Becoming a domestic goddess.

Strictly speaking, I am not a domestic goddess.  Not by a long shot.  Ever since having kids, or even before that, I've struggled with keeping things tidy, organised, clean and sane.  I'd like to blame lots of things but the basic fact is that part of it is simply who I am (genetics would say I have some strong tendency towards mess courtesy of my paternal side), but part of it is that I don't always make enough effort to do something about it.

Given that I have four young children, its easy for the house to go from sane to chaotic in a nanosecond.  And it was getting me down in more ways than one.  It would be nice to blame the kids for the whole thing but really, its not their fault.  They are kids.  They are messy.  This is what it is.  But how I deal with it can change.  Ultimately none of us are responsible for other peoples behaviour, we can only be responsible for ourselves. So that's the perspective that I'm taking into this whole process.

I am awesome at finding excuses to not do housework.  So I had to really look hard at myself at why I was not doing housework.  It wasn't just that the kids would mess it up again, although that might have determined when I did something.  Sometimes I would think that I am too tired to tidy up.  Especially dishes, I've never liked doing dishes.  But you know, I am always tired.  Tiredness doesn't go away for me.  I've been doing the night shift for years now, no sooner does once child sleep through than another one comes along.  Tiredness is not actually an excuse for me because it is just who I am.

Distraction and procrastination are other ways I can avoid doing the housework.  Get on the computer, do some stuff around that for a while and suddenly its 8:30 and "too late" to do the housework or dishes.  Its super easy to find something to do that isn't housework.  Of course its not always 'work' either, and that's when it becomes a distraction or an activity I use to procrastinate.

Before I go on, I will inject some realism.  My house will not look like something out of home and garden no matter how I try and that is not my intent.  I want my house functional and liveable and finally, kids are kids and they make mess so my house will never look perfect all the time.  It doesn't need to.

No, my goal has been over the last few months to make some changes to both our house and myself to help things move from being overly chaotic to vaguely sane.  

When I looked honestly at the whole thing, there were several things that made it clear that I've had to change.  Firstly, sometimes the mess was embarrassing.  Now maybe people didn't judge me for the mess but I found it stressful if people were coming over and I was having to do a tidy up and it was hard to tell that I'd done anything much.  The other main reason is that it was stressing me out.  I hate not being able to find the kids clothes without searching through the washing pile and the rush that ensues when they can't find things themselves.  I hate having to wash the dishes before I can use them to cook again.  ANd finally, if I wanted things to be more sane, then I needed to be the one organising it and then I could get the family on board.   I am the gatekeeper of routine and organisation.

And because the mess was impacting on me and my family, it has led to a desire for change.

So that's a meandering summary of what's been going on for me.  In the next little while I'm going to talk about changing routines and habits, altering environments and the surprising discoveries I've made along the way.  I've found since reflecting on all this, that my occupational therapy roots are showing.  I think this is no bad thing because it honestly reflects the process of change that I am going to while providing a theoretical basis for it, should anyone need it haha.  And I should add a caveat - I still have days where I might not do everything.  I am a work in progress still but I am trying.  And for those who don't struggle with mess, some of this might seem really really nonsensical and odd... and that's a sure sign that its not an issue for you.  If you relate to what I am writing then you will 'get' where I am coming from.  If at some point you find a difference between where you are and where you want to be... and that is a sure sign that you are ready to start the process of change.

How others see us...

One morning I was out doing a few last minute errands before going home to sort out a birthday party for that afternoon.  Baby boy was still asleep so I popped into the golden arches for a drink before heading back.  While there, and as I fed and sorted out my little man, who (Murphy's Law) woke up the second I sat down, I chatted with two people close by.  They asked me about my kids, what I did, what they did etc.  We talked about this woman's wee boy who was being a little bit of a handful but no more than any other boisterous three year old I've met.  He was less interested is food and more interested in using the chair as a climbing frame.  As you do.

They saw me as this amazing, organised, capable, competent mother who manages her many children with no difficulty. Seriously, they actually said that to me.  They'd met me for all of 10 minutes, saw me interact with one of my children and saw me as all that.

I don't see myself that way.

I am sure its because I see the whole truth.  The Mummy who get cross at the kids for not doing what they were told for the third time.  The Mummy who finds it hard to listen when there are four competing voices in my ear.  The Mummy who looks at the washing pile and decides that its too hard for now and picks up the book instead.  They don't see tired Mummy, stressed Mummy, pulled too many ways at once Mummy.

But then, I think all those things mentioned above are the negatives.  The bits that I regret at the end of another day when I got annoyed at something or grumped.  The times when I'd much rather sleep than do any form of housework.  The times I wish I had done that chore because overnight its become a massive effort.

So maybe I am too hard on myself.

There are times when me and the kids are laughing our heads off at something funny.  When we cheer and celebrate our Littlest persons achievement.  When they all eat their dinner AT THE SAME MEAL.  When they do cute things with each other or wrap their arms around us and cuddle in.  How they love me to shout "Let's get ready to rumble" when it's time to leave the house.

There are times when I am up for the 4th time in the night and I just patiently sit there waiting for baby to fall asleep again.  When I let my kids choose their clothes without comment.  When they surprise me by tidying their room or they get ready without endless nagging... and I am probably guilty of not acknowleging when they've done something great either.  There are the every day moments when I listen to the stilted reading of a 5 year old and encourage her at every page turn.  When my son earnestly tells me that he has to do this and that for his homework or he tells me a long, convoluted and confusing story about Star Wars (its all about the Force, really).  When I gently remind my three year old to ask Mummy before she pours herself a cup of milk rather than grump and sigh.

I try to do all the right things.  I've breastfed for so long it takes me five minutes to work out how long that actually is.  I try to make sure that they have over 5 servings of vegetables and fruit in a day and that they eat a balanced diet over a week.  I restrict treats to birthdays and grandparents.  I give them water and milk rather than soft drink and juice.  I encourage their independence and try very hard to empathise and acknowledge how they are feeling without being a total pushover when it comes to discipline.

The reality is that when you have children, whether its one, two, four or eight, you just do it.  You get up and you start your day and hopefully it'll go okay.  Those with less children often look upon those of us with more children with something akin to fearful respect.  But really, we're no different.  How you feel about facing your child's new phase is exactly how we feel when faced with the new phase of our oldest child.  It never stops being new.  But after a while you get used to dealing with other  stuff.  I don't worry that my one year old likes taking the DVD's out of the shelf because I know that in a years time, he would have stopped that and got onto something else.  I don't worry so much about it because I know that sometimes, its just a matter of the child growing up a wee bit more.  Its hard work at the time, for example at the moment, not only is Mr One a genius at unpacking anything in his path, he's pathologically afraid of the vacuum cleaner.  You can imagine what my house looks like some days, but it changes.

It's really about being real.  I'd like to be a fabulous amazing, supermum but in reality I'm an ordinary, every day garden variety Mum who loves her kids and tries her best.  Hopefully I'm good enough.

Having some fun

It is so easy to get caught up in the busy routine of a large family and not make time for special stuff.  Its quite easy to let things just truck along, same old routines because they work, I don't have to think about them and the kids get what they need (food, sleep, clothing etc).

So I'd been thinking for a while that we should do something a bit fun and different.  As my kids love television I figured a movie night might be just the thing to create a bit of excitement.  So they got to go to the video store (big treat) to choose a DVD they'd not seen and we watched Despicable Me.  We had basic dinner which was toast with carrot and cucumber sticks then filled up on popcorn and ice cream sundaes with chocolate sauce and sprinkles.

The kids had a ball and even the littlest one seemed excited as he ate popcorn from our hands and turned around in circles and did a funny wee stamping dance.

At the end of the movie there is a dance scene and all the kids got up and had a boogie, so I got up and joined them and we danced to that and the credit music.  It was lovely to have fun and be together doing that rather than having a boring everyone-is-tired Friday dinner.

But because we could do it ourselves, it was all over by 6:30 pm and it was time to have a quick bath and hustle to bed.

Its something that we are definitely going to do more often, maybe even every week.  I think its good to bypass the normal routines and do something that is just about fun and being together.  And it makes the whole house feel happy and fun too.

On hallowed ground

On Monday our family farewelled a dear friend and teacher who has had a significant influence over our family for the last four years and even more influence over our local community.

Glennis was a teacher at our kids preschool.  But she was more than that.  She was a wise counsellor.  Gentle advice giver.  A woman of strong faith and compassion.  She had an awesome sense of humour.  She loved the children in her care.  She adored her own children and grandchildren.

At her funeral we heard beautiful tributes from her children, her friends and her minister.  Both he and another minister visited her regularly over the last few months.  They talked about the prayer, the sharing of communion, the talking and laughter.

And they talked about how it was like standing at the door of heaven.  During these times of prayer and communion, there was a crack between heaven and earth opening up and a divine presence was there.

For me, through the sadness of a passing of someone I love, it gave me such comfort and hope.  I've never had the privilege of being with someone when they die.  I've visited people near the end, I've prayed with them and said goodbye, but I've never been present as that person leaves the earth and continues their journey with God in heaven.  It was a beautiful picture of what happens when we die.  And how the love of friends and family allows everyone to be drawn in and experience some of the divine touch that is present in that hallowed ground between life and death.

It is a challenge too.  A challenge that I need to continue seeking God, and in that experience the moulding and purifying that comes from intimacy with Jesus.  It is a challenge to reflect on my own way of living and try to make choices that uphold love, grace and hope.  And a challenge to parent my children with the same energy, hope and grace that Glennis showed.  In her life, she demonstrated what it means to live like Jesus and in her death she showed us how to die with grace and hope as she walked through that door, on that hallowed ground, to her Saviour and Lord.

I would say Rest in Peace Glennis, and while I know you will be experiencing the peace that comes when earthly life is completed and the striving has finished, I think also you'll be having a bit of a party.  Maybe there is wine in heaven, I don't know, but I know that you are safe, happy and loved with God, your husband and those gone before, waiting with hope for those you loved on earth to follow.

There is a song called "At the Cross" from Hillsong this is the final verse

"And as the earth fades
Falls from my eyes
And you stand before me
I know you love me
I know you love me"

Standing on the hallowed ground between life and death.  What a blessing and sacrifice.

When it counts

Its really easy to be a good person when life is good.  Its easy to give when you have money.  Its easy to laugh when you are feeling happy.  Its easy to support someone when you've got support yourself.

But what counts is not what happens when life is easy.  Its what happens when life is hard.  When things don't make sense.

Sometimes life throws curveballs and we don't know what to do.  When we start responding my instinct or not thinking before acting or speaking.  We got back to a different time.  A simple time.  A real time.  Often, our real self shows.  Who are we when under pressure?  Who are we when we're at a loss?  What is our true motivation?  Who is our true self?

As a Christian, I often feel that people judge me harder than they might others.  They look to my opinion on different things to give the Christian perspective and response.  They look at how I behave to see whether or not I am being authentic and real or whether my words are simply empty and hypocritical.

Like anyone else, Christians vary enormously and that's even before you get into differing traditions, interpretations of scripture and lifestyles.  We're treated like a homogenous group of people but really that's like saying all engineers like chips or all doctors drink red wine.  There is a lot of difference.

But unfortunately, if one group is seen to act in a certain way, there is always the risk that anyone else with that same label is going to be judged as thinking and acting the same way regardless of whether they are or not.

At the moment I am seeing first hand what happens when my interpretation of the gospel, of being a Christian, the nature and way of Christ, is so incredibly different to what is being experienced by others.  You see, I see God as a merciful, loving, compassionate, caring, grace filled, forgiving God who brings wholeness.  A God who desperately seeks relationship.  A God whose Son died on the cross so that we could be restored.  Its a truth that I know in my gut.  This is MY God.  THis is the God that I seek to emulate in my daily life.  I wouldn't say I do a great job at it all the time, but I'm trying.  I hope that sometimes I manage it.  I hope that people see my actions motivated by love, grace and forgiveness.  I do this because God first loved me, gave me grace and forgave me.

Then I see a group of people who apparently believe the same things as me, acting the complete opposite.  The opposite of love is indifference (Martin Luther King Jnr I believe).  The opposite of forgiveness is unforgiveness.  The opposite of whole is broken.  The opposite of caring is... well, not doing anything.  Its a messy, broken, unforgiving, indifferent response to a tragic and sad situation and it is breaking my heart.

It makes me angry because the hurt that this is causing is huge.  Monumental.  Its not going to go away easily.  It makes me sad because its impacting on people I care about.  It makes me even angrier when I see that this is how my God is portrayed by others.

The Christian life, our journey with God, our walk with Jesus, whatever we want to call it, calls us to become like Jesus Christ.  My reading of the gospel tells me that Jesus reached out to those in need.  That Jesus was moved to tears by suffering and pain.  A Jesus who welcomed children.  A Jesus who revealed himself first to the women visiting the tomb.  A Jesus who who both challenged his disciples to leave everything and follow but gave them everything they needed and who loved them even in their weakness... Peter denied Jesus three times yet was described as the foundation on which the church would be built.  Jesus isn't looking for perfection, but he is looking for willingness to set down our own agendas, our own self and all our crap, and to follow him.

If we don't let go of our own self... well, stuff happens.

To those out there who are affected by this... I don't think what you are seeing is reflecting Christ in any shape or form and I am sorry.  Because this is not how it should be.

Every day...

Every day we drop our son at school and we leave him to his teacher and to his friends.  Every day I pick him up.  I park across the road from the school, he and his little mate cross the road carefully at the teacher/student controlled crossing and then run along the path until they find our cars.  Every day.

Every day I expect to see my son again.  It never crossed my mind that I wouldn't.  Until now.  I am glad that its the holidays now.  Because even though the most recent mass shooting in the US is thousands of kilometres away from where I live, I can't help wondering whether it could happen here.

Rationally, I tell myself that it wouldn't.  Its not a common thing in our country to have mass shootings, I think there have only been a couple in my lifetime.  Its unthinkable that it would happen at a school.  We have tighter gun laws.  Virtually all of my friends don't have guns.  The odd one might have a gun licence, a couple know how to shoot and go hunting but that's it.  We don't have the "right to bear arms" mentality that seems to still be so prevalent in the US.  Sure there are gangs and people with guns in my community where I live but I've never had a sense that they'd be targeting schools.

I can't imagine what the parents are going through right now, the ones who have lost their kids.  If one of mine died it would be like someone had ripped my heart out.  I don't even like to think about.  When I became a parent I realised what love truly means.  I'd walk through fire, I'd stop a bullet.  I'd do anything it took to keep my kids safe... but I don't think I'd ever pick up a gun.

It seems to me, as a completely outsider, that something has to change in the US.  Guns aren't actually safe.  They are dangerous.  Children can get hold of guns and hurt themselves if nothing else.  When you get people able to buy ammo online and people with actual serious mental health problems being able to obtain guns, and serious types of guns at that, then its time to really evaluate whether restricting gun ownership, the availabiltiy of weapons and the types of weapons is more common sense than infringing on civil rights.  Guns really shouldn't be used against other people.

Children have a right to be safe in their schools and homes.  People have the right to be able to go about their daily business without the fear that someone is goign to shoot them dead.  That is a civil rights issue, to be able to go freely about your life.

I don't think the idea that everyone carrying a concealed weapon would help.  Because in all seriousness, most normal people wouldn't go and shoot a few people because they were having a bad day.  Those who do go and shoot a whole bunch of unrelated people are usually pretty unwell.  Most of the time they kill themselves in the process.  I don't think that knowing that they are likely to be killed would stop them.  Maybe its what they want?  Who knows.  But no, that argument seems to be a weak one to me.  People who decide they are going to shoot a whole bunch of people don't care that they might die.  They are that separate from themselves and their humanity that it won't make a difference to them who dies.

The only thing I can do from here is pray.  Pray for those precious, innocent children who died today and for those who saw it happen.  Pray for parents who are passing empty rooms tonight.  Pray that somehow, this will make the people of the US look hard at themselves and the legacies they want to leave their children.  That those in power will put aside their political ambitions and look carefully at the long term impact their decisions are having on generations of people.  God, be there.  Be with those in grief.  Be with them.

Sad

Sometimes things are just sad.

A week ago we discovered a friend had died of cancer.  We'd kind of lost contact over the last few years, hearing only things from others, and even those closer, hadn't heard for a while.  She and her family had been part of our community for just a year, 5 years ago.  In that time they became part of us. They connected, they joined, they served and they celebrated.  In that time they demonstrated the love of God as they welcomed another adopted child into their family.  They shared their lives with us.

And then we found out she had died.  A beautiful Mummy of three gorgeous children.  A loving wife.  An athlete.  Her children, a bit older than my own, doing all their 'firsts' without Mummy there.  A Dad trying to be all things to everyone.

Last night we had a memorial service at church.  We were able to share the eulogy her husband wrote, reflect on the short time they were with our church community.  We were able to learn some of her journey in cancer, to how she fought it every step of the way with the loving support of her family.  We were able to share our own memories.  For me it was that we were both waiting for our babies at the same time and a few days before Caitlin was born, they picked up their little girl from an orphanage in Taiwan.  Christmas babies for everyone.

And I feel sad.

There is hope of course.  She is with God, of that I have no doubt, and I know she didn't have any doubt either.  One day, her family will be together.  God has been with her and her family throughout this whole journey and it won't stop now either, they will keep on keeping on.

But its still sad.

I think sometimes its okay to just be sad.  Really, there isn't anything good about dying of cancer leaving a young family behind.  I think sometimes Christians can be a bit too quick with the glib responses, that somehow we should be less sad when something terrible happens?  Is it really better that a Christian woman dies than a non Christian does?  I don't think so.  Because any unexpected or early death is sad.  Sure we can hold on to the certain hope of eternal life but its a life we don't fully understand.  It is some comfort but it doesn't hide the fact that when a child wakes at night and wants their Mummy, all they and their Daddy will be thinking is "she's not here" and it makes things even sadder.  I see the look on my babies face when he sees me, I am his world, it hurts to think that her children have lost theirs.

I think I am also sad because it brings up my own secret motherhood fears.. what would happen if something happened to ME.  I know that it would all work out.  It would be heartbreaking and hard but  my family would have the love and support of so many.  But its still sad to think about.

I am sad because I regret not keeping contact.  I regret not calling her more or not sending a letter.  I wish I'd known more about what she was going through so I could have prayed for her and her family through the whole ordeal, not just in the aftermath.  It reminds me how important it is to be connected with people.  Sometimes we can't do anything FOR them but we can still be 'there'.  Being there in prayer and in love. Holding onto them in a virtual way.  I got a bit annoyed the other day when I didn't know that someone close to us had gone in for surgery and no one had told me the day it was happening.  Sometimes the only thing I can do is pray for someone... or maybe bring over a lasagne.  I can't always drop everything and run like i'd want to when something happens... my family juggle means that there can be up to three people involved in just sorting out the afternoon schedule if hubby or I aren't available.  I am thankful that I can call on some people to help out if needed... like last night, going to the memorial service meant numerous phone calls, texts, messages and things to find someone to watch the kids for an hour.  Huge thanks to the special person who was able to help because there are some things I just have to do and saying farewell to my friend was one of them.

Sometimes life is sad.   And I am not going to feel bad about feeling sad because I think its okay.  I remember how Jesus wept when he saw Lazarus was dead.  I remember how he begged God to spare him from what was to happen that first Easter... I think Jesus understands what its like to be sad.

Godspeed my friend.  Maybe your children always remember your love.  May they continue to laugh.  Be at peace.  I hope there are some awesome marathons in heaven for you.  I think you'd love that.  Arohanui.

Futility

This will be a bit of a grump post.  Life has been pretty hectic lately.  Birthday month has ended (yay) and its school holidays (mostly yay) and its spring (winter bugs be gone!) but I am still experiencing the aftermath of all of that.  Its all gone a bit crazy.

I'm trying, in some small way, to reclaim my house.  Mainly children clutter.  Not the children themselves you understand, its probably not a good look to try and get rid of the children, but their 'stuff'.    Its incredible how far and wide it spreads.  Sometimes I wonder if it replicates at night.  There are random toys that have some sort of meaning and order for someone (and god forbid you move them).  There are the precious and agonised over drawings, paintings and colouring-ins that are waaaaay to important to put in the recycle bin unless I do it in secret and it get emptied straight away.  You so don't want to see the look on C's face if she finds her papers in there.  There is lego, which is such a fabulous toy for a 7 year old but entirely unsuitable for a 8 month old who likes to put everything in his mouth.  There is half eaten sandwiches discarded at whim and I find them under the coffee table while searching for the remote.  Nappies are dropped in places that I come across several hours later because Little Miss A has taken it upon herself to change her own nappy.  Total craziness.

And not counting the washing pile which is known as either Mt Foldmore or the Foldmore Range.  Its a range if it covers more than one room apparently ;).

I started yesterday with the toy area.  I resorted things into their respective boxes and parts - cars, potato head, dolls, kitchen, animals, duplo, dress ups, barbies, tools.  Within moments of almost finishing, there were a few leftover toys that needed to be put away and I hadn't got the vacuum out, Miss A discovered all the things that she hadn't been able to see due to the chaos and it was all over.  Granted, she played happily there for ages but it looked like NOTHING had been done.  Total futility.

Today I did the lounge.  Well to be fair, Mr D and Miss C got themselves motivated and cleared all of it up and then got a turn with the vacuum cleaner.  But now there are little pockets of things that have mushroomed their way in since then.

The other thing that I struggle with is the constant interruptions.  I fill the sink with hot soapy water and prepare to decrease the pile of dishes.  Within minutes, sometimes just seconds, the big kids get into a fight, Miss A wants a drink of milk or Mr I wakes from his nap.  So while I get to do nice things like feed my children, mediate their differences thus hopefully giving them skills for the real world and a nice wake-up snuggle with my baby... my dishes are still waiting for attention.  Its a bit like how the moment I get on the phone the kids need my instant attention even thought they've been playing happily for the previous 20 minutes.

And now, 8 months down the track of having a baby and everyone giving me advice to not worry about it and let it go, its now like this  is what happens when you drop the ball a bit and go easy on yourself...  it ain't pretty and its hard to fix.

Now I know that I wrote a few posts ago about embracing chaos... and I think I can still do that, but I'd still like to know where everything is at the same time.  I think maybe I have a limit as to how much chaos is good for me and now I've found it.

Tomorrow I hope to get the kitchen sorted, bake cupcakes for church and maybe wipe the windows and sills.  I reckon the kids will love helping with that one.

Finding Grace

I've found grace in a most beautiful place.  Once or twice a month I sing in our church band.  We're an eclectic group... ranging in age from about 13 to 50's.  We have varying degrees of ability in instruments.  And its one place and a group of people who simply accept and welcome me, and my little crowd, with nothing but love and care.

I've sung with them when I've been 9 months pregnant (I've had three babies while being part of it), juggling a 3 month baby, interrupting the practice to take a child to the toilet, breastfeeding, burping, changing the baby, all while the music keeps going.  They don't blink an eye when the baby cries, the toddler tantrums or the preschoolers get into a fight over a guitar (classic story, will tell you later).  I'm usually dashing in late, having managed to get everyone somewhat organised and out the door.  As well as buggy, nappy bag, lunches boxes and four children I am usually carrying a BLT bagel from McD's next door and a Coke Zero, because I can never seem to get it together enough to sit down and eat breakfast (if Mummy sits down its a sign that we're on go-slow mode so nothing happens lol).

If anything, a band can be a place where high expectations have to be met.  You can't afford to be the weakest link if you want things to sound good.  But for our group, we still sound pretty good but most importantly, we are very real.  My band colleagues accept me, literal baggage and all.

I don't remember ever being told about grace.  A lot of my teen and early adult life was striving for a goal of perfection in Christ. Of keeping all the rules, whether it be the music I listened to, the books I read, the things I did and people I spent time with.  It was, sadly, all on my own strength, as if I needed to do these things to be acceptable to God and if I failed then I have to repent and try harder next time.

When I discovered grace I felt a wee bit angry and hurt that no one had told me about it before.  Sure it might have been implicit in many things but no one said to me that it was okay to just be me.  That in my weak imperfection all I had to do was to love and follow Jesus and it would work out.  It is in that submission to God that the burden of not being good enough is eased and suddenly I can do the things that I want to do... and any changes I make are out of a desire to be more like Christ - through Christ - and not through my own strength and striving.  There is no longer any fear in failure, fear of punishment.  I am free through grace.

I was talking to a family friend years ago, maybe it was after D was born.  She said something that i've not forgotten.   That when you have your first child, you get one child grace.  Have another and you get two child grace and so on.  It is through God's endless grace that I can get up and do what I need to do, want to do, have to do and know that whether I do it great or not, I am still loved and redeemed by God.  It doesn't stop me from striving, but the striving is now in partnership with God, not something I am doing to earn my place.  I've let go of the rules that I thought I had to follow to find that change becomes easier as I stop trying and failing to do it by myself.

When C was born, our first girl, we added Grace to her name. For me, that name is a representative of my journey into grace, passed onto the next generation.

You must be busy...

I get that a lot these days. Before I had baby, I had A LOT of comments about how busy I was going to be when the baby arrived. Considering I was 8 months pregnant and had three children clustered around my person most of the time as it was the school holidays, you can imagine what I wanted to say but bit my tongue over ;).

Truthfully, I don't know many non busy people and it has absolutely no bearing on how many children they have. Some of the busy-est people I know have one child but what extra time they might gain from having only one child to nag, do pick up and drop off and cater to their many needs, they easily fill with other things.

Working Outside the Home in Paid Employment Mums seem busy. They are forever rushing to and from, shorterning days and making it up at home so they can be there for the important things, they're taking short lunches to get home 15 minutes earlier and somehow managing to do all the other parenting stuff they need to do while still working. Frankly, I have no idea how they do it because its pretty crammy in my life sometimes trying to fit it all in without having to actually do a specific job as well.

And for what its worth Working Inside the Home but Not being Paid Mums are actually quite busy. There is the image of the latte sipping SAHM, casually drapped across the sofa while watching something rivetting on daytime television. Well first of all, lattes suggest an espresso maker or a trip to a cafe... I don't drink coffee myself but I come across enough unfinished drinks in my house to know that if I did make something something special using the espresso maker, I'm actually unlikely to get it drunk in one sitting. And if I did go somewhere for a drink which I do sometimes, its not just me having some downtime, its me and whatever children I happen to have with me. I am not so much sipping latte (or hot chocolate) but juggling my drink while breastfeeding the baby, spooning leftover fluffy into the toddlers mouth and trying to let my preschooler into the playarea all at once. Its not exactly restful.

And I can assure you that what little have seen of daytime television, its not worth making time for unless its the Olympics. Being a SAHM rocks during the Olympics even if my children don't appreciate the finer points of hockey or athletics.

So am I busy? Well yes I am. Kind of. At the moment I 'have' to take time to sit down in order to feed the baby. Its good in a way as it makes me sit down and relax, well, sit down anyway. Its hard too because as soon as I sit down I see all the stuff I haven't done and won't get done today anyway.

The Crazy Invasion

The crazy has invaded my home.  Its funny how it seems to have just hit now, the last few weeks.  Maybe because its winter?  With the dodgy weather, bugs on endless replay, cold nights, extra clothes to get dirty?  Maybe its that the baby is now 5 months old and becoming his own little person who likes nothing more than to have Mummy's undivided attention?  Maybe its because if he doesn't need me, Little Miss A, with her boundless energy and determination does.  And then when the big kids get home they need to squeeze as much parental attention as they can get in the few hours before bed.

Sometimes I have days when I feel like I have been on the go all day and I am still no further to defeating the chaos than when I started.  I can sometimes tackle it once all the cherubs are asleep (and thankfully for me, they go to bed reasonably early) but by the time the dishes are done, the floor swept, the toys put away, the washing folded, the planning for my next parenting session done and things like that, its bedtime and the night shift begins.  I can manage to get the washing done and the meals are usually pretty good and I can sometimes get a chance to wave some eco-friendly cleaner in the direction of the toilet or bathroom, but it seems like the mess just replicates.  Maybe there is some sort of reproduction cycle of mess that we didn't cover in biology.  More often than not my to-do list gets longer and I get overwhelmed by the crazy and almost don't know where to start so retreat somewhere (it used to be somewhere with sugar, my retreat space, but I've gone sugar free so have to find something else)

So I got thinking.  I used to look at the women profiled in magazines like Next.  These amazing women  who usually look fabulous (not still wearing their outgrown maternity jeans haha), they often have an awesome and creative business idea, or they've got an wonderful home that has been uniquely renovated or made out of straw or something clever.  They usually have a couple of children, often with bedrooms that are imaculate (and I do realise that's what they do for a photo shoot and that surely its not like that all the time)... and then I look at my life and wonder how some women can juggle that and everything is on an even keel and I am only doing the child-care bit and I am dropping the ball(s) constantly.

But then, maybe this is actually my life.  Maybe it is meant to be a bit on the crazy side of chaotic?  Maybe I am not destined to be one of those women.  My kids are healthy.  They're pretty clean (I'll try to forget that last week my first born wore the same pair of socks ALL WEEK because he couldn't find the other pairs nestling in his sock drawer).  They seem happy.  And they do add to the crazy.  I was tackling the arsenic hour the other night, D was reading me his book, A was desperate for a Mummy cuddle and had a whinge attached to that, Baby was also really wanting attention and I was making dinner as well as soup for lunches...  I guess what I am proud about is that I didn't lose my cool or sanity and managed to cope and then my dear Hubby came in and got a couple of kids thrust into his arms which is our version of "hi darling, how was your day?"

So maybe I need to start changing my perspective.  Maybe the chaos is not so bad.  Maybe its what my life is meant to be.  Noisy, busy, messy.  Maybe I need to celebrate what I achieve in the day rather than dwelling on what I didn't.

Hosanna (or the Village)

I am not entirely sure why this is titled Hosanna (or the Village). It just seems right. Tomorrow is Palm Sunday. It is the day we remember Jesus entry into Jerusalem, where for one brief moment he was greeted and acknowledged as the King that he is. Of course within a week he was being tortured and killed, and considering he knew what was coming as he rode the streets on a donkey, you must wonder what was going through his heart.

The definition of Hosanna is something like a cry for salvation, of praise maybe?

I'd like to think that I would have been one of those who continued to praise and exalt him even after he was arrested, tried and crucified. I am not sure I would have though. Would I have recognised this humble, ordinary man for who he really was? Would I have been influenced and swayed by the religious authority. I can't say I have a love for religious institutions in general (yes I know I am married into one essentially but that's entirely different, truly), I can't say I am always influenced by the crowd but I am probably influenced considerably more than I would like. For example, I might reject a corporate view of the world and the corporate values but I might look so objectively or negatively at things that fit my worldview better. Its kind of trendy being a bit greenish. Eco-whatever is pretty big, greenwashing is in so you could argue that I am not going against the flow at all.

Tomorrow will also be "I's" dedication. We've chosen to dedicate our children rather than baptise them. Daniel's was a separate service, done so we could invite friends and family who were living further away at the time but the other three are done as part of our normal service, as part of our church community. We think it is so important that our children have a strong sense of belonging in church. We think its important because its such a big part of who hubby and I are. Church is not just a Sunday activity for us, its a vocation and a lifestyle. We want our children to belong and to feel welcomed. So in a way, baptism would make more sense as it is the tangible welcome of someone into a community. Baptism, among other things, is a sign of belonging.

But for us we want our children to make their own decision about when they want to profess their own faith. We will do our utmost to guide them in that decision but ultimately, we can't dictate what they believe. But creating a feeling of belonging and community will help their faith development. And it helps me. A friend and I were talking about the village the other day... both of us have toddlers and a baby and we were discussing the reassuring nature of our "village" community at church. Our children come to no harm there. We can say to someone, can you watch X for me while I do Y and they do. We hand over babies, toddlers, children, we play swap the baby so often other people get confused about whose baby is whose. This village atmosphere allows our family to be a part of the community in a real way. I sing in our band and I couldn't do it if I couldn't pass on my children to be cared for by someone else for a short time. I can't expect hubby to preside over communion while wrangling a few children and I think our community like that we can be involved even if it does involve a few handovers.

Also, we dedicate our children because we believe in an infinitely grace-filled and merciful God. Baptism of children came about because at some point people believed that only the baptised went to heaven. I don't believe that myself. No one can tell me that God would not receive my precious baby into his arms should it be that he cannot live here on earth any more. I am not sure I fully get what baptism might mean except that it is about a person standing up and professing their faith and belief and committing themselves to life in community with us. Our kids will do that at some point and we prayfully await that time.

Tomorrow, we play this Brooke Fraser song at church. I think we've had it for both the girls dedications as well in fact. There is one phrase that I feel really speaks prophetically to my children...

"I see a generation
Rising up to take their place
With selfless faith
With selfless faith

I see a near revival
Stirring as we pray and seek
We're on our knees
We're on our knees

[Chorus]

Heal my heart and make it clean
Open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like you have loved me

Break my heart from what breaks yours
Everything I am for your kingdoms cause
As I go from earth to
Eternity


My children will be rising up and standing in their faith. I believe that. Their hearts will be broken with what breaks God's heart. I believe that too. May God be with them always and may they always know the love and acceptance of their "Village".

Hosanna in the Highest.

And then there were four...

I have so many intentions to write in this blog and suddenly its 9 months later... and 9 months is a long time really.. long enough to make a baby which is exactly what I have been doing.

Our precious boy "I" arrived in a hurry in February. Dark hair, blue eyes and very beautiful. As you can imagine life has been on the crazy side of chaotic over recent weeks so there has been even less time for anything. Except now I have a smart phone I can read the online papers, cruise the internet and post on Facebook while baby is plugged in and I am on the couch. Funny how life comes a full circle, when D was born we gave up our newspaper subscription because we just never got a chance to read the paper. And now I can thanks to a nifty app. 6.5 years ago there was no such thing as an "app".

Its never helpful to compare people or things but its funny how some things are scarily similar. Having a baby is like that. Not the births, they've all been totally unique but the aftermath. The dry as a desert mouth as baby starts to breastfeed. When I am so tired at night that I can barely sit upright anymore. The hormonal tears that erupt at the littlest things. The saggy belly, stretch marks and extra kilos. The delight at the first smile. The laughter at the poo explosions. The adorably cute clothes. All the same.

Yet having yet another child is different too. Its easier in some ways. I don't worry the same about what is happening... what to do and when. If something doesn't work, I try something else. If that doesn't work I try something else again. If that doesn't work I talk to my friends and sister and then remember something or try something new and even in all that I am not stressed at all, just going with the flow.

Baby is 6 weeks old and I remember being told that after 6 weeks everything settles down. And in some ways it has. I am making lunches, nagging the kids, making dinner, folding washing while watching television and trying to keep up with everything else with varying degrees of success. In some ways having a small baby is useful because I have a genuine reason to sit on the couch every 2-3 hours :). I have a even better reason to sneak in naps on the weekend. Sure it can be a little limiting in terms of activity and "me alone" time but I can survive that. I do miss it, the chance to pop out for a bit to recharge my batteries without my darling, but time consuming and busy, children. But that's not a reality at the moment and if spend too much time thinking along those lines then I think I'd probably get pretty unhappy with this part of my life journey and the thing is that I am not. Unhappy that is. Yes, its ALL day and night EVERY day and night. Yes most of it is up to me. But its not for forever. He won't be this darling, squidgy, snuggly, snuffly, wiggly, dimply newborn forever. At some point he'll stop smelling like that gorgeous milky newborn baby smell. He'll start moving around, eventually he'll be running and climbing and jumping. He's started smiling and cooing but before I know it it'll be making louder noises, sounds, words, sentences and then tell stories and answering back like the others. And this time will be a distant memory but not one I'm going to be happy to leave. We've decided that this is our last child, that our family is complete so its all the more reason to cherish these moments and these times now because I won't be having them again.

Funnily enough though, when I had the other three children, when I started thinking like this I started to get sad at the idea of them getting bigger and wanting to do it all over again. This time I don't. Its like I am happy living in this moment and knowing that this is it, there will be no other moment but its not something to be grieved over but something to be enjoyed and cherished.

So I think I am done. Tellingly I think the first thing I said to DH after baby was born was "I'm done". I am done. I don't want to be pregnant again. I don't want to birth again. I will hold the memories of those things with all four children close and with joy but now I am ready to move on. And for a reality check, my body is done too. It can't take much more of a hammering so the doctors say and truthfully, I agree with them. Its time to move on.

Holding on and letting go

Its hard to do both. Gran is dying. It won't be long. At the moment our family is often together, sharing ourselves between homes and the hospital, being with her, being with each other. Its hard to let go. Its hard to not want to do everything you can to keep them present in your life because that's how its always been. Next to my parents and siblings, my grandparents have known me the longest. They have passed on their wisdom to the later generations.

But then it is time to let go. A time to release the person into the arms of our loving God, trusting in the mercy and grace of our Saviour who died for us. We have to let go because we can't keep holding someone back from where they are meant to be. At some point we all go on further. We continue our journey into the much-anticipated unknown, but its something we must do by ourselves, or rather, hand in hand with God.

And so we hold onto each other. And we hold onto the promises of God. We remember the good things, the funny things, the quirky things. We hold onto the person that Gran really is, not a frail shadow lying in a hospital bed, but the beautiful woman with the warm smile who loved to play the piano and listen to us play and sing for her. The woman who would always have special wine glasses for us to drink out of and who often forgot the garlic bread when we sat down to dinner. The woman who thought nothing of making huge pavlovas at Christmas but always claiming she couldn't do fruit cake. Gran the collector of beautiful and precious things and who would give us generous monetary gifts just because she could.

Gran, I've said goodbye. I'll never forget you. Arohanui and farewell. Godspeed. Please know that God is a loving and gracious God and has hands open to receive you.

The Kindness of Friends

I've been tired lately. There is a reason and its not really anything I've done per se although we could call it an inevitable consequence of a choice made. More on that later.

Anyway, the other day I was tired. And I must have looked tired as I ran into a friend and she said a day or two later that she was wondering if I was okay (must have looked a train wreck actually). And she called and offered dinner. I thanked her and said yes.

Its funny how hard it can be to say yes to offers of help. You say things like "Oh no, we're fine" or "Don't worry, its not a problem" or "You don't have to do that". Generationally developed independence seems to have made us reluctant to admit that things are difficult or hard. We keep ourselves closed off, loath to admit that maybe things are difficult, challenging or just downright crappy. My grandparents are often heard to say things like "oh I didn't want to worry you" or "I don't want to be any trouble". We try to shut people out of our lives, or rather, the fullness of our lives. We show our best face to the outside world and try to hide the part that is less shiny and clear.

I sometimes wonder why we don't share the hard parts. Do we not want to worry people with our 'trivia' even if it is very real for us? Should we not let people worry and care for us? Should we not deny the privilege of people experiencing real concern for us. Isn't it the sacrifice of love, the worry and concern about others? As we make ourselves vulnerable we are open to the potential for worry or hurt. Isn't that what we are called to do?

We are called to love and we are called to live in community. We are called to love one another. Love is a verb, it is action. It is meals, phone calls, texts, help, visiting, prayer. It is encouragment and nurturing. And I blessed to have people in my life who do this for me on a regular basis. So my friend Sarah dropped around a meal, just because she thought I could do with a wee break around dinner time. A while ago I'd had a rough week, not a lot of sleep and felt quite stressed out. I visited some friends who know me far too well and they were immediately concerned about my wellbeing. They fed me. Gave me something to drink. Let me sit and talk as we watched our children dismantle their house and toys. They showed such love and care that I almost cried with gratitude. They hugged me as we left and called the next day to say that they loved me and were concerned for me. In that time I felt so nurtured and cared for. And I know that my friends have their own struggles and in one way I wouldn't have wanted to burden them with my own petty concerns, but I am glad that I did because it helped.

The funny thing is that none of these people would label themselves as Christian yet they show such depth of love that its hard to believe otherwise. They show selflessness. They show a practical, real, tangible love. God works through them in my life so often that they are one of the many blessings that I count on a regular basis.

I think as you have more children and as life gets full on and busy, its easier to let go of pride and pretense and be real. I admit that I am not the worlds best housekeeper. I am frequently behind in household tasks and sometimes we dress ourselves from the clean washing pile (incidently I heard of one Mum who used to put all the clean clothes in a huge chest and her kids would just rummage through it daily to find something to wear - I call that genius). Sometimes I give in and let my daughter wear slippers out just because I don't feel like the drama of yet another confrontation. When my littlest girl gets covered in paint and play dough at playgroup, I don't usually bother changing her clothes when we get home, because they'll just get dirty again. Sometimes I even go out in track pants that my sister assures me SHOULD NOT be worn outside of the house. And on those days I don't mind. I am learning how to be real. I am learning to be able to look at the whole picture and see a family who love each other, who have lovely homemade food to eat, a fire to keep us warm and snuggly beds to sleep in. A family who have a number of funny jokes that are part of our daily life. A family who are surrounded by people who deeply care about us and show us in a myriad of different ways how much they love us.

We are blessed. We are real. We experience the kindness of friends. We experience the love of God. Life doesn't get any better really, even if its difficult.

It isn't over

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." - Martin Luther King Jr.

I don't deny that I have a deep distaste for war and violence. I find the idea of killing another person abhorrent. All life is sacred. And so when you hear that someone has died, someone who is blamed for the deaths of many, while I wonder if I should be happy and relieved, I mostly feel apathy. And I think I feel that because I don't think it will make a difference. Not really.

I am sure it makes a difference to those who saw this person as the reason behind the deaths of people they love. The reason why their country felt it had to defend itself outside their own borders. The reason why the world is such a mess. Maybe it brings those people some measure of comfort or peace, I don't know.

But you see it won't bring peace. This person is just one person and violence and war is a evil and multifaceted thing. There are hundreds more like this person. Some are on his side. Some are on our side. Where the only solution is death it makes us question... what is life?

I don't believe that humans were created to decide someone elses worth and to exercise that judgement. Only God should really have that responsibility. It reminds me of a theme in Harry Potter. In these books, a young wizard ends up fighting the most evil wizard ever. It is a classic tale of good triumphing over evil. The evil wizard has sought to make himself invincible by spliting his soul and secreting the pieces in other objects... so he can never truly die. And to split a soul you are required to kill another. There is a bit more to it and that but the idea of murder splitting souls resonated with me.

Back in the real world, the more I thought about it, the more I believe that taking another life does split our soul. And if it happens on an individual level, so if lives are taken on a collective level, as it is through war or violence, I think it probably splits the soul of humanity. Of our communities and of our society.

War doesn't actually bring peace. Not really. Weapons don't bring security. Not really. Taking someones life does not make our life safer. So I am not happy that this person has died. War hasn't stopped. The violence is still there. There is still a deep hatred and fear intrenched in so many. Using the same weapons as the enemy doesn't make us any better.

I don't know what the answer is. I believe that Jesus holds the key but I don't know how that is going to happen or when. I do believe that as a member of the Kingdom of God, I have a responsibility to embrace and extend peace and grace to others. And that's all I can do. If I can do that in my small part of the world then maybe its a start.

No darling, water and paper does not make fire..

One thing I have found as a parent is that the questions never stop. Not only is my life full of near-constant requests for food, drink, entertainment, assistance with clothing, toileting and to stop the littlest person pushing the button on the DVD player but there are also the deep and meaningful ones. I admit that I was initially prepared for the constant Why questions and they haven't eventuated but other ones have.

D has had a bit of a thing about fire for a while. Not that he is a pyromaniac thankfully but he's very into fire fighters. He was part of some sort of safety talk at preschool about fire safety. That week he was absolutely paranoid about something spontaneously combusting. From then on in we had questions about whether ANYTHING would cause a fire. Water and paper. Paper and crayon. Wood and water. Concrete and food. If he touched something (you name it, a rock, dirt, a piece of paper, his plate). My attempts to get him to think about it himself were in vain, he needed the reassurance that we were not going to burn down any second.

Then there was the time he must have thought he had super powers or something...
"Mummy, did I break the guitar when I touched the case?"
"Did you knock it over?"
"No"
"Then it will be fine"
"Are you sure I didn't?"
"Yes sweetie, if you didn't knock it over then you wouldn't have broken it"
"But I think I did"
"Trust me, you didn't"
"But how do you know?"
"Because to break something you actually have to touch it and push it over and you didn't"
"Really?"
"Really".

And you should have heard the conversations at the dinner table when I was pregnant with A. Is the baby wearing clothes? Nappies? How does it get food? How will it come out? Can I watch?

C is also going through a questioning phase at the moment. Recently we had a family member die so we had LOTS of questions about death. When was I going to die? When was she going to die? When will Nana and Granddad die? What happens when we die? a question which D answered with all his five year old authority that we go to be with God but we don't come alive after three days because only Jesus did that. Truthfully I was relieved that he answered, not that I didn't know what to say but that I am now confident that D had realised that not everyone resurrects after three days which was a problem after the Easter story got a bit confusing a while back.

Today though I had a beautiful one.
"Mummy do you love me?"
"Yes I do, I love you very much?"
"Why?"
"Because you belong to us. I have loved you from the moment you were born".

Then she gave me her special 'Mummy and C smile'. She put her face towards me and closed her eyes and gave me the tiniest butterfly kiss. C is very sensitive to scent. And often when she cuddles in she will inhale my scent, like I would do when she was a baby and I'd smell her gorgeous milky newborn smell. When she kisses me like that, it is like she is inhaling my essence. And we had a proper cuddle, her soft cheek pressed against mine and for a moment it was just us.

It is those little moments that can carry me through the more challenging days.

Value me. Value her

Recently the government proposed changes to the existing welfare system which including strategies to reduce the number of people on benefits, including the DPB, the unemployment benefit and the sickness benefit.

If you cared to read the working report that these changed are based, and I have read most of it, you'd actually see that they didn't actually go to the very extreme options that were proposed. Part of me hopes that maybe those with the power realised that the extreme was just that, too extreme. The cynical part of me wonders whether they knew that by avoiding the extreme those with power start looking good… "look everyone it could be so much worse".

The thing I am finding sad right now is that suddenly women on benefits don't have a choice any more. The rules are going to be that once your child gets to about two or three then you're going to have to find work. Never mind that finding part time work is pretty hard. Never mind that you'd probably still have to find a bit extra to top up the daycare or preschool or creche hours. Never mind that you'd not actually earn enough to get off the benefit but you'd get your benefit reduced because you'd be earning to much to have it at its original level and you'd probably still need a top up from somewhere.

And never mind that you might want to stay at home with your children.

It is sad to me that there is a group of women who are trying to raise their kids in a pretty difficult situation and its going to get a lot harder. For some reason this mother is not considered as valuable as I am.

I don't earn any money at the moment. I haven't earned money in over 5 years. Not a cent. Not even anything under the table. In fact, we get extra money because I don't earn money. We get a welcome fortnightly payment because our income is low enough to warrant a bit of a break. Its a tax break they tell me.. its still money that the government can't use for something else though.

I want to stay at home with my kids and be there for them because I believe that its best for them. I want to know the minutiae of their day. I want to see their learning. I want to be there. I am pretty sure that a lot of solo Mum's would want the same. If anything they might want it more because they're all their kids have got day in and day out. The father/partner/boyfriend has gone and they're the ones holding it all together. But because they are receiving money from the government to help them do their parenting job they are seen as a drain on resources. Their job as a parent isn't valued.

So it makes me wonder. Does the government value parenting? I mean really. Do they see the benefits of children having contact with their parents for most of their day. Even 20 hours of free early childhood education leaves 148 hours a week in the direct care of a parent. Mostly a mother even in this day and age.

You see, I don't think we are valued. Parents that is. I think that because someone is not economically contributing then they are dismissed as useless. So as well as stay at home parents this would include the elderly, the disabled, the young. If we are not earning money somehow we are a drain. So the government focuses on a scapegoat, in this case the solo Mum, and says that she needs to work. Never mind that she is already doing a 24/7 week and that the other proposed changes to childcare regulations might make care provided for children downright risky (more on that later, believe me, the rant is coming). They can't touch the elderly, their vote counts too much. They can't touch the disabled, there would be an outcry. So they focus on one of more disadvantaged groups in society, perpetuate the myth of the dole bludging, constantly pregnant teenaged Mum who is on a benefit because of a lifestyle choice, and take away the choice of a whole group of women who already bear enough of a daily burden.

I'd like to see what I do be valued. I'd like to see what I do as being recognised as actually contributing to society even if I am not putting money in anyones bank account. I'd like to see the women who are raising their kids alone valued as people who are important in our community. They are trying to do the work of two people while having very little and it must be so hard. I am exhausted after a full day of caring for my lot and I have a husband who picks up more than just the slack and comes home every evening ready to do his part.

Value me. Value her. Value us. We're caring for our future.

Feminism still needed (sigh)

Fifteen-odd years ago I would have said that we didn't need feminism. It was done and we didn't need someone to advocate for women.

Now with a few more years experience (and nothing makes you feel older than writing "fifteen-odd years ago" and still feeling like it was recent!) I have realised that sexism is still alive and well. And the saddest thing is that my daughter experienced it, or she would have had I not intervened. It made me so sad and angry to have to advocate for her to do something that she was not considered for solely due to her gender. It wasn't her age. It was that she is a girl. Had she been older it would have still been the same. Even writing this now gives me a kind of sick-sad feeling at the bottom of my stomach.

Growing up in an all girl family through the 80's gave me a lot of protection from sexism. The "Girls can do anything" advertising was all around. My parents never made me think that as a girl who would be a woman that I was any less capable or able than a boy who would be a man. Dad would always say he was happy with his three healthy girls and never wished any of us were a boy. He took me to rugby games and my Nana gave me a All Black sweatshirt that I'd wear during test matches. I learned a lot from watching rugby with Dad. In short I was raised to do the best I could and what I wanted to do. The fact that I was a girl was simply something that was. It was part of life.

The problem with sexism, racism, ageism is that it forgets the most basic thing of all - that all people are precious and we must treasure the intrinsic beauty that exists within us because we are all created by God and loved the same. Of course we all have different strengths. We have different personalities and some of those things might be shown in women or men more dominantly - or not. I am not saying that we should all BE the same or all DO the same things, that's not feminism. I mean that we are all worth the same, we should be equally valued and given the same opportunities regardless of gender. Whether we take those opportunities or not lies with us. But the choice should be made by the individual and not another person or institution based on gender.

It breaks my heart to think that my little girls are not as special as my little boy. My kids are different not just because of their gender but also because of their personalities and interests. And they will develop that as they get older. But their intrinsic worth is still the same. We will do our best to give our children the same opportunities. I love watching Dion with our kids actually. He built a playhouse recently for the kids and it was C who was up there handing him nails and hammers and who stuck around while he was doing it, long after her brother had disappeared off to do something else. She's got stickability.

There is also the more scary stuff... the fact that women are more likely to be abused in relationships (another situation where the intrinsic worth of someone is not respected or even acknowledged). Women becomes the target of welfare change because they are often left holding the babies. Women take longer to pay off student loans and earn less than a man dollar for dollar. The glass ceiling is still there.

Hopefully we'll raise our children to value the worth of others regardless of gender, race, age or religion. Hopefully our children will be able to stand up for themselves. I have no doubt that C will be capable of making herself heard as she gets older ;) and I am glad. Seems like she's still going to need to be a voice for others.

Welcome back?

I am not sure if I can pinpoint the exact moment my life got too busy to blog. In a way its probably good, less time on the computer more time for... children... housework... reading... but what I have found is that I don't always have much of a chance to wax lyrical on a topic of interest. To have a discussion about it. Naturally Dion and I discuss things (you would hope seeing as we've been married for 10 years) but during the day my audience is less interested in Mummy's new ideas about the current educational standards or government or the environment and more focused on important things like whether the honey sandwich is sufficiently crustless or whose turn it is to choose what to watch on the television or where the red ball has gone from the ball popper. So maybe this will help. Even though I would like to know where the red ball is as well.

So where am I at now?

Well I have three children. Enough said. People tell me three is a lot of children. I am not convinced it is a lot of children really but it can get a little busy. Its a busy-ness that is always changing though. The children grow up so fast that once you've got a handle on one stage they've gone and moved onto another and then its all go again. At the moment its busy because the moment my back is turned A is getting into something and keeping tabs on all the 'stuff' that we've accumulated over 5 years of parenting seems to take up a lot of time.

So what about these little people?

D is 5 and is at school now. He is going to be a fire fighter when he grows up and he is going to live in the fire house. Apparently we are all going to be fire fighters when we grow up and live there together although C decided last week that she wasn't going to do that. D has blue eyes, brown hair and a big dimpled smile with a gap from when he ran headfirst into a door and lost his front tooth.. He's pretty small and skinny for his age. When he is not being a fire fighter he is playing Buzz Lightyear. When he is tired or sad he likes nothing better than to snuggle on the couch with Woof and suck his thumb and watch telly if Mummy is feeling nice. Daniel likes nothing more than to hang about and chat chat chat chat chat about his world. He loves lego as well, particularly his fire trucks and when Daddy makes up all of it so he can play.

C is 3. She DOES NOT WANT TO GO TO PRESCHOOL but she does go twice a week and has a lovely time. C has blue eyes, brown hair that falls across her face unless we can get her to wear a hair clip and a dimple in her left cheek. Caitlin is Daniel's sidekick most of the time, either "Penny" the fire fighter from Fireman Sam or "Woody" from Toy Story. When she is on her own she likes to play with little people type toys, help Mummy do the dishes and read stories. She gets a lot of joy out of helping. It seems to give her a sense of identity and belonging. When C is hungry or tired the world is a difficult and frustrating place. C prefers to do things she wants to do and it is a challenge to get her to do the things we want her to do but somehow we manage ;) She shows a lot of initiative which is great but means I have to keep a step or two ahead.

A is 1. For the first year she was a relaxed baby who just went with the flow. Since turning one she's discovered her inner personality and that with two older siblings, you've got to be heard somehow! She has (and spot the theme here) blue eyes, brown hair and the smallest dimple on her right cheek at the peak of her smile. She's just started to walk and is into everything. If it can be opened, examined or flung then it is! She loves phones and will put them to her ear and go "hi" or "bye". A is a snuggly wee thing and loves being in the centre of things. She gets very upset if she is left to 'fend for herself and particularly when Daddy leaves the house. A has been such a delight this past year and is adored by her siblings. Mostly ;)

So that's us. We muddle along with working in school and preschool and playgroup and church. I admit I don't "do" as much as I used to when Daniel was a baby, when every day had a particular activity. Somehow just keeping up with the washing and drying is mission enough (the folding pile speaks for itself haha) and trying to put tasty and nutritious meals on the table while stopping World War Three from breaking out and keeping tabs on our little Destructatot as she discovers another drawer to unpack keeps me entertained. Dion is busy with his work at church and so I am the sounding board, the sermon proofer and the person who can't help but wait up for him so we can talk about what's happening in our worlds. I am also the person who thanks God that Dion is happy(ish) to get up to the older kids overnight, feed porridge to them most mornings and do bath most nights. He's particularly selfless about weekends, always happy to have the little people tag along as he goes about his jobs and errands even thought they are, to quote "lots of help but not much of an asset".

But when I do have a moment I still love to read. And I spend time on the computer. And I am very deeply interested in matters of faith, theology, the environment, politics, education, justice and all those things that get me thinking outside the minutiae of daily life. I find I need that kind of stuff to think about. As much as it can consume my headspace, keeping all the things in my head around feeds, meals, pick up and drop offs, naps and potential illness doesn't feed the thirst of knowledge and reflection and understanding I seem to have. I like thinking about other stuff. I like to reflect on various states of the world. I like to see what my place is in it.

And maybe this is what this blog will be for.