Big three O!

My darling husband turned 30 this week. I have known him for nearly 9 years now and been married to him for almost 8 of those years. He is my best friend by a million miles.

Anthony caught my eye from literally the first time I set eyes on him. From VERY early in our relationship, I had a feeling it was going to last a long time - forever. I felt this way because when I imagined my life in the future, I imagined being at home cooking dinner and playing with my children and when I pictured my husband coming through the door at the end of the day, I pictured Anthony being that person. He has been that person and so much more.

Anthony doesn't like a fuss. Seeing as turning 30 is a big deal, it couldn't pass without some celebration, so we planned a casual dinner with family and we had Microwave Jenny come and join us. They sing some of Anthony's (and mine) favourite music and we were thrilled when they squeezed us into their busy schedule. If you haven't heard their music, I STRONGLY suggest you look them up immediately.

Carter dug up a guitar from somewhere and took it upon himself to play backing (not even remotely close to in tune though).

And of course we ate....and we ate....and we ate.  A couple of days later and we are still eating leftovers with more still to go.

So to my darling Anthony, HAPPY 30th BIRTHDAY!!!  Ten years til the next big one!!

Mixed emotions

Friday was a day of mixed emotions for me.

One side of our family (Anthony's side) have eagerly been anticipating the return of Anthony's sister, Paige. She has been serving a mission for our church in the US. Aside from about twenty minutes of Skype time total, our only contact with her has been through letters and email.

Anthony has served a mission and understands how wonderful it is, but for those back home, the countdown to their return begins the day they board the plane. This time he was on the waiting end. I could see the excitement building and how thrilled he was to have his sister return home.

We woke up 4:30 AM Friday morning and arrived at the airport by 6am. We secured a spot at the front of the arrival gate armed with a variety of banners and signs. There were nine flights arriving at the same time and it took almost an hour before Paige came through.

Tony and Carter were first to run to greet her. I wondered how well Carter would remember Paige seeing as he was young when she left, but his reaction made me realize he remembered her just fine. It was so nice to see everyones reunion with Paige, but what I loved most seeing was Paige's reunion with her Dad. He waited back til last and after everyone else had greeted her, she tearfully hugged her Dad in the type of embrace that speaks a thousand words.

She was truly missed and whilst everyone was proud of her for her decision to serve a mission, there was such joy in having her home.

On the same day, the other side of our family was experiencing a much different day. My own sister, Jade and her husband Matt welcomed a son into their family two weeks ago. Leo is their first son, and little brother to a very excited big sister, Pacey.

Leo didn't come into this world alone though. He shared his little space inside Jade with a sibling.

In April we all received the exciting news twins were on the way. As the months passed, we also learnt that one of the twins had some features that caused concern and the future was uncertain.

Unfortunately a while later in the pregnancy, there was no longer a heartbeat for the little twin. The doctors thought it best to keep the little one in for the sake of little Leo and so they stayed together til arrival time.

Friday was the day Jade and Matt had the burial for their little baby. They have been so strong and I am so proud of my little sister for the way she has handled everything.

Friday was a day of mixed feelings for me. But I was happy that Paige's homecoming fell on the same day. It made me think of my little niece or nephew who too would have had a joyous home coming awaiting them on the other side. With the beliefs I have, I know there would be family waiting with arms outstretched. I know with certainty there would have been a loving Heavenly Father waiting to welcome His child back home. There is sadness for Jade and Matt who would have loved the opportunity to keep their little baby here with them, but the separation is temporary, and it's a great comfort to know their child is in good hands til that time, perhaps the best hands.

The cheese that broken the camels back

It is a little late to be blogging, but I haven't posted anything for a little while and I have things to be thankful for.  Firstly, I am thankful I have my first nephew!  My sister Jade and her husband Matt welcomed their first son, Leo Buddy Krok, a week ago today.  He is absolutely adorable.  It has been a far from easy pregnancy for them and  I have such admiration for my little sister for the way she has handled it all.

What kind of Aunty would I be without putting up a photo!

Secondly, I have my Mum here for a few days to visit.  Always grateful for that!

And lastly in some good and not so good news...

One of the first days of the school holidays, we had a lazy home day. I LOVE pyjama days like this and having all four of us home lazing around is my idea of the perfect day. Until about 2pm when the boys start to get a bit of cabin fever. Anthony kindly got the boys dressed and they headed out of the house for a while. They hadn't been gone more than ten minutes and I did a little tidying up; you know, putting away the odd toy here and there.

As I gathered up some stray pieces of grated cheese on the floor, I felt and heard a disgusting "snap".

My heart sunk and I had a sickening feeling that I had broken some of the metal in my back.

The initial pain wore off rather quickly and I thought perhaps all was ok, but as I started to move around to test for pain, I could hear a creaking and grinding like an old door hinge.
From then on, I was pretty sure I had broken some piece of the hardware.

I arranged some x-rays and they confirmed my inkling and there was indeed a broken titanium rod staring back at me.

My surgeon was away til the end of the school holidays so I had to wait to see him for a couple of weeks but that was alright. I felt everything would be alright in the end.

This isn't the first time I had broken my rods. Four years ago I found out I broke my rods in four places due to my spine not fusing properly like we had hoped. This meant re-doing the entire surgery and fixing up the additional damage.

I knew that if the bone hadn't fused AGAIN, it was definitely another surgery. If the fusion 'appeared' solid (appeared as you can't really tell for certain without opening you up to see), it could just be a smaller surgery, or possibly more of a wait-and-see approach.

Today I saw my surgeon. On the way there, I felt good. My "gut instinct" has become my most proven method for determining a potentially difficult situation in the past and is pretty much always right.

Us religious folk call it "the Spirit" or "the Holy Ghost" guiding us, others may call it "intuition" or just "gut instinct". Whatever your belief, I am thankful I have such guidance. I trust in this feeling.

From the scans I have had done, my fusion appears to be fairly solid. There is certainly a break just above my pelvis and likely a broken screw and the adjacent rod is likely to break as a result, but it is fixable through a smaller surgery. My surgeon asked for some time to formulate the best way to do this as apparently I am a bit of a difficult case - I just like to be unique :)

So whilst it is possible I may be soon heading into the operating theatre sooner than I would like, I am thankful it won't be as big as my previous two surgeries and that it can be sorted. I am thankful.

I know its kind of gross but here is my lumbar spine xrays (if you are good at reading x-rays you can spot the break on the right hand rod).

Goodbye my friend

Tonight there were a few tears in our house. Tony had to "retire" a very dear friend of his - Cena Bear.

About three and a half years ago, just prior to when I had surgery, I knew my boys ( then almost 1 and 3) were going to need to spend a great deal of time away from me. To help them cope with this, I took them both to Build-a-Bear to 'make' a bear of their own. Tony chose a little white bear and dressed him in boxer shorts, a gardening apron, and thongs. There were about a hundred different outfits ranging from cheerleaders and fireman to sporting outfits and tuxedos, BUT underwear and an apron was what seemed right to Tony.

When it came to providing a name on the birth certificate, 2 year old Tony suggested "Mummy", then "Daddy", and then "Cena Bear" which was good enough for me.

Cena Bear has rarely left Tonys side, particularly at bed time. He has been washed many times, re-sewn over and over, brushed, and redressed. He wears a Santa outfit all year round. He has been to hospital with Tony and always travels on overnight trips with him. He is Tony's buddy.

Last week as I was switching off all the lights for the night at 11pm, Tony was stirring. Thinking I must have woken him, I went and checked on him and found he had thrown up everywhere and by the looks of it he had fallen back asleep IN IT!

Unfortunately Cena Bear did not come out it unscathed. I tried my best to clean him and wash him, but I could tell it might be time for him to "retire".

So today while we were out I saw some Teddy bears and I asked Tony if he wanted to pick one. After choosing a bear with a green blanket, he was all excited and I suggested to him that perhaps we 'retire' Cena Bear and this could be his new Teddy bear.

He immediately looked at me with little tears in his eyes and said;

"I don't want to 'retire' Cena Bear, I love him."

I explained to him that if he doesn't get to 'rest' from his Bear-ly duties, he is going to fall apart and I won't be able to fix him.

So tonight as bed time rolled around, I told Tony its time to take Cena Bear to meet Big Ted (Anthonys Teddy bear from when he was little). We said Big Ted had been retired for a VERY long time and had been waiting for a friend.
This took some of the sting out of it all, but as we put them in the storage box together, Tony's face crumpled and it brought tears to my eyes. I could suddenly remember how much I loved my Teddy bears and how real they were to me. I of course knew they weren't real bears or anything, but they were real friends in my eyes and I couldn't stand the idea of one of them spending the night on the floor. I realized for Tony, he is packing away a friend and replacing him with another. It was genuinely heart breaking to watch

I heard Tony introducing his new bear, Mayfield, to his new room. The instructions were very detailed;

"This is our bed. You will sleep near the wall so you don't fall under the rail. Don't touch the light bulb, it's hot. You don't need to be scared of that picture on the wall - that's just the Wiggles. Oh, and we are vey lucky, there are no daddy-long-legs up here. You will just love it!"

I'm sure Mayfield will be very happy here.

You speak my language?

I know I am stating the obvious, but being a parent changes you. You go from feeling like your life is semi under control to feeling like you are living in an insane asylum. No one sleeps, there is lots of screaming, people are naked, there is more food on the walls/floor/furniture than in any ones mouths, and you can't understand a word anyone is saying.

I used to believe the saying that some things go without saying.

I used to believe some things should never be said at all.

That was then. This is now.

Every day as a parent, I find myself saying things I never imagined coming from my mouth. I KNOW I'm not alone in this.

1. "Do I smell poo or a bum burp? PLEASE say bum burp!"

2. "Let me smell your finger."

3. "Spit it out and bring it to me, I will eat it."

4. "I know it hurts but I'm not going to kiss your bum."

5. "All the blocks are the EXACT same-stop fighting over the same one!"

6. "Stop strangling your brother and tell him you love him!"

7. (yelling as loud as I can) "How many times do I have to tell you to stop yelling!!"

8. "If you don't eat your bowl of ice-cream, you're in big trouble!"

9. "Pull your undies up BEFORE your pants."

10. Hop in the bath and I will bring your dinner to you."

11. "Do I hear laughing? If you are laughing I won't be happy!"

12. "I am going to the toilet! Can't I have one second to myself?"

13. Stop picking your nose, we are having dinner soon."

14. "One person on the toilet at a time."

15. "PLEASE tell me that's chocolate on the wall!"

16. "That is not food, spit it out.....ah forget it!"

17. "I am not a tissue/rubbish bin/slave!"

Great Grandma indeed

My husband, Anthony, works at a high school. I think he has a gift with teenagers and works very well with them. Some of the kids he works with have been dealt a pretty rough hand in their short lives. Their home lives are unpleasant and unstable. I don't know these kids myself, but I feel for them and it always saddens me to think of what their future holds with the lives they have.

I actually try not to think about it too much because it makes me really sad, but I know that despite their circumstances, their futures are not yet written. Who and what they become is influenced by their parents and environment, but it is in no way the deciding factor. The deciding factor is the individual themselves.

I know this because I have been fortunate enough to have known many people in my life who have overcome tough circumstance and become wonderful people. One is my Grandma.

My Grandma had a tough life from the get go. Her mother left her and her sisters at a very young age to be raised by relatives. She was often moved around from one relative to the next and never really shown love and security like a child should. She became timid and nervous because she was always worried about putting a foot out of line and being moved again.

At the young age of 14, after what would have been a very tough childhood, she left school and moved out by herself and worked full-time at a factory. I find this so hard to fathom. At the age of 14 I was probably still spending all my pocket money on Hubba Bubba.

Years later, she met my Grandpa (who lost his mother at a very young age) and they were just perfect for each other. Both were so loving and gave the other the devotion they deserved.

My Grandma didn't know the type of home that a child needs to develop with confidence and hope. I have no doubt there wasn't much kindness and affection given to her. But despite this, she is a gentle, kind, affectionate woman. There is never any doubt in my mind how my Grandma feels about me, she showed me all the time.

We loved going to Grandma and Grandpa's house because when we got there there was a table with all our favourite foods all laid out for us. I think they got a brief kiss and hug 'hello' before we set up camp at the table and didn't leave til we were bursting. Then we would flop on the couch to watch "Inspector Gadget", "The Boy Who Could Fly", "Milo and Otis", "Project X", or "The Wizard of Oz". Grandma only see's the best in others and she never has a bad word to say about anyone else. She just has a reverence about her that I love.

Now that I am an adult, I can see that there was a choice that my Grandma made. She could become a certain way BECAUSE of her circumstance, and this would have not been ideal, but been understandable. But instead she decided to become a certain way IN SPITE of her circumstance - to become better. I love this. I love that the situation she was subject to did not define who she became.

Sometimes we are in bad circumstances because of our own poor choices, but other times they are thrust upon us. I don't think its entirely possible to come out of such a circumstance unchanged. We have to change to get through it. But what is undecided is how it changes us.

My Grandma is an amazing Grandma and a beautiful woman, but more than that she is an example of a quiet strength to not let circumstance define you, but to hope for and become something better. Love you Grandma xxxx

A little like Batman

We went to see "The Dark Knight Rises" recently. I LOVE Christian Bale. Perhaps even more than Anthony (jokes my darling). During the trailers, they showed a preview for Superman-Man of Steel. As our movie began, I noticed for the first time one contrast between Superman and Batman I never really noticed before. I pretty much just lumped them all into the "Superhero" category, but with different outfits.

What I noticed was Superman is naturally strong. He is inhumanly strong. He was born to be a Superhero.

Batman is completely human. He isn't exceptionally strong. He gets wounded like the rest of us, and several scenes in the movie show his scarred body. He wasn't born a Superhero, he has to work hard at it and has a whole host of crazy gadgets and vehicles to assist his work.

It was the scars I noticed most. They really showed the vulnerability of Batman. I didn't find them ugly though, they are evidence of his work as a hero.

I have scars too - we all do. I have them on my back, neck, shoulder, abdomen, knuckles, foot, and ribs. I used to find the big scar down my back a little ugly. I don't wear overly revealing clothes anyway, but I was happy that they weren't on show.

I can honestly say that I have no shame in my scars now though. They are definitely not evidence of a hero's life (unless eating chocolate on the couch at night is considered heroic), but they are evidence that I have lived a full life. A life full of a variety of different experiences - the way life is intended to be.

My scars are proof I have experienced pain through injury and sickness. They are proof I have experienced joy through the c-sections I had to give birth to our sons. I have scars that make me grateful for modern medicine and the blessing it is in my life. I have scars that remind me of being too impulsive and perhaps acting before thinking. I have scars that remind me of my faith in prayer to overcome disease and illness.

I have other scars too, some that cannot be seen. Different experiences in my life have caused small scars in me I think, not visible scars, but they are there all the same. These scars we generally hold dear to our hearts. These scars are reminders of difficulties we have all experienced and overcome.

My scars are proof that I have lived, and they are not ugly to me at all.