Changes

In October of 2015, my life was hurled to the ground so hard that I completely crumbled.  My husband and I broke up, after just shy of 17 years married.  To say it was traumatic is a major understatement, but I won't be going into the details.  The only thing I will add is that it is 100% over and my personal recovery is still in progress.

I hope to continue blogging, but obviously there will be a new perspective now... I am a single parent, and the primary carer for all of my children, Erik included.  The details of the parenting agreement are still being fine-tuned, but on average, the children are supposed to spend every fortnight weekend and half the school holidays with their dad.  

Myself and the children continue to adjust to life as a single parent family.  The kids have been amazingly resilient and I am disgustingly proud of all of them.  Things get hectic, there is a lot on my plate and I often feel overwhelmed, but generally speaking, life has actually gone on as usual and the overwhelm is more for the emotional adjustment for me.

I'll be trying very hard to leave the emotional realities out of my posts, but due to the transparent nature of my personality, that might not always happen.  It is likely that my posts will be erratic and irregular for various reasons - too busy, too emotional, too much to say, too little to say... etc. etc.  But I'll try, because blogging here began as a way to document my journey as a special needs mum, and that's the reason I'll continue.  The beautiful thing about this blog is that it started before Erik got his official diagnosis... so the beginning really is the very beginning.  At this point in time, Erik is 9 1/2 years old.  I actually find that pretty amazing.

Lets see if I can pick this up again and carry on.....

xx

Understanding

Erik is the third of four children.  He has two older sisters, and one younger.  When he was born, my older girls were five and 3.5 yrs.  The little one was born when Erik was two.  Erik was diagnosed properly sometime around 2.5 years old, but we knew something was up when he was 21 months.  So I was already pregnant with Baby Miss at the time.  I hope this is not too confusing... the timeline might help paint a clearer picture...

---->  Erik born:  Big Miss - almost 5 yrs;  Miss Jane - 3.5 yrs

     ---->  21 months:    MCH points out that something is wrong.  Already 18 wks pregnant with Baby Miss.

        ---->  2 yrs 1.5 months:  Baby Miss is born; Big Miss - almost 7 yrs; Miss Jane - 5.5 yrs.

            ---->  2 yrs 7 months:   Formal diagnosis received.  Big Miss - 7 yrs, Miss Jane - 6 yrs, Baby Miss - 5.5 ms.

                ---->  Presently:  Big Miss -11.5 yrs; Miss Jane - 10 yrs; Mr Man - 6.5 yrs;  Baby Miss  - 4.5 yrs.

...or it might just add to the confusion!

Anyway, sometime along the way, the older girls came to understand that their little brother had Autism.  At some point, they grew into a realisation of what that actually meant.  I don't know when this happened, and I don't really know how this happened either.  I guess it was just a journey in getting to know him, as you would with any new baby.

Erik's first birthday.  Well before we had any idea that something was amiss, but the
signs were already there.

At times, I still feel sad for them, because they were so excited about a new sibling.  They were old enough to understand how cute babies are, how they cry and sleep, how they learn to eat and babble and walk.  But they didn't get much of this with Erik.  He hardly responded to them, and so, although they loved him, they didn't interact with him as much as I expected.  But they were ok, they had each other.  I just felt sad because I felt that they missed out on all those wonderful things that happen when a baby enters the family.  

But then, Baby Miss came along.  The girls were older again - seven and nearly six respectively - and everything we had hoped for but not found in Erik, we found in Isobelle.  The girls adored her.  There was cuddles and giggles and sharing of toys.  There was feeding and snuggles and delight at her cute antics.  It was just so different to Erik.  So terribly bittersweet.

This is what you get when you get a 7 year old
to feed a 7 month old. 

Always loved hugs with her big sister.

"Bye 'Sha, bye 'La" ...but my sweet boy is more interested in trying to lick his jacket.

Baby Miss was like a balm to my soul after the pain and grief of an AD diagnosis.  We watched her like a Hawk:  Is she responding?  Is there shared attention?  Smiles? Reaching?  Babbling?  Interest in family?  Pretend play?  Imitation?  She was a delight, but my heart was already changed after Erik's diagnosis.  It was so hard to just relax and enjoy my baby, even though I tried not to fret.

Baby Miss is 4.5 now.  She is the only one here who came into the family with an awareness of special needs already present among us.  It is all completely normal for her, from day one, and she doesn't know any different.  But she does have trouble understanding some things...

To a four year old, bigger kids are smarter.  They are more capable.  They do cool stuff - you want to be like them!  Baby Miss adores her sisters, she really idolises them.  She adores her brother too, but struggles to understand why, when she copies him, she gets into trouble but he doesn't.   Why is it that she gets in trouble when she stands on the table, but for Erik, we just quietly get him down?  Why is it that she gets in trouble if she gets out of bed to play, but we just quietly put Erik back?  Why is it that she is often left to manage eating her dinner by herself when she is tired, when Erik is tended to very closely?  It's not fair!  She is little and needs help!  She gets that he cannot speak or use the toilet, but she doesn't understand why.  She just can't seem to understand, that he doesn't understand a lot of stuff. 

The older girls from time to time have struggled with this too; that Erik seems to get away with so much, where they would have got into trouble.  It hurts them that mum can't do much to defend them when he is being annoying, and that they have to be patient of his more frustrating characteristics.  To be made to endure such injustices is a big thing to ask of children, even if they do have the capacity to understand why.  It is hard for them, and my heart breaks over the whole situation.

Trying to see the dinosaur display at our local shopping centre, but Erik was screaming and
crying the whole time, because he wanted to visit the playground instead.  It was a frustrating day,
but my girls are still smiling and trying to comfort their brother.

I know that out of this, they are learning patience, tolerance, grace and insight to the peculiar workings around special needs.  But oh, it is a hard lesson for them to be learning.  One day, it will all become clearer to them, and I trust that they won't hold these occasions against me.  I sometimes console myself by looking to the future, and knowing that I will have strong and caring daughters, who are not perturbed or intimidated by people who look or behave differently; resilient young women who already have the advantage of a skill-set unique to those who experience life with special needs.

And eventually, I'm sure that Baby Miss will get it too.  But in her very sweet four-year-old mind, all she knows right now is that "Erik doesn't learn things very easily" - her words to one of her dad's Army colleagues.  And I find that for all that she doesn't understand, she seems to have a rather decent grasp on the situation overall.

xx

PS:  I know I don't have a great deal of readers to this blog, and that's ok.  But if you or someone you know can share how your kids came to learn about their siblings' Autism, I would love to hear about it!

Moving House

We are moving house in a couple of days.

We returned from Queensland to find a note in our mailbox for an item of registered post that we had missed and had to collect from the post office. I didn't get around there till 2 days later. It was a notice to vacate (obviously we are only renting - desperately trying to save up a deposit to buy our own place). I was shocked and upset. We are good tenants. We pay in a timely manner and take care of the premises well. We have a good rapport with our landlords. Some inquiries to the agent revealed that our landlords were in fact retiring. They had sold their home and wanted to move back into this one. So of course, it's time for us to go. They were also quite sad at asking us to leave, and expressed that we were good tenants and that it was nothing we had done. That was a relief to know, because it meant that we would have a very good reference when looking for a new place. And a new place was indeed found in a very short time. And so, here we are.

Half the house packed and still lots more to go. We have way too many toys and more books than one family should rightfully own. Both hubby and I are hoarders. My daughters both seem to have got our genes, especially Big Miss (eek! She is BAD!), so it really is shocking how much stuff we have. The good thing is, I do occasionally get crazy and start throwing things out. But since we still have a little one in the house, I can't really get rid of the toys just yet.

My SIL and her hubby will also be moving in together with us - it is a big house, five bedrooms and double story. Big living areas. So there will be plenty of room for everybody. We will share the rent and utilities, and so this way, both families get to continue saving for our own homes. There are lots of positives with this move, and we are all looking forward to it, which is great.

Some definite perks for me....? A DISHWASHER!!! Yay!!! - and a sink with a double trough! So no longer will I have to wash a family of six's dishes all by hand in a single tiny sink, I will have a dishwasher. SO excited about that!

It has TWO well-designed pantries!! Currently, this is what I have to work with......

A horrid tiny little thing where most of the storage space is cramped behind a wall!! You know... one of those L-shaped designs? No wonder everything ends up on top of itself...with a family of this size and a mummy who cooks alot, there is just not enough room! It's a very poor design and I have expressed on many occasions how much I really hate my current pantry. So that's another thing I'm really looking forward to.

It will be some time I think before we settle in properly. There are some things that need to be done around the new place in order to make sure it is safe for Little Man. Some concerns I have are that he will escape out of the backyard due to fencing not being secure enough - we need to fix that. And that he will push his little sister down the stairs just by way of 'moving' her out of his path-pattern. Might put a safety gate in front of that one. And I think, given some of his more recent discoveries and habits, we may need to start considering locks on the fridge and pantry - and the big girls bedroom door.....

If you don't hear from me before we move, it will be hello from the new place :) Better get back to packing.....

xx

Travel And Changes

We did a crazy thing. We drove all the way from Melbourne to Queensland non-stop. With 4 kids and a trailer! The driving was shared between hubby, his sister and her hubby. Took 23 hours. Insane.

Overall, the kids did well - especially the big girls. But my little ones... they got very uncomfortable and irritable as time went on. Mostly through the night when they were trying to sleep. They kept trying to roll over, only to find themselves still strapped into their chairs. I felt so sorry for them.

So how did Little Man go? He did so well! He enjoys car trips, I think because of the sensory motion of the driving, so he was quite content to stay in the car. But he did seem confused. We would stop for food or toilet breaks, and after the first couple of times, he simply refused to get out of the car. It was too confusing to get out and then in again after such a short time, with what seems like no purpose to him.

When we stopped in the morning for breakfast, he refused to eat. It bothered me, because I knew he was hungry. In the end I gave him a banana and one of those breakfast twists, he ate while walking around the car. I was satisfied with that.

When we finally pulled in to our destination, all the kids alighted the car with such excitement, but my Little Man was still confused. This wasn't home! Despite his slight apprehension, he also seemed excited about the new place, and I was able to get him inside easily.

I brought him into the main living area and kitchen, and that is where he stayed. He would not sit at the table to eat his dinner - Macca's nuggets and fries. But he did eat most of it standing up. The nuggets I had to pass to him one by one later on, because he had gone back to his spot in the kitchen to stare at stuff and blow raspberries. Just processing I guess.

After dinner, a refreshing shower (/gasp!) and bed. The shower was amazing because he only gets into the bath at home here, though I use a shower hose to wash him - he refuses to sit down in the bath now. I don't mind though, because it is the next step to having a shower properly. This one was great, because it had an extended shower hose too! He wasn't sure about getting into the cubicle at first, so I ended up in there with him, all my clothes on - Hah! We went about the showering in the usual pattern, and he was perfectly fine with that. When I showed him to his bed at bedtime, I could not believe how excitedly he took to it. Little Man was lucky - he had a double bed all to himself! He was so pleased with his big bed, it took no effort at all to get him to sleep. I am pretty sure the exhausting drive had much to do with that too though. Tucked him in and prayed, and off to sleep he went. He slept peacefully all that night. I was rapt.

The next morning again saw him not interested in his breakfast. I was beginning to really worry by now, so the third morning we were there, I decided to try something completely different.

.... I served him Corn Flakes instead of Weet Bix.

My logic was this: That we are in a place completely different from home and the usual, so maybe - just maybe - he feels that the usual breakfast is just 'wrong' here? Maybe what is needed is a completely different breakfast too. New place, new patterns - right?

It worked! He came over and happily sat down to eat Corn Flakes! Boy was I pleased. Corn Flakes became his breakfast for the rest of the trip, and I am happy to say, he is still happy to eat them here at home. And the best thing of all; he hasn't given up the Weet Bix - he still eats that too. Yay!

Holidays and trips away are always an interesting time for us with Little Man. I never am quite sure how he is going to react to the changes and new things. Most of the time, I have to say, I have come out quite pleased with results. Because while I can see that he is anxious at times, he still manages change very, very well, and often comes home with some new positive behaviour of some sort - like Corn Flakes.

So out of this trip, we have come back with a new food added to his repertoire, and another interesting piece of knowledge about our boy: For the first few hours of a new environment, he does not eat. Not properly anyway. I believe it is his reaction to the anxiety he may be feeling while he is processing the changes. This is ok with me. Armed with this new information, now we can time our arrivals accordingly, or else arrange to have dinner 'on the road' so that I am satisfied he has eaten.

I am becoming more and more confident about travelling with my son. These trips are so good for him and for us. I love that he is exposed to new and different circumstances, and that it all adds up to experience for him to draw from in life. I love that this is one thing that we as a family don't have to give up (- yes, I thought we would have to at one point!), though the experience of it may change a little. Each trip we take, we learn a little more, and I am glad that Little Man enjoys the holiday as much as we do.

xx

Baby Miss turns Two

Yep, it's the little Baby Miss's birthday today :). I can't believe my baby is two! ...And no more little ones to come. Definitely finished! (Picture me signing 'finished' vehemently in the background here). I'm not going to write a long post about her this time, but I will refer you to the one I wrote last year on her birthday. Just because I still find it so funny.

On a side note; we have just returned from a trip interstate, so I will update more on that later on. Nice to be back though.

xx

Life Is Too Short

Last week, I logged on to my Facebook page to find a peculiar message in my friend feed. It was by someone I didn't have on my friend list, but who had tagged a friend of mine. That is the only reason I know.....

My friend had died. The message was asking for any memories of him to be written and sent in so that a book of memories could be compiled for his three young boys. I was shocked. Just completely shocked. I had only been speaking to my friend maybe two weeks before.... we'd had a long conversation about life, children, work, and other things. I could not comprehend that he was just gone. Just like that. He was just 33, and it was an epileptic seizure he did not survive.

As I was grieving, my nephew suddenly took a turn for the worse. He had been in hospital for around 2 months, basically in limbo, fighting to live. Making progress, then getting worse again. The night before my friends funeral, I got a call. Come in to the hospital... it doesn't look good. I was lucky to make it in there at all. I arrived to find the rest of my family already present. About 20 minutes after I got in, he died peacefully in his mother's arms. The cheeky little man slipped away quietly while nurses were trying to take his footprint and handprint. He was 2 years and 8 months old. Barely a toddler.

My big girls with their precious cousin, only a week or two before he went.

If you think things have been bad for me, please take a moment to think of my little sister. This was her second child. Now she has none. None here anyway. Ohhh... to see such grief is unbearable. I can't believe this is happening again. We still haven't buried him yet. His funeral will be this Friday.

The day he died, later on in the afternoon, I went to my friend's funeral anyway. I needed to say goodbye. I'm still kind of shocked that he's gone. So very unexpected. This week has been a double whammy, and if anything, it has just reminded me so clearly that life is too short. We blink, and are gone. Life here is a vapour.... blown away in a moment. The next heartbeat could be the last. And it's just not worth hanging on to the things that don't count.

Make things right with the people you love - people who matter. Forget about past hurts, and forgive. Even if you have every right to be angry (and many of us do!)... for eternity's sake, let it go. If you have wronged someone, make it right. Even if you never speak to them again after that, make it right and move on. Life is way to short, and you never know which breath might be your last. Are you ready?

xx

Little Man Is Four

As of a couple of days ago. Four years old. I don't really know what to say, but I felt I should say something, given that it's his birthday! Let me see....

Well... I guess I can definitely say that I didn't expect to be in this 'place' at this time. By four, I expected (or at least hoped) that he would be speaking and that he would be toilet trained. How very naive of me. Neither of those things has happened, not for lack of working at it though. They just haven't happened. Now it seems like five is just around the corner, and six and seven, and he may not be speaking then either. Sometimes, when I think about what life has brought us, I can't help imagining - just for a guilty minute or two - how different life would be if Little Man was normal.

He would dress himself in the morning, maybe with a little bit of help. I would not have to be changing his nappies anymore. He would be coming home from kinder regaling me with stories of his day - or maybe it's just girls who do that? lol :). He would tell me what his favourite food is, sing along with his favourite songs, talk about his favourite TV shows. He might roar like a dinosaur, or hoon around like a race-car driver. He wouldn't pause at the doorway for 3 minutes every time we try to leave the house. He wouldn't have to have the TV and all music switched off for every meal. He wouldn't scream at his sisters so much. (Or maybe he would, but it wouldn't be for things that don't make sense to them). I - we as a family - would have so much more freedom to live. So many things would be so different.

I don't regret my son. I do wish he wasn't autistic - it's my right to feel that way and I should not be judged for that - but I also love and adore him the way he is. I just wonder and daydream sometimes, that's all.

Here is the facebook status I posted on his birthday:

Four years ago today, I held a little man in my arms. The scent of sweet breath from a brand spanking new set of lungs, a bouncing baby boy - 4.2 kilos! My heart was stolen all over again. Who knew the amazing things he would bring into our lives. Happy birthday Little Man. Mummy loves Erik xx ♥ ♥ xx

Who knew. Who knew. I can't believe how quickly the years have gone by. I feel that I didn't have time to enjoy him when he was smaller, because I was so busy trying to adjust to the shock of his diagnosis and organise resources and help. But I also think it is just the way things are when you have more than two children. Time becomes more thinly spread among them all, and they all grow up while your attention is directed at the other ones.

Or maybe it's just that I have become stuck on a moment... waiting for his words to come. Waiting for him meet the milestones he should have met ages ago. I'm stuck there waiting for him, but he is moving on. Growing up. Without the things he is supposed to be doing. He seems to have forgotten them along the way. Or maybe decided he didn't need or want them in his life. I'm stuck in the moment waiting for him, and he has moved on without waiting for me. Could that be it I wonder?

I don't know... but I don't really think so. Because when I look at my Baby Miss, I feel the same way. She has grown so quickly, I didn't have time to enjoy her!

This is turning out to be a melancholy post. Bittersweet. But I think my life - and I daresay most others' - is filled with bittersweet. I am so happy to celebrate my sons 4th birthday. And so wistful at what might have been. Filled with joy at what is, and filled with longing for what isn't. What a mess I am.

And while I am here wallowing around, my nephew is spending his 30th night in hospital, just struggling to keep a normal heartbeat. My sister has been by his side the whole time. Touch and go. Never really good. Never really bad. Just a limbo of life. Her son might die, any day.... any moment. Or he might spend another year with us. The next seizure might be the one to take him - they are getting stronger and more resistant to medication. His heart might give out for fatigue while his brain ever-so-slowly shuts down. Or he might amazingly hang in there for many more months. Nobody knows. But she is there by his side. Living, sleeping, eating, breathing that hospital. Caring for her son.

When I think of her, I feel like I have no right to be sad for my son. But I am, and I can't help the way I feel. He is my son, and it is my life. But my son is here at home with me, and he lives. Who knows if my darling nephew will live through tonight.

In the end, all I know is that our lives are in God's hands. I don't understand why these things happen to us, but I do know this: The sun rises on the good and the evil. And it rains and storms over the righteous and the wicked both. Life happens to us all. I am just grateful that God walks with me through mine. Walks with my son when I can't get through, walks with my sister in her very private and solitary grief, and walks with my nephew in depths of spirit nobody can ever see. I'm grateful for all that I have, and hopeful for better to come. For me, and for my whole family.

xx

My Little Man Is A Page Boy

Well, I finally got a hold of some photos! I am very grateful to my mother in law for these pictures. I was unable to take any of my own that day, having my hands full with everything else. It's a shame, because I was hoping to get some nice ones of my family all dressed up - we need some updated family photos, and we hardly ever dress up this much anymore!

Anyway, without further ado, here are some pics of my kiddies at their aunty's wedding a couple of weeks ago.......

For the most part, the day went well. Little Man tolerated his gorgeous suit very well given the circumstances. We had a house full of people - not all of them familiar to him - and he really doesn't like buttons at the moment. He had to wear suit pants (fine, no worries), a shirt, tie, vest and jacket. Lots of buttons. He was tired by the time he had to get dressed, so that didn't set a good premise from which to start. But he did well. I staggered the dressing process a little bit to avoid issues, and that seemed to work. The shirt was actually a little too big - the sleeves were too long. We had to fold them back to make them fit, so we did this before we put it on him. Hubby actually put the shirt on him early on in the day, and then put his pj shirt over the top to stop it from getting dirty. This helped because it allowed him to get accustomed to the shirt before we bombarded him with a whole bunch of other button- bearing gear. The next potential problem was the flower. To avoid issues, we pinned it on the lapel before putting the jacket on him. He looked at it, and inspected it a little bit, but then decided the flower was ok. All dressed up, he was so adorable to look at!

When it came to walking into the chapel and down the aisle, I couldn't have asked for a better partner. He was so sweet! Walking perfectly in time with me. I was told later on that he had a little smile on his face too. We walked to the front, and I handed him over to someone in the front row who was ready to watch him with a bag full of goodies. Throughout the ceremony, he did very well, blowing raspberries and saying his new sound as loud as he could. Nobody really minded that I could see (and if they did, I didn't care anyway). I'm pretty sure that just about everyone there was aware that the page boy was autistic. He was happy and settled, so that was what mattered most.

The ceremony was beautiful, the happy couple exchanging vows, tears happening everywhere. Then the couple were presented as the new Mr and Mrs, and everyone applauded. It threw Little Man off his groove and a tantrum started. I'm not too sure what happened at that point - I must have been busy with the bride - but when I looked up, my sister had him and had Mr Monkey on him ready for the photo session outside. He was struggling against her and protesting loudly. I was very glad to have Mr Monkey on hand at that point. I collected the baby and handed her to my husband, and then collected Little Man on the way out where we congratulated the newly weds and set about organising photography. More about the details of the day in another post, for now, here are some pictures of the girls on the day.

My two big girls handled themselves so well. I couldn't be more proud! Miss Jane just shines at times like this. She is an entertainer, and loves to be the centre of attention. Big Miss though, she has a timid nature, and was quite nervous. I think it helped that her responsibility was to hold the Baby Misses hand and walk her in with them. It kept her mind off the fact that people were staring and 'oohing' and 'ahhing' over her and her sisters.

Baby Miss was so cute and happy, and kept trying to run ahead. Big Miss had an awkward time keeping her baby sister in time with them. But she did a great job. When they got to where we were, she looked at me with an expression of slight panic in her eyes - What do I do now?. We had rehearsed, but I think the actual event is always a little different in reality. I quietly indicated that she can now pass her baby sister to Nana, who was waiting there, and then come and stand in front of us (the bridesmaids). Throughout the ceremony, they were perfectly behaved. No complaining, no distractions. They stood so sweetly and attentively, perfect little flower girls. My heart was almost bursting with pride.

Baby Miss grew a little restless through the ceremony, but her brother's bag of toys also had some surprises in it for her, and that kept her quiet enough.

I can't say it was easy - it was quite a challenge having both parents and all children in the bridal party. But with a little help, we did it. Admittedly, I find it quite disconcerting when I don't know where my baby is or who has her, but at the same time, I am thankful for the extra hands nearby to help when needed, and ultimately, I knew she was safe.



xx

Where Am I?

Still here, but busy! My SIL is getting married in little more than a week, so we have been rather preoccupied with wedding preparations. Especially when you consider the whole family is part of the wedding party. That's right! Your's truly as Matron of Honour, hubby as Best Man (isn't that sweet!), all three girls are Flower Girls, and my little man is indeed the Page Boy! ... won't that be interesting, hahaha! We are planning on walking him in with me, I pass him on to my sister who will be equipped with a bunch of stimmy toys, hubby and I pick him up on the walk out of the chapel, family photos are first up, then I run him and the Baby Miss home where the baby sitter is waiting to take over dinner/pjs/bed routine, and I dash back just in time to be announced at the reception. All of this in platform stiletto heels and a corsetted strapless dress! Awesome plan, huh? I will let you know how that pans out, hehe.

So yes, things have been a little flat out. Between dress alterations, finding shoes for all, stockings for the girls, hens night planning, making appointments for the big day, jewelry, a shirt and tie for my boy and planning a schedule for the morning of the wedding.... it all takes it out of you. I still have to get the house tidy and organised to accommodate everyone getting ready here on the day - but I have booked a cleaner to take some of the pressure off.

In the midst of it all, Baby Miss has a couple of new words, and has created some beautiful artwork pieces with texta on the kitchen cupboards and entertainment unit - gorgeous. I love it 'cause its so NORMAL!! Little Man has a new mini trampoline which he just loves, and a new sound - "weeehhh-yah"! I discovered half eaten crackers, an empty snail shell and a bucket of homemade paint hidden under the bed in my big girls' room. Hubby and I are cruising along at 100 miles an hour, but we are all still here and all good. Hope to get back into a rhythm once the happy couple are off on their honeymoon.

Back soon :)


xx

Teapot Cake At A Kitchen Tea

Well I was going to limit this post to just the cake, but I decided to include some other things too, because the whole event was actually quite lovely. It was the kitchen tea for my SIL hosted by the other two bridesmaids and myself. We themed it on a High Tea style... which, actually, I found later was not what I thought it was. What I was thinking of was Afternoon Tea, otherwise known as Low Tea. High Tea was what the lower class folk had, and equates more or less to what dinner would be today. It was called High Tea because it was taken at a high table. Low Tea or Afternoon Tea was called such because it was tea and refreshments taken at a low table, sometime in the mid afternoon. So, yeah... fail on that count LOL. But everyone else knew what I meant! So in the end it didn't matter.

And it was so nice! Have you ever had tea out of proper tea cups? And saucers? If you haven't, you should seriously try it. I know we are all used to mugs these days and tea cups are a bit smaller than mugs..... Ok, they are alot smaller. ...Tiny... really. - But that's not the point! There is just something about sipping tea from a dainty tea cup balanced just so on its lovely matching saucer. You drink, and then refill, and drink some more. And for that reason, your tea is always hot! Can't have a tea party without tea, but besides the tea, we also had wine, punch and a gorgeous range of dainty eats: Ribbon sandwiches, mini quiches, pickle, cheese and cabana sticks made up the savouries. And for sweets, mini lemon meringues, mini vanilla cupcakes, butterfly cakes and of course, scones with jam and cream. And the big cake. The Teapot cake! Everything was delicious, and I still can't thank the other bridesmaids enough for all the amazing work they put in with cooking, cleaning and setting things up. You rock girls!

The inside is chocolate cake with caramel buttercream. The buttercream tasted lovely when I checked it, but I was so disappointed to find that you couldn't taste the caramel in it once you ate it with the cake. Oh well. I know for next time now.

The cake is covered in ivory fondant, with rose detailing embossed on the sides and lid, and hand painted in with edible colours. The gold gilding around the edges was also edible. The sugar bowl and creamer are cupcakes decorated with the same. The sugar bowl had real sugar sprinkled on top, while the creamer was topped with white chocolate ganache. Tasted awesome, but I thought it looked like the milk in the creamer had turned because it was more yellow than white!! LOL. Fortunately, this didn't put anyone off :) The only thing was, they all thought the cake was too pretty to cut and eat!

I had iced the board and embossed it too, to try and make it look like a small table cloth. The one thing I forgot to do was put a ribbon around the edge of the board... was kicking myself for losing that detail. It really does make a difference!

I had made the mini cupcakes as well. Vanilla with vanilla buttercream and handmade sugar flowers. I just thought they turned out gorgeous with their pretty pastel colours. I really loved these ones, but again, people thought they were too pretty to eat!

There were a couple of games, and my SIL was showered with gifts for the kitchen. Bottom line: she felt very spoiled, which was the whole point really :).

One of the games was the toilet paper bridal gown. If you don't know this one, the name kind of speaks for itself. You break up into small groups, choose a bride, and make her a gown out of toilet paper. My daughters were in a group together with another one of our guests, and I couldn't stop smiling at the scene they made! Big Miss was standing, so proud and dignified modeling her designer gown, and Miss Jane was so busy working away to dress her big sister up with the help of the other lady in their group. It was just beautiful! A little glimpse of the future methinks. I almost had tears in my eyes.

Such a perfect reflection of their personalities. Amazing.



Miss Jane explains to us the details of their couture creation.

Big Miss was so pleased with her designer gown!

Of course, Miss Jane was not going to be left on the shelf, so she got the lovely Katherine to make her a bridal gown too. Cute :)

Miss Jane gets her own designer gown.

Personalised sugar cookies went out as party favours. I've only made these a couple of times before, but this was the first time I had iced them properly. All the flowers were handmade, and I tried to stick to the subdued and powdery colour palette to match the party theme. I loved the way these turned out - so pretty! Most people thought these were too pretty to eat too, but I couldn't wait to have one... and they didn't disappoint - delicious! But then, they couldn't really fail when they are Peggy Porschen's recipe /wink. I wanted to provide the recipe for you here, but it's copyrighted and I don't have written permission from Peggy, so I don't feel comfortable doing it :P. Other people have though, and one place you can find the recipe is on Carly's Kitchen blog - it's the same one I used. Not a difficult recipe by any means, so don't be afraid to try it! They are seriously yummy, with or without icing. Buttery and tender but not cakey, and firm enough to hold their shape and icing.

Sugar cookies; recipe from Pretty Party Cakes

We all had a lovely time. It was the first time I have made a teapot cake, and it didn't quite turn out the way I envisioned it. But in the end, despite all the flaws I could see, I was really pleased with the result, and learned some new techniques along the way.



xx

Party

Before I got married and had children, going to a party meant something quite different to what it means now. It meant, a chance to dress up - maybe even buy a new dress or shoes for the occasion and a little evening bag to match. It meant 2 hours in the bathroom getting myself ready (ridiculous, I know! - but I could do it if I wanted to!). It meant yummy food and drinks. It meant dancing - if I could convince my parents to allow me to. It meant being out late, going home to look after only myself, and sleeping in in the morning as long as I wanted to. It was a chance to meet people and have fun. The consequences..... well, there were none that really mattered back then.

Now, a party still means a chance to dress up. If I have time to find a new dress that would be nice, otherwise I have to make do with what I've got. Finding a dress is a pain, because nothing looks good anymore. My shoes have to be practical, so no more killer heels. Clothes need to be practical, so nothing strapless (in case kids pull it down) and nothing too short (don't wanna show the world my hoo-haa when I have to bend to attend to kids now, do I?). It means a baby bag packed with food, spare nappies, wipes, bottle of milk, water, etc., a blanky for the little man and a blanky for the baby miss. I need to get four children ready to go as well as myself, so only 30 minutes in the bathroom if I'm lucky.

It means arranging for baby sitting, so we need to leave extra early to drop off the little one. If we choose to bring him, it means attending to my son on arrival, instead of mingling with other guests. It means sitting in one spot (by the front door) to watch my little man because he refuses to go passed the foyer into the house. It means having mini heart attacks every time that front door opens to allow guests in , in case my little man escapes. If I choose to have him stay at grandma's while the rest of us are out, it means I think about whether grandma is coping the whole night, and wondering whether he is eating/sleeping/cooperating with her. It means you dread the phone-call that inevitably comes - he won't eat, and we can't get him to sleep....What do you want us to do with him?

It means pestering your partner to go home when they don't want to (and deep down, neither do I). It means going home early to collect the little ones, (come on, seriously, how late do you expect grandma to wait up for us to come and get them, after all?). It means helping two tired and grumpy older children get ready for bed, and then settling the two babies to bed. I have to wait for them to fall asleep before I can go to bed - luckily that doesn't take long. It means I'm still up during the night to check on them, and there is definitely no sleeping in in the morning. Children are tired and grumpy all the next day and so am I.

Parties are not fun anymore. I don't dance, I don't even know what to do with myself half the time..... I'm not used to being out for fun. I feel unattractive and boring (despite the many compliments I may actually get - I know it's stupid, but that's how I feel). I spend the night worrying about how I look, and if my children are ok, and if the people minding my children are ok, and if I will cause an argument if I tell the hubby we need to go home. I should be able to feel great afterwards, but all I usually want to do is cry.

Sometimes, I think I should just give up on life - not life in general, but life as in, fun - laughter - love - friendships - life. Once I give out what life is mine for my family, there is nothing left for me to enjoy. I wonder what is the point of trying when things end up like they do.


.....I realise this is a bitter post and maybe I should apologise, but honestly, this is a glimpse into a deeper me, at times when I am not so positive. You are lucky to be seeing it. I don't regret my children or my family - I love them to death. But that doesn't mean I am happy and positive and fulfilled all the time. The rewards of motherhood are years in coming, and those years haven't come for me yet. I'm so afraid that when they do, I will be too old and ugly to enjoy my life. I feel like the 'me' in me is wasting away. I have become my family and my family is now me. The question I always end up asking myself at times like this is; who am I when I stand alone?



xx

Elmo Cake and No. 7

My nephew's birthday and my daughter's birthday are very conveniently on 24th and 25th of January respectively, so we often do a little thing for them on Australia Day (26th January for all you non-aussies :) - it's a public holiday for us!). This year, I made a simple Elmo cake for my nephew.

Everybody loved it and raved about how good it looked. This suprised me a little bit, because it was so simple to make. I can't see any work in it that requires any meticulous use of skills or talent. I didn't even have to carve the cake into any shape! But they all said it was very effective and kept asking how I got Elmo's 'fur' to look so good. I guess I take alot of the stuff I have learnt for granted now. Elmo's 'fur' was made using a grass piping tip. It's an icing tip with several holes punched through it. Nothing greatly scientific. But I suppose if you don't know about it, then it's just something really cool! I was just very pleased that they liked it. My sister stuck a no. 3 candle in Elmo's mouth and we all sang 'Happy Birthday' to the birthday boy. He was just toooooo cute. He loved all the fuss, and the cake and the candle, and nearly burnt his lips off getting so close to the flame to try and blow it out!

As for Miss Jane, I told her that she could have a small cake this time as I am planning to do a party with friends for her later on when the school year starts. She asked for a no. 7 - fantastic!... I thought. Quick and easy.

Both cakes were marbled vanilla and chocolate with vanilla buttercream (just tinted different colours). Miss Jane asked for jam in the middle of hers, so the no. 7 got jam too.

Obviously, my little Miss Jane turned 7 this year. But last year, I noted down some of the hilarious things she said. Kids say the darndest things you know! ( - hey, wasn't there a show about that on TV at one stage? Haha!). Anyway, she came out with some pearlers that often left me scratching my head wondering how the heck she came up with such an idea. Here are some of the best ones:


How does the weather come? (Ummm... well.....)

How do donkeys get babies? (I choked on my juice, but my husband anwered her with a perfectly straight face "Why 'donkeys', Leila?"

Do dogs really say 'bow-wow'? (Err....)

How does the egg get a yolk in there instead of a chicken? (Oh dear, I see us having 'the talk' a little sooner than I anticipated!!!)

Why do ladies have to wear bras? (This one was in the middle of a large department store, right as a man was walking by us in the other direction!)

Mum, what will happen if you take a light bulb off and put water in it? (WTH?)

Mum, if a fairy gets a mozzie bite, will all their blood be gone? ... because they're so tiny! (Bwahahahahahahahaaaa!!!)





So, hahaha, how would you answer her questions?



xx

Jackpot

If you're a regular reader of my blog, you would have met my son by now. If you haven't, this is Erik. Erik has Autistic Disorder (AD), and the official diagnosis was only in March last year (2010). He is 3 years old.

This is one of Erik's cousins - my big sister's boy - Christian. As you can see, Christian has Down Syndrome (DS), also known as Trisomy 21 (T21). DS happens when a mutation occurs on chromosome 21. Any baby can be conceived with this, but it is not actually genetically transferred as such (ie. from parent to offspring and so on). However, the chances of this mutation increase with maternal age. My sister was only 33 when she had Christian. He will be 3 this month. He is only 5 months younger than Erik.

This is Giuseppina, another one of Erik's cousins. Everybody called her Josie. She is my little sister's daughter. Right now, she is with the angels in heaven. She passed away Christmas Eve morning 2008, less than 2 weeks before her 2nd birthday (which happens to be today, hence the extra little post after this one!) She was around 8 months older than my son, so if she were here today, that would make her 4 years old. She had a neurological disorder, which the doctors could not find a name for. Rather, her diagnosis was a collection of symptoms. Pontocerebellar hyperplasia was one of them. She had poor/ degenerating myelination of the brain and neurological cells. She suffered seizures, chronic vomitting, optical blindness (ie. her eyes probably did work but her brain could not process the information), gastric problems, breathing problems, excessive phlegm...... There was alot of other stuff going on that I probably don't even know about too. My sister doesn't tend to talk about it much. Josie never made eye contact with her mother, never could speak, could not control her movements, never walked, sat, or even held her own head up. You get the picture.

And this little fellow, also Erik's cousin, is Josie's little brother, Stefano. He will be 2 years old next week. He has the same condition his sister had. He is also terminal, but right now, he is still with us and has celebrated his second Christmas (although he ended up in hospital for it), and plans are being made for his second birthday party too! This is a very big deal for my family.

None of these disabilities, except for Josie and Stefano of course, are related. They all have genetic or chromosomal origins - even in Erik's case, the evidence for genetics is strong, though not conclusive. Yet none of them are related to the other. For some reason, we have alot of disabilities among the children in our family. In fact, four out of the nine grandchildren born to our family have a disability. That's almost 50%. The first 4 are all fine. Since Josie though, every baby except the most recent one has had a disability. Those are crazy odds.

As I was talking with a friend recently, the subject of my family came up and I found myself talking about these precious kids. She had no idea. In amazement and sympathy she said that our family had really hit the jackpot. I couldn't help but agree. I'm sure there are other families out there worse off or even comparable with ours, but I must be honest, I don't know any.

My other little sister (yeah, I have 3 sisters and 1 brother) is a bit worried about having children - and understandably so. At this stage, she isn't married, so children are not in her immediate plans anyway. I think she wouldn't be normal if she didn't worry about it even just a bit, despite the fact that none of these disabilities has anything to do with the other.

At some point, I think everyone in our family has asked the question, 'Why'. Why us? What have we done to deserve such sorrow? Every time we have been faced with a realisation that something is not right, we have wept and wept and wept with grief, completely heartbroken, wondering how much more we can take. Apparently, we can take alot.

Each of us in our own way has come to terms with it though. We consider ourselves blessed and lucky. These precious, amazing children have enriched our lives so much. They have taught us so much. They have changed us so much. They are lavished with love... cherished more than words can say. It's like a filter has been removed from our eyes and we can see how precious and how valuable and how frail life is; that it is to be treasured and that we should make the most of the time we have here. Not one of us can ever look at another human being the same ever again. They have taught us compassion. They have taught us not to judge. Once upon a time, we would barely have noticed anyone else with special needs around.... apart from the odd one or two at school. But now, we seem to notice them everywhere, these precious ones. And in our family especially, we truly have hit the jackpot :)




xx

For Josie

Cherished forever, precious niece.

xx

The Paper Tree

This year, the Christmas tree never made it out of the garage. I won't go into the reasons why, suffice to say, that I am seriously annoyed about it. I was really hoping that my son would get a little more into it all this year, but we don't even have a decent Christmas tree to work with!! Well... I guess we still have the presents. I hope he gets that part this year. The big girls kept asking when we were going to put the tree up, and to have to tell them finally that it wasn't going to happen was going to break their little hearts. So before I had to tell them, I devised a plan for a substitute.

This is it.

Yup... it's a paper tree. Laugh if you want to! We had a roll of butcher paper from Ikea, not quite wide enough to draw the whole tree on it, so I drew two halves on separate pieces. We painted them, cut them out, then stuck them together. Then drew some baubles and such and coloured those in, and added some glitter glue for a bit more sparkle.

Once the glitter was dry we stuck them on the tree, along with some tinsel and coloured pom-poms - half of which right back off again - and gave the whole lot a good spray with glitter hairspray. Very blingy. We pegged it up where the original would have gone, and tucked in the extra tinsel into the blind slats around it, since we had no blu-tack to stick it anywhere else.

Miss Jane had to glue her bell right next to mummy's one. Too cute :)

The girls had a ball doing this. They kept saying it was the best tree ever. I just smiled. I was happy that they were so happy. Very pleased to see that they had gained a sense of personal achievement and satisfaction from their work in this mini project. But I must admit, I kind of felt sorry for them too.... a paper tree for Christmas? Poor kiddies LOL. Still though, this tree seems to have produced alot more positives than putting up the regular one would have.

There is one more advantage to this paper tree though; when we go away for our holiday next week, we'll be able to take it with us, so they can have a Christmas tree at the resort too. Just unpeg it and roll it up. Voile'!

xx

Don't Blow Your Nose!!

When hubby blows his nose, it sounds like a trumpet. I'm sure you know what I mean. I'm sure you've heard someone blow their nose that way before... maybe even you!

When he does this, little man becomes extremely annoyed, and comes running over to either me or his dad screaming his protest with his brow lowered in serious irritation. It's so funny to watch. He doesn't react this way with anyone else, only my husband. I guess the trumpety sound bothers him some.

Unfortunately, hubby has alot of hay fever recently, and has been blowing his nose alot. Little man can hear everything going on in the lounge room from his bedroom, which is just off the main living areas. We first noticed his distress over it one night, when poor hubby was afflicted particularly badly with unrelenting hay fever. Little man would scream his protest from his room every single time hubby blew his nose. I felt so sorry for them both! When I went in to help settle and check on my son, he really did seem to be distressed... as though he wasn't too sure what the noise was that he was hearing. I didn't have the heart to tell hubby not to blow his nose so loudly though, because he was already extremely annoyed and frustrated.

In the end, I couldn't help but point out the correlation between when hubby blew his nose and when the boy would scream. Hubby got the point, and tried to keep the ruckus down. I felt sorry for him. Have you ever tried to blow your nose really quietly when the urge to trumpet it out is overwhelming?



xx

Isobelle's Birthday

A little baby ducky swimming in a water trough

Little over a year ago, I awoke at 5am with a small pain at the bottom of my 9 month pregnant belly. A very small pain, not even wince-worthy. Being this late in pregnancy however, I decide to go to the bathroom and investigate. Without going into too much detail, within a few moments, I know without a doubt that labour has begun. I wake my husband and tell him it is time, but there is nothing major happening. "Go back to sleep and I will wake you when we need to go". Between checking and waking him, I have about 3 contractions. Small ones. Nothing to worry about.

It is 5:10am.

After I wake him, I tell him I am going to get something to eat, since I expect a long and arduous day ahead of me. My son's labour and birth only went for 2 hours, but that didn't mean that this one would be as fast. Higher chance of a short labour again, but not guaranteed. And with the low level of pain I am feeling, I didn't think it was going to be fast.

I walk into the kitchen, and have another contraction. Suddenly I lose my appetite. I go back to the bedroom to tell my husband I can't eat anything but I might have a cup of tea. He is already up and getting dressed. I return to the kitchen to make my tea, and have another contraction. A strong one. I lose my interest in tea. I go back to the bedroom and inform my husband, and then finish packing my hospital bag instead. He is already on the phone to his sister.

It is 5:15am.

Strong contractions start coming every few minutes now. I finish packing my bag, ring the hospital, and message my sister so she could spread the word to family. We wait for my SIL to arrive to babysit. She doesn't live far. She wouldn't be long. But by the time she arrives, I am on my knees, rocking back and forth by the couch, contractions coming every minute or so.

"Honey, we have to go, get up" ... my husband is stressing a little.

"I can't.... walk.... right now..... Let me finish.... this contraction.... and I'll come." Panting. It hurts a bit more. The contraction passes and I am on my feet and out the door in a few seconds. Another contraction comes on as I get out the door. I pause at the door, halfway down the garden path, and at the car for contractions. Then I get into the car.

It is 5:30am.

Hubby starts driving to the hospital. Contractions are coming literally one on top of the other. Husband speeds a little, and I growl at him anytime the car goes over a bump. Can't cope with the bumps. It's quiet and there's not much traffic around, but I tell him he doesn't have to speed, I'm not about to drop the baby. "Yeah ok whatever", he says. Soon enough, we arrive at the hospital.

It is 5:50am.

I try to get out of the car, but another contraction hits and I can't move. My husband is getting very worried and seems a little grumpy. He is telling me to get out of the car and asking if he needs to carry me. I shout 'No!' - that would be incredibly painful. It's much easier for me to walk when the contraction passes. It passes and I get out of the car. Another one hits. And this time, I need to push. My body pushes... I cannot stop it. The hospital emergency doors are only a few metres away. The contraction passes and I literally run inside. The place is not busy, but there are a few people in the waiting room there.

We stop to speak to the triage nurse - who can see very clearly that I'm in labour. She takes us straight to the admin window. We begin to give our details. My husband strongly advises them to take me inside immediately, as I am about to give birth. I am too foggy to think straight. The pain is intense and constant now. The urge to push is so strong, it's primeval. There is only a few seconds between contractions.

The lady behind the admin window wants me to tell her when I need to push. I tell her I have already started pushing. She wants me to tell her every time I feel the need to. This confuses me; When having a baby, once you start pushing, every contration after that is a pushing one until the baby is born! Why would I need to tell her every time I have a contraction... can't she see? She tries to comfort me. "You're doing really well love, just hang in there, you're doing fine". I laugh... of course I'm doing fine! This is my fourth baby, I know what's going on. I don't think she does though. She asks me if the waters have broken. I say no, not yet - which is a good thing, because when they do, the baby will come fast. She reassures me again that I'm doing fine, and asks me if I need to push again. She has called for an orderly and we are waiting for a wheelchair.

Wheelchair? I can't sit now! I need to walk! Take me through please. Now.

I want to slap her. Instead I tell her I need to push again as I have another contraction and I start pushing. I feel something pop and hear a sound like a bucket of water being thrown on the floor. My waters broke.

"Ohhh..... the waters just broke... I'm so sorry, there's a mess on your floor" . My pj pants are soaked through.

I retreat back into my little world of birthing, while my husband and this lady behind the triage counter continue speaking. I don't know what they are saying... I'm not paying attention. Another contraction hits, and since she still wants me to tell her when I need to push, I tell her.

" I need to push....!"... I let out an almighty groan....I feel something slip out....
"The head! The head! There's a head in my knickers!"....
I start tearing my pj pants off while screaming those words out.

Somewhere in the dark corners of my dignified mind, I am aware that people are going to see my bottom... and other bits. I care, but, I don't care. My soaked pants are around my ankles now so I try to step out of them.

The lady behind the counter has jumped up out of her chair and is shouting "OH SHIT!! Somebody help me!!!"

...help you? I'm the one who needs help lady!

I know what she means, but I couldn't help seeing the funny side. I am standing with my legs slightly apart, one hand on the counter, wondering if I should lay down on the floor or not. The next thing I knew, a bunch of medical staff had surrounded us, and a nurse comes out and tells me that I will be ok, and if it makes me feel any better, she has delivered babies in this position before. Suprisingly, it does make me feel better. I don't have to lay down on the floor now. Another contraction begins as she squats down behind me to take a look. The urge to push is crazy strong and I can't help myself. Just as she gets down, she suddenly lunges forward and catches my baby.

It is 6:00am.

I have just given birth to our baby. I look up at my husband in amused relief.... He is standing there in shock, still holding the hospital bag, just staring at the scene before him. I chuckle and take hold of his hand with my free hand.

In the fogginess of the next few moments that followed, I try to look around behind me to where I can hear a small cry. My baby is ok.... my baby is ok. So relieved. I suddenly notice some orderlies standing around us holding up bedsheets to make our little space private. Ohhh.....God bless you people, I think to myself.

There is nothing to cut the cord with, so the nurse is still squatting there holding my little baby. I haven't delivered the placenta yet. I look up at my husband again and laugh.... 'Did we just have a baby?' I asked him. He just stares at me. Some of the hospital staff who came running in response to the code grey (I think?) are standing around smiling and watching... there isn't much they can do now. I start thinking about my exposed bum again......

Someone returns with a pair of scissors. They cut the cord and my baby is whisked away to be checked. Someone else brings out a hospital bed, and gingerly, I climb onto it and lay down on my back. Ahhhh, this is heaven!, I say; I have not been able to lie down on my back for months! The staff just look at me funny. My baby is brought back out to us, and we get to meet her. She's so cute and squished with a thick mop of black hair - with blonde tips! And she's perfectly ok.

Peeking out at the world.

They wheel me upstairs to the birthing suite where the midwives are suprised and disappointed to learn they missed all the action. Before they have a chance to administer the oxytocin needle, I deliver the placenta. They give me the needle anyway.... it hurts more than having my baby did. They stitch me up, bring me breakfast, and leave us to become more acquainted with our new little girl.

The whole thing took just one hour. Every time I think of what happened, I can't help chuckling about it. I shook my head in disbelief for weeks afterwards... this sort of thing happens to other people, not me!

Next time - now, this is our last baby, but if we should happen to make an 'oops' - next time, I will ring the ambulance and go lie down.

Snuggles with daddy :)

One year later...

Her cake was pink velvet with blue cream cheese frosting, surrounded in Cadbury Flake. Fondant probably would have looked better for the trough, but chocolate tastes so much nicer :)

My little baby battah (that's 'duck' in Lebanese) enjoying a piece of her birthday cake.

xx