The two most important men in my life both left their bodies at 8:30pm on a Wednesday.
Sometimes this is a down right horrible thought and it turns my Wednesdays into crap days - but mostly it is comforting, because I believe in magic moments and I believe in their significance. Our little warrior could have died at any time, but he didn't. I like to think that when Zy died, Daddy Kewl was there waiting for him. Actually, I don't just like thinking this, I like knowing this.... It's significant.
The last few days I have pushed myself into blogging some of the moments from three other kewl and significant people. "Their lives deserve celebrating." I told myself... "You can't stop forward movement. It's time to move forward."
But to be honest, I'm struggling.
I love the moments I have to celebrate with my kewl girls, and I do not - for one second - underestimate their value. What I'm struggling with is the fourth kewl and significant child who's moments aren't being celebrated in the same way. Some are, sure - but to fully appreciate many of them, there is a need for details and history and explanation that is still too raw to blog about. So, while Zy is constantly present in my thoughts and in my heart - as every child is for every parent - his moments are missing from this "forward blogging movement".
Honestly? The thought of moving forward without Zy is totally and utterly terrifying. I know he will always be in my heart, and in the hearts of the people who love him... But there is still that niggling voice that screams it's bloody head off when I post about something other than him - something 'normal' - because even though he is constantly present in my heart, and the people close to us hold him in their hearts, what about the others? What about the people who don't know his story?
The thought that Zy is being left out is like a red hot iron being driven into my soul.
It hurts. And I don't like it.
So.... Instead of dwelling on it and feeling awful and not posting anything.... I am coming up with a solution. I'm going to make Wednesday each week "Warrior Wednesday" on the Kewl blog. This way I can be OK with blogging the every day moments, because I will know that Zy's moments are not being forgotten, overlooked or left out. It is also a clear and positive way of creating a balance between "now" moments, and those that are a little more reflective... A way to bring Zy with us on this whole forward movement thing.
Does this make sense?
Lol... Oh well. It is my plan, and it feels good.
As today is Wednesday, I have a couple of moments - one that I've wanted to share for a while, that didn't make it onto the Baby Blog because it happened in the midst of a whole lot of freaking chaos! And another that is a Baby Warrior and kewl girl moment from the 'now'.
The first happened while I was pregnant, and is a testament to just how big and FAT I got carrying Baby Warrior around in his overfilled water bed....
The kewl girls and I were at the park when, just for something different, I had to pee. Leaving the girls safely with our nanny, I made a fast waddle for the loo's. Then, satisfied that my bladder was no longer about to burst, I went to return to the kewlettes.
Errr... Not so fast....
I went to open the stall door and discovered it was stuck. Well, more to the point - I was stuck...
My belly was so big I could not get the door open wide enough to make my escape, and my baby brain was not about to come up with a solution any time soon.
After about 20 minutes of sitting in a public loo stall, half laughing, half crying, Mary Poppins finally came searching and was able to manoeuvre the door open... But only after another 20 minutes of hysterical laughter on her part.
(Reading back over this moment, I realise it may be one of those, "You had to be there" things, but hey - I was there and today it makes me smile.)
The next moment is from an inspired Miss J.
This morning her and her sisters were playing dress ups when Miss J gave up her high heels and fake fur to come and see me.
Miss J: "Mummy... We're hungry."
I asked her what she felt like to eat, and she replied, "Salt and vinegar chips."
Seemingly not such a special request, except that Miss J and her sisters all hate salt and vinegar chips and are not allowed to eat them anyway because of the gluten factor.
And that salt and vinegar chips were also one of the few things I craved, non stop, whilst pregnant with Baby Warrior.
Me: "Are you sure you want salt and vinegar chips?"
Miss J: "Yes, we do."
Me: "Your sisters too?"
Miss J: "Oh mum... *insert teenage style rolling of eyes* ... Me and Zy want salt and vinegar chips."
Of course.
Needless to say, we now have a cupboard full of salt and vinegar chips.
Showing posts with label Inspired. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Inspired. Show all posts
LIZ! In the car!
We (myself, the three Kewl girls and a Mary Poppins freak) had a 2 and a half hour road trip today. Well, it was three hours really, by the time you factor in 50 gazillion toilet stops. (For me, that is, not the girls!)
As a touring freak, I spent a lot of time on the road and I got very good at amusing myself with travel games. One of my favourites was, and still is, license plate words. That is - taking the three letters from a passing license plate and coming up with a phase using words beginning with each letter.
Today, about an hour into our trip, we turned off the busy main roads and began winding our way inland. This is my favourite kind of travel - removed enough to be quiet, but not so isolated that it becomes unnerving. The passing traffic dwindled in volume until there was just one car every 10 minutes or so, and a calm settled over the car. The girls either window gazed or amused themselves quietly and Mary Poppins and I enjoyed the greening landscape after too many days in the city.
It was just lovely, being with my four favourite women in the world, all drifting with our own thoughts. I must have been a good few miles away when the bright red shine of a car approaching in the opposite direction caught my eye and drew me back to the present moment. As it got closer, more out of habit than anything else, I looked for the 3 letters on the license plate.
ZSH
My thoughts went immediately to Z.
Z is for Zy.
Then I wondered if maybe it was Zy saying hello...
H... Hello...
Hmm. Of course it was.
ZSH - Zy Says Hi.
By the time my thoughts rested on this the car had long passed - but I said it aloud, anyway. And so Did Mary Poppins.
In perfect sync, we both said softly, "Zy Says Hi".
Naturally, when the next car approached we were both ready and waiting to catch the license plate.
LIZ
Again we spoke softly and in unison,
"Look! It's Zy."
When we spotted the next car in the distance their was absolutely no doubt in our minds that Zy would say hello again.
And he did.
As the car drew closer I drew myself up tall in my seat. Once more we spotted the letters at the same time and once more we spoke in perfect unison -
HFZ
"Hi From Zy."
We didn't pass any more cars again before it was time for another loo stop, and so a break in our momentum - but I didn't need any more confirmation that our little Warrior was in the car with us today.
Thank you, darling Zy.
I will always be watching and listening for you.
As a touring freak, I spent a lot of time on the road and I got very good at amusing myself with travel games. One of my favourites was, and still is, license plate words. That is - taking the three letters from a passing license plate and coming up with a phase using words beginning with each letter.
Today, about an hour into our trip, we turned off the busy main roads and began winding our way inland. This is my favourite kind of travel - removed enough to be quiet, but not so isolated that it becomes unnerving. The passing traffic dwindled in volume until there was just one car every 10 minutes or so, and a calm settled over the car. The girls either window gazed or amused themselves quietly and Mary Poppins and I enjoyed the greening landscape after too many days in the city.
It was just lovely, being with my four favourite women in the world, all drifting with our own thoughts. I must have been a good few miles away when the bright red shine of a car approaching in the opposite direction caught my eye and drew me back to the present moment. As it got closer, more out of habit than anything else, I looked for the 3 letters on the license plate.
ZSH
My thoughts went immediately to Z.
Z is for Zy.
Then I wondered if maybe it was Zy saying hello...
H... Hello...
Hmm. Of course it was.
ZSH - Zy Says Hi.
By the time my thoughts rested on this the car had long passed - but I said it aloud, anyway. And so Did Mary Poppins.
In perfect sync, we both said softly, "Zy Says Hi".
Naturally, when the next car approached we were both ready and waiting to catch the license plate.
LIZ
Again we spoke softly and in unison,
"Look! It's Zy."
When we spotted the next car in the distance their was absolutely no doubt in our minds that Zy would say hello again.
And he did.
As the car drew closer I drew myself up tall in my seat. Once more we spotted the letters at the same time and once more we spoke in perfect unison -
HFZ
"Hi From Zy."
We didn't pass any more cars again before it was time for another loo stop, and so a break in our momentum - but I didn't need any more confirmation that our little Warrior was in the car with us today.
Thank you, darling Zy.
I will always be watching and listening for you.
Magic Moment
Miss V was born with a phobia of phones. She got it from me and from an experience we shared when she was in my tummy.
On the night Daddy Kewl was killed, he rang me on his way home from work. He was hit by the drink driver while we were talking.
As much as I am thankful that in a way I was with him when he died, we never got to finish our conversation or say goodbye and that unfinished phone call was stuck on replay for a long time.
So, it is no wonder really that Miss V and I do not like phones!
Mostly I am okay with phones now, but Miss V is still not keen on them. In an attempt to make phones fun for her, I took the girls on a mission a few months ago. We went to the discount shop and I set down the challenge: Find as many phones as you can!
Together we scoured the store in search of our communication treasures - and we scored well! We left with a bag full of 14 new (toy) phones! When we got home we played lots of games with them. I practised juggling them, Miss J had fun throwing them into a bucket from a couple of meters away, Miss F did magic tricks with them (making them disappear by hiding them in different hand bags!) and Miss V used them to play fetch with the dogs.
Having achieved a good level of phone fun, the next step was to practise talking on them. Miss J or Miss F would make fabulous phone ringing sounds and I would answer the call and pass on messages to them. "That was your god mother. She says hello, and she is making snot pie for dinner!"
Miss J and Miss F caught onto this very quickly and became great role models. They started answering phones themselves and passing messages on to me. "That was Whip. He says hello and your shoes are smelly!"
Then there was the "Hello Song". Miss V's unicorn sings this song... Imagine the most annoying, catchy, lame tune you have ever heard. Multiply the annoying factor by 2. Now add these lyrics... "Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, how are you? Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, how are you? Thank you, thank you I am fine and I hope that you are too. Do do do do do."
To infinity.
It drives me bonkers, but Miss V loves it. So we sang it - Every time the phone rang.
For all of our phone antics, Miss V still does not want to speak to people on real phones (and that's OK. I'm sure she will warm to them when she is ready). She is starting to get used to speaking on toy phones though. After watching her sisters and I talking and laughing and passing on hello's she is now quite comfortable chatting on them herself, and although the phone may not be plugged in, she certainly has connections.
One day this week I heard Miss V talking on her phone. I didn't catch much of her conversation, but when I walked into her room she had a message for me.
She put down the phone, looked directly into my eyes and said,
"That was dad. He says goodbye."
On the night Daddy Kewl was killed, he rang me on his way home from work. He was hit by the drink driver while we were talking.
As much as I am thankful that in a way I was with him when he died, we never got to finish our conversation or say goodbye and that unfinished phone call was stuck on replay for a long time.
So, it is no wonder really that Miss V and I do not like phones!
Mostly I am okay with phones now, but Miss V is still not keen on them. In an attempt to make phones fun for her, I took the girls on a mission a few months ago. We went to the discount shop and I set down the challenge: Find as many phones as you can!
Together we scoured the store in search of our communication treasures - and we scored well! We left with a bag full of 14 new (toy) phones! When we got home we played lots of games with them. I practised juggling them, Miss J had fun throwing them into a bucket from a couple of meters away, Miss F did magic tricks with them (making them disappear by hiding them in different hand bags!) and Miss V used them to play fetch with the dogs.
Having achieved a good level of phone fun, the next step was to practise talking on them. Miss J or Miss F would make fabulous phone ringing sounds and I would answer the call and pass on messages to them. "That was your god mother. She says hello, and she is making snot pie for dinner!"
Miss J and Miss F caught onto this very quickly and became great role models. They started answering phones themselves and passing messages on to me. "That was Whip. He says hello and your shoes are smelly!"
Then there was the "Hello Song". Miss V's unicorn sings this song... Imagine the most annoying, catchy, lame tune you have ever heard. Multiply the annoying factor by 2. Now add these lyrics... "Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, how are you? Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, how are you? Thank you, thank you I am fine and I hope that you are too. Do do do do do."
To infinity.
It drives me bonkers, but Miss V loves it. So we sang it - Every time the phone rang.
For all of our phone antics, Miss V still does not want to speak to people on real phones (and that's OK. I'm sure she will warm to them when she is ready). She is starting to get used to speaking on toy phones though. After watching her sisters and I talking and laughing and passing on hello's she is now quite comfortable chatting on them herself, and although the phone may not be plugged in, she certainly has connections.
One day this week I heard Miss V talking on her phone. I didn't catch much of her conversation, but when I walked into her room she had a message for me.
She put down the phone, looked directly into my eyes and said,
"That was dad. He says goodbye."
Smile
This week I have been missing Daddy Kewl a lot. No particular reason, just because he is not here.
Yesterday the girls' god parents came over and we went and had a picnic lunch under M's tree. Usually, visiting this magical place helps me feel closer to M because deep down, I know he is still here with us. Yesterday though, instead of loosening the bands of grief around my chest our picnic lunch had the opposite effect. The tree served only as a reminder that M is gone and all I felt was the ache for his physical presence.
For the first time in a long time, I was relieved when it was time to pack up and head back to the house.
Later in the afternoon, I set the girls up with some crafty stuff while I sat on the couch and tried to work out how I was going to climb back out of my misery hole - or at least stop digging it.
OK. Think positive. What am I grateful for? What brings me joy?
To be honest, I wasn't getting very far. I could name plenty of positives, plenty of things to be grateful for and plenty of things that bring me joy, but the feeling just wasn't there.
My head and my heart were not cooperating.
Right on cue, Miss J left the craft table and came to see me. She was holding something behind her back and she told me it was a surprise, so I had to close my eyes. I obeyed and Miss J reached out and gently stuck something to my chest.
When I opened my eyes, Miss J said,
"See? It's to make your heart happy."
Then she went back to her craft with a big smile on her face.
It was almost as big as mine.
More smiles and magic moments over at Mountaingirls Musings.
Yesterday the girls' god parents came over and we went and had a picnic lunch under M's tree. Usually, visiting this magical place helps me feel closer to M because deep down, I know he is still here with us. Yesterday though, instead of loosening the bands of grief around my chest our picnic lunch had the opposite effect. The tree served only as a reminder that M is gone and all I felt was the ache for his physical presence.
For the first time in a long time, I was relieved when it was time to pack up and head back to the house.
Later in the afternoon, I set the girls up with some crafty stuff while I sat on the couch and tried to work out how I was going to climb back out of my misery hole - or at least stop digging it.
OK. Think positive. What am I grateful for? What brings me joy?
To be honest, I wasn't getting very far. I could name plenty of positives, plenty of things to be grateful for and plenty of things that bring me joy, but the feeling just wasn't there.
My head and my heart were not cooperating.
Right on cue, Miss J left the craft table and came to see me. She was holding something behind her back and she told me it was a surprise, so I had to close my eyes. I obeyed and Miss J reached out and gently stuck something to my chest.
When I opened my eyes, Miss J said,
"See? It's to make your heart happy."
Then she went back to her craft with a big smile on her face.
It was almost as big as mine.
More smiles and magic moments over at Mountaingirls Musings.
Quotes
"What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly."
~Richard Bach
"Look mum! Daddy's flying!"
~Miss F
"Look mum! Daddy's flying!"
~Miss F
Magic Moment
I love tax time.
I love working with figures... Finding ways to be clever and different within a system.
Talking to my accountant is exciting and our conversations are always interesting and progressive.
Organising receipts and statements and making estimates and adjustments and calculations is such a fun way to spend every evening.
Oh yeah - I love tax time...
I love working with figures... Finding ways to be clever and different within a system.
Talking to my accountant is exciting and our conversations are always interesting and progressive.
Organising receipts and statements and making estimates and adjustments and calculations is such a fun way to spend every evening.
Oh yeah - I love tax time...
Almost as much as I love positive self talk!
In all seriousness... This year is actually a big step forward for me. It is the first year since M died that I am getting involved in my taxes.
As a couple our finances were greatly intertwined. Even though M had his own business and I had my own work, we also had a shared business and our marriage, our children and our choices meant that tax time was very much a family affair - Something I'm sure most couples relate to.
We were both fairly good with numbers, and we really did enjoy working with figures and finding ways to be clever and different within a system. We'd sit together in our own world of calculations, occasionally coming together for a comparison or a congratulations when we were on roll. M - smarty pants that he was - would always remind me to take a "brain break" every couple of hours and then he'd make me laugh by asking, "Is it hard being so smart?".
Since M's death, the thing I have struggled with about tax is that even when a person dies, their records don't. M is no longer here, but his business, our business and the results of our choices are still alive and kicking. Or more to the point, alive and taxing.
For the last 2 financial years I've left everything to the accountant and a financially savvy friend. I preferred to deal only with the idea of doing tax without M, and not the reality.
This year I decided it was time to stop hiding, stop pleading ignorance and take responsibility...
Time to get real.
So this week I've been doing our taxes. I've been talking to our accountant and organising receipts and statements and making estimates and adjustments and calculations.
I've spent hours sitting in the office alone - Half the time working, the other half crying.
Yesterday, after a good hour of tears followed by a good hour of calculating, Miss V came in to see me. She climbed on to my lap and sat for a while, sucking her thumb and stroking the side of my face as I worked.
Then she turned her body to face mine and leant back into my line of vision, telling me it was time to focus on her now.
I put my pen down and kissed her forehead. Miss V sat for a moment, then reached up and tucked a few stray hairs back behind my ears. She looked into my eyes, holding my gaze and melting my heart, then she asked,
"Mummy? Is it hard being so smart?"
To read more Magic Moments or join in with your own, head over to Mountaingirls Musings.
In all seriousness... This year is actually a big step forward for me. It is the first year since M died that I am getting involved in my taxes.
As a couple our finances were greatly intertwined. Even though M had his own business and I had my own work, we also had a shared business and our marriage, our children and our choices meant that tax time was very much a family affair - Something I'm sure most couples relate to.
We were both fairly good with numbers, and we really did enjoy working with figures and finding ways to be clever and different within a system. We'd sit together in our own world of calculations, occasionally coming together for a comparison or a congratulations when we were on roll. M - smarty pants that he was - would always remind me to take a "brain break" every couple of hours and then he'd make me laugh by asking, "Is it hard being so smart?".
Since M's death, the thing I have struggled with about tax is that even when a person dies, their records don't. M is no longer here, but his business, our business and the results of our choices are still alive and kicking. Or more to the point, alive and taxing.
For the last 2 financial years I've left everything to the accountant and a financially savvy friend. I preferred to deal only with the idea of doing tax without M, and not the reality.
This year I decided it was time to stop hiding, stop pleading ignorance and take responsibility...
Time to get real.
So this week I've been doing our taxes. I've been talking to our accountant and organising receipts and statements and making estimates and adjustments and calculations.
I've spent hours sitting in the office alone - Half the time working, the other half crying.
Yesterday, after a good hour of tears followed by a good hour of calculating, Miss V came in to see me. She climbed on to my lap and sat for a while, sucking her thumb and stroking the side of my face as I worked.
Then she turned her body to face mine and leant back into my line of vision, telling me it was time to focus on her now.
I put my pen down and kissed her forehead. Miss V sat for a moment, then reached up and tucked a few stray hairs back behind my ears. She looked into my eyes, holding my gaze and melting my heart, then she asked,
"Mummy? Is it hard being so smart?"
To read more Magic Moments or join in with your own, head over to Mountaingirls Musings.
Spiritual
Today is Photo Challenge day at Mountaingirls Musings, and the theme this week is Spiritual.
This is a photo of Miss J playing with the curtains in her room yesterday:
I know, the image itself isn't exactly spectacular or spiritual - but the moment is.
When I saw Miss J playing with the curtains I asked her what she was doing. She answered,
"Playing hide and seek with Daddy".
A hot water bottle and a good night kiss
I haven't managed my emotions very well this week. Even less so today. In fact, I was so out of touch with reality today that I had an "I can't do it" moment.
I was standing at the sink making hot water bottles for the girls and I got lost in my own negativity.
First the animals - All the vet bills, the feed, the equipment, the risk they pose to the girls, to me, to themselves, the responsibility for all of those beings - Is it really worth it?
Then the property. There is so much upkeep here - the fences, the grass, the paddocks, the fast disappearing driveway, the tree branches, the gutters, the grey water system, the water pumps, the compost, the veggie patch - Am I getting sick of our home?
Next I moved on to work. Am I doing enough? I'd love to start a new project, but I already feel stretched enough as it is. Am I stretched too far, then? Do I actually achieve anything by doing bits and pieces, or am I doing bits and pieces of nothing? And money - I want everyone to be able to have music and drama and dance and self protection and horses as part of their lives. I want to do it all for free, but I can't - so where is the middle ground?
Then the girls. My precious girls. We had a shocking day today, and I made bad choices and had silly tantrums. Do they still know I love them? Will they always know I love them? Always and always and always, no matter what? They are my world and I love them with all my heart. But does this put pressure on them? What if they start to resent me?
And the decisions - far out - how is one person supposed to make decisions that will essentially make or break another's life? Just how do you decide what is best for 3 little lives, both as individuals and as a family? What if I get it wrong?! What would I do then, because I don't trust anyone else to make decisions for us. Is that arrogant?
I need to stop this.
But what if I can't?
It was at this point that Miss J came into the kitchen to inquire about the progress of her hot water bottle. I told her I was doing the best I could and she would have to wait, because "I CAN'T DO EVERYTHING!"
Oh good one, Al - Share the pain, why don't you? Way to go.
But Miss J just looked at me blankly and said, "I don't want everything. I want my hot water bottle and a kiss goodnight. You can do that, can't you mum."
I made some not so kewl choices this week. They were pretty unkewl actually.
On Saturday I felt a lump of grief swelling in my throat, but instead of releasing it I swallowed hard and tried to ignore it.
On Sunday I felt the tightness of grief in my chest, but instead of soothing it I stopped breathing properly and tried to ignore it.
Yesterday I felt the knots of grief in my stomach, but instead of undoing them I clenched my fists and made more of them while I tried to ignore it.
Tonight I can't ignore it any more, and I wish that I had let it out on Saturday because tonight I have the lump, the tightness and the knots to get through.
Oh yeah - I mismanaged my emotions BIG TIME this week, and I let them get the better of me today.
Tomorrow is a new day though, and tonight I think I can at least manage a hot water bottle and a good night kiss.
I was standing at the sink making hot water bottles for the girls and I got lost in my own negativity.
First the animals - All the vet bills, the feed, the equipment, the risk they pose to the girls, to me, to themselves, the responsibility for all of those beings - Is it really worth it?
Then the property. There is so much upkeep here - the fences, the grass, the paddocks, the fast disappearing driveway, the tree branches, the gutters, the grey water system, the water pumps, the compost, the veggie patch - Am I getting sick of our home?
Next I moved on to work. Am I doing enough? I'd love to start a new project, but I already feel stretched enough as it is. Am I stretched too far, then? Do I actually achieve anything by doing bits and pieces, or am I doing bits and pieces of nothing? And money - I want everyone to be able to have music and drama and dance and self protection and horses as part of their lives. I want to do it all for free, but I can't - so where is the middle ground?
Then the girls. My precious girls. We had a shocking day today, and I made bad choices and had silly tantrums. Do they still know I love them? Will they always know I love them? Always and always and always, no matter what? They are my world and I love them with all my heart. But does this put pressure on them? What if they start to resent me?
And the decisions - far out - how is one person supposed to make decisions that will essentially make or break another's life? Just how do you decide what is best for 3 little lives, both as individuals and as a family? What if I get it wrong?! What would I do then, because I don't trust anyone else to make decisions for us. Is that arrogant?
I need to stop this.
But what if I can't?
It was at this point that Miss J came into the kitchen to inquire about the progress of her hot water bottle. I told her I was doing the best I could and she would have to wait, because "I CAN'T DO EVERYTHING!"
Oh good one, Al - Share the pain, why don't you? Way to go.
But Miss J just looked at me blankly and said, "I don't want everything. I want my hot water bottle and a kiss goodnight. You can do that, can't you mum."
I made some not so kewl choices this week. They were pretty unkewl actually.
On Saturday I felt a lump of grief swelling in my throat, but instead of releasing it I swallowed hard and tried to ignore it.
On Sunday I felt the tightness of grief in my chest, but instead of soothing it I stopped breathing properly and tried to ignore it.
Yesterday I felt the knots of grief in my stomach, but instead of undoing them I clenched my fists and made more of them while I tried to ignore it.
Tonight I can't ignore it any more, and I wish that I had let it out on Saturday because tonight I have the lump, the tightness and the knots to get through.
Oh yeah - I mismanaged my emotions BIG TIME this week, and I let them get the better of me today.
Tomorrow is a new day though, and tonight I think I can at least manage a hot water bottle and a good night kiss.
Inspiration
It was a struggle to get out of bed this morning. I nearly didn't, but I'm glad that I did.
My inspiration has come from two places today. First, my darling Miss F. She came into my room, all dressed up and ready for a party, took my hand and pulled. She said five words that completely changed the direction of my day.
"Come on mum! Let's dance!"
So we went outside and we danced.
My second source of inspiration came from above. Quite literally.
As I went to get a book off the shelf, another book slid out beside it. This other book (A common prayer, by Michael Leunig) toppled off the shelf, thwacked me on the head, then fell to the floor, where it lay open at this page:
Dear God,
Give comfort and peace to those who are separated from loved ones. May the ache in their hearts be the strengthening of their hearts.
May their longing bring resolve to their lives, conviction and purity to their love. Teach them to embrace their sadness lest it turn into despair. Transform their yearning into wisdom. Let their hearts grow fonder.
Amen
Amen
My inspiration has come from two places today. First, my darling Miss F. She came into my room, all dressed up and ready for a party, took my hand and pulled. She said five words that completely changed the direction of my day.
"Come on mum! Let's dance!"
So we went outside and we danced.
My second source of inspiration came from above. Quite literally.
As I went to get a book off the shelf, another book slid out beside it. This other book (A common prayer, by Michael Leunig) toppled off the shelf, thwacked me on the head, then fell to the floor, where it lay open at this page:
Dear God,
Give comfort and peace to those who are separated from loved ones. May the ache in their hearts be the strengthening of their hearts.
May their longing bring resolve to their lives, conviction and purity to their love. Teach them to embrace their sadness lest it turn into despair. Transform their yearning into wisdom. Let their hearts grow fonder.
Amen
Amen
Two
Soon my little baby V will be 2 years old.Miss V, who has been "almost 2" for months, is now really turning two.
Next week.
So lately I've been reflecting on the past two years, and last night, we had a moment.
We were nursing when Miss V stopped, looked up at me and said, "I'm happy. Are you happy, mum?"
To fully appreciate the kewlness of this moment, a little history is necessary...
When we found out I was pregnant with Miss V's older sisters, Daddy Kewl and I spent hours upon hours talking about our future. We talked about our own childhoods, about those family traditions we wanted to pass on to our children and those that we didn't. We talked about experiences we wanted our children to have, cultures and communities and people and places and ideas that we wanted them to celebrate. We talked about our own values, both as people and as parents. We imagined hundreds of "what if?" scenarios and would constantly throw "what if?" questions at one another, to "test our parenting styles". We also imagined thousands of different lives our children might lead and different paths our family might travel.
We laughed hysterically at ourselves, too, because we knew there was no way we could possibly imagine how our lives would change, or what our parenting styles would be like!
Then the twins arrived, and we laughed even harder.
The day we celebrated Miss V's impending arrival was also the day of Daddy Kewl's departure.
In the midst of my grief, I was terrified I was going to have a sad baby - That I would pass all of my pain on to her and that she would be born sad.
The thought that she was feeling what I was feeling and that this would be her first experience of life was almost more than I could stand.
All through my pregnancy, my greatest wish was for Miss V to be happy. This was the only scenario I wanted to imagine for us and the only "what if?" I could entertain.
I vowed that every day I would seize the happy moments and experience them with every fibre of my being. I vowed to find as many as possible, to celebrate them with my girls and to be thankful for them with all of my heart.
Next week, we celebrate two whole years of incredible, fabulous, amazing, magical, joyous moments, and I am thankful for these with all of my heart.
Last night when Miss V stopped nursing, looked up at me and said, "I'm happy. Are you happy, mum?", I looked into her eyes and the purist joy filled every fibre of our being.
Yes, Miss V. We are happy.
Sunrise
Today is Photo Challenge day over at Mountaingirls Musings.
This week's theme is 'light', which for this post translates to 'sunlight', and then to 'sunrise'. Creativity is part of the challenge, right?
These photos also come with a story.
On the second anniversary of M's death, I went to our favourite place in the world and I watched the sun rise.
There is something so incredibly sacred about those moments, right at the beginning of new day. Like the entire universe is holding it's breath.
Slowly the sun rises, we begin again, and the universe exhales.
As I sat waiting for the sun to come up that morning, my grief felt like a heavy weight in my chest, pinning me to the bottom of the ocean.
I realised I'd been holding my breath for too long. My world had become dark and cold and lonely - And I realised it was time to rise, to begin again, and to exhale.
I took a breath, and I began to hum. I didn't recognise the tune at first, but when it came to me I smiled.
On the second anniversary of M's death, I went to our favourite place in the world, I watched the sun rise, and I sang.
These photos also come with a story.
On the second anniversary of M's death, I went to our favourite place in the world and I watched the sun rise.
There is something so incredibly sacred about those moments, right at the beginning of new day. Like the entire universe is holding it's breath.
Slowly the sun rises, we begin again, and the universe exhales.
As I sat waiting for the sun to come up that morning, my grief felt like a heavy weight in my chest, pinning me to the bottom of the ocean.
I realised I'd been holding my breath for too long. My world had become dark and cold and lonely - And I realised it was time to rise, to begin again, and to exhale.
I took a breath, and I began to hum. I didn't recognise the tune at first, but when it came to me I smiled.
On the second anniversary of M's death, I went to our favourite place in the world, I watched the sun rise, and I sang.
And you probably don't want to hear tomorrow's another day
Well I promise you you'll see the sun again
And you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness
And I promise you you'll see the sun again
I promise you you'll see the sun again.
School's in!
Yesterday I decided I wanted to do something special with the girls, to celebrate the beginning of our home learning adventure. I thought about a party, I thought about shopping for our learning area together, I thought about going away for a night somewhere, but nothing really seemed appropriate.
Driving home from Nelly's obedience class this morning I spotted a garage sale. We love garage sales, so I stopped and we got out to have a look.
That's when we saw it.
Our school bell.
Miss J said, "It's for us, isn't it mum? Isn't it waiting for us?!"
Driving home from Nelly's obedience class this morning I spotted a garage sale. We love garage sales, so I stopped and we got out to have a look.
That's when we saw it.
Our school bell.
Miss J said, "It's for us, isn't it mum? Isn't it waiting for us?!"
Miss V started stroking it and declared it a "Kewl bell!"
Miss F gave it a hug and said, "Don't worry, you can come live with us now."
Nelly gave it the ultimate sign of approval - She didn't pee on it.
The owner of the bell told us that she had refused to sell it to five people already this morning, because she was waiting for the right family. She asked the girls if the bell would have a good home with us. They all nodded in earnest and Miss J said, "You can come visit any time you want."
Miss F wrapped the bell in her pink jumper, so it wouldn't be scared, and Miss V made sure I put it on the front seat and buckled the seat belt, so it would be safe.
At home we polished it and chose a tree to hang it from. Miss F picked it a flower, Miss J sang it a song, and Miss V gave it the very first test ring.
It sounds magnificent!
I asked Miss V what she though about our new school bell, she said:
"No mum, it's not a school bell. It's a kewl bell."
I couldn't agree more.
Miss F gave it a hug and said, "Don't worry, you can come live with us now."
Nelly gave it the ultimate sign of approval - She didn't pee on it.
The owner of the bell told us that she had refused to sell it to five people already this morning, because she was waiting for the right family. She asked the girls if the bell would have a good home with us. They all nodded in earnest and Miss J said, "You can come visit any time you want."
Miss F wrapped the bell in her pink jumper, so it wouldn't be scared, and Miss V made sure I put it on the front seat and buckled the seat belt, so it would be safe.
At home we polished it and chose a tree to hang it from. Miss F picked it a flower, Miss J sang it a song, and Miss V gave it the very first test ring.
It sounds magnificent!
I asked Miss V what she though about our new school bell, she said:
"No mum, it's not a school bell. It's a kewl bell."
I couldn't agree more.
Things are lookin' up
I ran away from home today. The kewl girls spent the day with their god parents and I took my horse to the beach so we could run away together.
This week has been tough. First we had the daycare incident, then M's birthday and then a nasty encounter with an in-law. As the week drew to a close, the bands of grief squeezing my chest were so tight I'd forgotten what real breathing felt like. This morning when god mother M offered to take the girls for the day it was all I could do to nod in agreement.
Having the three kewl girls around, disappearing into my own little world isn't an option. With them taken care of though, I let my thoughts carry me away and my body run on auto pilot. I loaded my horse into the float and drove up to the beach. When we reached the sand, there was no stopping us. We ran really fast for two whole hours, and then we turned around and ran home even faster. It was exactly what I needed.
By the time we slowed down near the end of our journey, I was breathing deeply again. No more tight bands around my chest, no more run away thoughts - I'd returned to the 'now'. I stopped to properly take in my surroundings and realised what a spectacular day it was.
As the remnants of the past week fell away, the negativity and the stress and bitterness left me, too. I thought about all the blessings in my life and for the first time in over a week I felt truly grateful. Not just a token "Gee aren't I lucky...", but a whole body, "WOW! How fucking fantastic is it to be living this life!"
We returned to the car with a spring in our step, even after our 4 hour get away. I felt M with me, and instead of this making me ache for his physical presence like I have this past week, I felt warm and comfortable and secure in his love. I was reminded of when M and I used to spend little moments together gazing up at the sky. This was our 'thing'. It started as a mutual habit and grew into a magical connection between the two of us. Even when life got crazy we would sneak away when we could, heading outside somewhere so we could gaze skywards for a while. When we felt our little escape time coming to an end (usually when a child started screaming), M would always say, "Things are lookin' up, Al".
I was thinking of these moments today as I looked up at the sky. In the middle of the day, with the sun shining brightly and not a cloud to be seen, I saw a park light flicker. I gazed at it for a little longer, daring M to do it again.
He did. The light came on and stayed on until I drove out of the park.
Thanks everyone, for the supportive comments and well wishes this week. Sometimes when the going is tough and seemingly beyond my control, all you can do is go with it and 'ride' it out. Thankfully those times don't last long around here, and I have to say that after today - things are lookin' up.
This week has been tough. First we had the daycare incident, then M's birthday and then a nasty encounter with an in-law. As the week drew to a close, the bands of grief squeezing my chest were so tight I'd forgotten what real breathing felt like. This morning when god mother M offered to take the girls for the day it was all I could do to nod in agreement.
Having the three kewl girls around, disappearing into my own little world isn't an option. With them taken care of though, I let my thoughts carry me away and my body run on auto pilot. I loaded my horse into the float and drove up to the beach. When we reached the sand, there was no stopping us. We ran really fast for two whole hours, and then we turned around and ran home even faster. It was exactly what I needed.
By the time we slowed down near the end of our journey, I was breathing deeply again. No more tight bands around my chest, no more run away thoughts - I'd returned to the 'now'. I stopped to properly take in my surroundings and realised what a spectacular day it was.
As the remnants of the past week fell away, the negativity and the stress and bitterness left me, too. I thought about all the blessings in my life and for the first time in over a week I felt truly grateful. Not just a token "Gee aren't I lucky...", but a whole body, "WOW! How fucking fantastic is it to be living this life!"We returned to the car with a spring in our step, even after our 4 hour get away. I felt M with me, and instead of this making me ache for his physical presence like I have this past week, I felt warm and comfortable and secure in his love. I was reminded of when M and I used to spend little moments together gazing up at the sky. This was our 'thing'. It started as a mutual habit and grew into a magical connection between the two of us. Even when life got crazy we would sneak away when we could, heading outside somewhere so we could gaze skywards for a while. When we felt our little escape time coming to an end (usually when a child started screaming), M would always say, "Things are lookin' up, Al".
I was thinking of these moments today as I looked up at the sky. In the middle of the day, with the sun shining brightly and not a cloud to be seen, I saw a park light flicker. I gazed at it for a little longer, daring M to do it again.
He did. The light came on and stayed on until I drove out of the park.
Thanks everyone, for the supportive comments and well wishes this week. Sometimes when the going is tough and seemingly beyond my control, all you can do is go with it and 'ride' it out. Thankfully those times don't last long around here, and I have to say that after today - things are lookin' up.
The moments
This morning Miss J helped Miss V choose her clothes and get dressed.
Miss V is currently wearing pink stripy pants, yellow and green check shoes, a blue and purple flowery top and a red and yellow surf live saver's cap. The pants are too big, the top is too small, and the cap doesn't have it's original string so it is being held in place by pegs. Nine pegs, to be exact.
When Miss J presented her little sister to me this morning, I lavished praise and encouragement upon them both, took a photo, made the dogs come and sit and watch the parade, took another photo, and waited until they were playing happily outside before I collapsed into fits of laughter.
I laughed until I cried. Then the laughter faded and the tears kept coming. I realised that at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be laughing with M. I wanted to share that moment with him, because our girls are far too amazing to keep them to myself.
Then I turned on the computer and got up this blog. I scrolled through some older posts, re read the comments and smiled. I started this post and as I was writing about Miss V's outfit I began laughing again.
I realised how much I enjoy this blog - how much of a positive impact being able to talk about the kewl girls has on me - and I want to say thank you.
So for allowing me to share the girls and our moments - Thank you.
Miss V is currently wearing pink stripy pants, yellow and green check shoes, a blue and purple flowery top and a red and yellow surf live saver's cap. The pants are too big, the top is too small, and the cap doesn't have it's original string so it is being held in place by pegs. Nine pegs, to be exact.
When Miss J presented her little sister to me this morning, I lavished praise and encouragement upon them both, took a photo, made the dogs come and sit and watch the parade, took another photo, and waited until they were playing happily outside before I collapsed into fits of laughter.
I laughed until I cried. Then the laughter faded and the tears kept coming. I realised that at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be laughing with M. I wanted to share that moment with him, because our girls are far too amazing to keep them to myself.
Then I turned on the computer and got up this blog. I scrolled through some older posts, re read the comments and smiled. I started this post and as I was writing about Miss V's outfit I began laughing again.
I realised how much I enjoy this blog - how much of a positive impact being able to talk about the kewl girls has on me - and I want to say thank you.
So for allowing me to share the girls and our moments - Thank you.
Our dinner table
While the girls were setting the table last night I was distracted trying to get our dinner out of the pan in one piece, so didn't help them like I usually do. When we sat down I noticed one extra setting. I commented on this and F told me, "It's for daddy so he can have dinner with us tonight."
Miss F has an amazing ability to sense when I'm missing her dad, and an even more amazing ability to remind me that he is still here. He's here in spirit, watching and listening and laughing with us - But more importantly, he's here in his girls. And he always will be.
Miss F has an amazing ability to sense when I'm missing her dad, and an even more amazing ability to remind me that he is still here. He's here in spirit, watching and listening and laughing with us - But more importantly, he's here in his girls. And he always will be.
The Power of Suggestion
I took great delight in packing the girls' lunch today, and even greater delight in handing it over to New Daycare Person...
Thanks Megan!
(Vegetarian Boogie Rolls)
Welcome to the family, Nanuk
Just before turning 2, J and F began fearing monsters. They'd point to a door, or around a corner, or under the bed, or even up a tree and tell me that there was a monster there. I'd talk it through with them and try to find out what the 'monster' was, but it didn't seem to be a creature that logic could vanquish. We decided if the monsters didn't have to be physical beings, neither did our protectors.
This is when Tiger joined our family. He is a monster scaring extraordinaire, able to put the nastiest of creatures back in their place with a single "Roar!". From that day forward, every time the girls would spot a monster they would call on Tiger and together they would "roar" the sorry beast into oblivion.
Yesterday Miss V spotted a monster. Usually her older sisters are on hand and they quickly send Tiger in to battle. Yesterday, though, Miss V was on her own. I was about to jump in and remind her that her protector was merely a roar away, but something stopped me. It was one of those moments where time went all funny and I seemed to be frozen. I watched as Miss V called on a different protector.
Instead of a "roar", she gave a growl, then lowered her head and growled again.
She announced "Monster gone", and my sense of time kicked in again. I told her she was very strong for dealing with a monster and asked her to tell me more about how she scared it away. She told me, "Nanuk help(ed)." Nanuk is the Inuit name for a Polar bear and Miss V has been fascinated by them since we saw them at Sea World not long ago.
So welcome to the family, Nanuk. I hope you decide to stick around.
This is when Tiger joined our family. He is a monster scaring extraordinaire, able to put the nastiest of creatures back in their place with a single "Roar!". From that day forward, every time the girls would spot a monster they would call on Tiger and together they would "roar" the sorry beast into oblivion.
Yesterday Miss V spotted a monster. Usually her older sisters are on hand and they quickly send Tiger in to battle. Yesterday, though, Miss V was on her own. I was about to jump in and remind her that her protector was merely a roar away, but something stopped me. It was one of those moments where time went all funny and I seemed to be frozen. I watched as Miss V called on a different protector.
Instead of a "roar", she gave a growl, then lowered her head and growled again.
She announced "Monster gone", and my sense of time kicked in again. I told her she was very strong for dealing with a monster and asked her to tell me more about how she scared it away. She told me, "Nanuk help(ed)." Nanuk is the Inuit name for a Polar bear and Miss V has been fascinated by them since we saw them at Sea World not long ago.
So welcome to the family, Nanuk. I hope you decide to stick around.
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