Oh Wow...

We all traveled to Victoria at the weekend. Three of us managed to do some shopping. Jacob managed a visit to the zoo and along with ten of his gymnast teammates represented Tasmania in the Trans Bass challenge, Tasmania versus Victoria. 

The Tasmania team are very proud to report that they were victorious. Proud mother me is extremely proud to report that Jacob finished third overall out of sixty two competitors in his level. He placed in the top six on five out of six apparatus. It was an amazing effort and great recognition of all his hard work over the past three years.

Letting go...

I am awake earlier than is my choice. I need to go out. Obligations to be met, promises to be kept. 


My boy has snuck in beside me in the grey light of the early dawn. He sleeps soundly between the two of us, the nightmare that propelled him down the hallway to our bed long forgotten. He is almost twelve but asleep I can just still make out the faint traces in his face of the toddler he once was.


I hesitate to wake him, to wake his still slumbering sister. I will only be a little over an hour, two at the most. They look so peaceful. They are both tired. It has been an emotionally draining Easter holiday, heck it has been an emotionally draining year.


These are the thoughts I struggle with the most, the need to protect and to keep safe on one hand... on the other hand the need to let them spread their wings and become independent.


When I was eleven my mum was at work most of the school holidays. I stayed at home, with no adults and responsibility for my seven year old sister. No one even gave it a second thought.
Now people frown at me when I mention I send my eleven year old into the corner shop on his own. 


Yesterday in the small town of my childhood I let them walk the dog to the beach. Out of my sight. Sometimes you have to trust and take a leap of faith. Sometimes you have to realise that time hasn't stood still. From baby to toddler to preteen children, it feels like it happened in the blink of an eye. Trust, let go just a little and hope that I have taught them well enough.


I make them breakfast in bed before I leave. It is cold and wintry, still dark with a watery sun struggling to break through the clouds. They are happy to snuggle in bed with a book each. There are questions about what they can and can't do. They check that I have my mobile. I can see the slight apprehension  lurking  beneath the surface, mingled with the pride in the trust I have in them.  But that apprehension makes me question, almost makes me waver.


Two hours later I am back, they meet me at the door unscathed with smiling faces.
And I realise the letting go is so much harder for me ... than it ever will be for them.

Missing...

Easter ... I missed this place. I have spent Easter here for the last thirty three years of my life.

This year was different. A different place, missing faces, missing traditions.
There were lots of tears, but also some laughter.


I told my children tonight that it does eventually get easier.
But I think we will always miss the way it used to be...

First day...

Not really sure where the holidays went?
First day of year 6 for my boy... and his last year of primary school!
First day of year 4 for my girl.


Guess it's back to the usual daily grind now.

Hold tight and be brave...

The words are easy when it is about your first solo ride on the ski biscuit.

Hold on tight, be brave and you will be okay.

Entering the unknown is always scary.

Look what a difference thirty seconds can make.

Change has come at us thick and fast this month and with these changes the words are not so easy to find.  My father in law suffered a stroke and will be in hospital for several months. My step father is sadly losing his battle with lung cancer.  It feels like the sands are constantly shifting beneath the life we have built. Most days I feel pulled in a dozen different directions trying to juggle how to help two extended families .

The words to explain these things to my children are not so easy to find. There are lots of questions and lots of tears. This sort of change is hard. Hard at any age, especially hard when you are experiencing it for the first time.

Hold on tight and be brave. For now those words will have to do.

Eleven...

Eleven years I have spent with this child.

The child who made me a mother.

I still remember the wonder of the gift of you.

The baby who would not feed.

The skinny little infant who eventually became a chubby toddler, and we all breathed a sigh of relief.

Sometimes it feels like you have been with me forever.

But most days I can't believe how fast the years have flown.

That tiny little baby who became this gorgeous boy.

Seems like only yesterday.

Love you heaps Jacob

You are an awesome kid!

Three years and five months ago ...

In May 2007, when I had time to scrap, I wrote about Miss B's speech difficulties ...

An innocent little question from the back of the car. Your words seemed to just float through the dark to me and I’ll admit my heart skipped a beat as I considered how to answer. You talk so much now that the memory of when you didn’t has faded. But the truth is, that you don’t always talk well, I just wasn’t ever sure if you realised that. And I wondered why this question today? Why now did you realise there was a problem? So we talked, we talked about your surgery and speech delay. And you talked about speech assessment with Mrs Baker and trying really hard to say the words “right”. But that some of them were wrong. And you talked about older kids at school not understanding when you told them your name. Your words came tumbling out and my heart ached for you. I wish there was a magic wand to fix this, oh how I wish for that. But there’s not, there is only time and lots of hard work. But you know what, you will be okay. You are a tough little thing, you have conquered bigger hurdles than this. This is just one more that we need to overcome, and together we will do it.
May 25th 2007

This week she sang at the local eisteddfod in the year 1-2 school choir. They sang sweetly and beautifully and all the assembled parents were very proud. The moment that brought tears to my eyes though was right at the very beginning. Their music teacher handed the microphone to my little girl. My little girl who had been diagnosed at age four with severe speech delay. My girl who at age seven confidently and very clearly announced to the auditorium the name of the choir and the two songs that they would sing. Those perfectly spoken words were the sweetest music I heard all day.

Someday...

"What? you have cousins?" one of them asked, in a somewhat bewildered and incredulous tone.
We were driving and chatting and somehow the conversation had wound its way around to family.

I can see their look of disbelief in the rear vision mirror.
"Yes I have lots of cousins" I reply.
"Well why haven't we met them yet?"

And right there I pause, because I am unsure how to answer this question.

I have twenty nine cousins.

The memories and faces roll through my mind like a softly fading slide show.

Hide and seek and playing chase.

Climbing trees and throwing pine cones.

Making slides in the hay shed, and then getting into trouble for wrecking all the hay bales.

Cricket matches at Christmas that lasted all afternoon.

Playing the piano and thinking we sounded oh so great.

Dressing up and sleeping in.

Parties with music and dancing and the smell of cigarette smoke, because it was the seventies and all the cool adults smoked.

Stargazing outside on the veranda in the cold and quiet hearing the murmur of conversation inside.

Sometimes it feels like only yesterday.

Sometimes it feels like it never happened.

And then we grew up.

We moved away to work and to study.

My favourite aunt died.

My father died.

Then one day I had no grandparents left.

We all got busy.

We just gradually slipped away.

And our numbers are ever dwindling.

I have two nieces.

My children have two cousins.

They live half a state away.

I doubt that they will ever have any more.

They will never know what it feels like to have a huge extended family.

No matter how much they may wish for it.

They fight like cats and dogs these two children of mine.

But they cannot imagine a time when they will not see each other every day.

They are young and full of hope.

How do I explain that sometimes life just gets in the way.

That the people you love cannot always be with you.

That you lose touch and as time goes on it gets harder and harder to pick up the threads of your connection.

That a part of me is sad that they are missing out on being part of a big family community.

That the price you pay for moving away is that you are often all on your own.

I don't know how to explain any of this.

Instead I glance in the mirror and smile.

"Someday, they all live a long way away" I say.

And for now they smile back.

Things to come...

It was the sound of the hairdryer that caught my attention. I had sent her to have a shower. She is seven now and very proud of the fact that she can finally manage to turn the shower on for herself. But the hairdryer, that was new. I rattled the handle on the bathroom door. Locked, that was new as well. "Everything okay?" I asked, "Fine" she replied.

She emerged after half an hour in an excited perfumed whirl. Favourite nightdress on, washed and blow dried hair. She was perfumed and moisturized and so very proud. "You look beautiful" I said and she happily cartwheeled her way off to bed.

A sign of things to come. She is only seven years old. Heaven help me when she is a teenager.

In between...

I knew the day would come, I didn't really know when, but I guess I thought maybe you would be older. School fair last week and for the first time ever you very politely asked me that morning "Can I just take my money and walk around with my friends". The question caught me off guard and a million thoughts tumbled through my brain. You are only nine, when I was nine I walked home from school alone, but I rarely let you out of my sight in public. Would you be safe? Would you be okay? Would I be okay? I don't want to be a helicopter parent, I want you to be capable and confident. I know that to do that I have to let you go, just a little bit, let you figure stuff out on your own. Yet at the same time I have to keep you safe, keep you close enough that you don't get totally lost. Sometimes the balance is hard to find.

You are in between now, half way between my little boy and the young man you will become. Every day I see glimpses of both. I wonder if it is as confusing for you as it is for me. I see you pulling away and then I watch you scurry back, testing the limits and forming your own ideas.

After we had synchronised watches and safely tucked your money in your pocket, I settled down at a table with coffee and off you went. Ten minutes later you returned with both food and your friends. There was eating and laughing, chatting to each other and the adults and then off you all went to return again in around ten minutes. And so the pattern for the afternoon was set. Ever widening circles away, but always returning in the knowledge that I was there waiting.

We are in between you and I and that is okay. I just didn't think we would get here this soon.

Too little ...

I look at this sadly neglected blog and I wonder, do I have nothing left to say? Or do I just have no time left to say it? The year is rolling on and we are back into the routine of school and homework. Of lunches to be cut and homework to be done. Then there is the after school stuff...gymnastics. singing and soon soccer will start. This week we added in school swim team training. Sometimes I look back and wistfully remember my days with toddlers. Days that at the time seemed so busy, but looking back at them now they seem so unhurried. Sometimes I wonder, how much is too much? Is four hours of gymnastics every week too much when you are nine? Is it too much when you are seven? If they are happy should I even be worrying? Too much, too little... so hard to get the balance right.

Back...

... to school today. They were happy. The house seemed very quiet.

Glimpse...

Credits HERE

My boy will be ten in four months. Double figures, it sort of does my head in at times. He is suddenly concerned with looking cool. Anything remotely babyish must be now banished. My baby boy is long gone and now I see my little boy fading away as well. But this is how he spent an afternoon last week. Despite the fact that he has a perfectly sized bike and scooter in the garage, he found his first scooter ever, a unused car booster seat and a roll of duct tape... and the end result was a "red car". His delight when his idea worked was contagious. He spent all afternoon scooting down the path and around the courtyard. I really love this photo... in it I can still see a glimpse of the little boy that has almost gone.

So long September...

It was a hard month. Bad news. Lots of changes. Lots of tears. Too much stress on every member of our little family. Lots of silly sibling squabbles from everyone being tired and stressed. And rain. It rained and then it rained some more till it felt like we were drowning in both water and worries.

This mornings I sit here with steaming coffee and hot buttered toast. I can see sunshine. I can hear my children laughing as they watch the morning cartoons. I know we will be okay. Bring on October :)

4th...

My boy munchkin came fourth in the independent schools cross country today and we are all very poud! I have no decent photos... it is very hard to focus and barrack at the same time I discovered today.

My dad represented the state in distance running, I really missed him today. He would have been even prouder.

15.07

Six wonderful years... so very thankful.

Six years ago today...

I remember standing at the airport in the early morning chill. Out the window I could see the plane in the pre dawn light and I turned to Mark and said "Can't we just go home?" Walking across the tarmac and up those stairs felt like the hardest thing I had ever done. On that day it probably was, by the next day it would have paled into insignificance.

I remember the flight attendants probably thought we were just a happy family going on holidays. They oohed and aahed over my tiny baby girl and she smiled back. She giggled at the taxi driver on the silent drive to the hospital. He told us she was beautiful and wished us luck.

I remember the nurse showing us to a three bed ward and I just wanted to grab her and run back to the airport. I remember how the same nurse struggled to draw a blood sample and the tears that ran down my baby girls cheeks. I remember bundling her into the pram and we walked with Mark to Ronald McDonald House and although we had only been in the hospital a few hours it felt like an escape.

I remember lying awake most of that night watching her sleep, hoping and praying that she would be okay. I remember seeing the next day dawn outside our window and wondering what it would bring.

I remember the fear and I remember the hope... and I always remember to be grateful.

More of Bianca's story here, here and here

Please let it just be a phase...

Credits HERE

Please someone else tell me they have a six year old pessimist. That there are other six year olds for whom everything, and I mean everything is a drama. That other six year old girls worry too much, cry too much and also stomp off to their rooms with hunched shoulders muttering "fine"under their breaths, when clearly everything is not fine!

I am really hoping that this is just a six year old girl phase, that it is the end of term, that she is overtired, that soon it will end...heaven help us if it's not!

Yesterday...

Yesterday. To me it felt like a pretty ordinary day. Miss B and I both slept in a little, which was nice. Heaps of washing from the weekend at the Lake, which was not so nice. Jacob arrived home around eleven. There were lots of cuddles all around. He had picked some special rocks to bring home for Bianca. We swept out the cubby house and rehung the posters. The autumn sunshine was warm, but not too warm. I made sandwiches and milkshakes for lunch. The kids ate in the cubby and I ate on the veranda.

I managed to wrangle them without too much protesting into some clean clothes and we headed out. Bianca had a list, ordinary, miscellaneous stuff... fuel, hair gel, a new gingerbread man cutter, football boots for Jacob, fruit, bread, milk. Got the football boots and new winter shoes for both kids. They would like to wear crocs all winter, I was thinking of cold and wet toes. Some afternoon tea, some pocket money spent at Diva and on some new animals. We all decided on home made pizza for dinner and did a quick trip around the supermarket.

Just a simple, ordinary day. We were walking back to the car, just chatting when Jacob slipped his arms around me. "I just loved today Mum" he said and squeezed me tight.

And I realized that I had loved the simple stuff as well, the ordinary, the chatting and the hanging out. I try to find balance in my life, in my kids lives, but I will be the first to admit that I often find it hard. Too much rushing, too many commitments, too much pressure to fill the days with stuff to do and places to go. There is the often asked question of "what are you doing for school break?"... somehow "nothing" doesn't always feel like the right answer.

Yesterday, we really did nothing much ... and nothing much was lovely. Nothing much was a day that my children loved. That I loved. It just took an eight year old to remind me.

Tough day...

Today was tough. Tough enough to almost make me wish for sleepless nights, colic and teething troubles again... because I could figure out how to fix them.

My independent, feisty, determined daughter and I have butted heads for the past twenty four hours. It has involved lots of tears, stamping of feet, yelling, time in her room thinking and trying to talk me around on her part. Lots of "broken record technique" repeating of requests, counting to ten and trying to stay calm on my part. There are toys now in time out. Privileges removed and still it continues.

She is stubborn, very stubborn. But if needed I can be even more stubborn. She will learn to speak to everyone in this house in a respectful voice, she will learn that things cannot always go her own way and she will learn to admit that sometimes she is at fault as well... or she will sit and think in her room until she turns 18 lol! I can't even remember now what started it all, no doubt something small and insignificant. I can't figure out what is going on, if there is a bigger problem that is troubling her. I try to talk to her and she says "she can't get the words out"

Tonight, after many tears at bedtime she finally came to her door and called softly that she had something to tell me..."Sometimes I think I hate you, but really I don't"she said. Like I said, a tough day for everyone.