By The Way.

Some pictures of Samuel this morning. Right after these pics, (and my last post) he managed the forward crawl! Was very cute, he shocked himself! We got it on video, but I can't work out how to get it uploaded. Excuse the drool, it's a permanant fixture. I'd like to pretend I get used to it, but that'd be a lie. Ew.







And Xander's latest attempt at comedy. He likes to pretend to be a girl. He grabs a teatowel, makes me tie him two pigtails, and he is my little girl for a couple of hours.

I'm not sure. Possible we'd have made a pretty girl, as well as delicious boys.





By The Way. My 8 Things Post. I'll tag 8 people. Averil, Mary, Kirrily,Jenn, Donna, Caroline, Kim and Karen. Consider yourselves tagged.

Lazy Like A Sunday Morning..

Brisbane has awoken to a magnificent Autumn morning. It's about 24 degrees right now, with a lazy cool breeze, and big fluffy white clouds in the sky.

I awoke this morning to Alexander crawling in our bed, "I just need cuddles, ok?""That's great. But don't wake Mummy.She's sleeping, and she's a bit sick". "I can just be quiet, I not wake Mummy". "Good boy". Giggle. "Mummy ahoy there* is sleeping. We can't wake her up. I love you Stinkyface Mummy****"
Followed by a chuckle heard from the next room. Joel goes to get our littlest man, and I roll over, giving up on sleep, to be greeted by big brown eyes, the longest lashes, and a delighted smile from my firstborn. Decide sleep was a stupid idea after all, and that I'd much rather snuggle with all of my men in bed.

So we do. All four of us (remind me, someone, that I need a King Sized bed. Soon). Sam resorts to his usual entertainment, putting almost his entire right foot in his mouth. Alexander is grossed out until he realises that he can do it too. At which point Joel is grossed out and we all head out to the kitchen for coffee ("Chocolate Tea" in Xander's case. A warm mug of Choc n Toffee).

It's 11 now. We all lazed around in our living room, watching Samuel crawl (have I mentioned that yet????)around. Very cute. Mostly backwards. He's not so fussed on the sitting, but I think that's becuase I've never known a child quite so unable to sit still. Ever. Samuel is impossible to cuddle, as he wriggles so much, there's just too much to see, do and more importantly, eat!

Then, a bit of a surprise. Alexander was overcome with a neeeeeeeeed to do some painting. Alexander, who freaks out at painting, colours getting mixed up, paint getting on the table/chair/floor/face etc. Suddenly he needed it. So, after we got Sam down, Joel headed out to do the lawns and Alexander and I set to work painting.

Have to say, it was lovely. He was pretty relaxed and happy. He keeps encouraging me (as though I'm the one who gets skittish around paints. Oh. Wait. I am). "Great job Mummy. That's a great painting. Ooh. I see that! It's a flower. Oh, Great Flower Mummy!" "Ooh that's me!". It was a tree, but he doesn't need to know that, does he?

But it's progress. He enjoyed himself. My kitchen now looks like a bomb has hit it. But who cares? (Except maybe Joel, who mopped the floors last night).

Sam's just woken from his nap, so into the high chair with him, whilst his brother and I make pikelets for Lunch. What a naughty lunch! Pikelets with Jam and Cream. I don't even care. We're having a beautiful day. (Xander calls it a wonderful day!).


Tell me, dear friends. How did you spend your Sunday?

Oh. By the way. Do you think that Joel and I should correct Xander? We've got a B.B.King DVD we've been playing. He looooves it (that's my boy!). But he insists that it's "Boobie King". Is it wrong that we think it's so funny we've yet to correct him????













*Everything at the moment with ALexander is about being "so so funny". Including substituting random words with Ahoy There, and then dropping to the floor, hysterically laughing at his comedic talent. We're kind of over it, but his reaction inevitably leaves one of us laughing, which makes him think he's the funniet person in. the. world.


**** See above. He gets it from his current favourite book.

Eight

Have stolen this straight from Danni's blog. I know. It's becoming a habit. But what's a girl to do. Am dyyyyyyyying over here, and none of you have offered to make me soup..... So I'll steal my blog posts from wherever I can get them.


8 Things I'm Passionate About

1. My family. Obviously Joel and the boys. But our extended family also.
2. Literature. I love to read, as you know, and to write.
3. Care of Terminally Ill Patients and their carers. I would like to see better care for the terminally ill, and for their families. I'd like to see a more holistic approach than what we encountered while caring for Mum. Though really, the lives of all carers should be made easier, in any way we can.
4. Women's Issues. Not just here. All over the world, there is still such a long way to go to protect our sisters.
5. Breaking down the stigma surrounding depresson and mental illness. The more we are free to talk about it, the freer others will feel to get the help they need.
6. Autism, and better support for families in the search for a diagnosis.
7. Coffee. Yes, it's shallow. So sue me. But could you grab me a latte first?
8. Music. I'm a huge believer in the healing power of music, and hold within it's verses, our memories.


8 Things I Want To Do Before I Die:
1. Get an Arts Degree (writing) and a Communications Degree (Journalism).
2. Live on a semi-rural (girl needs her comforts, not to mention Gloria Jeans, lets not get too rural) property and be fairly self sufficient, veges, fruit, herbs etc.
3. Watch my children grow into good, loving men, and see them settled with women I can love as my own daughters (Might see if I can hook Sam up with a certain Miss Aurora).
4. Lose this excess weight. I'm not talking about a specific number. Just so that I'm healthy, and feel attractive and proud (a whole other post I've been meaning to get to).
5. Learn to play the piano well.
6. Learn to speak Italian and French fluently.
7. Scuba Dive. I'd need to be off all diabetic meds first.
8. Skydive. Joel has a thing or two to say about this one, I'm afraid. He's not so keen on the idea. Mentioned dying or somethingorother..

8 Things I Say Often

1. Crap. I'm trying to stop. Alexander's picking it up.
2. Holy Hell. As Above.
3. I love you. To Joel, Alexander and Samuel. I can honestly tell you it is the most frequently said phrase in our home, by all of us (well, not so much Sam. I can't translate all of his gabble, but I'm pretty sure the majority of them will turn out to mean "Bite Me". He's just that kind of kid, lol. ;)
4. You're so clever/funny/cute to the boys.
5. Sameul. Please take your feet out of your mouth. You cannot physically fit your foot, this spoon and your fist in your mouth.
6. Wow. My mistake. You really can.
7. Coffee. Coffeecoffeecoffee. This one may be a problem. This morning, we all sat down to breakfast together. Joel and Xander had a bowl of cereal in front of them. I came to sit and Alexander said "Daddy has Nutri Grain. Xander has Nutrigrain. Mummy can't have nutrigrain. She has coffeecoffeecoffee first". Joel nearly spat his across the table laughing.
8. You're Welcome, to my boy who loves to thanks us for every little thing. Smiles and hugs included.

8 Books I've Read Recently

1. Tess of the D'Urbervilles (currently)
2. Mr Darcy's Diary
3. Pursausion
4. The Five People You Meet In Heaven
5. Life of Pi
6. The Russian Concubine
7. False Impression
8. The Farraday Girls

8 Songs I Could Listen to Over and Over

1. New York Minute - The Eagles (most things by the Eagles)
2. Crazy Love - Van Morrison and Ray Charles (most things by either of these two. I love them so much. But this song - with them together, just sublime).
3. Pretty much anything by Norah Jones
4. Simply Red - Holding Back The Years
5. At Last - Ella Fitzgerald
6. Imagine - Eva Cassidy's version
7. Anything from any of Rod Stewart's Great American Songbook Albums
8. Crowded House - Fall at Your Feet

8 Things That Attract Me to my Best Friends

1. Honesty
2. Kindness
3. Humour
4. Compassion
5. Their attempts to try to keep up with me and my coffee habit.
6. Their ability to make me a great coffee.
7. They love my boys.
8. I'm having a bit of a crisis of confidence here. I'm not sure that any one of them truly 'gets me'. I'm coming to realise this more and more in the past months.


Adding a couple more. Becuase I can.

8 Blogs I Love AND Why.
1.Averil's Once Upon A Dream. Ave is almost my 'happy place' in the blogosphere. I love to read about her and her beautiful family. I love hearing about her passion for the quill, and her pride in her children. She's the dreamer in me, my more wistful side.
2.Follow The Gleam. Jen's might just about be my favourite blog. She speaks to that part of me that struggles with my demons, but encourages me to keep aspiring to be better. She's intelligent, understanding, kind and so much stronger than she knows.
3.City Chick, Living In The Sticks. I just love everything about Kim. I always have. Their treechange was so brave (I know how scary it is to break away from your comfort zone and do something just for your little family). I love hearing all about her new life. Plus. She went to Harvard! ;)
4.Kirrily's blog. I;ve not been reading Kirrily's blog for all that long. But I 'discovered' her a couple of years ago, on Essential Baby. She is one of the kindest, sweetest, most compassionate, giving (and funny) women I know. And one of the bravest.
5.Marywin's Gossip, Hearsay and Tittle Tattle. Like Jen's, Mary's blog makes me think. She also puts me to shame as a writer, and makes me want to try even harder. Another incredibly strong woman.
6. Karen's Naked Ovary. Well, the original version. She's deleted it and come back a year or more later with a new one. But the old one was my favourite blog to visit. Her struggle to build her family is told with raw emotion, humour and honesty.
7.Tertia. I've been reading Tertia's story since before Adam and Kate came along. She is one of the first blogs I read. Funny, honest (brutally so, gets the poor thing into so much trouble) and refreshing.
8.Julia - Here Be Hippogriffs. What she has gone through to get her family is astonishing. I am quite sure I would never have had the strength of character, nor the hope, to keep going. I'm also completely smitten with her Patrick.


8 Things That Have Made Me Smile This Week.
1. Alexander whispering "I love you so much Mummy"
2. Alexander introducing me to the liason between his two schools "This is My mummy. She's named Melissa.She's so funny. She's mine."
3. Samuel, so close to crawling forward (he's got commando, very good at backwards. Launches himself forward, but not entirely efficient yet).
4. Joel's hugs and kisses. In the middle of the night, when he wakes, he adjusts the cover over me. Every time, even if it wakes me, this act of love makes me smile.
5. Hearing Tammy and Josh's baby was still with us, good strong heartbeat and arms and legs wriggling around.
6. The thank you that they gave me for helping them the night before, and through that long wait for the scan. I was touched.
7. Seeing Mary and Jenn blogging again this week.
8. Jo had had a bad day yesterday, so at about 4pm, I went to the centre where she works, and surprised her with our favourite GJs coffee, and a piece of cake. The happy surprise on her face made me feel good, and left me smiling, despite the fact that I'm dyyyyyyying (did I mention that yet? I haven't noticed any of you rushing off to make me soup yet...)


8 People Who Have Influenced Me.

1. My Mother. I couldn't begin to count the ways.
2. My Father. As above. A topic for a whole other post. :)
3. Joel. He's calmed and centred me so much, and makes me feel so utterly loved.
4. Mr Aitken, my year 11 English Teacher. He was a poet, and socially quite awkward, (Kim, you'll understand this, he reminds me soooo much of Toby, from TWW, even in looks) but he made me see (even more than my previous teachers) my talent, and implored me not to waste it. I wish I had taken more notice.
5. Marie Curie - Introduced me to such a desire to learn, and to be an intelligent woman.
6. Enid Blyton - awakened the first signs of my love of words and stories. There were many after her, of course.. Jane Austen, LM Montgomery, Louisa May Alcott, just to name a couple. But she was my first.
7. Harper Lee. Her book To Kill A Mockingbird awakened a sense of social justice in me, and made me want to write something that mattered, that really taught us something.
8. Alexander. I grieve that first baby that I lost, of course. I thought I was a mother then. And perhaps I was. But Alexander has taken that to such a new level. He has taught me about a love I'd never dreamed of. A love that seems to grow and blossom with each passing day. He opened up a new side to his father that I'd not experienced, and it is truly one of the most joyous gifts in my life, to watch this man with his sons. He's taught me about the kind of person I want to be. I want to be a mother he can be proud of.

He's shown me sweetness, tenacity, stubbornness (I'm told it's hereditary, but I can't imagine where from), unconditional love, forgiveness, laughter, awe, sorrow. He's made me the compassionate woman I know I am, and a mother I'm proud to be. And now, as I fall in love with his brother, I know that he's helping me be a better mother to them both.

8 Things I Cannot Do.

1. I cannot whistle. I've been trying since I was 5. Just can't do it. I'm a freak.
2. I can't get my cupcakes to look as good as Jo-Anna's. Dammit.
3. I can't iron as well as Joel. See! A freak, I tell you.
4. I can't skate, or ride a skateboard. Remember those inline skate things? I was useles at them. And Xander has a skateboard. I tried it once, to show him how. I ended up hurting certain (well padded) parts of my anatomy several times. In a row. After which he sat me down and said "Daddy can do it Mummy. It's ok". Mmph. Fine.
5. I can't hit a cricket ball. I'm so useless, it's comical. You know. For everyone else.
6. I can't see those hidden image (magic eye) thingys. I've never been able to find one.
7. I can't play the piano properly. I tried for a few years as a child (teenager). But my problem is that I appear to be completely unable to do seperate things with my hands. So I can play the melody just fine. But I can't play something else with my left hand at the same time. I dont' know why.
8. I cannot think of an eighth. Though I know there are many.

8 Places (or things) I'd like to see before I die.

1. Prague, particularly Charles Bridge and Old Town.
2. Italy. Pretty much all of it. But Florence, Tuscany.... Fontana di Trevi, Florence Duomo
3. Prince Edward Island, particularly in their autumn.
4. Egypt. I'd like to see Giza and the Valley Of Kings as well as the Egyptian Antiquities Museum.
5.Victoria Falls
6. The MET.
5. The Louvre
6. The Great Wall of China and the Forbidden City.
7. The UK in Spring. The British Museum. Cambridge. Oxford. Shakespeare House.Bath.
8. Red Square.

Phantasms.

The rain was steady as I drove this afternoon, escaping for a little while from home, leaving Joel to soothe our sick offspring. I have a bad head cold, and just needed to duck out by myself for a little while.

The radio was on as I drove, and I daydreamed. I wasn't thinking of you. I thought about small things. Unimportant things. But not you. I wasn't thinking of you at all.

Then the song started. I haven't listened to it since before you died. You loved it, and in truth (though I'm loathe to admit it) so did I. Once. Now, I never listen to her at all. Not once since you left.

But there it was. I reacted instinctively, turning it off. After a moment, the silence was worse, and I found myself turning it up again.

I was afraid to let you in here
Now I have learned love can't be made in to fear
The walls begin to tumble down
And I can't even see the ground

And there you were. I could feel your presence more strongly than I ever had. I was taken back to those mornings we used to drive to work together. You always played that CD in the car (driver gets to pick!). We'd talk about our day, and the children we each had in our rooms that day. We'd talk about Dad and Gemma, and abot Joel (who I most definately wasn't falling in love with, no matter what you said. I don't care if you think he's perfect with me. We're just best friends". You used to smile at that, a quiet smile, that I knew so well. It infuriated me).

We'd drive to work and talk every morning. And as I drove this afternoon, you were there. Sitting by my side. I coudl feel you. I could smell you. How bizarre was that, but I swear, I coudl smell your purfume. I still have it, but I haven't worn it in 4 years. It sits on my dressing table, but I don't touch it. How could I smell it this afternoon?

I found myslef talking. To noone at all. To you.
"I've got Bailey and Cody tomorrow. I wish you could come and help me. I'm so sick right now. I need my mother. I want you to be here and make chicken soup for me. That's what mothers do, you know".

"I never made chicken soup".

"I know. You were more of a casserole kind of mother, weren't you? You'd have made me that chicken stew of yours. Picking out all of my cauliflower before serving it to me me. I loved that you did that for me. Maybe with an extra potato...

I need socks for Joel. Don't let me forget socks for Joel".

I felt the first tear fall from my lashes then, as I realised that the otehr voice in my head was still mine. I still can't hear your voice. Why is that? Why, when we spoke so much every day, can I still not hear your freaking voice? Just once more....









I miss you.

Exhale.

Tam and Josh have just left. She's fine. The baby is fine. They spent 5 or 6 hours at the hospital (that was a looooong 5 hours, imagine how it was for them). They've seen a heartbeat, baby is measuring a bit ahead for dates, and moving around nicely. They've put her at just over 12 weeks (rather than 10.5).

I cannot begin to describe my relief. The problem with a) having so many people I love (and who know each other and see each other constantly) and b) having been through many losses, and therefore missing any of that first pregnancy innocence, is the fear that one of them will be heartbroken.

I'm worried that one will lose their precious baby, and watch the others all go on to have their healthy families. When I lost my first, I was pregnant at the same time as 2 good friends. Even now, seeing their children is a stark reminder of what Joel and I lost. Today has guided many of those feelings and memories back to the surface of my mind, where it mingles with the fear for my two special sisters.

I spoke to Jo, just before Tam arrived. Her bleeding has stopped.

I swear I would go back and relive every one of those heartaches if it meant these 4 women are all holding their babies by the end of this year.

Hope. Doubt. Fear.

Dark fear invades my body.
Wild doubt fills my mind.

Feeble insecurity empties my heart.
Eyeless uncertainty veils my soul.

Sri Chinmoy

I'm not sure if I've mentioned before, but I'm surrounded right now by pregnant women. Melissa is pregnant (SIL on Joel's side). Arelene is pregnant (SIL on Joel's side). Tammy is pregnant (Sister in law on Joel's side). Katrina is pregnant (SIL on my side) with twins. JoAnna (my best friend is pregnant). And I'm pretty sure Gemma (my sister) will be following pretty closely.

Monday night, while we were at the Drs with Sam, Jo called. She was bleeding. It's settled down, but am waiting to see what happens there.




Last night, Tam called. She's bleeding. Pretty heavily. It doesnt' look good. She's 10 and a half weeks, and utterly terrified. I'm so scared for them. She and Josh are sitting at the hospital still waiting to get the scan. I don't want to go out in case I miss the call. We've been in phone contact pretty constantly over the past 10 hours or so.




I have every thing crossed right now. I love these women, and want all of them to be happy. I don't want any of them to go through the kinds of things that I've been through (other than Jo, none of them have experienced miscarriages before). I feel so nervous, and can't seem to concentrate on anything today.

Stay, little ones. Stay.

Remembering.

So, while you all were having your wonderful easter breaks, we were having our equivalent over here. We don't celebrate Easter. But Saturday, was the most important day in our church, marking the memorial of Jesus' death.

Relax. I'm not about to preach at you. I brought it up for an entirely different reason.

For the past few years, I find myself feeling very sad on this occasion. Because my head won't seem to allow me to forget that this occasion was the very last time Mum left the house alive. She had been declining rapidly for weeks. She had held out for a couple of things. She wanted to make it to her neice's wedding, which she did. Then she wanted to be alive to get to the Memorial. She did. Two weeks later, she was gone.

This was her on that night.







I look at these photos, and am struck by the deterioration. This is a picture of her just a couple of months earlier.


Can you believe the difference? In a disease that isn't supposed to be visible? Or painful? Look how much she aged in those months. I can see the pain she is in. She refused morphine that night, as she wanted to be lucid. I have her a dose before we left, as it was too much for her.

I was in the same hall on Saturday night. Looking around at the familiar faces. Others that loved her, and were inspired by her. Some of them are missing. Two have died. One is in the hospital, about to leave us. I tried to listen to the service, but all I could think about was the fragility of our lives. That one by one, we can lose the people we love, but somehow find a way to keep going, to keep remembering.

I miss her so much. It's just a few weeks to the anniversary of her death. It will have been 5 years. How have I managed 5 years without her? How will I manage so many more? The though leaves me a little breathless, and the blood rushing to my head sounds loud and ominous.



I miss you.

Of course she did...

Right after I posted a message to Averil in my last entry, complaining of her lack of posts in the past week, I went over to her site (to set up the hyperlink).

Where I discover she's posted not one, but two entries. Just to make me look like a dick.

Beautiful, funny, intelligent and messing with my head. Not fair, Ave. Not fair!

Touching Base.

It's been a busy week, with all three of my men knocked about with the lurgi still. Joel has a man cold.(Seriously, not at all. He's been miserably sick, and still doing his best to help out and not be a sook. Mostly).

Xander's asthma is about as bad as it's been in 18 months. To his distress, I'm going to keep him home. As much as I don't like to curtail his activities too much, even when he has asthma, I've seen all to well this time around what happens when he runs or gets excited. Today is a 'big school' day, where running is what he does a LOT of. So, home today to watch DVDs and play with Mummy.

Sam still can't shake the ear infection. I'm honestly not sure what to do. Poor baby.

Speaking of Sam. 6.Months.Old.On. Monday. Can you believe it? We've had our little man for 6 whole months now. I'll do a whole post about that over the next day or so.

There are a few things that I'd like to talk about, actually, and I'd like to do them each in their own posts.

But I'd like to say that I'm thrilled to see Jenn and Mary posting again. Ladies, you only stopped a few days, but I missed you and thought of you both often. I hope you're ok. Don't take this the wrong way. I know you're both wanting breaks. I just wanted to say it was a beautiful surprise to see posts from both of you this week.


Speaking of which, Ave. Where are you? Having too much fun with your characters, I'm guessing. I miss you too! No fair. My muse has done a runner. If she's at your place, hype her up with some caffeiend and send her back, will you? I'm waiting.

Ok. Sam's awake, so I'll come back and do my real posts later. I want to post about Sam's 6 month birthday, and what he decide to do in celebration. I want to talk about Mum. I want to talk about Tam and Jo and Gemma. I want to talk about the Fundraising (which kept me insanely busy last week). And about some of my thoughts about the situation over at Essential Baby.

I've been AWOL, for good reasons. So is it odd if I tell you that I've missed you all? Is that strange? That I feel a connection to those of you I read regularly, and who read here?

I'm ok. But thank you so much for asking.

Thank You girls.

I was really struggling last week. I think you're right though. I think most of it has to do with the way I'm feeling physically. And that I'm exhausted and worried about Samuel and his feeding issues. He can't shake his ear infection (saw the Dr on Monday. Same ear. She thinks that it never completely went away, and when we took him for a swim last Friday, it's flared up again). He refuses to suck on his bottle.

Getting formula into him was a nightmare. We both literally felt ill everytime it was time to feed Samuel. He loves his solids. Can't get enough of them. But he won't drink from his bottle. He'll drink 30mls and then starts screaming, holding his ear and doing all he can to get away from his bottle. We had taken to syringe feeding him, just to keep him hydrated.

Anyway, he's on stronger antibiotics now. And we're keeping his painkillers up (which in itself concerns me. He's on Panadol every 6 hours, how long is it safe for me to keep that up?). He's started drinking from his bottle, provided he has had panadol half an hour beforehand.

Joel's ok. We spoke, just a few hours after my last entry, in fact. The fact is, he's burned out. The only break he's had since we moved back to Brisbane (in August 06) was the two weeks from Sam's birth. And when you think about it, that couldn't have been less a break than if he had worked. He was dealing with a sick baby. A very distressed autistic little man, who couldn't understand where his Mama was and why everything was different. And a very, very unstable wife. Those weeks were intensely stressful for Joel. On top of the sheer exhuastion, he had very real fears that he could come home and find his wife (and perhaps children, though he says he knew I wouldn't take them) dead.

The poor guys has been working 60 hour weeks for months now, and then he comes home and does so much here to help me. He's simply hit the wall, physically, mentally and emotionally. He needs a break, desperately. So, he's going to tell them today that he needs a week or so off. We'll probably need to wait a month, perhaps even 6 weeks, as he's booked out about that far ahead at work. But he says it'll be a light at the end of the tunnel, just to book dates.

We're ok. He's been very careful not to take his fatigue out on us anymore. (Please understand. By 'take it out on us', I don't mean he was yelling or being rude. He was just slightly snappish, and not as patient with Alexander as normal. Not enough that Alexander, or anyone else was noticing, but enough that I was. I found myself covering for him so that Alexander never, ever picked up on it. He was spending a bit more time in our room reading, rather than spending time with us. Understandable. Just it was making me nervous all of the time). He's more engaged, and we're more understanding of his fatigue.

So, honestly. We're fine. My SIL read the last post the other day, and was worried. I think she was pretty shocked that we could be having 'trouble'. We really aren't. We were just a bit 'off'. Not as blissful as we're used to, I guess. Happens to everyone, it's just it's rare for us. And fortunately, sorted pretty quickly.

And through it all, my Alexander has been achingly beautiful. Sweet, funny, polite. Full of cuddles and kisses. Sweet words and cuddles that make everything else melt away. He wraps his arms around my neck and I close my eyes and just allow myself to feel it. Feel how he loves me and I begin to heal.

Is it normal? For me to love Alexander this much? It's almost frightening. I can't get enough of being with him at the moment. I miss him so much.

More about him soon. We have his transition meeting tomorrow, and I'm unsettled. I want to talk about it and maybe get some objective advice from you, my lovely friends.

Clouds Forming

Something's off. I'm not sure what it is. I'm nervous, all of the time. I'm hyper-sensitive, especially around Joel. I feel like we're 'off', somehow. As though we've lost our rythm. I'm unaccustomed to feeling this way. We're usually blissfully in sync. He seems snappier than usual.

Maybe it's entirely in my head. I hope so. Certainly, I've been unwell. At present, it's 3.30 in the morning. My neck is bothering me, and I can't feel my right hand. It's completely numb. It's ok. Have been here many, many times before. I've another migraine. I've had severe headaches almost every day now for 3 weeks. It begins to wear.


Samuel has yet another ear infection. Same damned ear. He's just come off a stomach bug that saw him unable to eat or drink anything at all without it going right through him for more than a week and a half. He's had(still getting over) a throat infection, he's actually hoarse.

He's only been off Antibiotics for a week.

My poor baby boy simply cannot take a trick. And yet, somehow, he keeps gracing us with these.

A New Friday Tradition

I'll keep doing the Friday Photos, when I'm feeling inspired. But of late, as I've mentioned before, I'm finding myself drawn to poetry. Each day, I sit and browse though the works of different poets. Sometimes I pick a theme, depending on my mood. Other times, a poet.

So, each week, I'll post on here, a poem that has appealed to me. This week, I've thought much about my firstborn. I'm so in love. I hope this feeling, this thrill, never goes away.

A Childs Imagination

O thou golden image,
Miniature of bliss,
Speaking sweetly, speaking meetly!
Every word deserves a kiss.

Strange, remote and splendid
Childhood's fancy pure
Thrills to thoughts we cannot fathom,
Quick felicities obscure.

When the eyes grown solemn
Laughter fades away,
Nature of her mighty childhood
Recollects the Titan play;

Woodlands touched by sunlight
Where the elves abode,
Giant meetings,Titan greetings,
Fancies of a youthful God.

These are coming on thee
In thy secret thought;
God remembers in thy bosom
All the wonders that He wrought.



Sri Aurobindo

Child by Sylvia Plath
Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.
I want to fill it with color and ducks,
The zoo of the new

Whose name you meditate --
April snowdrop, Indian pipe,
Little

Stalk without wrinkle,
Pool in which images
Should be grand and classical

Not this troublous
Wringing of hands, this dark
Ceiling without a star.

And becuase I've had a bad week, and my pain levels have been greatly increased (for another post), this one.

Pain has an element of blank;
by Emily Dickinson

Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.

It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.

If


If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

Gratification.

Much of this will be C&P from somewhere else. I've been wanting to put this up for a week, but it's been a horror week in our castle. Sam and I have both had a stomach bug, he's had an ear and throat infection (yes..again!) and I've had migraines almost every day. So blogging has taken a backseat.

Also, some things said on another site made me wary of bragging about my boy. Which, come to think of it, is awfully sad. He so deserves to have a Mama who brags about him.

We had Alexander's IEP meeting the other day. For those that don't know, Alexander is autistic and has just started school. He goes to Prep 3 days a week, and the other 2 days he goes to an ECDU, a program with 9 other ASD or SPD children.

An IEP is a meeting between his prep teacher, his ECDU teacher, The HOSES (Head Of Special Education Services) and The head of the SEU at his school, plus JOel and I.

It's a review of how he's going and what steps we can take to further tailor his education program to suit his needs. It covers strentghs and weaknesses, and we plan strategies to work with both.

Anyway. Joel and I went into this meeting quite nervous. (Well, ok. I went into it freaking the hell out that they would tell me that my boy was miles behind and never ever going to fit in. Joel was just concerned I'd make a git of myself, lol).

Turns out, he's doing even better than we thought. At the ECDU he has made his very first 'best friend' (or bestbestfriend as he says). They are inseperable. He is in a class with children that really struggle in social situations, struggle with sensory issues (as does he - noise is a problem for him) and behavioural problems.

He's able to remain calm when any of the other children have a meltdown. He tries to be comforting to them. He doesn't get upset, or use the distraction as a reason to also go a bit crazy (i.e- the teachers are busy dealing with the meltdown, so he could stop doing what he should be and go do something he shouldn't).

He is showing vast improvements in his language development. His sentence structure has improved so much as to be noticeable to everyone. You see him remind himself to try to make eye contact while someone is speaking to him, or he is speaking to them.

He's following the routine and even beginning to anticipate the next step.

In Prep, he's settled beautifully into the class (30 students). Initially he'd attached himself to a 'problem child' and was following him into some poor choices (running to the playground when it's time to come to class etc). But his teacher and I have spoken to him. We assigned him to another boy ni the class as his special friend, and Alexander has taken to it well. It took some convincing, but now he knows that he has to listen to and play with Cody.

Both teachers told us that he was easily the 'most polite child' they'd ever had. That he is friendly, happy and sweet (ok, by now I'm on top of the world).

Then the kicker. We were so nervous, but Joel did the asking.

"How far behind is he academically? What do we need to do to get him up to the level of the children in his class?"

A simultaneous answer from both teachers. "He's easily ahead of everyone else academically." And "He's miles in front. He's better at Reading, Math, Computer. He excells at PE and most Gross Motor Activities. His fine motor skills are about par (a shock to us). He is reading, while some don't have a handle on their alphabet yet. He does basic math problems instantly, in his head" The only thing I'd work on is ball skills. Work on throwing and catching".

We were dumbfounded. At 3, Alexander wasn't talking at all. He wasn't making any friends. He showed no interest in any games/balls etc.

Joel and I worked our tails off. We did flashcards with him, 6 times a day (only a couple of minutes at a time, to keep it fun), building up an extra word every two days. We did alphabet, phonics and reading with him. Joel did math tutoring with him. We got him a computer (which he taught himself to use, with a little help from Joel). We've worked sooo hard on social skills, with books, role playing and discussions etc.

We've slowly, and gently worked on his phobias and triggers with him, to desensitise him to things we knew he would encounter at school.

The week before school started, we were terrified. We thought it probable that by the end of this term, the decision would be made to pull him out of prep and put him into the ECDU full time.

Next Tuesday, we have a follow up meeting, where the recommendation will be made to transfer him into prep full time at the beginning of term two.



Sorry this is long. But this is a very, very big deal to me. We put in such a lot of work. He tried so very hard, and it's paid off. I'm so incredibly proud of my boy. He's made remarkable progress and I just can't describe the pride I feel.

For a writer, it's discouraging to discover there simply aren't the words to tell you just how proud I am. And, how vindicated I feel. So many people, for years would say "He's not autistic. You're reading too much into it. He's just slow". I knew he wasn't slow. I knew that he was, in fact, extremely bright. Joel and I worked so hard to help him find his way and utilise that amazing brain of his. (Even his paed said something about that. She said "It works differently, but he has the most amazing mind. He facinates me. I love watching him approach things").

My darling Alexander, you cannot imagine how proud I am of you. I know that this has been a big year for you. I know that you're trying so hard, my sweet boy, to find your way, and to make everyone happy. We are, Xander. We are. We're so happy with you, and so happy to see you make friends.

Keep up the good work, Stinky Face. (Though now you insist that Sam is the stinky face, I'll have to stop calling you that. We still love that book though. Now you say that you're 'just funny'. :) You're very funny, you know. You make me laugh every single day). I love you more than you'll ever know. You are the single greatest thing I've ever accomplished.

I'm thankful for every single time I get to look into these sparkling eyes.

The Sisterhood

I didn't get a chance to post this yesterday, but don't want to miss it altogether.





Yesterday, March 8th, Was International Women's Day, the culmination of International Women's Week. A chance to acknowledge and celebrate the advances that we've seen in women's rights and the achievements of those that came before us.

Much has changed for women in the world. We have the right to vote. To work (though sadly, not to earn the same wage as a man. Did you know that Women do two-thirds of the world’s work, receive 10 percent of the world’s income and own 1 percent of the means of production). We have most careers open to us, in most places the opportuntity to study, to join the armed services and to be heard.

But not everywhere. Still, so much more needs to be done. There are still horrific acts of violence and oppression being committed against women all over the world. Countries like Pakistan stkll turn a blind eye to so called "Honour Killings". The Human Rights Commission of Pakistan reports that at least 80% of Pakistani women are victims of male aggression. The burning of women is part of a widespread pattern of everyday violence. In Rwanda, Kosovo, The Democratic Republic of Congo and Sierra Leone, women are repeatedly raped and beaten, so called spoils of war. In Thailand, Burma, Nigeria, The Dominican Republic, women and girls are routinely sold into slavery and forced into prostitution.

Women in Morocco, Jordan, Kuwait, and Saudi Arabia face government-sponsored discrimination that renders them unequal before the law - including discriminatory family codes that take away women's legal authority and place it in the hands of male family members - and restricts women's participation in public life.

The displaced women in Darfur, largely forgotten by the outside world are unable to step outside their camps to collect firewood, knowing they will almost certainly be raped. Women are wrenched from their families and forced to live as sex slaves in militia camps.

Across Africa, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Iraq, Indonesia, Syria and Iran (as well as other areas), the heartbreaking practice of Female Genital Mutilation is routinely practiced. Young girls are maimed in this abhorrent ritual and not enough is being done to stop it. I clicked on a New York Times link to share with you. There was nothing graphic in them, simply stills of the girls faces. Nothing they showed me could have haunted me more than the eyes of the tiny girls and babies that had to endure this. I chose not to include it. It's just to devestating.

There is so much further still to go. Women's rights still need to be fought for every day, all over the world.


It's not all bad, of course. There are some amazing women to be celebrated, women who have inspired girls all over the world to aspire to new heights. Here are just a few women who have changed the world for us all.

Jane Addams.The first American woman to win the Nobel Peace Prize. A charter member of the NAACP and a was tireless in the lobbying for laws governing child labour, juvenile justice, protection of immigrants and Women's Suffrage. She was the first Vice President of the Women Suffrage Association.

She founded the International Congress of Women and the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU).

Susan B.Anthony Dedicated her life to woman suffrage movement. Her efforts paved the way (in fact she even wrote) for the passing of the 19th Amendment in the US Constitution, affording women the right to vote.

Margaret Bourke-White The first woman ever hired as a photojournalist. The first western journalist allowed into the Soviet Union and she was the first female war correspondent and the first to be allowed to work in combat zones during World War II, and one of the first photographers to enter and document the death camps.

Amelia Earhart Aviation Pioneer.

Mary McLeod Bethune - One of 17 children born to former slaves, working in the cotton fields. She was an educator, founding a college for African American Girls and became advisor to a President.

Eleanor Roosevelt - The first American First Lady to take on the role of Activist. She worked tirelessly for disadvantaged black americans; convinced her husband to start an initiative which provided financial assistance to students and job training for young workers. After her husband's death, she became a delegate to the United Nations and helped draft the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

Sandra Day O’Connor - The first female Supreme Court Justice.

Marie Curie - Who inspired me as a girl of ten to feel passionate about academia. I fell in love with the image of the 'smart woman', and feel it still today.

Nellie Bly A jounalist who, determined to investigate rumours of brutality in a mental insitution, faked insanity to be committed. Her expose - Ten Days In A Mad House saw changes to the treatment of the mentally ill and increased funds in the budget. She then went on (after suggesting to her editor that she could match the feats read in Around the World in 80 days) to travel around the world (shockingly, unaccompanied by a man) in just 72 days, making her a role model for independant women around the world.


Shirin Ebadi - The first Muslim and the first Iranian to win the Nobel Peace Prize. An Iranian Lawyer known for her pioneering efforts for human rights, especaially the rights of women and children.

Rosa Parks whose simple, brave act set alight the Civil Rights Movement and propelled Martin Luther King into the spotlight.

There are so many more. It's late, and I need to post this. But I want us all to take a moment and think of the women that have influenced us. Women we've never met that inspire us. Women we love, that have helped us become the women we are now. Our mothers. Our sisters. Our teachers. Our friends.

Then look at your daughters. Hold them close, and hope that they and their friends live in a time when the rights of women all over the world are respected, and they never, ever meet the kind of obstacles that the women before them worked so hard to break down.

May the Elfing and Monkey, Aurora, Bella, Willow,Milly, Lucy, Charlotte and Ella, Lauren, Heidi and Juliet (and all of the other daughters of those who read my blog) grow up to be brave, happy women, congnizant of the gifts they've been given and the right for women and girls all over the world to receive them.

So, my friends, members of the sisterhood. A belated Happy International Woman's Day to you all.

Tell me about the women who inspired you. I'll tell you a bit about the one who inspired me the most.

Footprints.

Nicole, over at Happenings has done an interesting post about the footprint we are leaving on the earth. It's staggering to see it presented to us this way.

I need to try harder. I need to stop using plastic shopping bags. I need to make a more concerted effort to recycle. I need to stop buying bottled water every time I go out, when I can just as easily (and for a couple of dollars less) take my own.

They're small steps. But they are a start.

Take a look. Think about it. Is there anything you can change?

Sigh....

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you....

Sigh. Captain Wentworth certainly had a way with the quill, did he not? I don't know how many women would have turned down such a declaration, even had they not been as deeply in love as our Anne Elliot.


Finally, I've finished Persuasion. Again, for it's not the first time. But this one took me two weeks! That's a long time for me for any book, but for an Austen???? Unheard of.

But we've been knocked out over here by the dreaded Lurgi. Sam's battling ear infections and Joel and I have shared between us (aren't we sweet?) a horrid cold. So not much blogging, reading or general housework has been accomplished here. Hope you're all well and avoiding it all.

Speaking of Master Samuel. He's working very, very hard on crawling! It's more an inchworm styled motion at present, but we most definiately have forward motion. Scary, scary thought.

I have Alexander news to share, but I'll save that for it's very own post (will try to get that up later on today). We've a big day planned. Well, big, but mellow. Joel and Shane are working. So Melissa and I (confused, anyone?) are hanging out here for the morning with our boys. There'll be baking (Thomas Cupcakes), bouncing on the Trampoline and a viewing of Alvin and The Chipmunks. There'll be an obscene amount of coffee consumed by Melissa and I.

Then a trip down to our beloved Suttons, where we'll be met by our men! Bliss.

Family

A quick Favourite Photo Friday. A pic that my best friend snapped earlier this week. Alexander saw it on the computer, he loves to look at the photos. He points out names (has started calling me Melissa, after learning this week it is my name)and gazes at the people he loves.

He saw this one. "Look, Mummy. A family. Alexander's family".

That's right my darling. This is our family.






(Note, I was having a Very.Bad.Day, and was therefore hiding behind Sam. The only person who is really (not fake) smiling. Becuase he is the only one of us who doesn't have the flu!)

The Bloom of New Love

In light of the book challenge, I've been determined to delve more into poetry. Inspired by Averil's love of Elizabeth Barret Browning, and Jenn's love of Tennyson*, I have thrown myself in. Much of my spare time at the moment is spent reading poetry.

I went out and bought a couple of books, and I've found some fabulous websites that can give me complete works (it's not the same as the smell of a book and turning pages to discover new delights. But for now, while we're all housebound with this flu, it'll do).

I'm falling in love. I still doubt I'll ever be able to write any poetry of note. Or you know, at all. But I'm very touched by it.

A couple that have in some way, struck a cord with me today.




I loved this one. There are two of hers that I love. I'll talk about the other one another day. But this one is wistful and passionate and speaks to the kind of love I feel for my Joel, and for my boys.
.

Touched By An Angel

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

~Maya Angelou

This one speaks to that part of me that was tired and afraid and so ready for it all to be over, but knowing I simply had to hold on.

My Heart And I


Enough! we're tired, my heart and I.
We sit beside the headstone thus,
And wish that name were carved for us.
The moss reprints more tenderly
The hard types of the mason's knife,
As heaven's sweet life renews earth's life
With which we're tired, my heart and I.

You see we're tired, my heart and I.
We dealt with books, we trusted men,
And in our own blood drenched the pen,
As if such colours could not fly.
We walked too straight for fortune's end,
We loved too true to keep a friend;
At last we're tired, my heart and I.

How tired we feel, my heart and I!
We seem of no use in the world;
Our fancies hang grey and uncurled
About men's eyes indifferently;
Our voice which thrilled you so, will let
You sleep; our tears are only wet:
What do we here, my heart and I?

So tired, so tired, my heart and I!
It was not thus in that old time
When Ralph sat with me 'neath the lime
To watch the sunset from the sky.
'Dear love, you're looking tired,' he said;
I, smiling at him, shook my head:
'Tis now we're tired, my heart and I.

So tired, so tired, my heart and I!
Though now none takes me on his arm
To fold me close and kiss me warm
Till each quick breath end in a sigh
Of happy languor. Now, alone,
We lean upon this graveyard stone,
Uncheered, unkissed, my heart and I.

Tired out we are, my heart and I.
Suppose the world brought diadems
To tempt us, crusted with loose gems
Of powers and pleasures? Let it try.
We scarcely care to look at even
A pretty child, or God's blue heaven,
We feel so tired, my heart and I.

Yet who complains? My heart and I?
In this abundant earth no doubt
Is little room for things worn out:
Disdain them, break them, throw them by
And if before the days grew rough
We once were loved, used,--well enough,
I think, we've fared, my heart and I.

~ Elizabeth Barret Browning.

Hope


Hope Was but a timid friend;
She sat without the grated den,
Watching how my fate would tend,
Even as selfish-hearted men.

She was cruel in her fear;
Through the bars one dreary day,
I looked out to see her there,
And she turned her face away!

Like a false guard, false watch keeping,
Still, in strife, she whispered peace;
She would sing while I was weeping;
If I listened, she would cease.

False she was, and unrelenting;
When my last joys strewed the ground,
Even Sorrow saw, repenting,
Those sad relics scattered round;

Hope, whose whisper would have given
Balm to all my frenzied pain,
Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,
Went, and ne'er returned again!

~ Emily Jane Bronte

There were times, while we were trying to conceieve Sam, and even while I was pregnant with him, that I felt this way. That every time I allowed myself to Hope, she'd dance away, just out of reach. Always there, enough to tempt me to try again and to hold on to the dream, but ultimately, so elusive.

Of course, we did have a happier ending.

Anyway, those are the things that grabbed me today. When I have more time (read:energy) I'll sit down and tell you the latest on Samuel (we have forward motion!) and how well Alexander is going at school. He has his IEP meeting on Thursday afternoon, and that will determine what comes next (or if indeed, we simply stay with the status quo).



*By the way, Jenn. Your post about The Gleam left me enchanted. I've honestly had

Not of the moonlight,
Not of the starlight!
O young Mariner,
Down to the haven,
Call your companions,
Launch your vessel,
And crowd your canvas,
And, ere it vanishes
Over the margin,
After it, follow it,
Follow The Gleam.

swirling around in my brain all day. I'm tingling. I think you've hooked me.

Joel was Wondering..

Joel wanted me to ask if any of you know why on earth I find it so much fun to ask deliberately loaded questions every chance I get.

I have no idea what he's talking about, of course.




Honest!

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree”

I started this post on Saturday, but haven't had a chance to finish it and get it up here.

Delicious autumn!
My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
-George Eliot

It’s the first day of Autumn, by far my favourite of the seasons.

Joel had an unexpected Saturday off (wonderful news when he has been working Saturdays for the past 8 weeks or so). The day dawned sunny but with a gentle breeze that softly caressed us all, enticing us into the outdoors, to spend the day together. We happily accepted the invitation, and decided to spend the morning up in the mountains.

The drive up was horrible, I’ll confess. I accidentally forgot to take one of my tablets yesterday. Of all of the tablets I could possibly neglect,this has perhaps the worst consequences, leaving me awash in vertigo, not sure whether I’m standing or falling at any given moment. Combine that with a mountain drive, and you find me perhaps as car sick as I have ever been. We had to pull over the car twice on the way up.

We arrived, and Joel positively lightened in the mountain air. He was immediately relaxed and peaceful. Alexander and I, not so much. I was still feeling quite seedy, and Alexander found himself somewhat disappointed that the playground Daddy had promised was simply not there (poor Joel felt terrible, he had gotten his mountains mixed up, lol. Very unusual for my man, who is never lost or confused about where he is or is going).

Anyway. Not to be deterred, we decided to stay and make the most of the solitude, and the fact that we had chosen not to bring phones.

We have the park almost to ourselves. I’m typing now, from a picnic table in the middle of the park. I am surrounded by tall, dark green trees. The sky is such a peaceful blue, but there are fluffy white clouds about. The breeze caresses us all and for a while (though this will change), all we can hear is the sound of the breeze in the trees and the birds. There are birds everywhere. I can’t see any of them, but I can hear them, and they too sing as though they are pleased to see the sun out and the breeze clearing out the stifling heat we’ve been having in Brisbane this summer.

We sit and eat a while, even Sam (who I might add, seems to love solids more than any child has ever loved any thing. It’s almost scary. I have grave fears for our future grocery budget). This was a last minute foray out, so the food is not gourmet, by any stretch, whatever we could round up in the pantry at home. We don’t want to get distracted at the shops. We want to get out early, and be home relatively early for Samuel.

Joel’s determined that today, as he’s home, if I’m well enough, I should do some writing. Anything you write, says he. Just so long as you’re writing, and feeling good. I know you’ve had such a rough week. Why don’t I bring the notebook with us so you can type away in the car and on the way up. (Note to self. If you are suffering vertigo, and on a mountain drive – typing while in a moving vehicle is a what we call A. Very. Bad. Idea. Honest. Trust me).

So here I sit, as Joel and Alexander lie on the picnic rug with Samuel, who is trying his damndest to eat his feet, the grass, any of his toys, even poor Bronte.






I’m filled with contentment. Here, with the canopy of trees, the melody of hidden birds and the cool mountain air, I again contemplate my life. I’ve been doing this a lot lately, it seems blogs have this affect. I’ve decided that it’s not a bad thing. My introspective and creative sides are fuelled by this medium,and I suspect I’m going to be very, very glad one day that I’ve started it.

I’m happy. This isn’t how I thought I’d be spending my Saturday. I’m not going to accomplish any of the things I had planned. The pictures are still unhung. There are two loads of washing waiting for me, and floors ready to be mopped. The lawns probably won’t be mowed today, and tomorrow that may bother me. But this, this is infinitely better. I’m sitting in a picture perfect little park. The weather is cool (always a happy occasion for me, I despise the heat). My family is together. Samuel is finally recovering ( I hope) from his ear infection. Alexander is animated and adorable today. The things he’s saying have both Joel and I smiling and spontaneously kissing him (though in truth, that is the normal state of affairs in our home. There have always been a lot of hugs and kisses, it’s how we all are).

I have my dark moments, plenty of them lately. I experience hopelessness and anger,
joy and felicity and all the way back again. My swings (I'm loathe to call them mood swings, that seem so pedestrian, as though this was a simply case of PMS, it certainly doesn't feel that way) are exhausting at the moment, and I'm not entirely sure how to even them out.

But right now, today, up here, I feel lighter, and so glad Joel talked me into this. I confess, I'm not really an outdoors kind of gal. I'm a fan of air conditioners and coffee makers and clean, working amenities. But this really is beautiful today.






And time is moving so quickly. Sam's 5 months old, Alexander has gotten through his first month of school (fabulously, by the way. More on that later). The weeks are flying by, and I want to slow down and take as many days like this as I can. I want this to be what the boys remember. Days of Alexander chasing Joel around a park, his squeals and his Daddy's laugh the music we live by.






I'm done typing. I want to scoop my boys up and lie on the rug with them, just seeing what we can see in the clouds. I'm sure I spotted a heart. Maybe it was just mine, so full it simply couldn't be contained another moment.









(Oh, for the record. The quotation in the title, that's Emily Bronte's. Not mine. If wishing made it so..)

Is that What People Think?

Something's been troubling me for a couple of days. As most of my readers know, I visit an online parenting forum. It has it's ups and downs, like most things, I guess. But I gererally enjoy the interaction. I enjoy getting involved with debates about parenting, politics, religion, the world around us. I find myself learning things, whether it be facts, statistics, new ways of doing things, or simply learning the way others feel about different issues.

Sometimes though, I'll read something that can leave me floundering. It can challenge that which I hold to be true and real and important. This happened the other day.

There was a thread where we were discussing how we felt about the care of our parents, once they need full time care .Would we care for them ourselves, or would we seek to place them in nursing homes (or the like)?

I was doing ok. I have no issue with the decisions people make. I noted that most people (after discussion with their families) had decided to go with the nursing home/retirement villge option. This is the option that my father wants to take, so I can understand it.

But a couple of people made a couple of comments (one person particularly) that left me feeling hurt and remarkably defensive. There were a lot of people who felt the deciding factor was their desire never to have to help their parents with dressing/showering/toileting. Fair enough, I guess, though was surprised. But then one came on and said "I'd never physically care for my mother. Her pride would never allow it". I sat back a little, allowed myself to process it, try to be objective. It niggled though. I asked "Do you not see the strength of character it takes to swallow your pride and allow someone to do that for you?". The response was along the lines of "I am more interested in preserving her dignity" She said it wasn't about love or devotion, but what was important was allowing them to keep their dignity as a parent.

I can't help it. I'm hurt. And am rethinking things. Things I can't change. I can say, with absolute honesty, that my primary objective, the entire time she was ill, was her dignity.

I saw the toll this wretched disease took on her body, and her spirit. To lose the ability to move, eat, drink, dress yourself. Brush you hair. Shower. Toilet. Speak. Be seen as the person you've always been. THere is nothing, literally, that I took more seriously than considering her feelings in every single thing I did. I went along with her decisions about medication, even when I strongly disagreed with her. It was her body, and she was still of sound mind, so it was her call. The number of people who said to me, "But you're medicating her. She'd never know. Can't you just give it to her?". Not just family. Doctors. I was adamant. She was making all of the decisions, until she simply couldn't (in other words as long as she was conscious).

I remember the first time I had to help her on the toilet. She was in the hospital, for some assessments. Her treatment up to that point had been nothing short of appalling. I still have nightmares about the things that happened that night, after we all left.

Dad had had to duck out for some reason. I don't remember what. I knew she needed to go, but she was holding out. Sh ewasn't ready for this to happen. She kept buzzing for a nurse, but the poor things were run off their feet. I remember the look on her face. It was as though the illness had just taken yet another thing from her. It had, I guess.

I took her in. She was so mortified. I tried to be as pragmatic as I could. "I can only imagine how hard this is for you, Mum. But I'm ok. I'm not uncomfortable, sqeamish or freaked out. I wish this wasn't happening to you, but I dont' know how to make this easier for you. I want to help you."

We tried to make conversation, talk about things of absolutely no consequence. We did our best, and somehow, though she cried, we managed. There were many occasions, in the months that followed, where we would make idle chat as I helped her dress, toilet, shower, eat, drink, shave her legs, paint her toenails and brush her hair. I eventually became the only person who could speak for her (being the only person who could understand her attempts at speech).

Did people think she had no pride? That she was selfish to allow me to care for her? DId they think I didn't care about her dignity? Do they not know how difficult it was for us both, but how we strived to consider each others' feelings. Do they know that just weeks before she died, she told me I was the only person who had not hurt her feelings?

That there is nothing I'm more proud of than that one comment. Surely I didn't get it so wrong? Surely I didn't take away her dignity? I can't bear the thought. But now, I can't shake it.