Monday Night Mayhem

We have a bedtime routine, we stick to it, what we just can't seem to get it right :/

Kids had had a bath, dinner, prayer, brushed teeth... Next step, Bed! Boys in one room, Anna on her own (this is essential- she is too easy for Alex to use as his instrument of destruction and too noisy to share with Benji). Once everyone was in bed (not asleep), Sam and I began our evening of relaxation (me on the blog, him on the ps3). We knew Anna was awake but thought, well, at least she's quiet. The boys were playing quite loudly, but as there was no crying, I also just let it go...

At about 8:45pm, Alex starts shouting, I can't see! That's the point, I shout back, now, go to sleep. Alex continued shouting, so we told him to come in the lounge- so we could let him know just how much trouble he was going to be in if he woke his brother... But he is awake, was his reply, and sure enough Benji calls out from the bedroom. Well Alex, bad luck, you can just stay in there with your screaming brother until he decides to fall asleep. So the boys are back in the room together, playing, with the door open. A little after 9:00pm, I hear a third voice in the mix...

Anna! She has snuck out of her room and into her brothers'. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that they're close, that they love being together, but enough is enough. I'm tired, Sam's tired, they're tired- they need to go to sleep. I get up and go to tell Anna off- as I enter their room, I notice that all three kids are in Benj's cot (no wonder he is so happy!) The room is upside down (how predictable) and Benj's cot has been stripped of bedding. Well, back to the usual process, pick up Ben (cos as soon as he sees the milk machine aka me, he starts screaming and aggressively scratching me as he tries to climb up my arm), then proceed to lift both of the trouble makers out of the cot. Put Anna back in her room in the dark then sit in rocking chair with Ben, trying to settle him without feeding. Anna is yelling for a drink of water, Sam gets her one, goes in her room, switches on the light... Bec, you need to see this...

It is now 9:30pm or there about... We've just discovered what Anna was doing between about 7:30 and 8:45... And it ain't pretty! There are tea bags torn open and emptied on her floor, mixed with desiccated coconut. A few tins of tuna are neatly positioned on the spare bed to complete her pro hart-esque masterpiece. Anna, the artist? She is definitely the one who keeps us on our toes as she discovers new weird and wonderful ways of driving us crazy! Well, she can help clean that up tomorrow because I can't be bothered tonight- instead, I'll just take some pictures for my blog, feed my baby to sleep (cos I've given up) and hope that tomorrow night is better.. Oh wait, tomorrow is NYE- maybe I'll just wait til next year :/

New Year's Resolution 2014

I'm not usually one to make a New Year's Resolution... I find it pointless and feel like I'm just setting myself up to fail. This year, however, is going to be different. This year I'm going to keep my resolution! (See last post where I label myself the queen of good intentions). This year I am suitably inspired to actually follow through with my resolution (let's see how long it lasts... No, I'm going to be optimistic). This year I am going to (drum roll please) blog at least once a week! (For my sanity as well as for my little sisters' enjoyment). For those who are a little disappointed by that anti climatic resolution- well any sort of commitment at this stage of my life is a really big deal for me!

I read three different Catholic mothers' blogs, and I must say, I often feel quite inadequate afterwards. These three mothers are truly inspiring; they have 3, 5 and 7 children, they homeschool, cook, clean, homestead, craft, sew, knit/crochet, organise epic parties and always look lovely for Mass (they post a weekly picture). On top of that impressive list of extra curricula activities, they also blog, often! I think they are awesome- I'd like to meet them one day (even if I am a little bit intimidated by their accomplishments). But, here's the thing, I'm not them, I'm me (duh). I am only just getting back into the rhythm of life now that my baby is nearly ten months old (can't believe it!) I'm still trying to figure out how to keep on top of housework, childminding, gardening, cooking and washing, not to mention all the extras. It is hard work!

So my blog is not going to be perfect but I can promise you that it will be real. This upcoming year, I will write at least one blog a week that will tell it like it really is, not how I wish it was. There are some days when it all seems too hard, but hey, those days are not the norm. Often, I feel pressure to portray this image of having it all together, all the time- that just isn't possible for me... And I'm okay with that. I just want this blog to inspire others to give themselves permission to just take it as it comes and not feel as if they need to be keeping all the balls in the air all the time. Sure, it's great to be a master juggler every now and then, but crawling through a ball pit can also be fun! Right now, I'm trying to figure out the balance between nurturing relationships (including spiritual ones) and being productive- and that is going to be a work in progress for many years to come I expect :)

On a side note, the American Catholic blogging mums seem to have this thing set up where they post pictures of what they wore to Mass on Sunday- I think it's an awesome idea... So I'm going to start doing it too (I think it's a practical and fun way to promote modest and appropriate dress for Holy Mass). I would like to invite other people to post their 'Sunday best' photos on the Facebook group page (same name as this blog). Anyways, hope everyone has a safe and fun New Year's Eve- we are going down to my parents' and I am going to drink for the first NYE in about 5 years (I think one sniff and I'll be done)! Good luck and Happy New Year!

Advent 2013: Epic fail

Here's the thing, they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and I am the freakin queen of good intentions... This year, I had it all planned out- I would do spring cleaning during advent, we would make 'special bread' and go see the lights for St Lucy's feast day, we would set up a living Nativity starting on the feast of St Barbara etc... Then, it just didn't happen. It was all too hard and so yeah: epic fail!

We did manage to establish a couple of basic routines that we would like to continue- we did unwrap a book each evening with a Jesse tree symbol and read it together, as well as lighting the advent wreath each evening while we said our evening prayers. So, in a way, it was not entirely lacking of advent spirit. Also, I did clean some stuff and collect some clothes for a donation- but really, I could not call what I did spring cleaning- more like just making sure that we could maintain living in moderate comfort without constantly stepping on toys.

But, even though I seemed to have completely messed up this season, I'm okay with it because that's life with kids- it is, at times, messed up. Kids don't always follow the rules, they don't always get the point, they don't always go with the flow... Sometimes, and in our case, most times, they only do what they want to do- our plans are irrelevant. Also, sometimes, it all just seems too hard, and so giving up can feel like the only option.

However, reflecting on the season, I was struck by a light bulb moment- advent, like life, is a work in progress! I don't need to have the perfectly planned, intricately organised and awesomely orchestrated advent every year... Actually, it's probably not even effective. Our family is very young, we are still trying to figure out some of the basics- like how to get three kids to go to sleep when you only have two bedrooms to put them in (I know, first world problems- but we are struggling with this particular conundrum). We need to start small, and build on our advent experience each year. Maybe I went into this advent with too many ideas, too many expectation really, and so set myself up for a bit of a fail. Luckily, because we set the bar so low this year, things can only get better!

Dear Teresa

Since I only have a handful of readers, and since most of those are my direct family, I think you can forgive me for this post... My littlest sister, 9 year old Teresa is my blog's biggest fan. She reads every post and whenever she sees me, she always asks, "when are you going to post something else?" So, here you go Reebz, a post dedicated to you :) - don't worry Kitty, I can dedicate one to you later if you like...

So, Reebz, what is there that you don't know? You are the youngest in the family, yet you know everybody's business even better than they know their own. Whenever there is trouble, you are generally there- not necessarily because you are involved, but more because you want to be. Whenever there is work to be done, you conveniently disappear- except if it's gardening, and whenever there is a treat to be enjoyed, well we all know where you'll be. But hey, you're a kid, that's what kids do :)

I remember when you were born, I know that's what everyone says, but I really do. I was a month off my 21st birthday, so I kind of felt that you were sort of my baby too. I spent a lot of time looking after you (babies were still a novelty and I could give you back as soon as I wanted to go out). I loved teaching you things that I probably shouldn't have (you can have a lot of fun with a kid who is learning to talk) and I, along with the rest of the family, spoilt you rotten... We really did. You used to scowl and we would all encourage you because we thought it was so cute (not mum and dad, they were sensible).

When you were 3 1/2, you were my flower girl. You did such a good job dropping rose petals down the aisle (and then picked them up again when Mass started- just like in the rehearsal). At the reception, you danced your little heart out- it was adorable- especially when you moshed to The Holy Grail. When it was time for Sam and I to leave, you cried when we wouldn't let you come too.

Since Sam and I have been married, you have come for countless visits and plenty of sleepovers. You came to the hospital straight after Alex was born and, to my horror, you saw me getting stitches (then you told anybody who would listen- with a little too much detail for my liking). You are a helpful little Aunty- though sometimes you have more of a sibling style relationship with the kids. Anna and Wacman are quite the fans of Weebz and I'm loving watching your relationships with them develop.

Anyways, it's been an awesome 9 years. You are so full of character and you are always cracking me up. I think it might be nice if you listened to mum and dad a bit more consistently but all in all, I think you're alright :) love you Reeby Peeby and keep reading!

Patience is a virtue

How often do I tell my kids, patience is a virtue (how stupid am I trying to tell that to a 4 and 2 year old- and on occasion, a 9 month old)... The main problem with telling my kids to be patient is that I am the poster child for impatience! I do try to be patient, but usually, by about 9 am, my patience with one child or another is teetering off the edge of a cliff and I am nearing an explosive episode of sorts...

In case you have missed the obvious, I'm not patient. I suffer from road rage (if there is a screaming kid in the backseat), I suffer cleaning rage (if the kids are making more mess than I am managing to clean), I suffer cooking rage (if the kids are demanding food when I'm in the middle of something) and I suffer parenting rage (when the kids are fighting, constantly)... But the worst, most infuriating thing in the world, is whinging! (You probably are thinking I'm a rage-aholic... Not all my rages result in outbursts, many are internalised, contributing to my very stiff neck).

Those of you with a keen eye and clever mind may have noticed the common trigger to my 'rages'... Kids! Yep, I have aged more in the past 4 1/2 years than in the previous 25... (Okay, maybe a slight exaggeration). But seriously, kids are, in one way or another, a huge contributer to me losing my patience. And, once you have kids, they are always there, you can't escape... Ever been home alone with three little darlings, who have been whinging non stop (for hours) demanding your undivided attention as they destroy your house? It's just not fun! Really, it's not! And you know, in the back of your mind, that you are going to have a crappy night sleep followed by another day of the same... It can be quite disheartening.

So yeah, I lose my patience. Some days more than others. I'm getting better at not sweating the small stuff, but a new phenomenon now challenges my patience- impatient children... (Talk about hypocritical, I get impatient trying to teach my kids patience). It's just hard to give what you don't have or teach what you don't know. I'm still developing my coping strategies when it comes to patience, so how can I expect my kids to be glowing examples- they are learning from a very flawed model (one that is yet to iron out all the creases).

I think that sometimes I expect my kids to be little robots and just do what I say, rather than be the little people they are. They are meant to challenge me, and inspire me to be a better person. Without my children, maybe I would never have had that catalyst I needed to inspire me to grow and mature. Instead of getting frustrated by the ways they challenge me as a parent, I guess I should reflect on how they challenge me as a person. What lessons do I need to learn? Which virtues do I need to work on? And maybe, just maybe, we can teach each other- or at the very least- provide each other with many opportunities to practice :)

Anna birth story

Annabelle Mary  7/08/11

My pregnancy with Anna was pretty good really. I put on about 20kg, probably due to the fact that ate pretty much non stop- especially if there was cream involved :) By the time my due date was reached, I had the biggest thighs, my stomach was severely stretched and I had quite the waddle (attractive). Anna's due date was actually 30/07/09, Alex's second birthday. I had set up a party for our immediate family as I was sure that this baby would be overdue, like Alex was, and then it happened...

No, I didn't go into labour- my husband had gone to play footy and within the first ten minutes he had broken his ankle. My brother kindly offered to take him to hospital because I was busy looking after Alex. We cancelled the birthday party, had cake at my in laws, then at my parents and got our stuff packed... My well meaning brother had forced me to accept the fact that until this baby was born, I had to stay at my parents because Sam was unable to drive- so the three of us moved in...

The following week was filled with contractions, which all amounted to nothing. Finally, 7 days later, I went to bed with Alex, (Sam was on the single cos his leg still wasn't properly immobilised) and my little brother Nick was lying on the mattress between the two beds. I was having contractions and my darling two year old was kicking me in the back (really not cool). I was kind of over it all and so yelled at my boy- nick could no longer handle his hormonal psychopathic sister, so he left the room. Eventually I fell asleep, convinced that my baby was at least getting ready.

The next day was a Sunday, so I went to Mass with my family. Sam went to his folks for the morning. All through Mass, I was having contractions- my dad asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital every five minutes or so. I was really trying to avoid going to hospital too early, and I realised that since I was still in control of my emotions I still had time. After Mass, we went back to my parents' house- they had invited my Uncle and Aunty over for a BBQ. I had something to eat, all the while I was rocking and breathing through contractions. At about 1pm, I called Sam and said that now might be a good time to go to hospital.

Mum drove us to hospital, over numerous speed bumps, and we arrived at around 2pm. Once I got into the examination room, a midwife checked me... 4cm... Huh? You have got to be kidding me!?! She suggested that maybe we could go for a walk... Did she see Sam's crutches? I asked if we could please just stay where we were... She agreed. At about 3, I went to the toilet, and after I came out, I decided that jeans were no longer necessary as I paced out a circuit, bed to sink, sink to bed... It wasn't long before this circuit was too much to bear, I pressed the call button and told Sam that I was going to get an epidural- the pain was just too much and I couldn't last anymore. When the midwife came in, I told her the deal and she asked if I needed a wheelchair and if I could put my jeans back on- I just looked at her (good thing my husband was there to answer for me). So, after a couple of minutes, I was in a wheelchair with a blanket, being wheeled up to delivery...

I arrived in the delivery room at 4pm- the baby was coming... I just cried, because I was scared, got on the bed, and pushed out a baby... She was born at 4:12. Once again, I asked, boy or girl? And once again, it was a formality- I was sure I was having a girl :) Anna was about 8 pound, and we made it home by 8:30pm... Just in time for the Masterchef finale (but I was on too much of an adrenaline high to watch it til the next day).

Alex birth story: part two

Okay, I've had pethadine, my waters have broke and I'm finally making my way to the birthing room. Once there, I call my mum, who immediately can tell that I'm a little drugged (I think I was slurring my words). I met my midwife and she started listing off some suggestions of how we could proceed- I pretty much shut down every suggestion, I was in too much pain to be compliant. Eventually I agreed to have a bath (until I was in labour, the thought of being naked in a room with a stranger was horrifying- during labour I couldn't care less!). I had a bath which sped everything along and at about 11am or so I was entering transition aka hell...

I struggled out of the bath and then became really difficult! Didn't want to lie on the bed, lean on the bean bag, crouch, anything! The midwife was trying to check the baby's heartbeat, but gee, that was hurting like crazy! I decided that it was time to go home- but apparently that wasn't an option. I managed to demand a date with the anaesthetist, and had an injection with fentanyl. Eventually I made it onto the bed, waited for a couple hours or so before an ob arrived (my husband was being very diligent with his role of water/gas boy). She pushed my cervix out of the way, amid a whole lot of screaming, while I birthed my baby boy... And then the feeling of relief was palpable. I felt like everything in me, all the pain, fear, stress, all came out with my baby... I asked what he was, a boy (I intuitively knew- but needed confirmation). Little Alex was born at 1:20pm and weighed about 7 1/2 pounds. He had huge lips, was absolutely gorgeous and I just fell in love :)

That night, I just stared at my baby, in awe that he was mine. I couldn't believe that my gorgeous baby was actually inside of me not 24hours before. For the first 3 days, I was convinced that being a newborn's mummy was simply a matter of watching them, holding them and it was all very simple... Misguided, I know, but bliss while it lasted :)

Ps, I did eventually have my gb out, 5 weeks after Alex was born.

Alex birth story: part one

Alexander Thomas  30/07/09

Alex was a hard pregnancy. I had gall stones and the related attacks all throughout the pregnancy and had a very limited diet as a result. I spent a lot of time in hot baths as I would vomit up panadol if I was having a gall stone attack and the heat was the only thing that would ease the pain. I was a patient of two hospitals; one for the pregnancy, the other for the gall stones and they didn't really communicate. I was offered an opportunity to have the baby birthed at 32 then 36 weeks, but I figured that I should let him cook as long as possible and have my gb out as soon as he was born...

4 days overdue, I rang the hospital and nicely demanded an induction. After stating my case (I had had 3 attacks that week), the midwife agreed and I went in that evening to be induced. At 7pm, we arrived, I was checked and the midwife said that my labour had begun naturally so go home and get some sleep... Awesome... I was in labour and it didn't even hurt! So, we went home...

At 4am, we drove back to hospital- this was it! Sam stopped at the servo for a coffee- he was very tired... I was convinced that this baby was gonna be born like any minute so I was freaking just a bit... Got to hospital, got checked, 4cm... What?!? Are you sure? Yes, 4 measly cm! I was a little gutted, I thought that I was done...

I was told that at 8am, someone would be in to break my waters. Until then, I just focused on trying to handle the contractions as well as I could, while Sam read a book on his phone and coached me through... At about 8:10 (the ob was running late) my waters broke on their own- I heard a pop then whoosh... The midwife came in and said 'Good, now just be mindful that things are about to get more painful'. What? Is that even possible? How in the world did mum do this seven times- I think I may just die on my first attempt... At that point, I had a pethadine injection...  To be continued

OMG

OMG- in the literal sense! I've just had a moment, you know, a real moment, an epiphany! I was watching the Vortex (Michael Voris) and he was talking about good and evil, as he does, and it struck me... All good is from God and all evil is for the devil! (I know what you're thinking- duh). But seriously, when applied, this knowledge is both liberating and helpful in every situation...

These days, ignorance of right and wrong is rife. In fact, many people don't even acknowledge that there is such thing as moral truth. If this wasn't such a serious issue I would say well played Satan, however, this deception could potentially cost millions of souls descending into hell. People are neglecting to see that we really are in a spiritual war- always raging, even though the outcome has already been determined... Jesus has won, but how many will he manage to save?

Unlike human wars, spiritual wars are focused on all the details, rather than the bigger picture (I'm guessing it's got something to do with the fact that the outcome is known). The devil has a place in hell set up for EVERY single soul, he knows our weaknesses and preys on those. Jesus heads an epic battle with Mary and the angels (particularly your guardian angel) and the saints, to try to help us fulfill our destiny and go to heaven. This is huge! It's a full on war- every minute of every day- and you have to be aware of it to be involved.

Whether you believe in the eternal nature of you soul or not- it exists. Whether you believe in Heaven, hell or purgatory or not- they exist. Whether you believe that every day the devil is fighting to claim your and every soul on the planet- it is happening. I for one would rather be aware of the war going on and do what I can to ensure my salvation and spend my life trying to make the world a better place- so my children and grandchildren can recognise God amongst all the ugliness. People are not inherently evil, we are all manipulated or influenced by good and evil- we need to be aware of it and make informed choices of which direction we want to go in :)

Three kids and a bus...

Yesterday was a big day... My husband is a teacher and he had his students' graduation followed by carols. Being the supportive wife I am, I decided to get the kids ready, catch the bus and go to the evening festivities- first mistake. It was 1:45, the kids were ready, pram packed with pjs and the like, so we decided that since it was early, we would stop by the shopping centre, get a photo with Santa, some food and then catch another bus to daddy's work- second mistake.

Alex and Anna walked to the bus stop- that's a win! We caught the bus and the kids were really good- I'm still shocked. We entered the shop and I told the kids that I just needed to go to get some money out... I turn around, Anna's gone! Surprise surprise, one of my kids didn't listen. Spend about 15 minutes looking for her, finally notice a cleaner holding her hand- she had been going up and down the escalators and stairs to the cinema. Okay, let's go find Santa!

Upon finding Santa, all three kids grab hold of me, petrified- I guess it's cos they realise that they haven't been all that good. Well, we finall managed to get a picture- I only had to hold two out of three (that ain't bad). After Santa, we got food, went to look at some toys, dealt with a couple tantrums before catching the next bus. Just quietly, when you're walking through the shops with a baby strapped to you, a toddler in the pram and a preschooler walking alongside, so many people stare- is it really that strange? I did have a couple lovely comments from some older women though- that always makes me smile!

The graduation ceremony was, well I don't really know because I was chasing two overtired, over active little chickens running around the church :/ when I finally caught Alex, he says, I'm funny mum. Really, well are you still funny? (I say as I smack his bottom). Yeah, I am! Grrr! That cycled continued til my hand hurt and he was still laughing! The concert was better- they were fairly well behaved, and it didn't really matter that they weren't perfect :) oh, and Sam was very happy to see his family- even though the kids were scared if him wearing a mullet wig!

What is one of the worst parenting mistakes?

I am a parenting expert... Haha, actually, I don't believe there is such a thing! I used to think that if you followed a certain formula, you would be guaranteed a certain result. I guess I thought that a child's behaviour was a perfect reflection of the way they were parented. For example, kids that had tantrums when they didn't get their own way were spoilt. Then, an amazing thing happened to enlighten me to the folly of my preconceived notions; I became a mother!

Now, I love my kids, I'm proud of every little achievement (don't tell them that) and I would love nothing more that to give them everything they want but I can't, because I am their mother. My role is not to make sure that they are always happy, but to give them a solid foundation to build upon. My first child was particular difficult as a baby, he barely slept and when he became a toddler, I soon discovered that he was always disappointed. No matter how happy or excited he was to get his own way, it was (and is) so short lived. And his disappointment is so hard to bear- the screaming, throwing, biting, hitting etc. I don't give in to him, am consistent with his consequences but even now, at 4 1/2 years old, disappointments hit my boy hard. I realise now that it is because he is still emotionally immature and unable to control his impulses (I have hope that this will continue to improve), however improvement will only come if I am a good mother to him...

Which brings me to my point... One of the worst things a parent can do (and we probably all do it from time to time) is to make EXCUSES for our children! I don't know about you, but my children are perfectly capable of making excuses for themselves, they don't need me to justify their poor behaviour or bad choices. Our children need to learn that behaviours need consequences, whether good or bad, and we are setting them up for failure if we constantly make excuses for them or coming to their aid to 'fight their battles'. How can we expect our children to make good choices if we don't teach them right from wrong?

The Church diet

The other day, I was watching Weekend Sunrise (terrible show, absolutely terrible, due in part to O'Keefe), and there was an item on the Church diet. Apparently, the Bible promotes some sort of dietary guidelines that are conducive to weight loss, and this new revelation is causing a mass revival in a particular parish in America. Really? And another little gem, apparently Church goers are 50 percent more likely to be overweight than non Church goers. Again, really?

I love many things about the Church, one being the way it is so considerate of all our human needs. For example, work is a form of prayer, so as I do my housework each day, I am actually 'killing two birds with one stone'. Another example is the way that the liturgical year is designed to always keep us spiritually focused. If followed correctly, the liturgical year also helps keep us balanced in other areas of our lives. Even the basic idea that Sundays are to be set aside for The Lord. We always go to Mass on Sundays, then spend the day with people, socialising, and do NO work (there are some points in the Bible that I take really literally and no work on Sundays is one of them). I always start Monday mornings with dishes from Sunday (I told you that I take it literally).

The Church year is also set up into feasting and fasting... On feast days (all Sundays are included), we are encouraged to enjoy the bounty of God's goodness. On fast days (all Fridays are essential, Wednesdays are optional), we are encouraged to abstain from Earthly pleasures including over indulging in food, and abstaining from meat altogether. On all the days in between, we are encouraged to eat moderately and not indulge in the sin of gluttony. Simple really.

One little note; those people looking for a loophole, well there is one... Everyday is technically a minor feast for one saint or another (there are just so many saints you see), but my rule is that you can only feast on a feast day if you go to Mass! That includes Saint Patrick's Day :)

So eat, drink and be merry.... On feast days!