Loving... NOT Loving...

I am NOT loving the sad fact that Scrag broke Daddy's special Christmas Mug handpainted by Dash when he was little. However I am LOVING Superglue. I'm also LOVING my recycled broken-mug herb planters that now decorate my kitchen windowsill. I'm also loving the scent of basil and mint which now pervades.

I am LOVING these recently-discovered molded-plastic bibs. I'm loving the way they catch all the crumbs, goop and spilt milk. I'm loving the fact that there's less muck to clean off the floor (and I can just chuck them in the dishwasher or run them under a tap). Bibs, where have you been all my life?

I'm LOVING my mocha sachets. Just add water. Almost as good as the real thing...

I'm NOT loving endless snotty noses. But I am LOVING my Eucalyptus and Aloe tissues (they smell so good). I am NOT loving a certain Scrag by-passing the tissues and using my t-shirt to blow his nose and then running off giggling. OK, maybe I am kind of loving it just a little bit... he is very cute.

I am LOVING my new earplugs. I can now handle loud music and noisy places. I can even handle a certain young lady (who sounds remarkably like an air-raid siren) having a melt-down right in front of me. I am NOT loving the meltdown, but I am LOVING the way I can stay so calm while wearing my earplugs!

I am NOT loving my itchy red pussy eye. I am NOT loving the way I woke up with my eyelids glued shut. But I am LOVING the way my kind dear husband heroically and gently unglued my crusty eye for me. What a guy. That's True Love. I am LOVING my husband.

I am NOT loving my pirate eye-patch. It is NOT a good look.

But I am LOVING that me and Mr G have been Married NINE YEARS TODAY. I am LOVING that my hubby took the morning off to take me out for Brunch. I am LOVING my local cafe (Trinity of Silver; good food, good coffee). I am LOVING that my husband doesn't mind being seen in public with me even though I look terrible with my red crusty eye. I am LOVING that I married That Guy. Happy Wedding Anniversary Mr G!

It's Family...

Last night we had a blast. We had a bunch of families from church over to our place for a BBQ and fireworks. A kind of un-Halloween party combined with un-Guy Fawks. The kids dressed up, we painted their faces, they ran around and bounced on the trampoline, we grownups ate, drank, were merry and enjoyed hanging out in each others' company. The kids got to meet some new friends and hang out with their buddies.

And so did we. The mummies got to chat and laugh (Gail was there and Amy), while the daddies propped up the barbie, had a beer and burnt (oops I mean cooked) the sausies.

Later the kiddies danced around with sparklers, painting magically with light. Oooh's and ahhh's accompanied spontaneous applause as they watched the ($20 Budget box of) Fireworks illuminate our backyard. It was Fantastic, Priceless, Precious.




It was Community, it was Friendship, it was Family. It's what I've needed.

I have been wallowing in a bit of a dusty dry desert, spiritually, for quite a while. As I have mentioned before, I was having panic attacks nearly every Sunday, reacting to the volume of our church's (very hip'n'rockin') music. I was spending Sunday mornings in Starbucks with a Christian book. Hey, that's not so bad, I hear you say. Peace and quiet and coffee?

True, it was nice, but it was simply not the same as being able to go in to a service and be part of what was happening there.

I battled with feeling isolated, sorry for myself, resentful and critical. Finally I went to see one of our Pastors, Jill (my awesome counsellor), and sobbed out all my troubles and issues to her.






Being both wise and practical, Jill identified some stuff from way back (I'm talking 10 years) which I had unresolved and she set up a meeting with myself and two of our other pastors; she and Mr G came to support me. I was terrified, worried they would think I was a dufus, a doorknob, but nothing could be further from the truth. They heard me out, acknowledged my old hurts, affirmed me, encouraged me and I felt like a huge weight had rolled off me.

I looked forward to going to church and testing out my new attitude... (and sitting next to my buddy Gail!) Would I find that I could now cope in the service? I bought some earplugs just in case, I was determined to be there and be part of things from now on.

We were away for the next five Sundays in the UK, so I had to wait til we returned to find out. Imagine how stoked I was when I was able to sit in the service and sing with everyone else!

The following Sunday I had a sick baby... no church for me.

During the week I began to notice that even though I felt the past had been dealt with, I still felt disconnected, cut off and like an outsider.

Now, just so you understand, I have been in this church for nearly 20 years. I arrived as a 20-year-old newly-recommitted baby Christian. I have "grown up" in this church, I was on staff, I helped start things here, I have friendships that span decades which have held firm through the ups and downs of life... I met my husband here, got married here, brought my babies to be dedicated to God in this dear familiar place.






If anyone should feel like this church is where I belong - it's me.

But I had allowed critical thoughts to creep in and take over. My language had changed; it was "the church" not "our/my church". I was looking at things as an outsider and all I could find was things to get grumpy about: "It's not the same anymore!" "Everyone's so busy!" "It feels too business-like, not like a family" "It's more for the youth, where do I fit in?"

I looked at different church people's FaceBook updates saying things like: "Wow Church was Off the Hook!" and "Man God is really doing stuff here!" and I just didn't feel it. They're a bit OTT, I thought.

Then last Sunday Helen preached. Oh man. This lady is the most beautiful soul. She was a like a second mum to me all through my twenties. I soooo wanted to be like her. She is gutsy but gentle. Wise and discerning but not freaky or fruity.

And her message was like a gentle kick up my lazy critical butt.

It was not harsh, it was not judgemental. But it just cut through all my complaints and negativity. I can't really remember her actual words, I just know that at the end of the message my heart/brain had flipped a switch.

So I'm feeling like church aint as much like a family anymore? Well do something about it, Simone.

So I'm thinking maybe the grass is greener in some other church (after all this time?) Well, Simone. No church is perfect. I've got to decide that I am here and become part of the answer, not a fence-sitting critic. No Plan B. No escape hatch. This is my church family and dang it, I'm going to act like it.

Stop being distant. Stop imagining barriers. Invite some people over! Be hospitable!

All this was churning through me during and after the message. Mr G was feeling it too.

In a flash I remembered the conviction I'd had when the kids were toddlers: How important it was to invest into our friendships with our church family, so the kids would grow up feeling part of this awesome community, secure in friendships with people who shared our same values and convictions. So when they hit those teenage years, if they have problems at school or wherever, they will always have this base to fall back on; this sense of belonging and family.

And our church youth programme is phenomenal. These teenagers are not playing games. They are inspirational. They write amazing songs, they use their creativity, they go out on team missions, they are leaders in their schools: I want my kids to be part of that!

Long story short(er) we invited three families home for lunch after church that very day. They all brought food, we hung out, played sports, chilled. It was great! Easy peasy! They stayed all afternoon and some old connections were re-established and new friendships forged.

Mr G had the idea to do something on Saturday night (Halloween); so I FaceBooked a general invite: Who wants to come over for a BBQ and Fireworks?? Five families came over. We had the best fun.

Well, there you have it. I really believe/feel I have turned a major corner on this whole issue.

Any natural family can grow distant if you don't invest time, make an effort, work through the bumps. Why would I think church family would be any different?

So from now on there will be more BBQ's and Sunday lunches, many more. There'll be a Christmas party; I've even opened up my birthday list to include lots more people (I know, me and crowds... but hey! I'm turning 40! It's a big deal, yeah?)

Me and Mr G are going to play our part to forge and strengthen the "family" connections at our church. We don't need a job or "ministry" title to do that... we just have to be hospitable.

Should be lots and lotsa fun!

Prepared or Paranoid?

This morning at 8.10am we had a power cut. All of a sudden everything stopped, the quietness was strange... no background hum of the fridge, no TV, no radio, no beeps, no clocks. Silence.

All of a sudden we were cut off from the world, phones dead - the only sound were alarms going off all over the neighbourhood. Mr G was already out to work and Dash had gone off around the corner for a lift to school with his mate Oscar.

It was just me, a still-poorly Princess and Scrag at home.

And it got me thinking about Mr G's Emergency Plans a.k.a Tsunami Supplies a.k.a Earthquake Kit a.k.a Volcano Box. What if this were one of those events... and we were all on our own? Would I know what to do?

Mr G had been nagging me for months to start collecting tins and things after the Civil Defense people starting running ads on TV: Get Ready, Get Through

He kept saying, We are sitting ducks here in New Zealand, you know. Auckland is built on volcanoes, we're surrounded by water on all sides... the Pacific Ring of Fire (earthquake zone) runs right through the country! It's a matter of when not if.

And like a good procrastinator I did nothing. It'll probably never happen, I thought.

Have you started getting our emergency supplies yet? he'd ask.

Um.... well....

Then while we were in the UK we heard the dreadful news about the Tsunami in Samoa. That's pretty close to home, and some friends of ours even lost family members in it.

Mr G said, Right that's it. When we get home I'm going to get the emergency supplies. I'll do it myself (said the Little Red Hen, and he did).

To top it all off, we landed at Auckland Airport just in time to hear a Pilot asking the girl behind the Duty Free counter: "So what time is the Tsunami due to hit today???"

What the???!! Auckland had a Tsunami warning and we were back just in time!

OK, turned out to be a false alarm. But as Mr G said, Sitting Ducks.

The very next day, off he went to Pak'n'Save (still jetlagged) and came back with beginnings of our Emergency Box.

He says he's not Paranoid. He's being Prepared. Hope for the Best but Prepare for the Worst.

And I think I agree with him. I'll be adding to the box from now on... more cans, more water, gas ring & cannisters, lighters, candles, spare batteries... because you just never know do you?

..................................................................................

Click Here for GeoNet: The website which monitors Earthquake and Volcanic activity in NZ

Click Here for Get Ready Get Through: The Emergency Preparation brochure and checklist

Call Me Dory...

You know, Dory from Finding Nemo? The blue fish with the short term memory loss?

It's a nickname my hubby calls me regularly when I have forgotten something (yet again) or done something that only a dufus-head would do more than once...

Like taking three kids to Pak'N'Save at 4pm on a Friday afternoon to pick up some supplies for the Long Weekend. That place makes me crazy at the best of times. What was I thinking???

Of course the mayhem, noise and crowds caused me to begin a meltdown...

After I mouthed mean names at a guy who crossed the road right in front of me at snails pace, my 6-year-old told me: "Mum if you only get madder it'll only get worser..." Stopped me in my tracks that did.

Dory! said my hubby after he arrived home from playing a nice relaxing round of golf. Why would you do that to yourself?

Why indeed?

On the upside, sometimes short-term memory loss can come in handy. Like, if you tell me your secrets I promise I won't spread them. Your secrets are safe with me. I won't even remember what you've said in the morning. There may be a faint hazy echo of something, but not enough detail for any kind of juicy gossip. Scouts' Honour.

Then again, the downside... I sometimes forget who I've done what with. Like one time I was raving to a friend about a great movie I'd seen recently and wondering why she was looking at me funny.

"Have you seen it yet??" I asked.

"Um, yes... actually I saw it with you, remember???"

Oh. Oops.

See? Short-term memory loss!

So if I happen to forget your name / birthday / kids names / phone number / deep dark secrets please don't hold it against me. It's just one of my unavoidably annoying personality quirks, nothing personal against you at all.

Just put it down to my Dory-ness, and please forgive me.

P.S. I went to see Julie & Julia on Monday night with my friend Meg. It was great. So in case I forget... Julie & Julia was great. I saw it with Meg.

Poorly

Miss Fab (a.k.a.Princess) is lying on the couch in her pyjamas. It's 10.30am on a Tuesday morning. School has started but Miss Fab is not there - because she is poorly.

Scrag is conked out in his cot. It is only 10.30am in the morning but he is not rambling around kicking balls and riding trikes. He is nighnighs, because he is also poorly.

It's a great word that. Poorly. Sums it up, paints the picture so well.

Whether you're puking your guts out, running a fever, have a ringing headache or just "under the weather" - you're poorly.

Thankfully we don't have any puking, just fevers and ringing headaches. Little children off their food, and preferring to lie around and sleep than play. Definitely genuinely Poorly.

Of course Dash didn't want to be left out. Oh No. When he realised that his sister was going to be staying home today, he began coughing and sniffing, limping and complaining.

Was I convinced by his theatrics?? Nuh-uh. No way.

Hypochondriacs?? I can smell them a mile off.

Because... ahem, I know all the tricks. Because... ahem, I used to be one.

(Used to be??? I hear Mr G snorting in my ear.)

OK, well there was the time I was about 11 years old. I really really wanted a day off school but by this time my mum was wise to my theatrics, and sent me off to school despite my best efforts. I was riding my rickety old bike down the road when my devious mind conceived a brilliant plan. I would race back home, throw my bike down on the driveway, race into the house heading straight for the loo and proceed to fake-puke. This would surely convince mum I was sick...

Bingo! The plan worked to perfection. Mum knocked on the toilet door as I was flushing it, and said all concerned - "Oh dear you'd better get back into bed."

I limped back to my bed trying not to smile. My triumph was short lived, however.

Within 10 minutes of snuggling back under my blankets, my tummy started gurgling, and actual nausea set in. Suddenly I found myself dashing to the loo and puking my guts out for real.

I don't know what caused it. God's idea of a practical joke? "You got what you asked for..." or just a coincidence??

Whatever, it freaked me out enough that I never tried that trick again.

I didn't give up the theatrics completely though.

School in my early teens was rough for me. Any excuse would see me trying for a day off. A general feeling of blah-ness would be amped up and turned into complete weakness and inability to walk as I dramatically collapsed on the floor to show mum I really couldn't go to school.

Mum was not impressed but she sometimes gave in with great annoyance, slamming my bedroom door shut after she vehemently laid down the ground-rules: "I'd better not see you out of bed today... Don't think you're going to get up and watch TV... If you're sick, then you stay in bed all day and stay out of my way!"

No sympathy there. She was a hard woman in that respect. Now I sympathise with mum. This was her only kid-free time. She didn't want some pesky hormonal teenager lurking around making demands. I get that.

But I think part of my hypochondria was because I wanted to be fussed over and nursed. (As well as the fact that I was being picked on at school and had no friends - What can I say I was a lonely nerd-bookworm!)

So I try to be kind and sympathetic and soft on the kids... when they are actually sick. I try to be the kind of Mummy-nurse that I wanted when I was a kid.

Maybe that's why Dash is a bit of a Drama Queen, faking being poorly. Maybe my softy softy ways make staying home a bit too attractive?

Whatever, my career as a hypochondriac has equipped me with a nose for genuine illness and a built-in alarm for fakers.

All it took was a promise of a Lunch Order and off Dash went to school, happy as a Clam.

After all, I did feel sorry for him just a teensy bit. See? I'm a softy.

I'm Planning Ahead (for once)

I wrapped my first Christmas presents today. Bought and wrapped.

Are you crazy?? It's still October!! I hear you say.

Ahhh yes, but you see, I have been here before. Sitting comfortably in October thinking that December 25th is still a long way off. I have been lulled, in years gone by, into a false sense of time-security.

Before I know it November is upon me, with the whirl of Wedding anniversaries and birthdays, party planning and birthday buying, celebrating and cake-making. November is a total wipe-out for me.

And then before I realise what's hit me it's December. And I am forced to scramble madly with the hordes, braving shops full of crazed Christmas Shoppers, racking my brain trying to figure out what to buy everyone.

Then comes Christmas Eve and my dreams of sitting in the flickering candlelight with stockings hung, presents wrapped and Carols playing as I sip wine with my hunny and soak up that magical Christmas Eve tingle... well forget that.

Instead I am stage whispering threats of cancelling Christmas to children who won't sleep as I watch the clock tick closer to midnight and realise that all my prezzies lay hidden unwrapped in every nook and cranny.

By midnight all's quiet but I have a stiff neck, a sore behind and blurry eyes from trying to stubbornly wrap gifts by candlelight. I have also spent Christmas Eve alone because Mr G has been furiously wrapping his gifts to me in another part of the house, after his own Christmas Eve dash.

Not this year.

I am enforcing a wrap-as-you-buy policy. All presents will be wrapped and labelled as soon as they are bought. No more Christmas Eve wrapping frenzy.

I am now this very minute patting myself on the back for thinking ahead and snapping up some red-light bargains in K-Mart's post-Christmas clearout. Oh yes! I got rolls and rolls of quality wrapping paper and fancy labels for (drum roll) 40c each!!

So don't look at me funny for starting my Christmas shopping in October. If I was truly well-prepared I would have been snapping up bargains all year (like my mum does).

Speaking of my mum, I am also patting myself on the back because today I booked tickets for Mum and Dad to fly up and spend Christmas with us! Woohoo! This will be the first time ever that we have had my parents at our house for Christmas. And it will be so special after Dad's Heart Attack and surgery (he's doing really well, BTW).

We have some credits left on a travel voucher Mr G won a while back, so, yippee! Christmas with my Folks!

My mum instilled in me the love of making Christmas special. Even when we had no money she hand-made gifts for us; she would spend days, weeks cooking, baking special Christmas treats. And now I get to have her in my home, to show her that her legacy lives on. I am well stoked. And looking forward to Christmas!

Two Hundred

This is my 200th Post. Thought I'd mark the milestone with a look back at my favourites. If you haven't been reading me long, here's a selection of some earlier posts you may not have read, so we can get better aquainted...

Duh!: I am really really not a morning person...

My Journey: In case you don't know it

Confessions of a Lazy Mother: Yep, that's me

Housework Woes: Because we all have them...

Wardrobe Wars: A different kind of Fairy Tale...

25 Random Things About Me: Just in case you were curious

The Mysterious Case of the Missing Phone: Every word is True, I swear!

The Truth About Supermum: well, nuff said

Butterfly Wings: I love this one

Somehow I never seem to run out of things to say on my blog. Which is odd, because my hubby complains endlessly that I don't talk to him enough. He tells people: "If I want to know what's been going on at home i have to read the blog..." And he's only half-joking. Sad but true.

My Blog never interrupts my train of thought, or asks me for "just the headlines" (BLOKES!)? I can ramble on and don't have to worry about someone else butting in.

Ah, blogging is bliss for me. I can't believe it took me so long to discover blogging! Well, you can't get rid of me now; me and my Blog are here to stay. Here's to the next 200 Blog Posts!

What's your favourite?? (doesn't have to be from my list)