The Last First Day

Dearest Joe,

There is nothing like reaching a milestone to unblock a good case of Bloggers Block, and todays is surely a doozie! You, my baby, the boy who was seemingly born 2 minutes ago, have started school. My wild, crazy, loving, headstrong Joe has joined the world of the education system and truth be told I'm feeling a little bit sad. Sad because I will no longer have you at home with me, sad because I lose a little piece of you once you start school and sad because you are just growing up too darn fast.

I hope like all parents,  that you will love school and find lovely friends to play with. I hope that you wont get lost or lonely or scared. I hope that I have loved you enough, taught you enough, prepared you enough for this change in your life. I hope that your teacher will peel back the many layers of Joe to find you, because it will be so worth it, she will have a fan for life. I have a sneaking suspicion that she will be exactly what you need.

Of course there is two sides to every story and the flipside is now I have time to myself for the first time in 20 years! Its a little bit exciting I must say. No longer will I have to schedule the hairdresser on Saturdays and  appointments after hours. I can take on relief work if I like and my house will stay clean longer than 10 minutes at a time.  It will take time to get used to not having my little sidekick with me though because I have loved every minute of being home with you (though there were surely a few moments along the way I didn't exactly like- can anyone say epic tantrums??)

You are my last child Joe, my baby, so its my last first day, and like every other last first milestone I  will grieve this major change in my life for a while and then I will move on and adjust. I will always be here for you, always be your biggest champion and love of your life as you are mine. You got this!
Love you always
Mummy

A Trip Down Memory Lane

Every so often you can be going about your life when boom! You are hit with memories so powerful they take your breath away. That happened to me this past week. My mother in law needed surgery which was scheduled last week at the Mater in Brisbane. The Mater in Brisbane where Elijah entered the world in an extremely scary fashion just over 6.5 years ago. I hadn’t really given it much thought, I guess the surgery had occupied my mind.

Our first stop was to check my father in law into the hotel where he would stay for two nights. It just happened to be the same motel we went to when I was discharged from hospital 3 days after giving birth. While it wasn’t the same room, it was identical to the one we stayed in. The bed where I lay down and sobbed my heart out because I was no longer in the same building as my child, because It felt one thousand types of wrong to be separated from him. The shower where I cried again each night having to leave him again and where I discovered that crying in the shower does amazing things for milk supply! Even  though I could be by his side in minutes if something went wrong if I ran my fastest (trust me, turtles have nothing to fear even with me at my fastest) And  I knew I would find superhuman speed if my child were in trouble. But it still wasn’t the same as being only a one minute lift ride away.

We then walked over to the hospital, up and down the hills we walked each day all those years ago, me with an esky bag of expressed  milk slung over my shoulder .No wonder I lost so much weight on my stay!! Past the Coffee Club where we would meet with friends who came to visit. My mind always half on the conversation and half on wondering how my baby would be when I got to see him, Praying there would be no deterioration. I was always so grateful for the human interaction and time out from the constant alarming of monitors, but a big part of me was anxious and couldn’t wait to get back to the NICU. My greatest fear was that something would happen while I was off having a coffee of all things. 

Later in the day we walked to the little IGA that we visited each afternoon to buy something yummy. In my memory it always seemed much further away. We drove past the Coles that we went to, to find an Easter present for our child who was still meant to be safely in utero over Easter. He caught us by surprise. I remembered thinking we had driven for ages and were so very far away from the hospital. I almost had a panic attack and had to leave, grabbing the nearest stuffed bunny on the way. To make it worse the Doctor rang on our way back. I feared the worst, but he was just ringing to check in with us as he had missed us on his rounds. Seeing it this time- Coles was only about 2 blocks away. It’s funny what stress can do to your perspective.

I saw the street I walked to our new accommodation. By myself, unsure of exactly where I was going, loaded down with everything I would need until Allan arrived that night. I walked that street and I quite possibly felt like the saddest girl in the world. I am a person who has never embraced change and here I was everything so up in the air and I was moving again, when all I wanted was for something to stay the same.

This time though, I saw all these places and walked these streets with that little  scrap of a baby holding my hand as a healthy, beautiful, vital 6.5 year old. I showed him where he was born and where his life was saved. I joked with him in the car on the way down about why he felt the need to be born so darn early. His reply : “I was bored. There was no I Pad in your tummy”. Such a funny little man grew from that tiny, tiny human .

 I wished I could go back in time to that woman, to those parents who had such a rough and unfair start to parenthood and show them what the future would be. Tell them that it would be so very hard, and they would see things they could never unsee, that would bring tears to their eyes for many years to come. Tell them that, yes, they would be left with nightmares and fears, but these would pass eventually. There would also be some  scars- some of which would never fade. I would hug that woman who sat day by day beside a humidicrib not feeling like a real mother, waiting every day hoping today would be the day she got to have a cuddle, wondering what she had done wrong to cause this, feeling so numb and the guilt that numbness caused . I would show her a little way down the track, not very far at all, the moment when she would look at her baby, the first time without all the monitors attached,  and her heart would explode with such complete and overwhelming love for this child she had created and she finally felt  she was a mother.

But I would also tell them that it would all be ok. Their baby would be one of the lucky little miracles. He would avoid all the horrible things that so often go hand in hand with such prematurity- brain bleeds, blindness, infection, learning difficulties, death. He would be slow to start but he would catch up and surpass every milestone. He would be amazing and very much alive and very much loved.

The Best of Both Worlds

Anyone who knows me, knows that excited, overjoyed and thrilled were not adjectives used to describe how I was feeling about my return to work this year. I had been out of the game for 2 years and in that time, the game had changed and I was not in it. I was not even in the dressing room! Whilst I was away in my little bubble of baby bliss, a whole new curriculum came in. I had seen the curriculum, I had helped make folders for the curriculum, but due to an impatient little bubba and an incompetent little cervix, I never actually got to teach the new curriculum before going on leave. So my confidence in returning to the classroom was not high.
And I was sad. Another chapter had closed in my life- that of being a full time stay at home mum. Its quite possibly the last time I will ever be that. I hadn't reached the stage of getting bored with it, or needing the stimulation that working provides. I was happy in my little nest with my beautiful chick. But such is the fickle world of education, that I either had to return, or face the very real possibility of another transfer. I had only been at my school for a year before falling pregnant, so the thought of transferring again left me in a cold sweat. I mean I had only just fully remembered my photocopier password!! So return it was.
I know that I have been very blessed to be able to have the time off with my children that I have had. Three years with Elijah and two with Joe (now don't be getting all up in my face with claims of favouritism towards my firstborn- I simply had more leave accrued, and leave rules changed in the meantime ; ). My heart aches for those mummas whose work does not allow them to stay home for as long as they want to and it makes me grateful that I could.
So 2014 saw me return to teaching part time. 2 days a week. Allan was able to take leave 2 days a week for the whole year to stay home with Joe which has meant he wasn't going into daycare before any of us were ready (his boss is Uh-mazing!) . I know lots of kids go into care a lot younger than Joe, but I want him to be able to communicate before he goes, so he can tell me if he is happy or scared or tired or he just needs a day off. Elijah was three when he went and he handled it beautifully. Its a good age.
Everything has fallen into place. I never thought I would be saying it, but I LOVE my job. I have amazing teaching partners and it makes work fun. I teach two grade one classes in a double teaching space, One class one day, the other the next. So its crazy and busy and oh so noisy. I am responsible for geography which is hilarious. If you know me well, you know I could not give a direction to save my life and my concept of North and South are limited to being able to accurately place them on a compass. I am slowly getting used to the new curriculum and working out that its not as scary as I had imagined. In fact, the biggest challenge is fitting it all in and making it more interesting so the kids don't sleep through the whole thing!
I love that I get to stretch my brain and spend time with some pretty cool 6 year olds, and I love that I get to spend time with pretty amazing adults. Changing roles for 2 days a week with Allan has also been great for perspective. We walk in each others shoes and realise that both jobs have their challenges and their triumphs. I love that Joe gets one on one time with daddy, and he does too.
Best of all though, I still get time to be a mum. I get to do the lunches and the school drop offs, and I get lots of time to hang out with my main little man. I am making a concerted effort to not get too weighed down with the cleaning and the chores. I have seen just how fast time goes with Elijah. I don't want to waste the precious time I have left before Joe goes to school. So we walk and we go to the park, we explore, we cook, we play and we have fun. It really is the best of both worlds. And I am grateful

Dear Shop Lady

Dear Shop Girl,

Firstly, let me thank you for unblocking my Bloggers block. I haven't had much inclination or inspiration to write lately, so thanks.

Now lets get down to business. The reason for this letter is that I really feel I need to let you know that today, while shopping in your shop, you annoyed the absolute crap out of me. Please don't do it again.

I saw a cute dress hanging outside your store, I went in to try it on. First mistake. I had my almost 2 year old in the pram and he was nearing the end of his shopping tether, which was mistake number 2. Now I know you are barely old enough to be out of the pram yourself, so I cant really expect you to understand. Let me break it down for you. When an almost 2 year old is nearing the end of his tether one does not have much time. I calculated I had just enough time to throw the dress on, check it fitted my criteria of a) does it fit b) does it make me look like a street walker c) does it look like pigs fighting under a blanket?  before making a quick transaction and hauling ass out to the car.  But no, you felt the desire to show me 300 other dresses that mostly did not fit criterion a, b or c. I took a deep breath and reminded myself you were doing your job. Then as I thought I was almost near the finish line you insisted I check out the box of God-awful belts, hats and scarves that were a tiny $1. Now casting my weary eye over the box I could see even Barbie herself would struggle to get some of these teeny tiny belts around her hips. Unless you thought I could use them as anklets perhaps? Almost 2 year old had reached "I am going to squeal because the acoustics in here are awesome and I am bored"

My patience was definitely wearing very thin so I just said "I will just take the dress please" I refrained from saying "For the love of all things holy just scan the freaking dress before I stick a stiletto heel through your head" cos my mumma done raised me to have manners.

And then the unthinkable happened. I thought for a moment I had misheard. But no, there it was again. "just insert your card thanks Love" WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!! You are barely out of training pants and you just referred to me as love, numerous times.. Had I been a promiscuous teen I could at a stretch be old enough to be your mother and yet here you are calling me love!! Now I admit I am a sucker for being called 'darling' or 'sweetheart' or other such niceties, makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. IF, and only IF the one doing the name calling is older than me. When it is done by someone who still probably drinks from a sippy cup and has a night light then it is not cool, not cool at all.  And it is one sure way to guarantee I will not be visiting your store again any time soon. That is all

From the woman with the almost 2 year old who is definitely not your 'Love'

p.s I am sure you thought you looked impossibly cool in that flower headband, but it kinda looked impossibly like you had knicked it from Granny's grave. And I know this makes me really old, but in my day, pants used to cover ones butt cheeks. Just sayin love.....

To Elijah @ almost 6!

To my Darling Elijah,

Hey sweet man, I had to count up the months on my fingers to realise you are very much on the way to 6. What a big year it has been for you. Your very first year at school almost over and you have nailed it. Like a boss! I had so many worries about how you would go at school, how you would sit still, how you would follow the rules, how you would hold the chat. But to my surprise you have excelled. Your teacher speaks  highly of you, you are doing so well.  And I am so very, very proud.

I am also proud of the relationship you have with Joseph. You adore him and he adores you. Watching you together makes my heart swell. You are so patient and loving with him, its truly beautiful. My wish is that you two will always stay as close as you are now.

I love watching you growing up. The independence that is creeping in, seeing you do big boy things. I have to remind myself not to hold you back sometimes. You have the loveliest sense of humour, you never fail to crack me up. We get each other, we have a similar sense of humour. I love that. Unfortunately, you also seem to share my sporting prowess, for which I truly apologise!. You are flamboyant and dramatic, and your imagination is insane! I swear one day your name will be up in lights.


Elijah you are such an incredible little person. You are so very loving and so very kind. You declare what is in your heart with enthusiasm and without embarrassment. I love that you still love having me help in the class, and still give me kisses in front of your friends. I will be sad when these days pass. I love that you tell me I look beautiful, even when I look like a bag lady, how you lavish praise out of the blue, totally unprompted. So heartfelt. So precious. You are a beautiful soul,  inside and out.

 I love you to the moon and back and I always will.

To Joseph at 18 months

To My dearest Joe,

It feels weird even writing 18 months. I can hardly get my head around the fact that you, my baby boy are 18 months. It seems like just yesterday that you came into  our world, but on the other hand  I cannot remember a life without you in it.

You have changed so much in the past few months. You tackle life head on, fearless and always in a rush. You don't really walk, instead you look  to be constantly on the verge of running on those beautiful, chubby little legs. And climb! I swear you give me palpitations on a daily basis, often more than once. I thought you were going to be my cruisy, laidback one, but now- you are my wild man for sure! 

Cuddles, well you certainly love those. I love how you play and then every so often just come for a cuddle, almost like a reassurance that I am still there, and a reassurance that you still love me.  Being able to have this one on one time with you has been magical and I feel so blessed. When I carried you in my belly I used to worry how I could have enough love to give to another child, I needn't have worried. We have such a strong bond you and I.

Watching the love you have for your big brother, and he for you,  is exquisite. No one can make you laugh like Elijah can. He is so very patient with you, gentle with you. When you are hurt, he hurts too. This loving relationship  makes me so very proud, lets me know as parents we may get stuff wrong, but this we have got so very right.

Joseph,  you have this way, just like Elijah does of making people love you. You are not shy and will go to anyone, but you reserve your biggest cuddles for your favourite people. You have such a beautiful, ready smile. I love watching it spread across your face, until every inch of you is smiling. That smile can fix even my worst day.

Joseph, you delight me. You are naturally funny, you are clever, you are crazy gorgeous and just plain crazy. You push me to my absolute limits at times, but give me so much love. You help me to see the wonder in the world, remind me to slow down and just be. I love you to the moon and back little man, and I always will

Things I thank my kids for....... or NOT!

This mummy doesn’t drink. You know how some mummy’s let off steam with a nice cold glass of wine (or 6)at the end of a long day/week/month? Yeah well I don’t drink. I don’t drink, therefore I blog.  If I didn’t blog occasionally, I might just spontaneously combust. Most of the time though I am a real little ray of sunshine, ask anyone. Today is not one of those days.  So remember that before you get all Judgy McJudgerson on me and read on if you dare (and please note: sense of humour is required before reading further)

Things I Spank  thank my Kids for….

 Not eating food- thank you for not eating the meals I so lovingly prepare for you, making sure they are nutritionally balanced, tasty, appealing and provide variety (even though your father and I are having bangers and mash for the 5th time this week!). I just love it when you spit it out,   throw it on the floor or mash it through your hair. It’s even better though watching  you hoover up a commercial baby food with gusto –regardless of the fact it has a funky chemical taste and makes your breath smell like dog food! I guess I can take solace in the fact that if its left on the floor long enough, you will be swooping on that morsel  like a junkie on a baggie of cocaine

 Making mess- I love it when I have spent the whole time you were sleeping/at school , cleaning and then when you wake up/ get home from school you go from room to room creating a trail of destruction. I mean, I know you are just ensuring that my days don’t become too boring with no cleaning to do- however would I fill those long, long days! So thanks, really, you’re doing me a solid.  Afterall, no one likes a bored mummy!

Not pooing – Its always super fun when you need to do a poo and you refuse to. You jump around like a tasered monkey on speed, clutching your bottom cheeks whilst screaming “I don’t need a poo, I don’t need a poo”. I mean, doing a poo when you need one is like, so yesterday!  It gets even better though  when your screaming, crying and thrashing results in waking your sleeping brother, or better still- a wet bed at midnight.

Not sleeping- by all means, wake me up 3854 times a night. I love being woken to hear you had a bad dream, need a wee, need a drink- not tap water, cold water!, scratched your ear, feel lonely, feel cold, feel hot, feel like a chat. It’s really so super fun being so tired you yawn whilst deodorising and inhale a lung full of anti-perspirant!!  Sleeping is over rated anyway.

Screaming- I am a lover of languages, and I particularly love it when you speak to me for days on end in the language of scream. It is so soothing and calming, really it is, and so good for my nerves. But obviously   you just  realise I am advancing in age and if it’s not screamed at me, then my aged ears clearly won’t hear it. . I also love the added thrill I get when you are screaming, so I pick you up, and you arch your back as if to execute a double backwards pike with a 9 degree of difficulty off the lounge.  My physio loves this too, as my wrecked shoulders  keep him in business The language of whine is another personal favourite. Please, whine at me again, its so much more likely to influence me to give you that thing you are whining like a sooky brat  asking for.

Dragging feet before school – oh how I love the battle that ensues every morning as you sit and take 4 hours to eat 2 weet bix, and put on one uniform.  And clearly I cannot take you to school in your pyjamas as I threaten , because a) your Daddy is on staff and b) there is nothing like the smirk of satisfaction on people’s faces when they realise two teachers cannot control their child.

Bad behaviour in public- nothing excites me more than when you seem to save up every single  bad behaviour you have ever learnt and let them out when in public or visiting family.  I get that you are totally just letting me practice my death stares, and menacing whispers of “you wait til we get in that car”, gosh you are good like that! And the added bonus is that the general public gets to think I am the  crappest mother ever given breath and skin to. Yay for me! At least I am a winner at something!

Dirtying my clothes- Don’t let it bother you that it took me an hour this morning to choose the exact right outfit that didn’t make me look 3 metres wide. That we have to be out the door in the next 3 minutes – don’t let it deter you. The fact that I lay in bed last night planning which outfit I would wear, cross referenced it with which clothing was a) clean b)ironed and c) not too old/young/downright hideous. The fact I was wearing my only pants that don’t currently give me a muffin top? Well don’t let that worry your pretty little head as you wipe your weet-bixy, snotty face all over me. Hang on, I think you missed a square inch just below the back of my left knee- oh no, that’s ok, you got it! You are only trying to teach me about vanity I am sure.

No privacy-  Privacy? Who needs it! Totally overrated. I guess the whole giving birth thing should have been a clue that my privacy would never exist again. When you throw open the public toilet door midstream-  that really helps me to work on my pelvic floor muscles as I try to stop the flow, pull up my pants, scream and cover any offending bits of my lady garden that you have now just displayed to the entire general public. And those poor bewildered ladies who were made privy to the sight of me half naked, more muffin tops than Muffin Break , squeezing into a pair of skinny jeans in the dressing room as you threw open the curtains. Lets just say they learnt a lesson in grateful that day – ie grateful they don’t look like me naked!

Biting – I have had nipples from way back when I was developing in the womb. Some would say I have become quite attached to them.  But by all means, I realise your teeth are just emerging and need practice and chomping down on my delicate lady petals is probably soothing for your gums.  My personal favourite is at the end of a feed, you look at me hungrily and lunge at my breast again, leaving me thinking you were not in fact finished, only for your sole purpose being to take one final chomp. Never mind the blood dripping from my severed nipple, I am sure a new one will grow back in its place!

 

Disclaimer: The author loves her children very, very much and totally understands the value of offspring. This is a very tongue in cheek look at some of the less fun aspects of the totally rewarding job of parenthood.

Bittersweet

It has finally arrived- a day I have dreamed of and dreaded for almost 5 years. Its the day my first born child has started school. It feels like only days ago that I sat by that humidicrib, day in and day out watching the little life fighting inside. Praying that he would survive and thinking of all the milestones we would celebrate. I imagined this day as I sat there in the NICU, but it felt like an eternity away. I still cannot quite believe it is here. People always commented when he was a baby that I should enjoy every minute because they grow up so fast. Never has that seemed so true as it has today.
 it was with so much pride that I watched my little man all dressed in his uniform, huge backpack strapped on his back walk confidently into his new classroom. I knew he would be fine. He has been so excited for such a long time now, but a small part of me still wondered if reality wouldnt suddenly set in and with it the enormity of what he was facing. But thankfully even as I kissed his little face goodbye he was happy and ready to start his big new adventure. Silly me! He has faced all other milestones with confidence and exuberance- why should today be any different. As his parents, we often wonder how two of the worlds most shy and reserved people managed to create this outgoing, confident little boy. But we thank God every day that we did.
As I lay in bed last night, unable to sleep, my mind was filled with so many questions. Have I done enough to prepare him for this, will he look back on the time we had together with fond memories. Did I play with him enough, stimulate him enough, listen to him enough? Probably not all the time. Did I let him watch too much tv, eat too much junk food. The answer to all of these questions is probably yes at different times. But I look at the little boy who we have raised so far and I know that while some things could have been done better or differently, we must have done a lot of things right. He is loving and kind, crazy and energetic. Clever and funny. Impulsive and  reckless. He can make your heart swell to bursting and the next minute want to tear your hair out in frustration. He can talk under wet cement. He is precious and a beautiful soul. I pray his teacher will find all these qualities in him and nurture them. Shape him without losing what makes him, him. I hope she will love him and be someone he trusts and feels safe with. Be firm with him when he needs it. Stretch his mind and imagination, keep him busy and be someone he will always remember as an amazing teacher.
Its been a big day for us both. I mourn the passing of an era in his life that is gone now for good. The time where I got to have him home with me. I have loved every minute of it, even the hard days, for they make me appreciate the good days even more. Now I have to share him with the world. and look forward to the excitng new things to come.  And now as its almost time to pick him up, I cant wait to see him and cuddle him and hear all about his day. I have survived his first day....

My Resignation Letter

To whom it may concern,

I am writing to hand in my resignation from the position of Mother. It is effective immediately. There are a few reasons for this decisions, which I will outline in dot points below. Hopefully by bringing these to your attention, you may rectify them for future employees:

1. My pay is dismal- oh thats right- I am not paid at all!

2. I cant remember the last time I had a proper meal break

3. I cannot even shower or have a toilet break on my own

4. My hours are ridiculously crazy. 24/7 is a bit much by any ones standards

5. I tried to resolve this through my union- except I dont have one!

6. I work hard all day but the clients come along behind me and constantly undo what I have done

7. in the course of my day I am vomitted on, dribbled on, sometimes even pooed on- what other employee would have to work under such conditions.

8. I have no sick leave at all, and no holidays

9. I was never given any training for my role, just thrown in the deep end with a couple books and the odd piece of advice- usually given when I have made a mistake

10. My clients are often demanding, needing everything 'right now' and are often very upset if things dont happen quick enough or the way they wanted

These are just some of the things I have been dealing with, I assure you there are many many more. Oh, wait, Hang on, my client just smiled at me, showing off a new tooth. Oh and now he is being very clever and roling over. My older client just told me I look gorgeous like a princess in my new dress. Now the newest client just wrapped his chubby little arms around my neck and nuzzled into my neck. Did I mention he smells divine? Did you know I am my older clients best friend and he wants to marry me (I realise this is not condoned in our business) Often times the older client will just come up and kiss me for no reason and out of the blue tell me he loves me. Awwww the newest c lient just woke up and greeted me with a smile bigger than the world. Do you know what, I take back my resignation, I would like to keep this job. There are some things that are tough and draining and repetitive, and days where i could curl up in a ball and cry, but the good things far outweigh the bad. The good days erase any bad ones. When you see the love in their little eyes and you know to them you are a super hero of the super-est kind. I am content to be paid in kisses. So I will keep this job thanks very much

Sincerely,

Grateful Mummy

What do you see?

Hey you with youth on your side, with your flawless figure and your beautiful smile. What do you see when you look at me. Cos I see the looks you give, the pitying smile. The face that says"wow I will never let myself go like that"

You see arms that wobble too much and need to be covered with sleeves. I see two arms that have cradled my newborns. Arms that have hugged a child as he has cried when sick or hurt or just to show love. Arms that have held a friend as her heart was breaking. Arms that held a student tight when they were being neglected and abused. These arms are ok.

You see legs that are stumpy and dont look good in shorts. I see two strong legs that have paced the hallway many a night carrying a crying baby. I see two legs that run to chase a runaway toddler. I see two legs that jump and skip and play with a 4 year old. I see legs that hold children close on their lap. These legs are fine.

You see a stomach that is not flat. It has silvery lines and it wobbles. I see the place where my babies grew. This stomach that swelled to epic proportions as life was formed. I was so so proud of this stomach. This stomach made life! That is the most wondrous thing on earth. This stomach is ok.

You see breasts that are not longer perky, and could never go without a bra. But I see breasts that nourish and feed my baby. My breasts keep him alive. Amazing! He doesnt care what they look like, but gee do they do an awesome job. Almost like a superpower really. The girls are alright ; )

You look at my face and you see the fine lines. The beginnings of wrinkles and the tired eyes. I see lines from a face that has laughed til it cried over funny things people have said and done. Lines that have formed from smiling with such complete joy at the faces of children I never dreamed i would have. I see lines from a face that has cried many tears through loss and hurt and heartbreak. A face that is watching a friend losing her battle with cancer. A face that lost a much wanted child. A face that sat day after day after day beside a humidicrib praying her baby would survive. Each line has been earnt, each line tells a story. Each line says "this woman has lived!"

You look at me with pity, but I am ok. I embrace this body becaue it is mine.It is strong when it needs to be, soft when it needs to be. It tells the story of my life. I have lived and experienced and I would change none of it. Would give none of it back for the body of youth that you have. I am ok. At least for today

Parenting is not a competitive sport

What is it about parenthood that brings out the ultra-competitveness of some people? I dont get it. For some it starts even before their little one makes that grand entrance into the world.

Competitive parent pre-birth

Man I am over this morning sickness, I am 14 weeks it should be easing soon!

14 weeks? Thats nothing I had morning sickness til my baby turned one!

Competitive parent on birth

Wow that labour was really long and tough. was about 34 hours and really intense.

Only 34 hours? I was in labour for 3 years with my baby and then they needed an industrial sized crane to pull him out.

Yeah I had a thrid degree tear, 28 stitches was pretty painful. '

Is that all? I had a 6th degree tear and even needed stitches to my nostrils the tear was that bad. Worst the doctor had ever seen!

Competitive parent on nutrition

We try to limit the amount of sugar our children eat, but realise a treat every now and then wont hurt.

WHAT!!! You actually give them food! We decided thats its safer to eat nothing these days , we even discourage them from inhaling in too much air

Competitive parent on milestones

Littlee Maggie said her first word the other day, so proud of her

Isnt she like 1already? I would be getting her tested if I were you My little Molly stepped out of my vagina reciting shakespeares sonnets

Yay first steps, still a bit shaky but we are on our way.

Well My Bertrand is training for his frst marathon. We thought what better present for his 6 month half birthday than to compete in the bridge to brisbane



Ok, so maybe I am exaggerating...a little, but for some people, every coment you make seems to turn them into a competitive machine. they are always sicker, tireder, better, richer, cleverer , prettier, thinner than you and of course their children are so far beyond yours that you may as well not even bother opening your mouth. I refuse to buy into it. Kids are all so different and will do things when they are ready, not when competive parent decieds they should be ready. I reckon kids should just be allowed to be kids- their beautiful, funny clever little selves who will do things when they are ready. And we love them more than anything in the world- unles syou are a competitiove parent and then you clearly love your child just that bit more than everyone else ; )

To Joseph @ 3 months

Dear Joseph,

                    Well yesterday you were 3 months old Darling boy. Time is just going by so, so fast! You are such a delight. I swear if you were to look up bonnie baby in a dictionary, your picture would be there. You have the biggest, most beautiful smile, one that lights up your whole face. I love when I go to get you from your bed you greet me with a grin, even if you were just crying seconds before. You have begun giggling, but you still take a lot to get there- just like your big brother did. Maybe mummy and daddy just aren’t as hilarious as we think? You have been sleeping through the night- 9-7- now for almost 3 weeks. We are so proud of you…. And so thankful!

You absolutely adore Elijah. Just hearing his voice can stop your tears and make you smile. Your eyes never leave him when he is near.  You are also a big Mummy’s boy. When you are very sad, only mummy will do. I love that just quietly.  Your favourite song at the moment is Baby Love. Me singing this song made you giggle for me for the first time. Last night when I was singing it to you, you were cooing and babbling- almost as though you were singing as well. So, so cute.  

Before you were born I wondered how I could ever love another child like I do Elijah, well there is definitely no needs to worry about that! I adore you so much it makes my heart hurt. I am torn between wanting to watch you grow and wanting to keep you just as you are now, though I know the choice is not mine. You are growing beautifully and just seem to get cuter every day.  You and your big brother light up my world every day Joseph. I love you to the moon and back a million times over.

Love Mummy

In Full Bloom

As I sit and type this, I realise that any day now my life is about to change. I look down at my belly which is amazing. It is round and firm and every so often  there are movements and kicks and wriggles that make my skin jump and quiver. Anyone that knows me, knows that I never compliment myself, but I am damm proud of this fine belly. I love that it seems to grow everyday. When pregnant with Elijah I couldnt wait to get the 'bump'. However that was not to be. So I am cherishing every moment I have with this spectacular stomach I have aquired.
I am so proud of us. We have made it to 32 weeks, a long, long way from the 25 weeks I was when admitted to hopsital. When I say proud of us, I mean all of us. Me- because for almost 7 weeks my life has been on hold as I sit and rest and give this baby the very best chance in lfe. Even though I complain sometimes about the sheer boredom of it all, I know I would sit here for 5 years if that was what ws required.
I am proud of Allan, my husband. He has been nothing short of amazing. Stepping in to become father, mother, chef, cleaner, shopper, all while working full time. He is so very tired and it kills me knowing he cant yet get a break, but I know he does it and will continue to do it for as long as needed because he loves us all so much.
I am proud of my beautiful Elijah. He has handled some pretty major changes this year- my hospitalisation for 3 weeks, having to go to kindy/daycare 5 days a week, having a mummy who is there but cant really do anything for him except sit with him on the lounge watchng tv and reading books. He has been amazing.
I am proud of my unborn baby, who oblivuous to the excitement thats been caused , grows and kicks away merrily in my belly. We so cant wait to meet this new little person who we are already smitten with.
I am proud of my family who give up weekends to come and see us, who will be here in an instant when things begin to progress, Who text daily  for updates and who also wait with baited breath to meet this new little person.
I am proud of my dearest friends. Who keep me compny, who look after Elijah, who cook for us, text me often and  who have just gone above and beyond what I ever could have imagined.
So as I sit here in full bloom, I am grateful. For family and friends, for love and new life...... and amazing pregnant bellies!

I AM PREGNANT....FINALLY

Well here its is, finally, the blog I have been longing to write for almost 2 years. I am pregnant with number 2- 13 weeks today. Man has it been hard to wait this long to write. After 4 IVF cycles our little miracle is on the way. I had the nuchal scan yesterday and everythng seems to be perfect- 2 arms,2 legs, head,10 fingers (couldnt see feet but am sure there are 10 toes as well  (was a bit concerned about missing body parts as it was a frozen embryo we used...silly I know)
It has been by no means a smooth pregnancy- i dont seem to do pregnancy well- especially 1st and 3rd trimester. IMorning sickness began at the start of week 6 and still hasnt left me. When i say morning sickness I really mean all day, all night horrendous illness! I have lost over 4 kg (which may not seem like much but it would normally take me months to lose that type of weight!) Anything to do with food makes me feel ill. Smelling it, eating it,cooking it, seeing it on tv, even thinking about it.  Am so hoping it will resolve soon. I dont think I could face any more oh so classy vomit in the front garden experiences lol.
This pregnancy has been eerily similar to Elijahs pregnancy. Although not planned, their due dates are only a week apart, which means the IVF cycles were very close.I also had a huge bleed with etc  at 5 weeks and was sure I had miscarried, just as i did with Elijah.   However  a scan the next day showed a sac, and the doctor said it was there but he couldnt say whether it would last or not. I had 2 embryos transferred so it was possible both had implanted and I lost one. So another week nd a half of anxious wait til my next scan and then we saw the beautiful little blob with a beating heart. As i was on medication costing over $100 a week,I had scans every 2 weeks wesome!) but am now drug free and on monthly scans.
We havent told Elijah yet, will wait til I am obviously showing. Pregnancy seems to take forever for me,I cant imagine how long it would feel to a 3 year old. I think he will be excited as he loves babies and always says he would like to be a big brother. But being that there will be a 4 year age gap, where he has had sole access to mummy for 4 years there could be a few issues to work through. But we will get there.
So keep fingers crossed that this little one does not decide mummys womb with a view is not good enough to stay in for a full 40 weeks and decide to arrive early like its big brother. And bring on 2nd trimester- I rock at that one!

Eddie V Big-hair man

Dear "Man with exxceptionally big head",
                                                                      It has taken me almost 2 months to write this post. That's how traumatised you made me. March 13, the night that could have been the night of my life (well apart from the other nights of my life- wedding, child birth etc etc). Picture this- me, 5th row, QPAC concert hall, Eddie Vedder on stage- solo show. About 15-20 metres separated me from the man I have loved since I was 12 (don't get your knickers in a twist- Allan knew when he married me there was always a piece of my heart kept for Eddie)  SHOULD. HAVE. BEEN HEAVEN. But do you know why it wasn't? Well let me tell you. It was because of you. You with your exceptionally big head. Sure, not your fault, genetics, yadda yadda yadda. However, perched on top of that freaking ginormous head, was the biggest man-hair I have ever seen! I mean come on, back away from the extra body shampoo man (as if that glossy shine comes naturally ; ). Once again, maybe you were just born with high sitting, springy hair strands. But for the love of all things holy, why, oh why could you not keep that gargantuan head still. You moved it one way- I moved the other. Oh hang on, now I can see Eddie, oh wait, hang on, big-head man has decided to move his head again..... for the 5 millionth time that hour!! Lucky for the person behind me, I am a) short  and b) had straightened my hair hence no chance of my hair being ginormous and view blocking.  Oh wait, now you want to shift your mammoth head again AND put your arm around your girlfriend. Well just wait till I move again, no really, cos its not like I paid the same money as you just to watch your FREAKING HUGE HEAD- seriously the poor girl beside me now thinks I am totally trying to rest my weary head on her shoulders.  Maybe I am being harsh, maybe the weight of having such a (hang on just ducking over to thesaurus.com for some more synonyms for large)  colossal head on your small neck is really difficult. Maybe I should be feeling sorry for you. Well I don't. Eddie was awesome, just a pity I have barely any idea what he looked like crooning away up on stage there because I couldnt see past your exorbitant cranium. But on the plus side, Andrew Stockdale (of Wolfmother fame) did a duet with Eddie and I had no problems whatsoever seeing his gigantic head either.


note: this blog is in no way meant to offend those who have exceptionally large heads

The beauty in the little things

This week I have been reminded that for all the ugliness, hurt and sadness in this world there is also an amazing amount of beauty, joy and awesomeness. Little things that take your breath away and leave heart prints on your soul.
The other day I was at my second panrty Woolies with Elijah. He was holding one basket handle, me the other. I had let him choose a couple of matchbox cars when he stopped rummaging through the pile and said to me (sorry facebook friends, you know how this story ends- act surprised!)  "we're best friends aren't we Mummy?" My heart stopped beating for an instant as I was overwhelmed by the innocence and honesty of this one simple, exquisite sentence.
I was reminded that its the little things...

Today at church was a family service. Its a fun,relaxed service with lots of involvement from the kids in the church. Elijah and I were in the back row enjoying the service when our Youth Minister whose name is Awesome (or Jill if you don't know her) announced that the kids would be singing a song they had been practicing.  Elijah, who is yet to be unleashed on the world of Junior Church, was very excited to see the kids on stage and wanted to go up too. He walked down to the front, stopping often to look back at me for reassurance, and made it down to the stairs. Here he hesitated, his confidence having left him when faced with the reality of the stage. Jill saw him and could not get down to him quick enough.She took him up on stage, stood behind him and helped him with the actions and words. At the back stood me, the proudest mummy in the whole world at that moment, and also the most thankful. Thankful that someone saw my brave little man and took care of him when he could so easily have been overlooked.  His little face when he ran down the stairs to me after the song,  was priceless. And I knew that a beautiful memory had been made for him and me today. I also think he melted quite a few hearts, just quietly!

Once again I was reminded it really is the little things ...

Thats like, so highschool

As you may know, I have a little soft spot for facebook. I have been known to pop in every 5 minutes   so often to check whats happening in the world of my dear FB friends. Its a bit of harmless, voyeuristic fun.But dear friends, Facebook has a dark side, a dark passenger if you will (just finished watching Dexter can you tell?) Something that can make the most confident person question their worth, leave them a quivering mess of "what if's and how comes?" That my friends is what we on the 'book call defriending. Yes you heard right. People sneakily deleting someone from their facebook friend list with not so much as a goodbye. Ofetn one discovers they have been defriended purely by accident. "Hmmmm havent seen any new photos or updates from Betty Sue for a while, I will just pop over and have a look at her profile".
"Oh no you wont" comes the smug privacy message that now greets you where once you were warmly welcomed. You reel, stunned, cut to the quick, devastated, speechless, horrified. Defriended? Me? How? I am awesome!!!  Ok so you didn't really like this person much, didn't really have much in common, may not have even seen them in about 25 years, but that's not the point. They were your on your list and now they are not. And the worst part is you want to know why!!! But it would be a cold day in hell before you would give them that satisfaction. In fact, you would even seriously debate with yourself about spitting on them if they happened to find themselves on fire (nothing at all to do with the voodoo doll you had made of them and then threw on a lit match) . You are suddenly transported straight back to high school with all your teenage fears, insecurities and angsts., But luckily it only lasts a  moment, because now you realise its only facebook and   you weren't really friends anyway. Ohh and you realise you are probably just too amazing for them to handle ; )

In the blink of an eye

Dear Elijah,
                   a week ago today we celebrated your 3rd birthday, I cannot believe 3 years has passed since your frightening entry into this world. I cannot imagine a life without you in it and can barely remember life as it was before you came. Its like you have always been here.  Wow, 3! You are certainly not a baby anymore, you are a real little boy. You continue to amaze me, just as you have done every day since your birth. You speak very well, have done for a while now. At your last assessment at the Mater they reported you as having exceptional communication skills - not bad for a little boy born at 28 weeks! You sing songs, and recite pages from your favourite stories. You are also fully toilet trained, yay no more nappies. Another thing i dreaded but you took to like a duck to water.
This year has seen big changes in your little world. I had to return to work, only part time, but it means you now go to daycare. You have handled these changes like a superstar. The first couple weeks you were harder at pick up time than you were at drop off. You didn't want to come home!  You hit a little bump in the road last week when you realised it was a permanent thing, but touch wood, this week you were back on track. So many nights I couldn't sleep worrying about how you would cope. I was 97% sure you would be fine, but there is always the small percent of what if's. What if you changed, what if you were scared, or lonely, or bullied. But your teachers are great and I really think I made the best choice with the centre I chose for you. You especially love Miss Jean.
You still love reading and singing. Now whenever you hear music on TV you yell out to me to come and dance. Boy do you have some moves! You can count up to 20 and only leave out 15 for some reason. You recognise lots of letters and numbers.
You are such a funny, smart, handsome little boy. I often look at you and just cannot comprehend that this amazing little creature came from my body- we  created you! I still tear up when I look at you, I wonder if this will ever pass?  I think though the thing I love most about you (apart from EVERYTHING) is that you are so loving. Often out of nowhere you will just come up to me for a nuggle and you are not too stingy to hand out lots of kisses, and when I say I love you, even if its the thousandth time that day, you still say i love you too. You love everyone, and everyone cant help but fall in love with you. The day you were born I didn't even want to think of the future, I just had to pray you would survive day by day. Never could I have imagined how you would grow and how I could manage to  love you more every day. I love you to the moon and back Monkey Moo, happy 3rd birthday

You at birth



you at 3



The day I got Stuck in a Dress

So I thought, rather unselfishly, that I would share a story with you about the time I got stuck in a dress. Yes you read correctly. I got stuck in a dress. Now I know you can get stuck in a lift, up a tree, can even be stuck up,  but I wonder how many of you have ever been stuck in a dress.

It all started like any other day. Thought I would do a spot of shopping (this was BC, when I could actually take the time to try things on in shops rather than doing a quick scan of the shop from the entry, zooming in on the thing that most looks like it will a)  fit  b) be comfortable and not show food stains  c) fit my much lower budget, before buying it to try on at home and usually return on the next seek and find mission)  Anyways, I digress. So I found this really nice summer white dress. Now I had also had time BC to work on a tan, so thought, wow how lovely would white look with my tan. Bingo! Off to the change rooms I prance, feeling quietly confident that I was onto a winner. So I slip dress over head. There is a zip but it looks like it will go on without having to undo the zip- which is a back fastening zip so a pain to do up on your own. Therein lay my fatal mistake (A good time to point out here that I seem to have been born with a distinct inability to judge anything measurement related. Take for example- parking. I have been known to slam on my brakes giving passengers whipkash as I think I am about to hit car in front. Upon getting out of car I see there is room enough between both cars to park a B Double!) . Dress slides over upstretched arms- check. Dress continues to slide nicely over head- check, a bit of a pull and it slides nicely over bust- check. Hmmm starting to feel some resistance, maybe I will take it off an undo the zip after all. 'Oh no you wont, smug tryer onner of clothes' . With arms still upstretched (reaching for roof- just to help with the visuals) head buried in fabric, bust covered in dress, rest of pasty, cellulite-y body hideously exposed (and no I was not wearing my best, 'in case of emergency you will want to be seen in these/Victorias Secret type ' underwear) I realised the dress was not moving, not up and not down. I shimmied and shook and wriggled and grunted. (God only knows what other dressing room patrons were thinking at this stage). But the dress would to move. Now if My arms had not been stuck in upstretched position, maybe dress removal would have been easier. I tried for ages, panic and sheer desperation mounting with every passing second. What was I going to do?? I contemplated just busting out of the dress and wasting a big amount on a wrecked dress, i contemplated sticking upstretched arms and stuck head out of curtain and asking assistant for help and risking her seeing my unsightly, bad undies clad body in all its spotlighted glory, I contemplated slashing my wrists with the stuck zipper. I said prayers to God, Allah, Jehovah and any other mystical being who may have been in the vicinity. I could feels tears prickling my squashed eyes. When all of a sudden I felt a bit of movement. HALLE- freaking- LUJAH-  cue heavenly choir of angels singing!!! I was free of the stupid, ugly hideous dress, with no damage to dress but some major red marking to my upper arms, face and head.  And no in case you are wondering- I didn’t buy the dress. Lol.

My mum still reminds me of this every time I step foot in a dressing room amid gales of laughter. And I can laugh about it now.... but it took a long time to get past the horror of being stuck in a dress.

Tears for a stranger

This past week has seen my part of the world turned upside down. The flood crisis in Queensland worsened dramatically with flash flooding in Toowoomba and the Lockyer Valley. Lives were lost, homes were decimated, businesses were destroyed. I, along with so many others have been glued to the television, horror increasing with every passing minute at what was taking place. Cars being flung about like matchbox toys through the streets , businesses destroyed- their stock spilling out onto flooded streets, houses ripped from their stumps and torn apart as if they were made of match sticks. It was likened to an inland tsunami and there was no warning.
I reach a point often where I can no longer watch the telecast. It is so heart wrenching that I have to turn it off. But for those living through this disaster they dont have the luxury of switching off. This is their new reality- one never asked for just thrust upon them. This disaster took men, women and it took children, it didnt discriminate.
I often see the news and my heart goes out to the victims that appear daily. But when its your own town, a place where you lived, where you have family, where you shopped, whose streets you walked down often and whose towns you drove through and taught at it makes it so much more devastatingly real and horrific. And the tears come easily. Tears for strangers you see on the news, who you dont know, have never met, but for whom you hurt as if they were your closest friend. Tears flow freely For the lost and those who lost loved ones, for the rescuers who did all they could and will now live with the scars of lives they could not save, for the premier who has shown such enduring strength and leadership, for the people whose homes and businesses were destroyed and who may now be unable to claim insurance.
But throughout there have been glimpses of beauty and strength that make me so proud to be a queenslander. Seeing those brave rescuers- my brother among them- risking their own lives to save the lives of others. Seeing the resilience of people who have lost so much yet who have not been destryoyed.  Seeing army officers so gently cradling small children whom they have rescued- as gently as if it were their own child. . Seeing how so many have rallied around to help with donations and as the clean up begins. One cannot help but be  proud. And when you see this you know that they will survive what has been thrown at them, they will endure the grief and grow. And that is perhaps the most amazing thing of all.