Now more than ever...

*SNEEZE*

Wow... check out all the dust and cobwebs here...

Stay tuned... there's something coming.

Now... where is that feather duster?

Death in the Family

I've held off for a couple of days writing this, hoping that my thoughts and emotions would sort themselves out into something coherent. They haven't as yet, but I shall write anyway.

It's not your usual death. However, it grieves me greatly. My life will forever be missing someone. Whenever I think of it, and the circumstances surrounding it, my chest constricts in a way I've never known, and I weep, not only for myself, but for Adam, for my children, for my parents.

But most of all, for my devastated dearest brother, who's first child was aborted by his ex-girlfriend at 11 weeks.

If I'm honest, and I'm so glad I can be here, I'm angry. Furious even. I loved that precious little life. I'd never met his girlfriend. But I adore my brother, and he was so overjoyed to become a father. It's all he's ever wanted. I'm angry because Rob didn't want her to. I'm angry because, as in his words, "But what could I do? She didn't want it."

And he's right. She left him, and decided she didn't want it after all. He's in the navy. He's at sea the larger chunk of the year. He couldn't have contested it. He wouldn't have stood a chance.

And you know what? I'm angry because we didn't get a say. The aunts and the uncles, who were so excited, for the grandparents who never got to see the first son of their first son. For the cousins, who, while they don't understand, I'm sure will feel the undercurrent for years.

I'm angry for the baby. I've never known my heart and arms could ache so much for a child not of my own womb. I'm angry that we couldn't save him. I'm angry that even if we'd offered to have the baby, which we would of, without a second thought, it wouldn't have changed the outcome.

I'm angry there's no grave. I'm angry he'll never be spoken about. I'm angry he'll never be acknowledged. I'm angry. I'm ANGRY.

I never met him. I never held him. I never breathed him in. In fact, I don't even know if it was a boy. But it's what comes naturally, and I believe the Lord it impressing it upon me.

And yet, I feel the compulsion to reach out to find him. To cuddle him close, and tell him is loved, that he was wanted, and is the sweetest little smidgen to ever grace my life.

Babies were made to be cuddled... it is incomprehensible to me that he never was... by choice.

I can't write any more. I just want to thump the keyboard and swear. Loudly.

Rest safe in the arms of Jesus, precious, beloved, sweet baby.

Becoming Prince Charming

"How do we raise gentlemen in this day and age?!"

I exclaimed this in frustration to our pastor a couple of weeks ago.

The old fashioned gentlemanly behaviour is often looked at with incredulity at best, or laughed at as weak at worst.

And yet... it's what a woman wants. If they didn't, then Pride and Prejudice, Mills & Boon and any romantic movie wouldn't have a kazillion dollar niche.

There is a respect for women that has been missing from parenting boys in the last 50 years or so, mainly, I believe, as a result of the feminist movement that shouted as loud as it could that "women aren't weak! We don't need men to take care of us!"

They were right in the first statement. Dreadfully misguided on the second.

Men have been known to say that they don't open doors any more, or stand up when women enter or leave a room, mainly because they don't want to be jeered at. I can't say I blame them.

But I want my sons to do it anyway.

I'm starting to research Biblical principles of manhood, gentlemanly behaviour, and as Knights, not only for the Kingdom, but shiny ones for their future Princess. I'm going to chronicle my findings here, under the title "Becoming Prince Charming". To say I'm starting from scratch is an understatement. My boys are louts. Oh, they say please and thank you, they tend not to lick their plate at the dinner table and are generally good kids. But they don't always speak politely even when frustrated, wait until their sisters are in the car before they clamour in, or necessarily acknowledge that I or their sisters have entered the room. And they fight!

Of course, the Lord has let me go on my merry way complaining (loudly) about their behaviour, bemoaning the lack of respect etc etc etc. Today, because I am so intelligent, it finally dawned on me that the Word would be able to direct my path as a mother to my sons. Of course.

I want my sons to beautiful, shining examples of Christ. I want my future daughters-in-law to know without a doubt that the Lord is first in my son's lives, that their husband is a lover and devourer of Scripture, that he's a strong leader as well as a gentle lover and has been raised in the Godly precepts of Manhood, Fatherhood and that of a Husband. I want my daughters-in-law to know, that if she was in a room full of women, that because of her husband, my son, she would be the most cherished woman there.

Basically, I want her to be able to see her face in the shining armour of her Knight.

Please join me. Give me ideas, scripture, your opinion. Lets, together, raise up a generation of boys that have beautiful manners, a quiet strength, unquestionable masculinity and a love for the Lord that is overshadowed by nothing else. Then, just maybe, we'll begin the re-birth of the manners of Yesteryear, and it will, again, be the norm.

Every girl deserves a Knight in Shining Armour. Lets be the mothers and fathers that train them.

So Many Things

The fires here have taken up alot of my thought space. I posted over on my Xanga about them. It was emotionally too hard to transport the posts here. It truly hurt my heart to write them out the first time, let alone copy and past here.

I found Adam's birth-father on FaceBook. That has knocked us for six (Aussie term, it realtes to cricket) and we are still processing that, and trying to decide what to do with that new information.

The kids and I survived the holidays, and they are now settling in very well at school.

Adam and I start Bible College very soon. Our church has been approved to teach Hillsong Leadership College's external courses. I am very, very excited.

My birthday is in 11 days. I will be Very-Nearly-Old... which means 29.

My husband brought me a kitten, and his name is Archie.

It's raining a whole bunch here.

Bethany has started ballet and she adores it. Troy is starting tennis next week. Drew will start swimming as soon as we organise it, and I buy him some new bathers. AMy is too wee to start ballet, but will in July, after she turns 3.

Eli is stil adorable.

I'm going on a date with The Hubsand tomorrow. I couldn't be more giddy. There may be a new outfit involved.

Tomorrow, I will post the outcomes of my meeting with the plastic surgeon, and my decissions regarding surgery. It was more difficult to decide than I thought.

One day, I'm going to spill my guts here and shock whoever happens upon it. Perhaps I should do it now while not many people know about it and can't hate me.

Shameless begging

So.. what's the best way to get more people to follow you on twitter, do you think?

I do Crazy constantly

The end of year school holidays have only a week and three days to go. I can finally see myself emerging from it with a sense of "what the hell just happened for the last 6 weeks?"

I think, had we a bigger back yard and/or I had the inclination to take all 5 children to the park on a semi regular basis, we probably would have sailed these waters better. However, I did not.

I'm ordering some new parenting books. One is by Garry Chapman of 5 Love Languages fame. It's titled The Family You've Always Wanted. The other is Have a New Kid by Friday, by Kevin Leman. This is the one I'm looking forward to the most. We have struggled so terribly with lying, hitting, and lack of care of possessions this holidays. To the point where a letter has been penned, and Santa will not be coming to the three older ones this year. And yes, we are sticking to our guns on this one. Each child received a board game and a card game this past Christmas. It had not been a week before they were destroyed or pieces lost. To say I completely lost my cool with them over that would be the understatement of the last 4 milleniums.

*sigh* You know, the only bad thing about having more children than is deemed 'normal' is that you really can't ask for help, because you get a few different responses, all centering around "well, it's your fault. You had this many children". So I don't ask. I flounder on in my own way, completely failing, and being so removed from my idea of what a mother should be that sometimes the lure to slide into a dark depression is ridiculously inviting. And I could you know. I hear it calling me. The temptation to completely give up because nothing I do is the right thing. Because if I see one more disparaging look over my children's behaviour I'll burst into tears right there. Beasuae in just about every book I've read, children are portrayed as these wonderful creatures who are only ever naughty in the sense that they might let some frogs loose from their pockets at church. They hardly ever fight or bicker, and if they do, it's all kissed and made up in half a page and off they go fishing. They do as they are told. They look after their things. They tidy up.

It's also bizarre to me, because I don't remember being like this as a child. I was fastidioulsly neat. I still have things that were gifted to me when was small. My children have nothing of sentimental value. They have destroyed pretty much everything that they have ever owned. I was delighted with all things pretty. I redecorated the girls bedroom the other day. You wouldn't even think, the way they behaved, that anything had been done differently. My kids have this air of expectation about them.... they expect things to be done for them. They expect to be given things. They expect their toys and books to be replaced. Quite frankly, it disgusts me.

I don't know how to combat this. No Santa presents this year is all very good, but they won't really get it until the day... and won't that be the makings of a joyous Christmas? SHould they not get birthday gifts or a party? I don't think they'd notice. They don't receive anything extra during the year, so we can't curtail any of that.

I just want them to get along. I want them to play nicely. I don't want to go through the day wanting to sob by the end of it and carve grooves in my concrete walls with my fingernails because all I hear after the greeting of "what's for breakfast" are screams, crying, yelling and fighting.

I want the family I always wanted. The one I thought just.... happened.

Adieu 2008

It was not a perfect year. But has there ever been a perfect year? Has there ever been a year when all the love and health and fame we wished for one another came to pass?

Yet, despite the disappointments of these, our complex lives, we learn to make do - make better - make believe that better days will come.

And if we continue to believe, who is to say that the perfect year will not yet be here?

Welcome, 2009.

It's Christmas Eve

Have a merry Christmas all. Thanks for dropping in :)

Remember, too, as you have a room full of laughing family, that "One of the most glorious messes in the world is the mess created in the living room on Christmas day. Don't clean it up too quickly." (Andy Rooney)

The Night Before Christmas, Legally Speaking

Whereas, on or about the night prior to Christmas, there did occur at a certain improved piece of real property (hereinafter 'The House') a general lack of stirring by all creatures therein, including, but not limited to, a mouse.

A variety of foot apparel eg. stockings, socks, etc., had been affixed by and around the chimney in said House in the hope and/or belief that St Nick aka St Nicholas aka Santa Claus (hereinafter 'Claus') would arrive at sometime thereafter.

The minor residents, i.e. the children, of the aforementioned House were located in their individual beds and were engaged in nocturnal hallucinations, i.e. dreams, wherein vision of confectionary treats, including, but not limited to, candies, nuts and/or sugar plums, did dance, cavort and otherwise appear in said dreams.

Whereupon the party of the first part (sometimes hereinafter referred to as 'I'), being the joint owner in fee simple of the House with the parts of the second part (hereinafter 'Mamma'), and said Mamma had retired for a sustained period of sleep. (At such time, the parties were clad in various forms of headgear, e.g. kerchief and cap.)

Suddenly, and without prior notice or warning, there did occur upon the unimproved real property adjacent and appurtenant to said House, i.e. the lawn, a certain disruption of unknown nature, cause and/or circumstance. The party of the first part did immediately rush to a window in the House to investigate the cause of such disturbance.

At that time, the party of the first part did observe, with some degree of wonder and/or disbelief, a miniature sleigh (hereinafter, the Vehicle) being pulled and/or drawn very rapidly through the air by approximately eight (8) reindeer. The driver of the Vehicle appeared to be and in fact was, the previously referenced Claus.

Said Claus was providing specific direction, instruction and guidance to the approximately eight (8) reindeer and specifically identified the animal co-conspiritors by name: Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen (Hereinafter 'the Deer'). (Upon information and belief, it is further asserted that an additional co-conspiritor named 'Rudolph' may have been involved.)

The party of the first part witnessed Claus, the Vehicle and the Deer intentionally and willfully trespass upon the roofs of several residences located adjacent to and in the vicinity of the House, and noted that the Vehicle was heavily laden with packages, toys and other items of unknown origin or nature. Suddenly, without invitation or permission, either express or implied, the Vehicle arrived at the House, and Claus entered the House via the chimney.

Said Clause was clad in a red fur suit, which was partially covered with residue from the chimney, and he carried a large sack containing a portion of the aforementioned packages, toys and other unknown items. He was smoking what appeared to be tobacco in a small pipe in blatant violation of local ordinances and health regulations.

Claus did not speak, but immediately began to fill the stockings of the minor children, which hung adjacent to the chimney, with toys and other small gifts. (Said items did not, however, constitute 'gifts' to said minors pursuant to the applicable provisions of the U.S. Tax Code.)
Upon completion of such task, Claus touched the side of his nose and flew, rose and/or ascended up the chimney of the house to the roof where the Vehicle and Deer waited, and/or served as 'lookouts'. Claus immediately departed for an unknown destination.

However, prior to the departure of the Vehicle, Deer and Claus from said House, the party of the first part did hear Claus state and/or exclaim: "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!"

Or words to that effect.

Aurthor Unknown