A sign

I knew I had this photo somewhere. It was just a matter of finding it. In the process, tonight we have taken a lovely trip down memory lane.

Its hard to believe that this adventure took place ten years ago. That's our camper van there in the foreground. We travelled up Norway and down Sweden. Across to Finland and while we were at it, we couldn't resist popping over to Estonia.

Bimbo was in Sweden. I think it was irony I was trying to create. The girl in the photo is familiar. I know I know her. She is not weathered by age and wisened by motherhood. She looks a little like Missy and is striking a pose much like the Rooster does now. I miss this carefree girl with the itchy feet but I am content in the knowledge that the world will still be there when I am ready to travel again. It will be a different world but so will be the girl carrying the backpack.

Thanks to Jenaveve for our Eyespy theme and to Cindy who manages to fit 28 hours into one day.

Treasures

Was sorting things out, moving things upstairs and downstairs and pulling long forgotten boxes out of storage spaces, when I came across these treasures.

A very old snoopy all ready to be loved by a train loving little boy.

And I had forgotten all about Holly Hobby.

Her very glass half full take on life has come rushing back to me now. We had twin beds with bedspreads and matching curtains. These may still be stashed in mum's linen chest at home. Yeah! A doona cover for Missy could be on the cards.

The kids are asleep in their new rooms tonight. All cosy and snug and close to us.

A long weekend

Snuggled in winter woolies on Saturday

A long beach

for a long play

and a long bike ride on Sunday.

And a new wall on Monday.

Something in bloom and a scar

At the base of my torso is a slit from which my children have emerged. A smallish scar from which big things have grown. For a long time I was not proud of this little mark but over time I have come to accept that this is the birth story of my children.

My body gave up after very long labours with both children. It stalled at 6cm with Luca and 9cm with Ellie. The disappointment at getting so close with my second was tremendous. Completely overwhelming. We waited and laboured and waited and laboured. We even pushed, but that one last, tiny centimetre would not eventuate. I can fall pregnant in the blink of an eye, I carry my babies with ease, but I just can't get them out of me no matter how hard I try. It seems to be my fate and I was the loudest advocate for a natural, drug free birth.

I still dream of pushing my babies out, not dreaming as in wishful thinking, but really dreaming that I give birth. I'm not sure if this dream is a sign that I should have a third. After 2 c-sections I don't like my chances of a natural birth. But for the time being I have a good, long heroic tale of an epic labour and an assisted birth. That's how I like to think of it.

Thanks to the lovely Cindy for hosting and to Fuzzy Dragons for our two-for-one Eyespy Sunday.

An empty box

There are so many uses for an empty box when you are nearly 4 and your imagination is wild.

It can be a ute.

Or a taxi.

Or a hilarous game of...

Jack-in-the...

Box!

NB. Notice the second box? Its a Singer box. Yes folks, the sewing machine is out of the box. Have just finished my first little project and will unveil it as soon as i can pin my little superhero down to take a photo.

A morning ritual

I won't mention the ritual that begins each morning with the roosters wake up call somewhere between 5.30 and 6 (the rooster that is my son, that is. What is he thinking as he peeps out his window to see if it is morning time and it is still DARK!!).

I'm also not going to mention the morning rituals that take place over the breakfast table (the only fuss free meal of that day where everyone eats everything in front of them).

Or the chaotic ritual that involves us bundling out the door to get somewhere on time (three people dressed, bags packed, teeth cleaned, no put down that car, that teddy, that phone and sit on the steps and get your shoes on!).

I won't mention the big sigh of relief as I reverse out the driveway and wonder how I managed to get the 15 jobs done and three people ready, in under an hour.

What I want to remember is the ritual that involves my little Missy each morning. That sleepy morning feed as she slowly wakes up to the world. Those warm snuggles, that quiet, before the Rooster discovers that we are awake and disturbs our peace and solitude with his kisses and cuddles and his bouncing and bustle. That time when she hums songs to herself and plays out the actions with her little hands. Where she pokes all the tiny folds of my shirt and prods at my face. Where she plays with both our hair (I wonder if she has discovered that our hair has an identical texture as she strokes and pats and flicks).

I don't mind this ritual, this moment in time, because it will pass and I may never have it again.

More rituals here. Thanks to Angie at 3 Red Buttons for this weeks Eyespy theme.