Category: The Spirit

Ouma Lies

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Hubs’ Ouma Lies, in South Africa, is having a heart valve replacement tomorrow. Hubs’ Mum headed over yesterday to be with her, and we hope to hear some news about how everything is going soon. I’ve been thinking a lot about Ouma Lies the last few days, and really cherishing the memory of our time in South Africa, almost 2 years ago.

She is one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met and has had such an amazing life, full of so many stories and adventures. We are praying that there are still many more adventures to come.

A fitting farewell

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Hubs and Chanbe and I have been back in MB since last Friday after being in Brizzie for the week. Nanny’s funeral was on Thursday and it was just lovely. We celebrated a life well lived and told stories and shared some tears as well as some laughs. I said a few words and mentioned that I was waiting to be overwhelmed by sadness and emotion but it hadn’t happened yet, because I know she had an amazing life and she lived long enough to see her sons grow up into men and have children of their own. She was also around to see her 2 grand-grandchildren, and I reckon that just completed her. Life won’t be the same without her, but we have the most amazing memories to cherish for a long time.

Grandpa moved to a nursing home yesterday, so we’re hoping he settles in well there.

This is the last video of Nanny and Chance that I filmed, on the 19th of June.

Thank you so much for all your thoughts and prayers. They have been very much appreciated.

Happy 500 posts Wifey

/ Renae / 6 Comments
What better way to celebrate, than with delicious vanilla bean cake!
Delicious vanilla bean cake with vanilla frosting, topped with ganache!
Delicious vanilla bean layer cake with vanilla frosting, topped with ganache!
Does it get any better than this? Happy posting to meeeeeeeee!

Wifey’s Angels

/ Renae / 2 Comments

My mothers group

I cannot begin to describe the amazing, supportive role these women and their babies play in my life. Many other mothers have said how they only really click with one or two women in their mothers group, but ours is made up of the best chicks a gal away from home could ask for. We all get along ridiculously well, and I feel a real bond with these women. There’s no judgment, no bragging, and no “one way of doing things.” It’s an opportunity that we get each week, to talk about the highs and lows, the challenges and milestones of being a mum.

In the absence of family, these women are the best stand-ins I could have ever asked for. We meet at a different mum’s house each week where we sit around in a circle with baked goods and coffee and put the kids on the floor in the middle to play with each other. We can just be ourselves. We don’t have to straighten our hair (or even wash it. Or even shower for that matter!), or put on our best clothes and pretend that motherhood is a breeze. Cos it ain’t. Some of us meet up and walk there in our trackies and caps, covering the hair we haven’t washed in a few days. Some of us have bags under our eyes from sleepless nights, others on the day are full of energy from (finally!) a good night sleep.

We ask each other and share advice about anything from nappies to introducing solids, to breastfeeding, to constipation (the babies, not us (-:) Out of the 9 babies, we have 8 beautiful boys and one gorgeous girl. We don’t claim to know everything, yet we share what we do.

I cannot tell you how much I’m going to miss our weekly sessions when we move. This is the biggest thing I’m going to miss about living in Wang. I just hope I can come back from time to time to visit, as I know I can just rock up and pick up where we left off. They’re just that type of group.

Scar tissue

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Scars are funny things. Some of them you show proudly, some you try and hide. Some you’ve had for most of your life, others are brand new (pardon the pun :-).

I have a few “favourite” scars. There’s one on my forearm that I got from an extremely hot dish while I was making rusks. The dish landed on my arm while I was turning it over to get the rusks out, and it went down hard on my skin for a good few seconds before I could get it off. To my surprise, it didn’t really hurt that much, and after a while I realised it was pretty deep and must have burnt through the nerves. This scar is one I show off proudly for fun.

Then there are the scars I hide. The stretch marks from my growth spurts. I have quite a few over the usual spots, and it wasn’t that I was growing out (at the time), it was that I was growing up. In more ways than one. I have been self conscious of these scars for years and years, and cover them up as much as possible.

The scar that I’ve had for most of my life is on my chest. It’s perfect in every way. It’s perfect in shape – a beautiful diamond. It’s perfect in position – so much so that when I wear v-neck tops, I line the point up with it, as it sits right in the middle of my chest. And it’s perfect in appearance – you can hardly see it unless it’s pointed out to you (or you’re looking really hard at my chest!!) This scar was from an altercation I had with a tiny piece of hot glass that went down my pyjamas when I was 3 years old (I think?) I’ve always been pretty clumsy! 🙂

And then there’s the new scars. These scars used to also fall under the “scars I try to hide category”. They’re the stretchmarks on my tummy from carrying my beautiful son in my belly for 40 weeks + 5 days. Up until week 38, no stretch marks had appeared on my baby belly and I was so happy about this. Since I’m prone to stretchmarks, I was sure I would be covered in them while pregnant, but it wasn’t until the Monday of my 39th week, that the first one appeared. Chance had “dropped” practically overnight, and as well as the pain and pressure on my pelvis, my skin had to compensate fast. I cried. Hard. I rang Hubs at work and cried on the phone to him. He did his best to reassure me that it was no big deal and that I was beautiful, but I was inconsolable. I texted my friend and tried to put things into perspective, but as the days passed, more and more appeared and I got more and more sad about it.

2 weeks later, Chance was born and the marks were forgotten immediately, and they have since faded quite dramatically. But they are now scars I am proud of. My battle scars. My reminder that my body is able to carry babies and how lucky I am that our little boy was born safe and well. When the time comes for baby number 2, I will be looking at those scars with fondness instead of sadness.

Easy does it

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I’m so tired. I don’t think I’ve been this tired since when Chance was born and the few weeks that followed. We have had such a good run with him – he’s such a laid back, cruisey baby – but the last few nights have seen him get up every hour or two. And last night he stayed awake between 2:30-4:30am. He rolls over in his cot and then gets stuck (he can’t roll back) and so I have to get up and roll him back. This went on and on last night.

3 weeks ago, I ordered a copy of “The No-Cry Sleep Solution” as recommended by a few friends. It still hasn’t arrived. Turns out the person sending it is on holidays and it won’t be here til next week. I wish I’d known that while ordering – I would have bought it elsewhere.

I really shouldn’t complain. He really is such a happy, healthy baby, and we’re loving this time of his life. People say “this too shall pass” and even though I know that to be true, when you’re right in the middle of it, it feels like it’s going to last forever. I feel like I can’t even put a sentence together when I’m out with friends. And even though I should go to bed now, I’ll just be waiting for the next wake-up call. Okay. I’ve got the stares now. I’d better hit the sack. I’m going to start him on solids as of tomorrow, to see if that makes a difference. The time has come.

Please God, let Chance sleep better tonight.

Storage

/ Renae / 1 Comment

Why do we store stuff? Hubs and I have boxes and boxes of stuff stored at Hubs’ Mum’s place, cos we thought it would be crazy to take everything down to Melbourne/rural Victoria with us. Instead we took the bare necessities (and some extra stuff) and have bought bits and pieces, generally second-hand, along the way. It just seems such a shame that we have all this lovely stuff just sitting in a house, 2000km away, not being used. Having said that, I could probably only recall about 10% of the stuff that is in those boxes. If someone told me tomorrow that it had all been accidentally lost, I don’t think I would be overly devastated about it, as I wouldn’t really know what I was missing out on.

So why keep it all? We all know the reasons – “sentimental value” (Hubs and Wifey); “cos I’ll use it one day I’m sure” (Hubs); “just because, okay??” (Wifey).

Hubs has organised a working bee this Saturday to go through everything, so it will be fun to look at what is there. And I’m going to try and be ruthless and get rid of a few things. Mainly books I suspect. And maybe some things that I’ve been holding on to for way too long.

Maybe I should give my mind a bit of a clean-out as well and throw out some stuff that’s been hanging around, taking up valuable room. Like all the body-image crap I’ve been carrying around since I was a teenager. Or the desire to please other people all the time (though, I’m getting better at this one!). I wonder what else I’ll find there that I could do without…

Inconceivable

/ Renae / 1 Comment

I love The Princess Bride. And I LOVE how Vizzini says “inconceivable” all the time. And then Inigo Montoya says “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” My friend recently bought a copy of the DVD because it came with a key ring that says “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my Father. Prepare to DIE.” when you press a button. (More memorable quotes can be found here.)

Believe it or not, this post is not about my love for The Princess Bride, though I wouldn’t blame you for thinking that. This post is about moving to Wangaratta. Tomorrow. I mean, we’ve known for 8 months (just think about that for a moment – 8 MONTHS!) that this move was coming. In no way should we have been caught unaware. But here we are, with 24 hours to go, our place filled with packed and to-be-packed boxes, our wardrobe has thrown up all over our room, and we pretty much know the kombi needs a push-start each time we want to start the engine. Fun, oui? Well at least we have a home to go to (yay!) and we have a plan. You gotta have a plan my friends.

Exactly 2 years to the day, we moved to college. And exactly 2 years and 1 day after we moved in, we’ll be leaving. I’ve been looking forward to a bit of a change, but leaving here is filling me with sadness. We have met the most incredible people, been shown the most gracious hospitality, and had some of the best times.

But now it’s time for new adventures to begin; for new friends to be made, and for more good times to be had. I know that it was God’s plan for us to be here at Newman for this time, and I thank him for his great idea often. As I sit writing this, Littlefoot is kicking away (the coolest thing I’ve ever felt in my LIFE) and I know he/she is looking forward to what is to come.