Meeting Mr. Right

I was drawn to Anthony the first time I laid eyes on him. Seriously. The absolute first time I saw him, he caught my eye . 

This made me feel somewhat guilty as I had a boyfriend at the time and it doesn't make you a very good girlfriend if you are attracted to what is no more than a stranger when you have a boyfriend.  Very bad, bad girlfriend! 

But I couldn't help it - I liked what I saw. 

I'm not one to do the chasing when it came to boys, but I'm also not one to play it cool either. Like, at all. Zero cool here. 

Anthony returned home to Sydney on Valentine's Day 2004. I moved to Sydney from Adelaide just two weeks earlier.  I remembered hearing it announced that there was going to be a welcome home breakfast for some guy at his house and the directions said to look out for the basketball hoop in the driveway. I had no idea who this guy was so figured it would be weird if I went and that my presence there welcoming him home would mean.....well, nothing.  So I didn't go. 

Had I actually gone, this would have been our first meeting. 

Fast forward two weeks and Anthony was speaking at our church. I saw him and decided then and there I was mighty interested in getting to know him. I had no plans on how to do this, but I was in the same room as him so that was a good start.

That night there was a young adult get together at a house near by. I went and was secretly hoping Anthony would be there. To my delight, both Anthony and his brother Drew came. I don't want to sound too stalker-esque, but I can tell you everything Anthony was wearing that night. Red Dickies t-shirt, cut off jean shorts, and black Havianas. Yeah, that is pretty creepy isn't it!

I know I am coming off as a massive desperado here, but I still hadn't said a single word to Anthony at this point. My description of the story thus far sounds like I was already writing wedding guest lists.  

We exchanged a few pleasantries that night but nothing earth shattering. The next day I came home from Uni to the news we were going to 'The Bush's' along with another new to the area family to play some games and get to know one another better. 

My Nana was visiting from Adelaide at the time. When Anthony's mum asked our family to organise a game to play that evening, Nana had some great suggestions. First she suggested 'Truth or Dare', and then she thought 'Spin the Bottle' might be a good idea.  It could have been fun, but the risk of having to kiss a stranger or my own brothers were deterrent enough for me so I squashed that idea quickly. 

Again, the psycho in me can tell you Anthony's outfit that night - light blue shirt, jeans, and black shoes with little brown stripes (I wasn't a fan of these shoes but he made it pretty easy to look past).  Anthony told a story that night and I remember him asking me a question that I had to make up some vague answer to as I wasn't really listening properly, just staring at him while he spoke. The more I was around him, the more I wanted to be around him. 

A few weeks passed and my boyfriend at the time came to visit. While he was here, there was a young adult meeting on at our church. I had to go a bit early for another meeting, but once my meeting was over, I sat with my boyfriend waiting for the main meeting to start. I realised here that I was watching the door hoping to see Anthony walk through it. When he did, I got up and ditched my boyfriend to go say 'hi'. I don't think I even told him where I was going! 

It was pretty clear to me that my heart was leading me elsewhere. I did feel guilty, but felt it would be foolish to ignore how I felt. 

Three days after my boyfriend left back to Adelaide to prepare for a trip overseas, Anthony and I went on a date the first time. We spent the whole night talking and I think when I walked through the front door in the early hours of the morning, I could of told you there was a strong possibility I could marry Anthony. 

He was smart, funny, and of course he wasn't too hard on the eye either. We shared common beliefs and values and I thought he would make a fantastic role model for my future sons to follow.  

Now just how to get my claws into him and convince him he couldn't bear to live a day without me. 

Call me Granny

I am about to hit a milestone in my life. In less than a week I turn the big 3-0!

It's not an achievement by any means on my part as I didn't actually do anything other than stay alive, but I do feel like it's one of those 'something birthdays'. Some birthdays are 'something birthdays' (such as 16, 18, 21, 40), and some are 'nothing birthdays' (like 23 and 27). I know it's ridiculous but that's my logic.

I'm not too worried about turning 30, aside from the fact I remember my Mum being 30 so whatever shortfalls I have I can no longer  console myself with the thought;

"Oh the boys are young and won't remember much of this age anyway."

They WILL remember. 

Already I see that 30 seems like a great age to be turning. It feels like around now I am really settled within myself. I am really comfortable with who I am and my interests, beliefs, decisions, relationships, and opinions. I am completely aware that I have shortcomings, but know that it's not the end of the world and as long as I am constantly trying to improve that the world won't come to an end because I made a mistake.

I know who I am as a wife. I know how much I treasure my marriage and recognise it as a true source of happiness and stability in my world. I also know my marriage is strong, but constantly evolving as is necessary in life.  We have faced hard things during the past decade, but I know where my strengths lie in our relationship, and where I rely on Anthony to help where I struggle. 

I am at the stage where I know what a REAL fairytale relationship is. There is no ball gowns, princes, or Fairy Godmothers.  For me it's more like dressing gowns, tickle fights, and fairy bread.  But I realise how blessed I am. I have a relationship that is wonderfully real. Real fairytale relationships have people who work hard to treat the other better than they treat anyone else because they want them to know they are treasured. There is two people who both know they are loved by the other every single day. They know they are loved even on the days they are harder to love. 

I know who I am as a Mother. I place this role as the most important work I will do, yet at the same time I need to be honest and say somedays my most important work is also the most tiring, frustrating, and difficult. At this stage I am learning that my role has changed and I am already having to tread the fine line of when to step in and when to step back. My instinct is still to grab the jug from Carter's hands when I see him pour a drink, but he reminds me he can do it himself so I step back and watch (with a cloth in hand all ready). 

We are getting some of the curlier questions from our boys now. Questions that make me realise how fast time is going as it feels too soon. I'm just glad they want to ask their dear old Mum and Dad still, as when my 40th rolls around, we will have an 18 year old and a 16 year old and I doubt my opinion will be sought quite so often.

I am much more comfortable with my views, beliefs, and opinions now.  Even just a few years back, I was much more reserved in expressing my opinions, but now see them to be worthy of expressing in a respectful manner and at an appropriate time. They aren't always right I'm sure, but come from thoughtful consideration and are a reflection of my experiences in the world. 

I'm also more comfortable to agree to disagree as I know it doesn't have to change my relationship with that person. Everyone's views are a result of personal experience and cannot be expected to align perfectly. How many wonderful perspectives would we miss out on if that was our expectation? 

I think the main difference I see from turning 20 to turning 30 is that I am more accepting of myself, and of the surprises life throws at me. I still stress at the unexpected, but at the same time I feel a quiet inner peace that tells me that no matter what curveballs have been thrown our way, we are still here and happy and stronger than ever.  

It's soapbox time!

I'm not really one to get into politics, but the 2014 Budget seems to have the country in a bit of a tizz and I have some opinions if my own. I won't share them with you in detail as I hope to have people actually continue to read my blog, but there is one subject that is pretty touchy for me. 

It is the price tag Australia puts on stay-at-home Mothers. 

We have been told that Mothers need an 'incentive' to return to workforce. Apparently that incentive is money.

I am all for an honest days work for an honest days pay etc etc, but there is great value to what a stay-at-home mother brings to the community. They do not literally stay home baking muffins and watching Dr. Phil all day.  Who would watch Dr. Phil when Ellen is on?

Stay-at-home mothers can be found running play groups, volunteering in the school canteen, helping struggling children with one-on-one reading that is impossible for classroom teachers to provide with their hectic schedules, care for the children of working friends/family, and most importantly - they care for their own children. This frees up spots in childcare centres for those who need them. 

I in no way have an issue with any mother who does work and I don't believe they love or care for their child to a lesser standard than a stay-at-home mother. Their choice to work is their choice to make and need not be justified to anyone.  I'm completely aware the guilt trip works both ways. Working mothers absolutely get the rough end if the stick too at times.

But it seems that our government views working mothers as contributing to society and stay-at-home mothers not so much. 

Decades ago, there was the expectation that mothers would stay home with their children. Women fought for the right to enter the workforce without judgement. I respect this.

But why now do I have to fight to defend my choice to stay home with my children? It doesn't need to be one way or the other. Both can be viewed with equal respect and appreciation. Both can be understood to be important. Each can be lifted to a place that our society can value without pushing the other down. 

I am an educated woman. I studied full time while my children were young so I could support my family if *heaven forbid* our family required it, but more so that my family deserves the best of me. I still desire to continue learning. Motherhood hasn't taken that from me. But when Anthony and I decided to have children, we also both wanted me to be home with them while they were young (not just their pre-schooling years).  

I knew what I was doing. I knew the decision I was making in wanting to be a stay-at-home mother and it doesn't diminish my intelligence at all. The intricacies of running a household can be as demanding as any full- time job. It somedays provides the luxuries of a long lunch and freedom, and other days leaves little time to eat at all. Somedays the work is fulfilling and fun, such as volunteering in my boys school classes, but can be mundane and unnoticed, such as the hour and a half spent cleaning window tracks with cotton buds. 

My desire is not that everyone make a big song and dance for stay-at-home mothers, just that they are seen to be important and valued by the country we live in.

It's a choice we made, and we have paid the price financially by not having a second income, but it's a choice I would make time and time again because I know its important. 

Just in time for the lies

It was only a matter of  time  until something like this happened.

Today I had the privilege of spending time in Carter's classroom. Somedays I help with home readers, but I stayed back a bit longer today to help with an art activity. 

Carter has a fantastic teacher who has more patience in her little toe than I have all together.  More than anything I appreciate her sincere care for my little man.

I love watching Carter in action. He is the Art Helper this week.  As you can imagine, he takes his jobs VERY seriously.  At one point in the morning, some children at his table needed help finding the next blank page to glue in their work. Carter then told me HE needed help too. 

I showed them the same thing I'm sure their teacher has shown them many a time. We started at the front and flipped through til we found a blank page. I used Carter's book as the example and made a point of commenting on the great work I could see as I flipped through. 

There were several drawing with captions that Carter had obviously narrated to his teacher to write for him. 

One described him at the park. 

Another one showed a train.

But the one that caught my eye was the picture with the caption under it;

"This is a picture of my Daddy smoking."

I asked him if he had told his teacher that Daddy smokes.  He smiled proudly and said;

"Yes!"

Just here for the food

The older our boys are getting, the more I see them developing into their own person. They have more developed senses of humour, interests, passions, fears, and schedules. 

When they were a few years younger, they were demanding in the sense that they constantly wanted something of me as their mother. Whether it be my arms to carry them, my eyes to watch them, my ears to listen to them, my voice to sing or read to them, my hand to hold theirs, or to literally just be there to have them sit ON me.

There were countless times I felt truly blessed.

Other times I felt truly smothered. 

They didn't have much of a schedule of their own other than what we had planned for 'us' that day. They came along for the ride in whatever I had to do.

Now they have schedules that are as important as ours as parents. They have school, activities, assignments, and friendships that all require us to work their schedules into the family schedule. I often find myself getting books from the library on certain topics, buying particular craft materials, or attending school activities whilst the boys are at school. I spend more time away from them now,  but still spend the same amount of time doing things FOR the boys even when they are elsewhere. 

Tony's current interests are pokemon and Minecraft. Carter's are weddings, rugby, and police. Carter has also taken a bit of an interest in Pokemon - but I think it's just because his older brother likes it so it's cool. 

Yesterday morning, Carter was asking me a Pokemon related question. I have limited Pokemon knowledge and proved not very useful. As I walked down the hallway, I heard Tony tell Carter;

"Carter, if you have any questions about Pokemon, you should ask me because I know all about that stuff. Mum doesn't know Pokemon, she just does the cooking and stuff."

So now we know why I am here and what my children see my 'interests' as - the cooking and stuff! 

Mr Bones opens up....with surgery

Mr Bones had his appendix out a few days ago. Both Anthony and I still have ours in tact so we haven't experienced appendicitis ourselves, but I have had three siblings with it. I probably didn't pay very close attention though as...well, that's what Mum was for. 

Now I am 'Mum' though, and the buck stops here when it comes to your child.  

That's what's so scary about being a parent, your child is sick - it's your responsibility to help them get well.

Your child makes a mess, you have to make sure it gets cleaned one way or another.  Your child hurts another child, you feel guilty. The buck stops with you.

Wednesday afternoon I picked the boys up from school. Tony said his stomach pain began as he walked from his classroom to meet me. I kid you not - straight away I had the thought;

"I wonder of it's his appendix?"

I then talked myself out of it as it seemed like I was being over-dramatic when many other more simple reasons could explain the vagueness of 'a sore tummy' in a child.

He had no fever, no vomiting, and no re-bound tenderness. That was about the extent of my appendicitis knowledge so when we got home, I just told Tony to lie down. 

He felt a bit better later and came to to the park. He played a bit but didn't want to join in the running races. 

By dinner, Tony wasn't super hungry but had his dinner. He started feeling nauseated and in pain about half an hour later. Bed time rolled around and he couldn't sleep as the pain was worse. Still no fever though. 

I brought Tony into our bed and called Anthony (who was out) to let him know Tony had tummy pain and that there was a chance we would have to go to hospital. An hour later, Anthony and I were looking at each other asking ;

"What do you think?"

"I don't know, what do you think?"

"Should we take him to hospital? Do you think it's his appendix?"

"The pain seems like it, but he has no fever. He does feel sick though..."

In the end we decided that instead of trying to diagnose him ourselves (with the assistance of Dr. Google), we should just take him to hospital to be sure.  He was still off his food and had pain on the right side of his abdomen when we pressed on the left so we thought it was enough of an indication to get him checked out. 

So 9:45pm, off we went. Tony didn't have to wait long at all as he was vomiting in the waiting room (I strongly recommend this to speed up the waiting process - miss the vomit bag and aim for the floor if necessary).

I must say here, that it is hard for us to gage the level of pain when it comes to Tony. If he gets a paper cut, you would think he has severed his entire finger off. 

However, I knew he must have been in a lot of discomfort when I asked him if he wanted a chocolate from my bag and he said "no"!

The surgeon said he suspected appendicitis and to put him on a drip and keen him nil-by-mouth and admitted him to the childrens ward for review in a few hours time. 

There were no tears when the cannula went in - I underestimated Mr Bones! He soon curled up and went to sleep. 

Come morning, he was feeling better. Still sore, but not writhing around - just more when you touched his stomach. He still didn't want to eat though and although improved, just wasn't 100%.

I was expecting to be discharged as the older boy in our room also had suspected appendicitis and was moaning in pain, much worse in comparison to Tony. 

When the surgeon came to review them both, the other boy got sent for an ultra- sound and said they will wait and see, and Tony was scheduled for surgery in 2 hours time! 

He was so brave and the surgeon said he was very tough as he didn't cry earlier that morning when examined despite his appendix looking pretty nasty when he took it out. 

Another hospital trip to add to the Bush Chronicles - this time Tony's turn. 

Stubborn as a race horse

I have a stubborn spirit. 

I know some who know me may not know this about me. Some may even find it hard to believe and think I am just being self critical. But it's 100% true - Anthony can testify to this. 

I'm not saying it's always a negative thing either. Sometime this stubbornness works to my favour in helping me to not settle when I believe something is of true importance.

But there are other times when I am left with the nagging feeling that I need to apologise. Usually to my sweetheart. 

He always accepts it though. He has to, I make his lunches and dinners. 

There is something heavenly about knowing he is the one person who has seen all my 'ugly' sides over the last decade, but still calls he me beautiful every single day.

I think my stubbornness is part of my nature. I don't think I inherited it - I just came this way.

Perhaps that is why I have faced what feels like some difficult trials early in life; because my stubborn spirit needed such challenges to grow.

But how thankful I am for a stubborn spirit to carry me through these trials. 

And even more so, I am grateful to this man who loves me when I wear pyjamas in the middle of the afternoon with my hair unbrushed and I am completely unshowered. And he still tells me I'm beautiful.