I want to testify of God's Love

I have been finding it hard to sleep.

Yesterday was LONG and HARD. It was good to get out of PICU and into Cardio but I had to learn and absorb a LOT and had no time for any sleep whatsoever. Not great when trying to establish a milk supply. By the time I got to bed I was crying with exhaustion and shaking from head to foot but it still took 3/4 hour to get to sleep. I awoke at 2am and decided to express. I found my favourite spot and set up, with my netbook open so I could read the e-mails the children sent to me - a treat I had not had time for as yet. While I was reading and expressing I was flooded with a warm love for them. I expressed 80ml. The previous milking session had only given 35 ml. The oxytocin produced in my body by feeling their love has made milk for our baby and helped me relax.

Be anxious in nothing, but in everything give thanks.

What a good God to give me such an amazing family.

Praise God.

About today

I will get back to the story of how we got here later but tonight I need to share quickly about today and go to bed.

Prayers.

Requests:

Please ask that I get sleep - I am not finding that one easy. Hopefully now the adrenaline is wearing off and a few stresses are off/changed in nature I will start to sleep but I know I need to sleep which makes me stressed about sleeping and it all turns into a self-perpetuating mess!

Please ask that Kaylee continue to do well.

Please pray that the angels will sing "Jesus Loves Me" and "When He Cometh" to her when she is sad and I am not there. These are her songs and it kills me that I can't sing them to her each and every time she is upset.

The Cardio team are meeting tomorrow to discuss her case and form a care plan. Please pray that they have wisdom, discernment and compassion.

The genetics people will be discussing a diagnosis with me tomorrow. Please pray that I will be able to wrap my head around it.

Thanksgiving:

We are in the cardio ward now and I finally have a comfortable chair next to her bed. One that I can fold out and sleep on if I need to. Thankyou Lord.

There is a plan of action with feeding Kaylee so I know how many mls I need to provide in order to prevent the need for sup. feeding. This gives me a sense of direction and something to organise, chart and move toward. I needed that.

Friends. The messages you leave here on this blog reach my phone instantly. I can't reply simply because most of the time I have no time! But they bring me great comfort. Rest assured those offers of practical help have been taken note off along with contact details etc. and when I have a moment in this whirlwind I will process that and see what people can do.

She opened her eyes and looked right at me. For the first time. My daughter has eyes and they focus (kind of) PRAISE GOD! I get awfully excited about each bit that I find that works.

Thankyou everyone. I am overwhelmed with love and the Goodness of Our Compassionate and Loving God. Anything good in me right now is because He is polishing me as His jewel - and a jewel is just a dead rock until the light hits it. His light is what you see if you see anything good in me right now. To Him be the Glory.

And Thank-you Lord for the Beautiful Kaylee Guest AKA Tulip AKA Princess Hairy Legs

Our Journey to PICU - part 1

For those who don't know, I am currently at the Royal Children's Hospital in Melbourne with our newest daughter. The prognosis is looking unimaginably better than it first appeared but there is likely a long road ahead of us. What it looks like and where it leads is to God's Glory and so long as it involves being the mother of Kaylee Grace it is well worth any bumps on the road.

This my recollection of the story of our journey to Paediatrics Intensive Care Unit. I will finish it over the next few days and weeks as I am able.

Kaylee Grace Guest was born 10:15am 8/9/2011.

She was born at the Birth Centre, delivered by the same midwife who has delivered 5 of my children now and has become family to us. Jean, who has also attended two of my other births was also there and of course Jon was there too. In between contractions leading up to crowning I was singing "Jesus Loves Me" with the CD I had playing and Kaylee was greeted by her midwives and mother singing hymns (which sounds terribly hippy and crunchy, but it was the most natural and beautiful thing in the world!). Her birth was amazing and wonderful (and hard work! - but only 2.25 hours of it). She breathed well within a minute of birth and pinked up nicely. I will post her birth story one day (I did write it down in a writing Journal sent to me by a dear friend) but this is the story of what happened after that.

The first thing we noticed about Kaylee is that she was small. The second thing was that she was beautiful. And amazing. And wonderful. Amidst all that I noticed there are some differences in my precious girl. She has some hairy patches on her upper thighs, a mono-brow (a delicate and beautiful one, she pulls it off where many would fail), rolls of skin on the back of her neck, creases accross her palms, small hands and feet for her size, a horse and squeeky cry that you can hardly hear and a few other bits and bobs. She also has Anna's lips, tiny fingernails and a mop of curly hair - I just want to make it clear here that she is Kaylee - who has many wonderful, normal, unique, quirky, unusual and completely ordinary features all mixed in together. But it cannót be avoided that some of these features indicate there may be some "congenital abnormality". What that is, we don't know yet. What I do know is that she is my daughter.
Anyway....
The "Abnormal" features (which makes her sound like she if from X-men, need to get her a costume I think) were not focused on by any of us who noticed them and we simply enjoyed having Kaylee as Kaylee for a while. We had a few hours of cuddles, phoned everyone to let them know she was born, did all the "After a birth" stuff (weighing, cleaning me up etc.) had lunch and then wandered accross to the hospital so that Kaylee could get checked out.

The Peds Registrar examined her and decided to suction out a little bit of stuff from her mouth. This made Kaylee choke. Then turn blue. Panic, room filling with people, recussitation gear, Jon and I clinging together terrified and shaking and furious and praying as Anna watched over us and prayed silent prayers but Kaylee came good again after a bit of work and everything calmed down to a degree. The fuss bought in the Peds big wig Dr who checked Kaylee out and I changed Kaylee's first nappy grasping at some type of normalcy amid the chaos that had just happened. After a bit we were all sitting down again and had all taken a deep breath while I glowered at the poor Registrar who had suctioned Kaylee - we later made up and became friends but at the time I could have choked her. Dr Baylee - the big wig Dr - asked me what I had noticed about Kaylee. I gave a run down of the features I had noticed then added that I also noticed she is beautiful, my daughter and she is simply Kaylee - who we are getting to know. He nodded and in his quiet and slow way informed me that he felt that she needed close monitoring and thought she needed to be admitted. Immediately I asked if I could be rooming in with her and was told that she would probably need closer monitoring than that. I reeled a bit at that but nodded consent as I absorbed the information. The next few minutes were a bit of a blur but I do remember Robyn, the nurse who had arrived amid the earlier panic, stepping forward and suggesting that Kaylee be put into a cot in a room where I could sleep on the fold out bed next to her. I could have kissed her. Kaylee was bundled into our arms and Jon and I sat together with her alone and cried, held each other, held her, prayed wordless prayers and reeled for a few moments.

We all went into the neonatal ward and Kaylee was put into a box cot, I was introduced to Daniel who would be our nurse and various arrangements started being made. Jon and I were organising the care of the other children until he could get home, sorting out my stuff that I would need and all the logistical issues, the nursing staff were sorting out Kaylee, the doctors were sorting out what they needed to and there was a general blur of activity. Everyone was kind and compassionate. I can't remember why Kaylee was taken into the ICU unit at first - perhaps to do some tests or put in a drip or prepare for X-rays or something - but she stopped breathing again. She did not need intensive resuscitation but it became clear that she would need to stay in the ICU with her own personal attendant and various monitors. Thankfully, I could stay on the fold out chair down the hall so there was no locked door between my baby and I for our first night.

That first night it felt like every time I left the room something new happened or there was some new bit of information to process or something else I needed to do. I had to keep reminding myself to sit down, drink water, try and express a bit of clostrum (I was only getting tiny drips which I would rub on Kaylee's lips). I sang to her, especially when her oxygen levels started to drop. She would pick up a bit when I sang Jesus Loves Me. One minute I would be composed and the next I would have tears running down my face as I sang to her. But whatever it was I just kept praying and singing. The nurses (who I got to know very well while we were there) would quietly explain everything to me. The doctors were gentle and kind and the Registrar won me over totally when she got a drip into Kaylee first go (not easy in a 5 pound 4 baby who has abnormally small hands and feet!). And they kept attaching machine after machine. By the time I went to bed that night Kaylee had a breathing contraption on which made her look like she was about to go snorkeling to inflate her lungs out. I finally forced myself to go to bed.

I woke up about 3am and could not sleep so I got up and tried to express again. On going back to bed I sobbed so hard the muscles in my abdomen cramped up so I got up and sat by Kaylee with my writing journal sent to me by a friend in America. Writing Kaylee's bith story into it made me feel like my friend from America – who I only know online - was holding me and praying for me. I wrote for about four hours as I watched over my precious girl, singing to her every time her oxygen levels dipped or she started to try and cry.

I went out to get some breakfast in the maternity unit. I struggled with a cereal box and made it explode cereal everywhere but managed to sort myself out some food. I smiled at all the babies in there which were so small compared to my previous babies and so big compared to Kaylee. I struck up a conversation with one lovely, particularly shell-shocked looking new Mum. She told me her baby had been overdue and I could tell by her waddle and the reeling look in her eye that the birth had not been easy. She looked so young and I just wanted to hold her and tell her she'd be OK! I was wistful when I heard other babies cry, wishing mine could cry like that.
I went back in and tried to get some sleep. I probably slept for about an hour and a half before getting up and going to sit in next to Kaylee during "Grand Rounds" where Kaylee was presented to all the doctors. Anna came in and we talked and she checked me over and reminded me of all the things I need to do to take care of me (at this point I kept forgetting I had given birth less than 24 hours before). Various tests, x-rays, ultra-sounds, drugs. Phone calls home to my kids, to Jon. Through the course of the day it became clear that Kaylee would have to go to Launceston or Hobart. The inital diagnosis on her heart was making it look like Melbourne - potentially for weeks or months. Logistics, drugs, explaining, reeling, tears running down face, expressing, telling myself to drink and go to the toilet and shower.


To be continued...part 2

Ten ways I help my husband be a Great Dad

It was Father's Day in America last Sunday so the American media and blogsphere have been buzzing with stuff about fathers. Now, fathers day gets almost as mushy as mother's day - which I have already ranted about a little - but I did take this opportunity to have a think about my children's father and just how amazingly, wonderfully, awesome he is (the fact that he is also my husband totally aside). So I was inspired to write a short post about how I help him be so amazingly, wonderfully, awesome. Because being my blog, it is all about me my friends.

CAUTION: this is not an instruction manual on how to make the father of your children just like mine. Last time I checked, I didn't make mine, God did. This post is primarily a reaction to an article that I read that was designed to make mothers everywhere feel like slighted victims if their husband didn't do xyz rather than the powerful contributors to their family dynamic that they actually are.


1. I pray for my husband and his relationship with our children. I could probably stop there really. Honestly, this is the most powerful thing I do. If I am concerned about something I pray about it before (and after) I talk to my Beloved about it. If I am pleased about something I thank and praise him and God. Don't underestimate the power of sustained and persistent prayer.

2. I step back and let him do it his way. It is possible, just possible, that I am a little bit of a control freak. So let's just say this doesn't come natural. I have all day with the kids and I have my own little way of doing things that I know works. When he does things differently it can be tempting to step in and offer instruction on how to do it PROPERLY (read: my way). But if I step back and shut up, it is amazing how his way usually works to.....sometimes even better.

3. I keep my mouth shut when he does make mistakes. Yes folks, he makes mistakes - rarely but he does. Sometimes when that happens it can be tempting to jump in and "fix" it while I shoot accusatory glares and snide comments in his direction. But let's face it, I make mistakes too! I try and remember to treat him the same way I want to be treated when I screw up.

4. I respect and draw on his opinion. If I am stumped with something with the kids, I ask him what he thinks I should do. It can be tempting to believe that because I have read more parenting books and I spend all day with the kids that he does not have anything to offer but it couldn't be further than the truth. He comes from a place of knowing me, knowing the kids and loving us all. He has a fresh perspective after being out of the house at work all day and he is clever too. Sometimes I have asked his advice then been tempted to ignore it because it didn't line up with what I thought. But then I put it into practise and lo and behold, it DOES work! Even just thrashing out an problem together helps us to be a team rather than two free agents.

5. I back him up. If we disagree on how to deal with a situation we talk about it quietly and away from the kids. As far as the kids are concerned we are a united front. The kids know they cannot play one against the other and they feel more secure because of it.

6. I celebrate who he is with the kids. Beloved likes cars. I don't drive. He likes 4 wheel driving, I like hiking. He has an eye for detail, I'm more of a big-picture-bang-it-together kinda gal. But when I talk to the kids I celebrate these aspects of who he is. I talk about how clever he is to put together the new transmission for the ute himself and how he saved us so much money. I talk about how Daddy worked so hard for months to finish off the boy's room. I excitedly look forward to our next 4wd trip. It would be easy to gripe in front of the kids about how long it took to get some of those jobs finished or moan about how I'd really rather walk a track than bump along in a car but by talking Daddy up in their eyes I am nurturing their relationship with him.

7. I structure our day to include him, even when he is gone. At meal times and worship times throughout the day we pray for him when he is gone. We plan little surprises for him. We have time planned after dinner for stories and worship that includes Daddy whenever he is home and once a week we have a special Sabbath dinner which I try and make an event to look forward to - so he is eager to be at home with us rather than doing a few more hours at work to escape from the chaos at home! Now, things will probably LOOK different at your house than they do at mine but the core principle is the same. Dad is a treasured member of our home even he isn't here.

8. I actively nurture my relationship with my Beloved. I know I am a better mother when Beloved is filling my love-tank so I do that for him. I know that two things make him happy - a decent meal and clean clothes. Seeing as I am the at-home member of our partnership, I try and make these a priority. When he walks through the door I try and take a moment to offer a coffee, hug and/or conversation. I try and make sure I am not too tired at the end of the day to make time for him. I try and get the kids to bed early on Thursday nights then make us a special "date night" meal. Again, this may look different in other people's homes and I don't necessarily get all these things done every day but the core principle is active nurturing of our relationship.

9. I don't compare. I have a friend whose husband gets up one morning on the weekends, organises the kids and brings her breakfast in bed. Sometimes on the weekend I get up, put on a DVD for the kids, sneak back into bed and we whisper sweet nothings for a while. A sleep in and breakfast in bed? Nice, but not nice enough to give up all the other wonderful things about my husband. If I were to compare and complain all it would serve to do is erode his confidence as husband and father. I prefer to build him up whenever possible.

10. Finally, if I do need to come to him with a concern, I do it prayerfully, privately and lovingly. I humbly try and remember all MY failings and shortcomings and try to speak in such a way that I build him up and help him rather than erode and tear him down. I try and look at my own failings first - remove the plank from my own eye so to speak and ask myself if it really IS important enough to make an issue of. Because I do this rarely and I do my best to do it with the same kindness and love I would want for me, he is usually quite open to listen and make changes if needs be.

So there it is, my top ten for my top bloke.

Love you honey!!

mothering labels

How do you define yourself?

There are a million different ways people define themselves to others and to themselves. Profession, address, family, religion, education. All of these can play a part in defining us. In the realm of motherhood, it does not seem enough to define oneself simply as mother. Cute t-shirts with slogans such as "I get my milk from Mum - not just any old moo!" proclaim the proud Breastfeeding Mums. You can buy decals for your car to advertise that the travellers within enjoy a family bed - the Co-sleeping Mum. Ezzo Mothers press their copy of Babywise on you and sing the praises of routine. Attachment Mums adjust their sling and suggest routines starve children of love and affection. Homeschooling Mums speak about schools as state sanctioned child abuse while P&F Mums bake madly for the next bake sale to raise funds for the library and well up with tears as their child plays a tree in the school concert - thriving in the community of school. Don't even start on vaccination, circumcision, home birth and elective c-sections. The millitant on all sides sure that their way is the best way.

And then the battle lines start.

And that's where I START to have problems with the way we define, or label, our mothering.

Call me a little odd, but I feel that as mothers we need to be comrades rather than enemies. Honestly, the truest desire of each mother is to do the best she can for her child or children. Isn't it? Different education, cultural cues, histories, values, desires and personalities mean that how "doing the best we can" for our children looks is different for each of us. Yet our labels, our definitions, are so often a source of pain and distress. And they can also impair our ability to mother effectively.

Here are some of the problems that I have with parenting labels.

Reducing our parenting to labels, can reduce our parenting to formulas. When my friends who are first time parents call me for advice they often come away frustrated. They want an answer to a question like "How do I get my baby to sleep?". They want formulas. They want me to say "Do XYZ and your baby will sleep through the night in approximately one week". Here's the rub. I can't do that. I can say about a dozen different things that have worked but for me but I cannot garantee that any of them will work for that particular baby. Because babies aren't machines, they are people. Some brave people have put down what works for them in raising children into writing which has helped many, many people. However, almost invariably, their words hae been twisted, misinterpreted, abused and over simplified. At times, to disasterous effect. Children are people, not machines. Life is LIFE, not an exam where we get each answer right or wrong. There is no cheat sheet. Following the "rules" of a certain movement, childraising expert or parenting style will not ensure your mothering turns our right.

Which brings me to my second point.

Clinging on to labels can prevent us from clinging on to Jesus. We don't want to fail at this parenting caper. The stakes are too high. So that sentence I just said 'Following the "rules" of a certain movement, childraising expert or parenting style will not ensure your mothering turns our right.' is liable to scare the crappers out of us. The natural question that follows is what WILL ensure our mothering turns out right? Here's the really scary answer...Nothing. We can do everything right, we can raise our children in the way they should go, we can do every single thing in our power to lead them to Christ but the truth of the matter is our child's relationship with God is just that, THEIR relationship with God. Now I have about a million different things that I do in order to raise my children in a way that encourages them to know God and I strive to learn more of how I can raise them well but this knowledge that the decision to follow Christ is theirs and theirs alone drives me to my knees in prayer - which, as a mother, is exactly where I should be. Rather than totally relying on a label or movement or expert or ANYTHING, perhaps we need to rely on God alone. After that, take what's helpful and loose the rest.

Hiding behind labels can make us judge others. Through fear, we start to judge others. We see a child throwing a tantrum in the supermarket and think "Hmm, someone needs to set better limits/ensure their child gets more rest/cut down on their sugar intake/fill in other blank". A mother confides her exhaustion after a sleepless night and we think "well, if she would just co-sleep/control cry/get a better routine/fill in the other blank she would get more sleep". We hear about tragedy striking another family - a child making horrible choices, a child being diagnosed autistic, a child suffering abuse at the hands of a family friend. Nodding sagely we comfort ourselves that it could never happen in OUR home. That only happens to families who don't homeschool, who immunise, who allow others to babysit. Fear that what happened to them could happen to us drives us in to the shell of labels and formulas. Superiority replaces humility and compassion. There is nothing wrong with offering advice - especially if it is asked for. There is something wrong with thinking that we have all the answers. There is something wrong with sitting in judgement over hurting parents.

Being focussed on our labels and self-definitions rather than people can lessen our ability to minister to others. I have a friend who I have known for years. This good friend is passionate about her beliefs and convictions - which is one of the things I love about her. A while ago, this friend was convicted that circumcision of infant boys was wrong. Several times a week links to anti-circumcision articles and clips would appear on her Facebook feed. Almost every time I logged on, I would be confronted with lists of reasons why circumcision was wrong and links to graphic video of circumcision. Personally, my sons are not circumcised. We have many reasons for this, which I am happy to discuss with anyone interested, but it got to the point that I was frustrated and annoyed by the confronting nature of the links so I did what I suspect most people do in that type of situation - I hid her Facebook feed! The language used in many of these articles was accusitory and provocative and I, who shared the conviction, was completely turned off from any information they may have contained. Language which deliberately provokes or accuses will not help other parents learn anything useful from us. Language which supports, uplifts, empathises and encourages is the type of language which should be exchanged between mothers.

An "us and them" mentality can alienate others and limit us. If a course of action you have chosen as a parent is at all countercultural you probably have encountered criticism and opposition. One way people who have experienced this show support to one another is to band together. You can find a web forum or online support group for pretty much any choice you make as a parent. There are playgroups, clubs and organisations supporting every lifestyle and parenting choice out there. There is nothing wrong with this, until exclusionary or judgemental statements and jargon becomes a part of our every day vocabulary and all our friends look exactly like us in philosophy and practise.


Defining or labeling ourselves in a certain way can stop us from being flexable. I homeschool my children and I love it. It makes me happy, it works for our family and it is, at present, the best choice for our family. If, tomorrow, God tells me to put my kids in school - I will. And it will not change who I am as a mother. It will just give me less excuses to avoid housework! I believe the safest and best place for my family is where God wants us to be. I don't co-sleep with my kids other than in cases of illness or bad dreams. It simply doesn't work for me. I don't sleep well with babies or kids in my bed and my Beloved and I enjoy our quiet, personal time together kid free. However, if this changes one day, it will not rock my world as a mother. It will not change my definition of myself. Because while I am a mother who homeschools, I am not a Homeschooling Mum. I am a mother who chooses not to co-sleep, not an anti-co-sleeping Mum.


I have learned over the years that I only need one label, one definition, for my motherhood and myself, and it is Saved. And I think the sonner we learn that, the sooner we will be able to support each other as sisters in Christ rather than drawing battle lines on the playground.

Mothers are not perfect, just blessed

So it is mother's day tomorrow and Hallmark is going crazy. At this time of year we start out with the flattery and idealised statements.

Statements like:

Mothers are the one person who can substitute for anyone but nobody can substitute for. I'm guessing I don't get an RDO then. Not only do I have to be Mum to my sons, I also have to be Dad, girlfriend, wife, child, grandparent - basically every significant relationship in their life as needed too. I DON'T THINK SO.

and:

God couldn't be everywhere, so He created mothers. So I need to be God now, no pressure there at all I am sure I can live up to that one. Excuse me while I go and rock in a corner and gag uncontrollably.

At times like these I remember that Anna Jarvis, the woman who initally campaigned to make Mother's Day a nationally recognised holiday in America, spent her family inheritance campaigning AGAINST what the holiday had become.

Now don't get me wrong, Mother's Day is an excellent opportunity to recognise and affirm mothers. The Bible often recommends affirming women verbally and publically. Proverbs 31, for example, asks that we "Give her the reward she has earned, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate." (verse 31) but the Bible also has a few words to say about flattery. If you flatter someone you "Lavish insincere praise and compliments upon (someone), esp. to further one's own interests" If my kids were to give me a card saying "To The Perfect Mother" I would accept it in the spirit intended of course, but I would also be thinking "suck up!". Because nobody knows better than them my imperfections as a mother.

The truth is, not one of my children will grow up without scars from what I did or did not do. Motherhood is a daily invitation to step up, be a better person, make good choices and grow and heal my own heart. And I don't always RSVP in the affirmative. I fail. I pray that when the appropriate day comes, I have the humility and compassion to be able to fully and completely apologise for my short comings and failures, of which I have many.

But the good news is: God CAN be everywhere.

He promised me once that nothing will happen to my children that He and they can't handle together. I am not everything to my children and I do not have to be. To tell me that I am is flattery and a curse.

For me, sincere praise must be true, specific and measured. "Mum you are the best cook in the whole wide world and everything you make is magic" vs. "Mum, thanks for putting the extra effort into that dinner tonight, I really liked the potatoes done that way." The first is flattery, the second makes sure those potatoes get cooked often and makes Mum real warm and squishy on the inside.

So tomorrow, if you are going to praise your Mum, please make it real. I would prefer my children recognise the real blood sweat and tears that I put into raising them than they go for the hallmark syrup.

Some Arguments for an Elected Head of State Examined

I need to confess something. I am a royalist. Yes, I know, not a popular stance in this day and age but there you go. The debate has been revisited because of the Royal Wedding and some of the arguments put forward by those for a republic have amused and confused me somewhat.


* We need an elected head of state because the Royal Family is dysfunctional and full of scandal.

* Ummmmm, yes. Because there has never been an elected person who had a scandalous affair in the history of the world.

* We need an elected head of state because Prince Philip says racist, embarrassing and ill informed things sometimes.

* Yes, because there has never been an elected person who said stupid things (why do you think comedians all voted Bush in for a second term in the States?)

* We need an elected head of state because the Royal Family's role is largely ceremonial.

* And what, exactly, are you proposing an elected head of state does that is different to a largely ceremonial role? Come back to me on that one when you have a good answer.

* We need to have an elected head of state because the Royal Family costs us money.

* Yes, an elected head of state will work for free I'm sure. They will live in a housing commission house, drive a Ford Fiesta and never, ever need to travel internationally.

* We need an elected head of state because the Monarchy has done some dreadful things in the past.

* So has Parliament. White Australia Policy anyone? Stolen Generation? Vietnam? If we are going to get rid of the monarchy based on the choices of past Monarchs, we need to get rid of Parliament based on past Parliaments.

* We need an Australian head of state because the Royal Family are FOREIGNERS and do not reflect Australian Values.

* Perhaps instead of debating the Republic issue at this time, we need to put our time and energy into working out what those Australian Values are and exactly how Australians are going to behave toward foreigners. Seeing as there is a section of our society that can't seem to tell the difference between an Indian Student who brings thousands (collectively millions) to our economy and Osama Bin Ladin perhaps we need to be putting funds in to PAYING TEACHERS and BUYING MAPS FOR SCHOOLS rather than changing the head on our coins.


Do I believe that a Constitutional Monarchy is the BEST model for Australia? No, I do not. I do, however, believe that it is the best model that we have AT THIS TIME. And until we are moving toward a values rich, positive model that reflects an Australia that I can be proud of, I am not moving anywhere. The Republican Movement is all to quick to point out the problems with our current model but it is rare to see any solutions offered. Rather than running away I want to be, at the risk of sounding like a certain obnoxious red-head, moving forward. To an Australia I can be proud of.

Personally, I love and admire the Queen. I think she is a role model for women, leaders and Christians all over the world. She quietly worked with others to enable them to end apartheid in South Africa, something she gets very little credit for and expects no credit for. Her work in world politics goes largely unnoticed. She is like Dr. Who but in a nice frock with corgis. Prince Charles is highly underestimated and he works HARD to serve the people of the Commonwealth. He earned a great deal of respect from me when he and his current wife publicly repented of their sins before marrying. That could not have been easy. William seems to be shaping up to be quite a nice young man too. HOWEVER, rather than whose bottom is on the throne my concern is with the political model under which my country currently operates which I believe is one of the very best in the world. And although we benefit from a "good" monarch our laws largely protect us from a "bad" one. Perhaps one day our country will have grown up enough to stand on its own, but I believe that the massive issues we are currently facing (racism, our treatment of asylum seekers, the crisis within the Aboriginal population to name a few) show that we ARE NOT READY to formulate our own political system.

Perhaps one day we will be, but not yet.

The Realisation of a Life Long Dream

When I was a little girl I had a best friend, Kim. Kim's mother and my own had a very different view on children's diets. My lunchbox usually had some healthy home made biscuits or cake or some fruit. Kim's had Wagon Wheels. I love Wagon Wheels. This was reflected at Easter time too when my mother, knowing it was likely to be gone by lunch time, would usually gift me with one large or several small Easter eggs (a wise move, although we will never again speak of that year we got Carob Easter eggs instead of real chocolate). Kim would get significantly more than this most years and chocolate not being a novelty and she having some self control, many of her eggs would sit on top of a cupboard in plain view for days. WEEKS even. I still don't have that kind of self control. Every time I would go and visit my eyes would stray up to the eggs. In particular, The Humpty Dumpty Egg. It was full of SMARTIES. Willy Wonka himself could not have come up with a more fantastical idea. It was a chocolate egg and inside there was more chocolate covered with a crisp, colourful shell. It was, in effect, CHOCOLATE COVERED CHOCOLATE. Be still my beating heart. For years my eyes would stray to that Humpty Dumpty Egg. I am sure it exasperated her that I would sit for long periods of time gazing at The Egg instead of playing. I have vague memories of her asking her Mum to cover it up at one point so I would come and play. We moved away and Kim and I lost touch. I still remembered The Egg. Each year as Easter came around I would sternly tell myself not to be so silly and each year I would look on the supermarket shelves and see it looking back at me. The Humpty Dumpty Egg. But I refused to allow myself to be so, well, CHILDISH - and secretly was afraid Humpty couldn't live up to the hype of my childhood adoration. After I got married I mentioned it to Beloved and pointed it out on the shelf. He snorted and told me Easter Eggs are a little bit Pagan and not really his thing. Hopes of my getting Humpty Dumpty as a romantic gesture were kind of dashed. Fast Forward to this year. I was walking through our local supermarket and there on the shelf was Humpty, still full of smarties, still looking back at me. No longer white with a clown like grin and a box with a brick wall painted on the front. Humpty has had a face lift, he is purple and rides a skate board. But he couldn't fool me, I recognised him. The poetry of chocolate covered chocolate. There was a tag below him this week - PRICE REDUCED.

So this afternoon I snuck out of the house and ran accross. I BOUGHT my Humpty, all the time telling myself that it was silly and childish and after 26 years of wanting it, there was no way it could live up to the expectations built up around it.

I hid in my bedroom and at him, sharing small crumbs with Andrew to keep him quiet so the other children wouldn't find me out (who told him what chocolate is?).

I ate every bit. And. It. Was. GOOD.

Further Parenting Hints from the Slightly Insane

She was like a dark cloud coming to the breakfast table.

I had committed the unpardonable sin on switching off the playschool repeat before it had finished and refusing to tape the end of it. Apparently, the justification that she had already seen that episode several times and we needed to sit down for breakfast was JUST NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

As we sung our hymn she scowled at her weetbix as if they had been the cause of the offense. The other children watched her with interest to see how this would play out. We finished the hymn (or I did while the others gaped at Erin and Erin scowled at her breakfast), prayed and I calmly took up spoons and started feeding myself and Andrew. She scowled, waited and surreptitiously peeked at me from under her eyebrows to see how I'd react. I continued to eat. She continued to scowl.

Choice time.

Do I engage in a tussle of using reason and logic, giving her opportunity to argue back - at least silently in her head? Do I tell her to suck it up sweetheart and eat her breakfast WITH A SMILE, playing the ogre for her internal persecuted princess?

Or do I come at it sideways?

I fixed her with a severe look, pointed at her, wiggled my finger like a worm and said "Hey Erin, this ISN'T FUNNY". The other children burst into laughter. She struggled not to. I wiggled it more. "Hey Erin, see my finger? See my finger here? It really isn't funny. Nope. Not even a little bit. I mean look at it, it is a wriggling finger. What in the tarnation could be funny about that?" She struggles, shakes her head vigorously and rolls her eyes while her siblings are helpless with laughter. I then calmly pick up my spoon and continue eating. She scowls again at her food but her acting is in severe need of some cheese to go with that ham. The bitterness just isn't there anymore. And I continue eating. Billy watches her with interest as he eats. "Hey Mum, Erin's not eating." "Well, she will be hungry come lunch time because her food will disappear once we are all finished." Half-heartedly she sets her jaw and pronounces "I won't eat until you make me" I look at her and smile "Wow, we are sure going to save on food bills then." and I continue eating.

She rolls her eyes in surrender, smiles and starts eating.

Engaging would have bought into the drama of it, coming at it sideways and getting a little creative moved us on without making the morning the casualty of a bad attitude. Like a crazy improv theatre workshop, parenting makes you think on your feet, make decisions and move fast. The core attitude was addressed. She knew the logic, she knew the behaviour, she knew the expectations. She made her choices about how to behave and then so did I. Next time I may invite her to go back to bed and restart the day. Next time I will probably manage our mornings so I don't resort to TV to keep everyone out of my hair for a few moments before breakfast. Next time I may even wait until the end of the program. Next time I may cheerfully instruct her to suck it up sweetheart. But coming at it sideways, sometimes works too.

Parenting hints from the slightly insane

He was driving me crazy.

In a seemingly DELIBERATE effort to push my buttons, he was doing everything he could do to drive me nuts. He was making the most amazingly, brain numbingly, irritating noises and I am sure he was doing it just to DRIVE ME NUTS. Whenever I tried to soothe, redirect, distract or engage he would resist and I am sure he was doing it JUST TO DRIVE ME NUTS!

He is very advanced for nine months.

The answer - I went nuts. I started to sing "Why Do Birds Suddenly Appear" by The Carpenters very loudly in a kind of Irish pub band/Thrash Metal style. Why? Because engaging with a nine month old, taking his behaviour personally and following down the path where we were going was going to take us to places that were not fun. So I chose to DO SOMETHING ELSE. Do something that amused ME and made ME feel better. Something that made the excess adrenaline that was building up in my body and making me clench every cell in anger go away. Something that regulated my anger and frustration so that I could deal with HIS needs effectively.

Because somewhere along the line his annoying squeal and insistence that he wanted to throw himself over the side of the nappy change station and/or spread POO from one end of the space to the other became about me. About my anger and frustration. About my feelings of inadequacy as a parent. About the stressors that I have been facing recently and frustrations with things that have nothing to do with this little red-faced, strong-willed, overtired little boy who was simply pushing his own agenda in the only way a nine month old can.

I needed to put my big girl panties on, suck it up and be the parent rather than place my own garbage on his little shoulders.

So I sang.

"Why do BIRDS, suddenly APPEEEEAAAAR, EVERY TIME, YOU ARE NEEEEEAAAR? Cause like me, they long to be CLOSE TO YOU!"

It was enough to break it, the cycle of mental frustration I had got myself on.

Inwardly I laughed at the absurdity of it. I am the grown up and I was letting this little person, my FIFTH baby (you think I'd know better by now), to push my buttons.

I looked down at him and he looked momentarily confused, then he squealed again but this time with laughter. I finished what we needed to do singing the whole time and he loved it, which was nice, but it really was to calm me down more than him.

Because like they say on the airplane, you need to put your own oxygen mask on first before you assist children.

As I put him to bed I found that the song was actually true. I did want to be close to him again.

It would be nice to tell you that singing hymns or praying is my first reaction to that frustration but it isn't always. But I truly believe an angel said to me this morning "Jess, do something stupid before you hurt yourself or someone else".


And I am glad I took his advice. I am glad I was grown up enough to be a little silly.