Who, tell me, who can resist these cheeks!?

and especially when you get rewarded with this!

Sigh. My heart!

She's 12 weeks old today. Crazy quickly growing up!

The saga continues...

Thanks for the friendly nudge to finish telling this adventure, Lydia. ;-)

You know, the decision for us to "freebirth" wasn't done lightly. I'm nervous of telling this story, for fear of what people may think, and for fear of people criticising and putting a damper on what was quite possibly one of the most amazing things to ever happen to us. My feelings are still a little raw and sensitive to people who think we should have done it differently, so... please just be aware of that. Birth is such an intimate and personal thing, and while I enjoy sharing my stories with you, I'd appreciate you respecting our decisions.
We did actually have a midwife lined up to attend the birth. I don't think I mentioned this in my earlier post, but yes - we did. Then, at about 34 weeks pregnant, something happened and she couldn't come anymore. i was devastated. I remember getting off the phone to her and going outside and just sobbing. James came out and between my shuddering hiccups, I poured my heart out to to him. I had found myself stuck between a rock and a hard place. I knew I couldn't labour at the hospital because I'd get tense, and then labour would hurt more, and I didn't want to be pushed into pain medications, or if labour didn't progress according to their timelines...well, then there were a whole slew of problems that could happen. So many "complications" in labour happen because of being managed too much. If you let a woman labour naturally and at her pace, then often all those "nasties" of hospital labours can be avoided. But the hospitals really struggle at that. Their job is to "fix" things, and they wanna do that.
So I knew the hospital was out of the question. There is a birthing centre about 3 hours away, but honestly, in the car and travelling for 3 hours  to give birth naturally and then travel all the way home again? Seemed pretty pointless to me. And expensive.
And I've already mentioned that there were no homebirth midwives within 5 hours of us. Again, pretty pointless to pay out thousands of dollars (no exaggeration here. It's soo expensive!) to have her travel and most likely miss the birth anyway. I did explore the option extensively, but we just couldn't make it work.

So James, my sweet hero, turned to me and said "Well. Why don't we just do it at home on our own??"
I looked at him in disbelief, because he'd always said "no" to that, as he didn't feel confident enough. I guess the desperation put bravery into him, because he was all gung-ho! We started researching and educating ourselves, and as I said in the previous post, we educated ourselves alot. Along with talking to homebirth midwives on the phone and learning from them. We brought a homebirthing pool and tinctures like Shepherd's Purse incase of hemmoraging after the birth. We made the tie for baby's umbilical cord, and boiled the sharp nurse's scissors. We brought the grapejuice for a quick energy boost right after the birth, and I basically drowned myself in Red Raspberry Leaf tea to tone up my uterus, in order to help it contract down right after the birth. We went through the checklist of what to have on hand and within reach again and again.

We were ready.

We were prepared.

We were educated.

*The following story may be a little graphic for some. So as a warning to you, if you don't want to hear lots of lovely information about me, then you may want to skip this post*

So. After our wonderful morning at the hospital being monitered, and our awesome time at the park, the kiddies and I headed home for some lunch. As I was buttering the bread, I felt something huge slip out of me. I was like "What in the world!?" and excited at the same time, because I knew that my cervix was finally beginning to register that it had work to do! I was a little surprised though, because in all my previous labours I'd started out by waking up in the morning with a small show, tinged with blood, and diarrhoea. Diarrhoea is the body's way of clearing itself out before labour. Kind of like "lets elimate all the other jobs first before we tackle the big one". So when I woke up that morning with nothing, I didn't get my hopes up for labour! I continued to lose globs of well goop throughout the day. When the kiddies went down for a rest, I tried some nipple stimulation. Stimulation is sometimes used as a way to kickstart labour, or increase the intensity of contractions. You have to be careful though, because too much of it can hyper-stimulate the uterus and cause distress to the baby. Always educate yourself before trying things! Once baby is born and breastfeeding, he/she will be "stimulating" your nipples which will contract your uterus and help control the bleeding. It will ache a little, but it's doing a great thing, so don't be scared of it! I would sometimes take panadol to help the aching (which can get intense sometimes) and a heat on your abdomen always helps too.
Anyway! My contractions started up while stimulating, so I just took it easy for the rest of the day, since I was on my own looking after the other four littlies. James was due home from work at 6pm, but at 5 I called him to let him know things were starting to heat up a little, and could he please not dilly-dally around at work (hah! Like he does that anyway. lol. I was beginning to need a little help concentrating on my contractions, and not on the other munchkins...) He got home soon after that, with pizza for us all. With much encouragement, I ate a tiny piece of pizza, and then took off to the bedroom to just rest a little. Contractions were still about 10 minutes apart, and manageable. I was swaying my hips through them, and enjoying the sensations of my body working to dilate. Yup. Enjoying. I love early labour!!
After we found pjs for all the kiddies, we had our last cuddle together as a family of 6...

I kissed them goodnight, and then headed into the lounge to "get to work". James popped on a Little House dvd, so I got to labour along with that great show. I love Little House because it shows how hard life can be, but how you can get through it too. Their family life is so pure and simple, and just...raw. It's so real. I'm a big fan, so I enjoyed watching them while I was in early labour. I'd say I was around the 4 centimeter mark here. I remember feeling soo tired at one point, I think around 7pm, and thinking "I'd like this to stop now, so I can go to sleep", but I soon pulled myself together and downed about 30mls of Floridix to give me energy. I didn't think "I'm tired" again throughout the whole labour, so it must've worked! After two episodes of Little House, I was beginning to get anxious. The contractions were 6 minutes apart, but just staying there and not increasing in intensity much. So I took to pacing the hallway. Up and down and up and down. I toyed with the idea of doing my hair up pretty for the inevitable pictures, but the thought of being caught out with my arms in the air for a contraction just didn't appeal to me. So a pony-tail had to do. ;-) We rang Mum and let her know I was in labour, knowing she'd pass along the news to all the New Zealand people.

After I'd done my pacing in the hallway for about 20 minutes, I felt things start to vamp up. I was struggling to stand through the contractions, and needed to adopt my favourite position for them, squatting down in front of the pool with my arms slung over the sides. I had decided to rock my hips through contractions to see if this would help me dilate faster, and I believe it did. I think I was about 7 centimeters at this point, as it wasn't long before transition hit. When I felt a contraction starting, I would start swaying my hips in a circular motion and would do a low moan saying "oooopen". Probably sounds a little funny to some of you, but I really believe that the mind plays such a huge part in labour. If I was standing with my legs closed, and high-pitched squealing "noooo!!", then I doubt I would have dilated in the same manner. Every contraction I pictured my cervix opening and letting the baby move down.
However, despite all this, I was still struggling to believe that labour was "for real". I thought it would just peter out. You see, while the contractions were extrememly intense and requiring all of me being in the moment, they weren't really painful. I had accepted all the sensations that they were throwing at me, and wasn't fighting it. I was welcoming it, and I think that paid a huge part in my body's natural pain-relieving hormones.  I was coping just fine. 
At some stage in the labour (we didn't clock-watch, or time anything. Until I began to question how far apart the contractions were because it felt like they were one on top of another once I got in the pool!) I knew it was time to get in the pool. I was beginning to need the comfort and relief that I knew the warm water could offer me. I raced off to the toilet first, and I remember wiping and seeing lots of blood. That is when I finally accepted that "ooo! I'm going to have a baby!"
James helped me gracefully (of course!) hop into the pool and ahhhh, I just love that feeling of weightlessness and warm water soothing any tense muscles. The contractions were coming in about 2 minutes apart now, and I believe I was going through transition.
We had set up the dvd (and actually remembered to turn it on!), so we have a beautiful record from the time I got into the pool until it was all done and dusted. I laboured squatting, while facing the outside of the pool, and moved back into a reclining position between contractions. I was vomiting a little bit by this stage, usually when the contraction hit it's peak. I remember thinking at one point, "if I was labouring at the hospital and had no issue with pain meds, then I'd probably get something at this point. Good thing I'm not one of them!" haha. Yet, still, it was very managable, and I think this is due to the deep relaxed state I was in. It's incredible to look back on the dvd and see me with a serene look on my face, drifting into a deep sleep between the contractions. When I finally admitted to myself that labour was nearing the end, I asked James to call our friend that we'd lined up to just be on the speaker phone around the birth time. That way, we could shoot questions to her if we needed to. While James was out of the room ringing her, a strong contraction hit me. Instead of my usual sounds, I was astonished to hear myself making a lower sound, and one that is associated with trying to push a baby out. Yet I didn't feel any pushing urges. It was the strangest thing! My body was already doing what it needed to do, even before my brain had registered. I called out to James to come back, because I knew baby was on her way. He came back, with my lovely friend on the phone, and I even had a lovely chat to her before the next contraction hit. "I'm having a baby!! I can't believe it! It's happening!!". hehehe. It was a lovely time, almost stuck between two worlds. She offered me some encouraging words, and then we got back to work.
The next contraction brought the pushing urges, and I was able to breathe through them, as I felt the baby moving lower and lower down the birth canal. All of a sudden I felt something pop out. I was so surprised at this, because there was no "ring of fire", or indication that baby was that close. I panicked slightly, and asked said to James "Something popped out! Can you check what it is?!" haha (I was worried that it was feet, and therefore a breech birth. Which we were confident in handling (or not handling, as it is. Never touch a baby being born breech, as it can cause the startle reflex for the baby and complicate their position coming out) but still a little nerve-wracking)  He looked, and lo and behold, it was a head. At Rachel's birth, I put my hand down and felt her head when it came out. I still remember that silky softness, and will often touch her head there and all those memories come flooding back. I wanted to do the same for this baby, so when James said her head was out, I put my hand down to feel the softness and be the first human to touch my baby. But. It wasn't soft. It was this tight balloon-ish feeling. She was still in her sack! My babies waters have always broken just before I get the pushing urges, but for this birth it never broke! The strangest feeling ever. lol. She came out fully in the next contraction, and James helped push her through my legs. I lifted her up into my arms and...wow. I had done it!! She pinked up beautifully, and thankfully didn't need any help breathing. I was in complete awe of her and the journey we'd just been through together, that it took us a few minutes to even think about whether she was a girl or boy. We were fully expecting a boy, and when we saw that it was indeed a girl, well our jaws almost hit the floor. Unbelievable!! James helped me out of the pool and onto the couch.

We snapped some pictures, and delivered the placenta. No worries. All done and dusted within about 10 minutes of her being born. I was soo relieved to not have any dramas with the bleeding. Yippeee!! The next hour was spent calling family and a few friends to let them know baby had arrived. We also woke up Jimmy and Livvy to meet their baby sister. Jimmy was completely awe-struck, but Liv really just wanted to be asleep, haha. She told me in the morning that she knew I was "borning" the baby, because she heard me making the "birth noises". She wasn't scared, just completely accepting of what was happening. How cool is that?!   Then James tucked me up into bed with Bethie, and proceeded to clean everything up. He's such a champ! He emptied the pool, put it out to dry, put the towels in the wash, and tidied everything. Maybe he was working the adrenaline out, haha.

It was wonderful. Really really wonderful.

We went to the hospital in the morning, and they weren't surprised. They knew that I was secretly hoping for a homebirth, and weren't worried about it at all. Beth had her blood tested (as I'm a neg blood type) and it came back negative as well. So we were fine and didn't need any jabs! Yay!

I had some trouble initially feeding the little tyke. Her latch wasn't naturally wonderful, and caused me alot of grief. I also got hit by mastitus time and time again, and was wracked with awful fevers for a few weeks. But once we'd got over those troubles, things began settling down. I got two days of rest after the birth, but then I had to go back to normal activities of school-runs, and looking after the other four at home on my own. It was a hard time, and my body struggled to recover properly. I'm now 12 weeks post-partum, and am only just starting to feel my normal self again. Beth is sleeping a mammoth 12 hours each night, which is wonderful and giving me much needed rest.

God is SOO good! He gave me absolutely everything I wanted in this birth, and I am so grateful for that.

Long story, I know. But it's nice to have it all recorded, for my sake, so I can look back on it when my memory gets foggy and is struggling to remember the details.

:-)

Have you ever made something that just makes you giggle? You know, the kind of thing that's so deliciously easy to make, but always brings a smile to your dial whenever you look at it. I made one of those this morning.

It's soo much fun having three little girls to sew for, who appreciate ruffles, frills, and the finer things of life. I put this skirt on Dede and could hardly get her to stand still for a photo...

I think it's a winner. :-) Let me know if you want to know how to make it... it's soooo easy, and literally no sewing involved. Just a glue-gun, if you're that way inclined. (I sewed, because it was already set up, and I didn't have the patience for the glue-gun to heat, haha).

And this is what I've been working on, every now and then, for the past few weeks. You know the drill: The girl next door comes over, so you cut out some squares together; it's nap time for the younguns, so us oldies (Dede and I) cut out some squares together; it's time for a Sallies throw-out, so you recycle some of your favourites, and cut out some squares... yeah, that kind of thing. It's fun!

I have a hard time getting my head around the Spotlight here in Rocky. The customer service isn't bad....once you finally get it. They're soo sloooww (maybe it's just fabric stores in general? They're kind of a slooowww place aren't they? I mean, have you heard the music in them? There is none. The air is stale. Even a snail would go to sleep in those stores...) Anyway. It usually takes about 10 minutes to serve each customer. And there's usually a line of 3-4 people waiting ahead of you. Which, quite obviously for us math buffs, means a waiting time of 30-40 minutes. Just to get your fabric cut. argh! I'm not the most patient of people, and always on some kind of a mission, so this just drives me around the bend! Plus! Having to keep 4-5 young kiddies happy while you're waiting? Needless to say... buttons, beads, lace, fabric bolts, and zippers go everywhere. And that's just on a good day. :-) Sometimes I end up just leaving my bits and bots, and coming home to chop up and make my own fabric out of old clothes. Haha! Which is exactly what I did with this...

Not bad for a freebie, huh! I did nick into Spottie this morning to grab some soft fluffy fabric for the backside. We got there right on opening time, and were the first in queue! Whoo! So, for $13 Livvy now has a soft warm blankie to snuggle into on these cold Rocky nights (haha).

<---Hey Trace. I finally got to use one of these! hehe.

In which I became as a child.

Playing shops with the kiddies. Who knew it could be so fun!?

Since I'm on a mission to make sure I'm enjoying life with my littlies, I'm spending alot of time on my hands and knees dressed up to the hilt in all sorts of wild and wonderful costumes. Playing "shops" with them, one day after school, was a hit and has been requested every day since. Even Rachie enjoys popping on the fireman's costume and pretending to "steal" from the shop. Then, of course, Jimmy (dressed in his  mechanic's hat) has to put her into jail...

It really is such delicious fun! Completely tires me out though. No wonder children often throw tantrums around dinner time... they're so tired from all that playing all day! Poor little tykes.

My latest obsession has totally been sewing, though. If I'm not doing the barest minimun of housework, or playing games, then you'll find me at the sewing machine. Today I made Livvy and Rachie the sweetest little dresses. A reversible superman/batman cape is on the cards for tomorrow, along with some pants for Rachel if I'm feeling daring enough. I've found the most wonderful blog online, and she explains things sooo well. Beautiful pictures, and illustrations as she walks you through creating the most faaaabulous clothing and accessories for children. So completely easy to follow (I'm a novice sewer, and even that is an over-statement!) but they turn out just gorgeous. I was planning to show off the little dresses to you tonight, but the girls wanted to put them on so they could do twirls for Daddy when he got home. And who am I to say "no" to showing off to Daddy hmm? And then I completely forgot about the fact that they were wearing them for their delicious home-made spaghetti dinner and chocolate custard.

Uhh. Yup. Off to the wash they go.

...and I just added that picture because loooook how cute and doll-like Bethany looks in the background. Haha. She is happiest when she can watch the older ones playing. You shoulda seen the fuss she kicked up when they left her there and went onto bigger and brighter things. 

And while I'm on the subject of Beth, I just have to boast for a moment...

She slept for twelve and a half hours last night!!

What can I say?! She's an angel. I ended up waking her up to make sure she was breathing. :-/ 

Oh, and did I mention that we're going back to New Zealand for Christmas?? Just me and the kids. All five of them. One of me.

Lord have mercy.

Some days are just like this, eh?

This morning was pretty special. The library near us was having a "National Storytelling Week" morning, with lots of stories and prizes to be won. So we (in true Hartley style...) shined ourselves up for the event, painstakingly picked our favourite costumes, and headed on down. All geared up to take out all the prizes, and have some fun (and use up a lonely Saturday morning, while Daddy was busy selling cars).

We arrived an impressive 20 minutes early, and proceeded to charm the socks off the ladies organising the event. However. As it turned out... there was also a Dora event being held elsewhere and a circus somewhere else... which apparently is more enticing to the kiddies that live in Rocky.

So. There we were. Dolled up for this huuuuge event, and ready to compete for the prizes listen quietly to the stories... and we made up half the crowd.

Yup. Half the crowd. There's some benefits of being in a big family!! We were now down to a 50/50 chance of winning those prizes!!

With the taste of victory in our mouths (the chocolate Freddos that every single one of the eight children got....) we were hit gobsmacked with reality. They'd decided not to hand out the big prizes. After all, there were only eight children there, and with four of them being in the same family...well, there'd be more winners than losers (well, equal number actually. But that's what I'm guessing their reasoning was...).

So. No prize.

But, we still had a great morning and got to enjoy all the fun activites right in the only front row.

I did feel sorry for the organisers of it all, being such a small turn out and all, but hey - they got 100% satisfaction from the kiddies, as they were all very happy with their Freddos, and everyone missed out on the big prize, so everyone was happy! Is it just me, or does that seem a little twisted?! haha.

This is precisely how I spend my days at the moment. Life just doesn't get any sweeter than this... (or does it?? Time will tell!)

Livvy and I shared a special moment tonight...

Then we were joined by Christian...

And then Rachel...

And then Jimmy...

 

Gotta love a group hug before bedtime. :-)

Ouch.

Pride.

It's one of those things that manages to corrupt us before we even have a chance to realise it.

It's one of those things that is the cause of all our problems.

It's one of those things that hurts families.

Breaks up marriages.

Destroys friendships.

Causes us to lose fellowship with God.

It's destructive. Horrible. Nasty.

Evidences of Pride in YOUR life.

I dare you to read that. Think about your life. And then...hey, why not change the way you do things?! I know I had to.

Pride.  It's. Not. Worth. It.

On Thursday, this cute little poppet will be nine weeks old! Unbelievable.

It's probably been the hardest nine weeks that I've been through for a long long time. Only now are we emerging from the haze of it all, and wondering what hit us. Haha. We obviously had it way too good with the past few post-births, and just assumed it would be that easy this time around too. Not so, my friend, not so! Bethie has been one of a kind, right from the beginning of the pregnancy.

When I was newly pregnant with Beth, I knew that I wanted a home-birth. I'd had that with my previous two births, and it just seemed the right way to go. I asked around and did alot of research, and came across the surprising fact that there were no homebirth midwives in Rocky. Infact, there were none within 5 hours of us! It was quite a shock, since they are plenty in abundance in New Zealand! I had the privilege of having the most wonderful midwife for Christian and Rachel's births. She was so gentle and kind, and took such good care of me, all the while instilling in me the confidence for what I was going to end up doing in Australia. I really was blessed beyond measure with her, and the Lord used her so greatly in my life.

So. There were no midwives over here, except the ones at the hospital. Who were lovely, but oh so different from what I was used to. I had my first visit with a doctor (you have to go to the doctors first (says the Aussies) who will confirm you are pregnant, and will send you a referral to the hospital). Well. This doctor didn't believe I was pregnant. She made me do a urine test, because she didn't think I knew what I was talking about. *ahem*. And I had all four kiddies with me at the time too. Obviously I knew what I was talking about. So I did the test, and suuuurprise, I was pregnant. She read the result and came hesitantly up to me. 

 "I'm afraid it's bad news"

My heart sank. I thought I'd lost the baby.

"You're pregnant".

You didn't quite know whether to laugh or cry. Laugh in relief at the sheer joy of expecting another baby in our family, or cry at the fact that she thought it was awful.

She then grudgingly sent my referral to the hospital. Not without booking me in for a "dating" scan, because I couldn't possibly be 15 weeks along. Who am I?! A doctor?! No no no, must go for the scan.

Turns out I was right. Hah!

Of course, then all the floods and drama happened, so I didn't get to see a midwife till I was about 23 weeks along. Of course, they freaked because I hadn't yet done another scan to make sure Bubby had two arms, two legs, a skull, and a heart.

So again I got to say hello to my baby via a tv screen. She was pretty unfazed by the whole event, but she posed for a picture and showed all the necessary bits to the tv man.

I told myself that that would be my last scan. I didn't even want to have one, but was playing "good girl" for the professionals, and hoping it would set me in good steed for future events.

So the pregnancy progressed, and my tummy grew. Slowly. I went to all my appointments with the hospital midwives, but also spent alot of time studying what the Australians call "freebirth". That is, birthing on your own, without professional help. I brought many books and studied them, learning how to cope with and manage many different complications that a birth can possibly have. Such as shoulder dystocia, a slow to start breathing baby, hemmoraging, "slow progress" in dilating (flunked that one though. Never even looked at a clock! haha), a prolapsed cord, and so on. I talked James' ear off each night, and made sure he knew exactly what to do when/if any complications occurred.

Now, before anyone freaks out... we weren't going to be silly about this. If something happed outside of our comfort zone, then we would have been straight up to the hospital (We live a five minute drive away). No doubt about it. We just wanted to be prepared. And, in saying this, I think every expecting couple should study that kind of stuff. Many many babies are born in the car, or unexpectedly at home without a midwife, and you never know what kind of knowledge you'll need to manage it. I just happened to remember that when I get to serious "Yup, this is labour" stuff, then it's all on, and there is no moving me. There was no way on God's green earth that James was going to get me down all those stairs and into a car, while I was contracting...and then up on a hard bed at the hospital with a moniter on. Nah ah. No way. I'm a spoilt girl, used to my candles, soft music, and warm pool. ;-)

So, my due date came. And went. The days dragged on and on, and still no sign of baby. At about day...ohhhh, what was it? Day 14? Anyway, many many days over my due date, and stink!! my lovely support/babysitter had to go home. Boo! Now we were really on our own. Fervent prayers were going up in abundance that labour would happen at night time and that the kids would sleep through it all. We didn't have a babysitter! If I had to go to hospital for any reason, then they were all coming with us! haha. I prayed over and over again that labour would start early evening nice'n'easy, get intense after the kiddies were in bed and fast asleep, and deliver in time to have a good nights sleep. Some people thought I was asking too much (Hi Al!), but the Lord knew. And He knew the desires of my heart. He was holding me and Beth in His hands, and He made what happened into the most wonderful birth ever. It takes my breath away thinking about it. Now, I can hear you laughing saying "Yeah, I'll bet it took your breath away!", but seriously... the Lord did a wonderful work that night, and I just look back in awe at the gift of labour that He gave me.

The morning of the 16th of July, I went up to the hospital for my daily hear-moniter checky-thingy for Beth. They hooked me up and left me for half an hour, tracing her heart beat. Sound relaxing? It would have been, if I didn't have to entertain four little children (yup, I'd given Jimmy the day off school, just for kicks) whilst being strapped to a bed. We sang every Sunday School song we knew, and laughed ourselves silly for the entire 30 minutes. I was quite chipper that morning, actually! After getting my stern warning from the midwife to have the baby that night, (as I had to meet with the doctors the next morning to get an induction date...which I was going to refuse, and then get in a whole lotta trouble...), I took the kiddies to the park! Isn't that what most 43week pregnant women do?! Haha. We had a lovely morning at the park. The sun was shining, and I was just walking around rubbing my belly and talking to little Beth. I felt so at peace, it was incredible! I finally packed the kiddies back into the car, and headed for home.

And then I lost my plug.

... to be continued.

I haven't blogged for a while, I know. My days have been crazy busy with these little munchkins, and learning anew how to enjoy my time with them. This past pregnancy drained everything out of me, and just getting through the days was a chore in itself. But it hit me the other day that I'd stopped enjoying my days with the kiddies. I was finding it frustrating to be with them, and found myself longing for those "quiet moments" a bit too much.

I'm almost ashamed to admit it, but I was wishing away these precious days...and in all honesty, they're such an awesome gift from the Lord.

My rememdy for that horrid habit of dis-contentedness? Learning how to smile with them again. Taking pleasure in the mud-pies, and the sticky fingers on the windows. Forgetting the dishes, and enjoying freshly cut oranges outside... and then sticking the orange quarters into our mouths and grinning insanely at each other. Wandering through a brand-new supermarket just for kicks. Colouring in pages... massive amounts of them. Wiggling bottoms at the camera, because apparently that's a fun thing to do...

Letting them know I love them, by showing them how much they mean to me. That's my remedy.

Sooo.... if I'm a bit quiet around here, it's because I'm off with my kiddies, lapping up their sweet childishness and enjoying these fleeting days with them.

By the way...the chore chart is going great!! Dede is very pleased that today she is on cleaning the toilet, and Christian is gutted that he has a day off. My children are begging me to do jobs... surely it can't get much better than this!?!

Chore-chart time!!

So, I was thinking that it's high time I got my household back into some routines again. Things have been slacking somewhat, since Bethie was born, and quite frankly it drives me nuts.

I used to do a chore chart for the kiddies, and it worked really well! They loved putting stickers on their squares when they'd completed their tasks, and things just seemed to run so much more smoothly. But somewhere along the way (which happens to everyone, right?) we just stopped doing it. Possibly because Rachel kept peeling the stickers off everyone else's charts and plastering them all over hers.... gotta admit though, it was pretty cute. And the older kiddies didn't seem to mind. But still! We stopped doing it.

So this morning, I whipped up another chart. I think it's important for the kiddies to have jobs to do to help out, and even Rachel can do her jobs alongside me. After all, isn't that what training is? I shudder at the thought of my boys not knowing how to clean a toilet, or my girls having never taken the rubbish out.

Nope. That's not gonna be us.

So... this is what I came up with:

Bet ya didn't know I was an artist huh? ;-) Ok, so I had to draw them because I couldn't figure out the whole clip-art world. The dishwashers are wonky, and Jimmy's "rubbish" looks more like ladies who have been electocuted, but still...the kiddies recognised the pictures for what they were, and that's the important thing. haha.

I'll let ya know how it goes. ;-)

Nappy cream.

That stuff sticks!

Did you know, if you leave it on the skin for a couple of hours, it will soak it's way in and leave a nice glistening skin in it's wake.

How do I know this? Ask Rachel. :-)

She's the Queen of the Nappy Cream!!

Sports Day!

Last Friday we slip, slop, slapped and spent the day in the scorching sun and biting wind, cheering on our favourite Ginger as he went head to head against all the other preppies in running, egg and spoon, and sack races.

He was a star!! (at least, that's what we his loud-mouth fans think)

Our throats were hoarse by the end of the day, but a triumphant Jimmy clutching his white, green, and blue (that's first place folks) ribbons was totally and completely worth the effort.

We laughed as he skipped through his running race, more concerned with keeping in stride with Caleb than beating the socks off him.

We screamed in victory as he won the three-legged race with Silas (pictured above) and earned the precious blue ribbon.

We giggled hysterically as he leapt around in a frilly red pillowcase.

We held our breath in anticipation as he balanced an egg on a spoon

And we went home, all of us a beautiful toasty red colour, with the taste of sweet victory lingering on our lips.

Gotta love competition.

I thrive on it.

Briiiiiing it on, little Preppies! Just you wait till next year...

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Of course, then we went home and had to bury our little puppy in the cold hard ground.



My childrens first experience with death. They did so well, and have just accepted it as a part of life. Which, of couse, it is. They're well aware of death, and what happens to a person's body when they die. They're also well aware of what happens to a person's soul when they die. And might I just add... Livvy has placed dibs on marrying "Daniel in the Lion's Den", so you can just choose someone else, thankyouverymuch.

Poor little Mac. We miss him so much. Except when we're rushing out the door, late for school (which hardly ever happens, admittedly. I have a phobia of being late for things)... then I'm extremely grateful that I don't have to chase him around and around and around and around and.... yep. Around. But I do miss scratching behind his hairy ears and having him under my feet as I go to hang out the washing. He was rather lovable.

Sigh. 



We had just sat down to lunch. It was almost 2pm, and I had spent the last four and a half hours looking after what seemed like a million kiddies at creche, for the Pastor's Refreshers School. My feet were aching. I was tired. Hunger was overwhelming me, and I could hardly think straight.

Jimmy: Mummy, I wish you were a nurse.

Me: Really? Why is that huney? (already getting a warm fuzzy feeling from what was sure to be his answer..."Because you're soooo good at looking after people!")

Jimmy: Because you don't work. And every other Mummy works. You don't do anything. All you do all day is clean the house!

Me: *mouth gapes open*

Livvy: And drive!! Mummy drives the car sometimes!

Jimmy: Yeah. But that's not work. You should work Mum.

Baby, some days I would give my right arm to go out and work a "real" job. A job where you get a lunch-break for a whole half an hour. With no one pestering you to have a bite of your sandwich. A job where you get to see adults and have conversations that make sense. A job that only goes for 9 hours a day, and where you get to actually close the bathroom door without little children collapsing into puddles of tears at your daring to have some independence.


Just imagine. Wouldn't that be lovely...

But it's not where God has put me at the moment. So for now, I shall be thankful for my work that is not considered work. And be grateful that at *my work* I get to eat chocolate whenever I like. No waiting around for lunchtime for meee!