My favourite first born had a birthday

On Thursday (16th) it was my eldest daughters birthday. My favorite first born child is now twenty three. Twenty three! Where, oh where have those years gone?

It seems only fitting that I take this opportunity of introducing my eldest girl with a few baby tales.

Full name is Ellisha (no middle name) - a bug bear of hers that comes up frequently and usually in a whinny, 'how come I have no middle name?' sort of grilling! My middle name is Ann but I have never been called Ann, nor referred to as Ann. So that's that and let's just drop it shall we my dear.

Ellisha was a honeymoon baby (thought you might want to know this fact- mmm). Ellisha's pregnancy was very difficult (a thesis in itself). She eventually came into the world via an emergency cesarean. When I woke from the anesthetic I thought the nurse said I had lost her. She said, "you had a beautiful baby girl!", my foggy brain registered that to be past tense.

She was beautiful (and still is) and very much alive. I know a lot of mothers try and suggest their baby smiled really, really early, but Ellisha really, really did. Day two she blessed us with a huge smile (even the cleaner said that it was genuine and not wind).

What a dream baby - well almost. She was, in fact, a finicky little feeder. Took about 1 hour of swapping from nipple to nipple before she would settle for a good feed. Perhaps the fact that I remained excruciatingly engorged (so much so that during feeding everyone else had to clear the room because the milk from unused breast was missile- like.) No kidding! Oh yes, and when she fed her legs were out stiff. Here's a photo to prove it.

She was a fantastic sleeper - sleeping right through the night from 9 weeks. No colic. No grizzles.

What's more no 'terrible two' tantrums (totally forbidden). If it looked like she was about to throw a wobbly I would scoop her up, distract her and suggest that she try another way of expressing her frustrations. She was a rather obliging toddler.

As a young tacker she did have this scary relational thing going on with complete strangers that we happened to bump into when out at the shops. She would approach them, tap them on the leg and say, "I love you!".

Yep, she was really embracing the 'Jesus loves you' concept- with passion ;)

As for the walking. That's a story worth sharing. It goes like this:
By her first birthday I suspected she was just about ready to take her first independent steps - all the signs were there. It came to her birthday and we had a little party. No matter what coaxing methods I used to entice the girl to walk ( my un-cooperative and stubborn first born) refused to entertain the guests. She would stand, stare, then smugly plonk herself on the ground (I stand by the smug look). Anyhow, eventually the guests left and still darling daughter had not fulfilled my expectation for her to be walking by her first birthday. Hubby went out and Ellisha and I were all alone at home. About half an hour after the last person left I was sitting on the lounge having a well earned cup of tea when little Miss stubborn pulled herself up and ran out of the lounge, down the corridor and back into the lounge via the kitchen doors. She was giggling as she did it. I am not making this up. She did not tentatively wobble, nor did she hold onto anything - she ran.

When she came back into the lounge (to be greeted by a wide eyed, open mouthed mother) she raised her hands into the air, laughed, and then plonked herself back onto the floor. Of course I frantically dialed all the numbers in my directory just to be greeted with disbelief. Fortunately (for her) she backed the performance up the next day with a solid little gallop around the lounge - and basically hasn't looked back since. To her credit she got into the finals for the Australian under 13 National Athletics Championships (100 m hurdles and high jump). She still holds the State record for Little Atletics under 17's in the 200m hurdles and high jump. She is a terrific netballer and not bad at basketball. However, please don't make me talk about her swimming achievements - or for that matter, even her style - pretty pathetic - which is sad seeing as I can't run or jump but boy can I swim!

So my favourite first born is now twenty three.

I brought her up proper (honest;)).
Oh well, I guess she is her mother's daughter!!!

Sorry mum!

Happy Birthday my favourite first born.

What was that all about?

What was that all about? Good question!

Let me try and explain..

The whole down on self thing that was happening with me yesterday was a direct response to having to purchase some clothes.

It wasn't so much that I had to buy clothes (that can sometimes be a womans therapy right?) The problem was I was bringing these huge sizes home (I never use fitting rooms - way too depressing - and who really wants to see a 50 year old mama-whale have a melt down in a cubicle with a thin piece of cloth seperating her from her victims? ).

Anyway I was getting really, really (can I use one more really for emphasis?) depressed because I was skipping a few sizes and was clearly moving into the 'larger' women range. Get real - I know I have slapped on the weight but surely not that much?

Afraid so..

There was a little reprieve in my depression when I convinced myself they were all made in China and they surely used real life manequins for their fittings (have you seen many obese chinese women).

I even felt a tad better when my super slim eldest daughter had to go up one size. Still, that didn't really account for me going up, like, four sizes!!!!

Anyway, I was home feeling like a complete failure (weight is the determining factor for sucess, right?).

Bugger it, I thought. I will just get a big tent, sew a few hippy flowers on it, and take myself off to Sydney regardless of the fact that SYDNEY is, like, THE fASHION empire of Australia. Not to mention that I am going to Sydney with my sensitive youngest daughter.

So, I decided to go with the insanity plea!!

I blogged about it - getting it off my chest.

I left the post for about 30 min.

Then I changed my mind and ran to the computer to delete my embarressing 'Sooky La La' post just to discover it was too late. (Linds, you must have been at the computer as I wrote the embarrseeing blah, blah blah tale.)

The damage was done.

It is now official - I am nuts!

Still, I must say the responses were encouraging and kind - so thanks guys.

And tomorrow daughter and I (along with my flowery tent) are flying out to Sydney for four days (for those who don't know Sydney is where the opera house is and it's like really, really trendy).

The reason for our little trip is a training exercise. My daughter is in training. Daughter wants to go to England next year and as I am the over- protective type of mother and she has langusge disorder, there is no way she is going anywhere until I am satisfied that she is travel savvy.

Daughter (Jenna) has had to arrange it all and she has to navigate us out of Sydney airport to our hotel etc etc. I am there for moral support - although I have threatened to abandon her at the airport if she starts getting too sassy with me. The good news is that we have been practising the non- sassiness attitude and she is almost ready to see it my way!

Hence, I will not be making a post until Saturday ( I didn't want you to think I was having another dummy spit - inserting big grin about here).

Cheers!

ME? ....Obsessive Compulsive...NO WAY!

I have two beautiful (young adult) daughters still living at home. I love them to bits. I am very proud of them in so many ways.
They are very generous
They make me laugh
They can cook, wash and iron their own clothes
They work and study
They are active in Church groups
Actually they are great.

They bless me.

They rarely disapoint me - I used the word 'rarely' on purpose.

There is one thing (bad habbit) that they both share that drives me INSANE.

"NAG, NAG, NAG", I go ... on and on and on (according to them).

Eldest daughter must have been feeling the strain of the painful NAG...

The other day she quietly passed me this...



Did I mention she has a sense of humour?

Oh and by the way dearest, darling daughters, of mine, I am not, I repeat, I am not, Obsessive, nor compulsive (well not overly, at least).

I am however, determined.

CLEAN YOUR ROOMS.

In laws - out laws (a short story)

The Highly coveted Christmas pudding

Let’s be honest, for many people there’s a lot of ‘not in the true spirit’, stresses around Christmas time. Sure, hovering somewhere in the background is the true Spirit (love, joy, peace, promise of salvation etc), unfortunately, for far too many of us (even though we make a promise it will never happen again) we approach Christmas festivities whilst side-stepping either a straight jacket, bankruptcy or, dare I say it, the in-law family.

As from about July as we enter the shops (just trying to mind our own business and get the weekly groceries) we are bombarded by the booming ‘commercialism supreme’ loud speakers and advertising. We are told that Christmas is at its best whilst burning out our credit cards, shopping, shopping and more shopping. “Look!’ It screams. “Is your tree as big as this tree?”........ “Are you sure your child will not suffer permanent emotional trauma if they don’t get one million presents?”.......... “How about a ‘get away from the rat race holiday?.........“Don’t worry, you can lay by your goods and pick up just before Christmas. And as an extra incentive, we won’t ask for a deposit - can’t get any fairer than that!” And of course here in South Australia we have the almost out of control ‘competitive’ yet ‘magnificent’ neighborhood lights (we manage to celebrate this at the same time as promoting energy efficient anti global warming practices). Let’s not forget there’s always the added pressure of the turkey - or shall we have prawns?

I make it sound like sounds like gloom and doom. Thankfully, Spirit offers some glitter of hope. All will be well so long as a certain something 'special' happens. My something 'special' was the Christmas pudding.

Let me explain.

For twenty years, I endured (I mean shared), Christmas with my husband’s family. You have to understand, that amounted to twenty years of the in-laws ‘My way or the highway’, philosophy.

I don’t want to sound mean or ungrateful (nor dare I say, bitter), after all we had the massive tree and the charitable present handing out ceremony (husband was the only boy,with lots of sisters, and he never took advantage of his right to be heir!). We had the food in plenty and alcohol drinks for those who drank (self being the only non drinker). We had the turkey (always cooked by favorite son in law) and Great aunty-in-law’s asparagus. And of course there was the famous, and highly coveted, mother-in-law Christmas pudding. I’ll be honest, that pudding was worth every insufferable moment of the 'in-law Christmas extravaganzas'. Year after year I stoically endured the competitive Christmas’s as long as I got a piece of ‘That pudding’!

'That pudding' is the best. It is worth making sacrifices for. They know it, I knew it.

Twenty years of Christmas with the in laws (like I said before, as if there isn’t enough stress at Christmas) and then......... I separated from their son.

Christmas twenty two was going to be different. Christmas twenty two was going to be (come hell or high water) me and the kids doing it (as Aretha Franklin so powerfully exclaimed) ‘......MY WAY!’.

Actually, Christmas twenty two was me and the kids and the ex and his mum. How it actually came to be is still a bit of a blur (guilt, most likely). Anyhow, the saving grace from this shock was the reassurance that by way of compensation m-in-law was bringing along that famous pudding.

So, Christmas day arrives. The tree is up and dressed, the presents wrapped and the turkey is cooking to perfection. All is well.

Ex arrives with his mum who discreetly hands over the highly coveted offering. My mouth is watering. Nothing else matters. Let the turkey burn for all I care. Twenty years of insufferable Christmas past is all forgiven. I open up the bag and reverently slip the famous pudding into the fridge.

“Oh cry a little cry for me”. This can’t be happening. It’s another joke, surely? For there, sitting on my refrigerator shelf, looking as proud as proud could be is a ‘Big Sister’ Christmas pudding.

Oh well there is always Christmas twenty three.

missing in action

My computer has been doing some wild and crazy things as of late. I have written posts - head down, creative juices flowing, eyes glued to the keypad (not really good at touch type). Feeling quite satisfied that I had expressed myself appropriately I looked to the screen to do some editing. The only thing staring back at me was a frozen arrow. All that wasted creativity. Arghhh!!!!!

I am absolutely surprised at this stage that the computer has not frozen yet. Maybe it is because I have my eyes glued to the screen. I am going to dare this piece of technology to rumble with me.

I came across a new word on the weekend - schadenfraude. It means when you take pleasure or delight in some other's misfortune or failings. I was going to blog about my experiences in this. I was, but I'm not. I just cant get my head around a decent post. I know it is in me somewhere.

The screen has not frozen yet! Think Mary, Think. What can you blog about?

I think I will share a little story I wrote about one of my first bumps with the in-laws.

Inheritances

There I was, a new bride, melding my life with this new family. We’d sit and chat and share stories of family nuances. No contest really. My biological family was dysfunctional and damn proud of it. Hubby’s family, on the other hand, had no idea just how dysfunctional they really were.

Let me explain.

One day the new bride is sitting with her new family when we hit the topic of inheritances. Hubby’s grandmother had passed on some time earlier and the sisters had scooped in and made claims to the earthly treasures. One got this; the other snatched that etc etc etc.

Hubby must have been invisible, shy, retarded or all three. As the sisters made their grabs hubby moved not a muscle. Apparently, this wasn’t his scene. He wasn’t concerned about antique furniture or crockery. He had no use for those gold dripping necklaces and sparkling rings.

Fortunately M-in-law was watching out for son and sneaked a bit of this and bit of that which would be appointed to son when he took himself a wife and had himself his own little family. M-In-law was determined those greedy daughters were not going to deprive son of his share.

Over coffee I heard the story and was beginning to feel a little excited. It was a bit unfortunate that earlier, in a moment of weakness, I had viewed my opinions about greedy ‘Will snatches’ (quite disdainful really). Still, a little inheritance to help set up home would be acceptable surely?

M-In-law disappears to get the jewels. Armed with a rather large bundle of crisp brown paper M-in-law passed on what she had rescued for son. This was a moment - unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. This was me melding with my new family. I was the new In-law daughter. What was his was mine (I mean ours) and it was time for me to receive it.

Using my best manners I reverently un-wrapped the goods.

Metre upon metre, of stiff....starched.... calico. Brand new, still on the roll, calico.

No smile broke out. No hint of mischief.

Best in-law joke ever.

To this day I am not sure whether it was meant as a joke but with all the excitement they somehow forgot they never actually passed on the real goodies, or, maybe my humble reaction convinced them I was truly impressed with calico. Who wouldn’t be? There is the little story about the coveted marble table that may hold some of the secret. Who knows? If by any chance in-law ever reads this, please don’t be offended. I am completely over it now and have nothing but admiration for your ability to remain in complete denial of your dysfunctional status. I salute you.

Happy Birthday to me

Well friends May 20th came and in spite of my rumblings I turned 50.

I have been under a bit of pressure from my family to come up with a 'whammy' celebration. This is not what I wanted. I did not want to mark my age surrounded by people who had their own agenda (and trust me my family have hidden agendas). Some people have misinterpreted my reluctance to have a big celebration as a kind of fear of turning 50 or a denial of my age . I may have contributed at times to that notion. However, it has been a process for me to come to peace with the big day. What I was reluctant about was celebrating anything that was not true or genuine or 'timely'.

The past several months have not been easy times for me. I have found myself without work, without husband, without my students, without my productivity opportunities, without the role of 'parenting' as my children make those required transitions into independence, without financial security, without peace of mind. I know it may sound to some that I was filling my mind with all the 'without' moments and was suffocating in negativity. Some of you would be justified into believing that. I have not been in a great mental place. To be fair to myself I will say that I have worked hard at addressing my outlook. Truth is I was just a little cranky that turning 50 was presenting itself at a very in - opportune moment. I wanted to be bragging at 50. I wanted to be celebrating freedom of self doubt. I wanted to reflect with gratitude my journey. The reality was I was choking in depression.

I decided that I was going to own my 50th. I continued to say NO to all ideas of parties or expensive restaurants or big gifts and stood firm in saying that my day needed to reflect the relationships in my life that were positive and supportive and understanding and real.

I allowed myself two gifts. My first gift to myself was a new personal motto, "Fifty and forthright!". My second gift was to discover 50 new experiences in my fiftieth year using my five senses. I will be blogging these as they occur. I am going to continue to allow healing to occur. I am going to embrace new opportunities. I am determined to continue to shift my perception. My mid life will be under review. I am having a renovation bonanza. I will join the clan of 50+ who are celebrating the life at 50 and beyond.

I loved my day. From beginning to end it was 'real'.

So, let me share some beautiful moments of my 'real' 50th birthday.

• Gave myself permission to have a day off from relief teaching (sorry, not available to be abused today).
• I was woken by the sound of a voice chanting 'parcel post'. I blindly staggered to the front door and found a parcel that had been sent by my brother who lives in a different State.

• My eldest suggested I look up and there wrapped around my front verandah was all these red balloons and birthday flags. My neighbour had sneaked over late at night and hung them up (we have not known each other long and it was a complete beautiful surprise).

• Finding a birthday card in the letter box (hand delivered) from my neighbour.
• Lunch at cafe boulevard with a good friend - Cheesecake, cappuccinos, wedges (nothing healthy).
• Window shopping which turned into both of us giving each other permission to purchase ourselves a gift ( I got a water feature).
  
• Text messages from some women who I worked with two years ago (long time, no see).
  
• Text messages from some family members from Interstate.
• Cuddling up on the lounge and watching the DVD - 'As it is in Heaven' - (soul food).
  
• Balloon neighbour dropping in with a bottle of wine.
• Phone call from (ex) Mother in law wishing me a good day.
  
• Driving to the beach where my immediate family( ex husband, Son and two daughters) gathered and watched the dusk sun do it's thing.

• Observing my children put their competitive bickering's aside for awhile (best gift).
  
• Sharing some fish and chips on the beach (all rugged up).
• Receiving 50 compliments from my immediate family. It should be noted that I set this up but it was real genuine. I had to deduct a few compliments from my eldest when she started with 'wonderful', then said 'marvelous', '.....', '......'. It was when she was offering 'Prince of Peace' that I suggested she was cheating by quoting a song (appreciated the intent though). Lots of laughs.
• Joined by my two adopted daughters (friends of my own daughters) who made me laugh with their gymnastic abilities (had to be there - but it was hilarious).
• Having a complete stranger by the name of Stanley (he was also enjoying some chips and was being amused by my kids creative compliments) sing me Happy Birthday.
  
• Receiving a phone call from my mum who decided at fifty I was ready to hear my birth story (she was wrong!).
• Home to put on my flannelete P.J's and to play cards with girls ( I have to maintain my winning streak).

• Pigged out on chocolate, chips and a glass of wine (I don't usually drink alcohol).

• Mother of adopted daughters dropped in with a box of chocolates (11pm).
  
• Checked in on blog world and found this beautiful tribute from a great friend.
  

So, I am fifty and fantastic and friendly and fit
(now that's a little, no, huge, fib) and forthright.
(Forthright definition - Manifesting honesty and directness, especially in speech)

"Let the words from my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable unto Thee,
O Lord."

Mothers day review

Sunday came,

Sunday went
It's hard to explain
all that it meant.

I'll give it a go
it's only right
So many blessings
a few tiny frights.

I woke up early
(as all mums do)
Cooked my own breakfast
that's nothing new.

Got in the car
to pick up the son.
Ran out of petrol
son went for a run.

Grabbed all the kiddies
went off to church.
They gave out some chocolate
son, got off his perch.

loaded with goodies
off for a drive.
Where are we going?
A picnic surprise!

Out came the camera
smile.... look at that!
Don't take my photo!
You tricked me, you brat.

Nice salad sandwich
I've taught you well.
Followed by a Pepsi
this picnic is swell.

Let's go for a walk
I hear you say.
Not up that mountain?
can't do it, no way!

Blessings upon blessings
I had this Mothers day.
My heart is still smiling
Hip hip hooray!!!!!

It really was a great day and exactly what the doctor ordered.

What a week!

Week one of a two week relief teaching adventure is over and I have survived. I was told that the class was very difficult and had some huge problems. I was told that they did not cope with change very well. I was told that they had 'potty' mouths. I was told that they found learning difficult. I was told that they were all in this class as their regular teacher was the only one who could control them. I was told that there were many angry students, non compliant students and some violent students.

Do you accept your mission?

Lets see. I was called every name under the sun. I was subjected to some pretty threatening body language. I was ignored. I was answered back. I was given the run around by some pretty fast escapees. I was given the 'salute' (several times). I was laughed at. I had a door slammed in my face. Oh yes, I nearly forgot, apparently I am the UGLIEST thing ever born! I was also told I was the meanest teacher on the planet and that I was a liar.

I also received a rose on day two from a boy who had nearly made me cry the day before (no rhyme, no reason). I had three girls come up to me and have a friendly 'girl' chat at lunch play. I had the whole class sitting on the floor quietly while I read a chapter of a book (twice). I should be honest and admit to speed reading!!!!! And on Friday four students (who had added several more clumps of grey hair to my head) came and said 'have a nice weekend'.

All in all I would say that it was a fairly successful week considering the class culture. I will not pretend that it didn't chip away at my psyche. I will not pretend that I wasn't pretty miserable at times. I wont pretend that I didn't pray like I've not prayed in a long time. It was tough. I worked hard. I cried into my pillow one night. I prayed for peace of heart and courage. I prayed that God would reveal His plan for me.

I am praying that God will show me what I need to see and hear and do as far as my future in teaching goes. I pray that He will take some of the pain and disappointments and uncertainties away.
_________________________

Saturday is nearly at a close. I feel (somewhat) refreshed (recovered?). My eldest daughter's netball team won (she's an awesome player). My two daughters and I have just had one of those silly girl moments (laughing, joking, singing and secret sharing). I am just about to put on my brand new flannel PJ's and cuddle up on the lounge to watch a 'girls' movie.

Day trip

Youngest daughter came into my bedroom (very early) to alert me to the fact that she had rung in 'sick' from work and that she was going back to bed to catch up on some sleep. "Good morning dearest, as soon as I'm fully awake I'm going to come into your room and let you know that I am now awake. And I sure hope you're sleeping at the time!"

Eldest daughter cruised up to me, smiled, asked how I was, what I was up to (subtle as a sledgehammer) and then asked how I felt about her going over to her friends place for the arvo and the evening cause they had made THE BEST pumpkin soup. (N.B she has been spending a lot of time there lately but not doing her share of the chores and is clearly running out of excuses). "NO! But I am happy to go buy some pumpkin and we can make our own pumpkin soup to take on our ' dusk on the beach' family 'togetherness' moment we talked about only 30 min ago. And what do you mean they make the BEST pumpkin soup. I am fairly certain that my pumpkin soup used to be THE BEST. Daughter now in her room chanting the chorus 'I'm bored!" "Well you shouldn't have challenged my pumpkin SOUP!" Daughter suggests that my dusk moment better be brilliant. "(Muttered under breathe) Oh, I'm sure if you're there my lovely, with your current attitude, it should be magnificent.

Went to treat myself to a Kit Kat and found the bag still in the food cupboard, EMPTY. "First born, you had better start running. That will be a great alternative to being bored!"

Eldest daughter comes out of bedroom and has just poured herself a Pepsi drink. "Excuse me, is that MY Pepsi Max you're pouring?........ I thought you hated Pepsi Max?......... What do you mean if there was apple juice you wouldn't be forced to drink my Pepsi Max?....... Exactly how many litres of apple juice is good for you?.......... What do you mean it's my fault you're bored? (This one is definitely her mother's daughter! ) I do make THE BEST pumpkin soup!.... When did this become about the pumpkin soup? ......... I do not have Alzheimer's!

Youngest daughter wingeing and whining and driving just about everyone up the wall with a sore ankle. "Darling, the doctor said it was a very mild sprain". The face has gone like thunder. "I'm not suggesting you're a bit of a hypochondriac at all. The eyebrows are securely knit together and smoke is escaping from her ears. "It has been three days now since you ever so slightly went over on your ankle." There she goes hobbling to her room. "I think a little bit of pumpkin soup will make it all better, my dear." Door slams!


Well, call me weak, call me a pushover or just call me subtly controlling. Eldest went to her friends on the condition she took her sister along and that the next day ( ANZAC day) we were going on a day trip (no excuses, no complaints, no hysterics, no sleep-ins and no mention of pumpkin soup).

Our day trip

Rise and shine

While pretending to be checking Google for directions and attractions I checked on a few of my favorite blogs.

Took a deep breathe as I filled up with petrol (extraordinarily inflated at the moment)

Recovered a little with a coffee.

Okay, Already! I admit I was blogging instead of road mapping!

Waited for a very large bus (full of Americans) to have their turn at discovering the magic of the whispering

Then it was my turn. If you whisper up against one end of the dam it can be heard all the way around the other side. The Americans absolutely loved it and were quite impressed with my tourist guide skills (give me an audience and....)

Took in the view

Drove to Gummeracca to climb the largest rocking horse in the world (that's right, the world!)

Found Melba Chocolate factory and became their official tester.

Drove through a tiny little town (pop 20). Absolutely no shame!

Eldest daughter hijacked the car (something about pumpkin soup?))

Very popular German settlement (Hahndorf). They sell these things called 'bumburners'. Very Hot sausages. I kid you not!

Nearly home. Everyone still talking. I feel a bit embarrassed actually. I considered not showing this last photo. More junk food, after all we had eaten.

It was a great day. We had lots of laughs. By journey's end I had convinced Eldest daughter that I made THE BEST pumpkin soup.