all dualistic perceptions, the summation of all polarities. When happiness and sadness are synthesized, they make love. Like and dislike, positive and negative, pain and pleasure, electron and positron in physics, all dualities, when totally synthesized, are love. No matter what -ology you investigate they all lead to the same essence, which is love, which is the unified field theory that permeates every human being and links us all.

Another quote of his is this:

No matter what you’ve done or not done, you’re worthy of love, and there’s nothing but love, all else is illusion. If you take the time to ask the right questions and reveal to your awareness what your intuition and inspiration are constantly calling you to be aware of, you will discover this, and you will be grateful for your life and you will do extraordinary things.

What I got out of that is that we don’t need to be a particular way or do a particular thing in order to be loved. Our essence is love. We just need to remember that!

How do you understand and define love? Do you agree that everyone is worthy of unconditional love?

This is an original post for World Moms Blog by Mama Simona from Cape Town, South Africa. Photo credit: Simon Shek / Flickr.

Mamma Simona (South Africa)

Mamma Simona was born in Rome (Italy) but has lived in Cape Town (South Africa) since she was 8 years old. She studied French at school but says she’s forgotten most of it! She speaks Italian, English and Afrikaans. Even though Italian is the first language she learned, she considers English her "home" language as it's the language she's most comfortable in. She is happily married and the proud mother of 2 terrific teenagers! She also shares her home with 2 cats and 2 dogs ... all rescues.

Mamma Simona has worked in such diverse fields as Childcare, Tourism, Library Services, Optometry, Sales and Admin! (With stints of SAHM in-between). She’s really looking forward to the day she can give up her current Admin job and devote herself entirely to blogging and (eventually) being a full-time grandmother!

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SOUTH AFRICA: Crime Hits Too Close for Comfort

SOUTH AFRICA: Crime Hits Too Close for Comfort

Crime Hits Too Close for Comfort

Crime is not part of my daily life. I live in a middle to upper-class neighbourhood in Cape Town. We have an active Neighbourhood Watch, and most of the people in my neighbourhood also belong to the Community Policing Forum (aka CPF). The CPF has monthly meetings where we discuss crime stats, share self-defence tips etc. We all have signs on our gates indicating that we’re part of the CPF. We also have a WhatsApp group where we keep in contact with each. We’re all just a message away in case of medical or other emergency. I have always felt safe enough to leave my front door unlatched during the day.

This month, my illusion of safety was temporarily shattered. One morning, in broad daylight, shots were fired on my road! At first we couldn’t believe that it was gunshots. After all, this is a quiet neighbourhood and it was at a time of day when our road is pretty busy. Neighbourhood Watch was immediately on the case, whilst the rest of us were left stunned and wondering what we could do to help.

Roughly 30 minutes later I pulled out of my driveway into a surreal scene. Police cars, Neighbourhood Watch personnel and private security company vehicles were blocking the road. The crime tape was around my next-door neighbour’s property! That’s right – an armed robbery happened in the house on the other side of our boundary wall! I felt as if I’d been cast as an extra in a movie or TV series. Surely this can’t be real?! It was.

This is what happened:

My neighbour (let’s call him Bill) pulled out of his driveway and realised that he’d forgotten something, so he quickly ran back inside the house to fetch it without closing his gate (as we’ve all done numerous times). Two armed men followed him inside, pistol-whipped him, tied him up and demanded that he show them where his safe was.

At this time my neighbour’s adult son (let’s call him John) arrived with his wife. She walked inside whilst he waited in the car. She walked in on the robbers and screamed. The 2 armed suspects fled with the safe, but then dropped it as soon as they saw John, and jumped into the vehicle which was being driven by a 3rd suspect. John followed them and they shot at him out of the window – just like they do in movies! By then (thanks to our CPF network), police and other response vehicles joined in the chase. Two of the suspects jumped out the car when it got stuck in traffic and were promptly arrested. The driver got away, but later the same day he was arrested too.

I’ve been left rather bemused by this. By the next day there was no sign left of what had happened. Apart from the shock that this happening caused in our quiet and close-knit community, no real harm was done. The stolen goods were recovered, nobody was seriously injured and the suspects were arrested immediately. Things could have gone a lot worse. In fact, in many ways this could be considered a win for law and order.

That said, it still doesn’t quite feel real. I don’t know if it’s because of the shows that I watch, or just because it doesn’t seem possible that this happened right next door to my house. The strangest thing is that my neighbour is one of very few people on our street who did not belong to the CPF, and I can’t help but wonder if that was a factor in him being targeted.

Truthfully (but possibly foolishly) I still feel safe where I live.

Have you lived through something that just didn’t seem real or possible? How do you feel about it with hindsight?

This is an original post for World Moms Blog by Mama Simona from Cape Town, South Africa. Photo credit: Alan Cleaver / Flickr.

Mamma Simona (South Africa)

Mamma Simona was born in Rome (Italy) but has lived in Cape Town (South Africa) since she was 8 years old. She studied French at school but says she’s forgotten most of it! She speaks Italian, English and Afrikaans. Even though Italian is the first language she learned, she considers English her "home" language as it's the language she's most comfortable in. She is happily married and the proud mother of 2 terrific teenagers! She also shares her home with 2 cats and 2 dogs ... all rescues.

Mamma Simona has worked in such diverse fields as Childcare, Tourism, Library Services, Optometry, Sales and Admin! (With stints of SAHM in-between). She’s really looking forward to the day she can give up her current Admin job and devote herself entirely to blogging and (eventually) being a full-time grandmother!

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