A Wedding Gift & The End Of An Era

You know what I love?  I love when I make something and post a photo on my Facebook page, that someone else loves it too and immediately orders one!  That's exactly what happened a couple of weeks ago when I finished the ring bearer's cushion for my brother-in-law's upcoming wedding!

The customer requested specific fabric for the cushion - which I had none of!  Lucky for me, I'm in a few fabulous FB groups, and put a call out for scraps of Sugar Flower.  Even luckier for me, a couple of lovely women came to the rescue!  And yesterday, I spent the afternoon putting the order together.....

I adore this little paper piecing pattern by Quiet Play.  I already have another one printed out, ready to make a third!  I used the old faithful Aurifil #2024 to piece and quilt all the little pebbles on the front.  I'm getting pretty damn good at those damn pebbles!  It's taken a few projects to get in to my pebbling groove - proof that practice makes better.

Can you believe the back of the cushion is made from two scraps?!!?!?  Thanks Toni!!!  I love how bright and sunny this print is.

I heart hearts!

My favourite, but most nerve wracking part of these cushions, is the stamping.  I bought these divine little stamp sets before Christmas, not having any purpose in mind - just because they were cute!  And they have already been used twice!  Who knew!??!

And just because I've been talking about it for weeks now, Chloe started school today!  In what I can only describe as "an end of an era", today ended 15 years of having a child/children home with me.  Whilst I can confirm I did not cry when we dropped her off, I cannot deny my throat closing over and choking up last night when I got her uniform out.  And I can also not deny the tears that were shed this morning whilst I was by myself.  I'm sure there will be more tears over the coming weeks and months, when I find myself wondering where my little quiet companion is?

The four most precious "little" people in my life.

And the fifth, who started work late so he could continue the tradition of taking our kids to their first day of school.

THIS is what I will miss!

I'm linking up with Pretty Bobbins and Quiet Play - You can too!

2013 - The Year That Was....

In one word - exhausting.

If I were to look back at 2013, I would tell you that I got through it.  I landed on my feet - opposed to curling up in a ball.  So I guess I would call it a success?

On the creative side of life, it couldn't have been a better year!  I finished my 20th quilt for the year last weekend, and happily handed it over to my husband's cousin, for the new little man in her life - baby Archie.  And I have to say - the satisfaction that I receive when I've finished a quilt and am able to gift it to someone is unbelievably wonderful!  It adds to the enjoyment of the making.

I somehow managed to make the ever popular Swoon quilt too..... Which to my utter astonishment has had over 7500 view on Flickr after being picked up by Explore!  It seems people like a random photo with a cat!

I took my paper-piecing addiction to an all new high, by making this fairytales wall hanging....

I've made a gazillion cushions this year.  Plenty for gifts and plenty for a consignment that headed over to a homewares shop in Bali.  Happy to say they all sold!

There's been Bee Blocks.....

And assorted other projects....

And amongst all of the quilty things I've made for myself and others - I've made plenty of little people's clothing for customers (and my kids!).....

I think it's fair to say I spent a fair bit of my year behind my Bernina.

And on a personal note..... I think I've achieved a hell of a lot....

I've watched those four kiddos of mine grow like weeds.  Apparently I now have a man for a son.  My bestest friend moved back to Australia after 15 years in London, and I've been blessed to be a part of her two little girl's lives.  I've won fabric!  I bought a big kick-ass camera and am loving taking photos.  I've made cakes.  Lots of them.  I've spent countless days and nights with close friends.  I've learnt to quilt - properly!  I learnt to paper-piece, and became addicted.  I've bought a shit load of fabric.  I participated in my first ever crafty swap/secret santa.  I participated in my first ever quilt-along.  I went overseas with my husband for the first time.  I hosted my first ever blog hop.  And I survived Christmas!

I've had some pretty shitty times this year also.  I've watched my sister kick an almost 30 year habit and have been by her side to deal with the ramifications.  I've learnt more about mental illness, but feel like I will never, ever understand.  I've watched my teenage son become a man, and helped him through what could have turned out to be an absolute disastrous situation.  I've gotten along with his father - mostly.  I've seen families torn through in-fighting and poor decisions.  And I've been sadly reminded that life is too short for some, and to never, ever take the ones I love for granted.

2014 is shaping up to be a fabulous year.  Today is my tenth wedding anniversary!  In a few week's time, my youngest will be heading off to school, and for the first time in 15 years, I will have no children at home.  I am planning on working less weekends, and working more weekdays.  I am planning on diving in the deep end and pushing forward with some business dreams I have held for far too long.  But most of all - I am planning on continuing to see the great things in life and not focusing on the crappy ones!

So after that long, drawn out recap of this year - I wish you all a wonderful and happy new year!  May it be fun, filled with love and laughter.  I thank you all for coming to visit me here in my happy place, and look forward to sharing my trials and tribulations with you all again in 2014.  And a very special shout out to the wonderful group of friends I have made through quilting.  You have all become such an integral part of my daily life, and I love you dearly.

Love,

Midge

xxx

Changing of The Guard - Sans Uterus

I don't know how many times I have said it, but I'll say it again - I'm so glad I do not have a uterus anymore.  I usually utter this sentence upon seeing a divine little newborn human being, as I did yesterday whilst at the local shopping centre.  Andrew was sitting next to me in the hairdressers, whilst we were wrangling the four kids and trying our hardest to keep our shit together whilst one niggled at another, and the four year old was trying desperately to break one of the chairs.  I saw the newborn bundle and my insides ached.  I'm assuming the part that was aching, is the big black hole where once my womb lived?  The same part that grew five (well, only four of them "successfully") human beings.  The part that gave me so much joy, but also so much pain.  Andrew gave me a look when I said it.  You know - THE look.  The "are you fucking crazy" look?

I fear if I still had my uterus I would have continued to churn out babies like nobody's business.  I would have put up with the morning all day sickness, the burst blood vessels in my eyelids from heaving so violently.  I would have gone through the trials and tribulations of gestational diabetes, paying $3 a day for a sugar free chocolate bar, just to get my "fix".  I would have bitched and moaned about how much I hate being pregnant, but in the next breath, declare how thrilled I was to have another baby on the way.  I would have put up with the agony of a shot pelvis.  The embarrassment of having to be pushed around the shops in a wheelchair - for I could not walk longer than 10 minutes without the pain becoming overwhelming.  Yep - I would have gone through all of that, over and over - just for that amazing feeling of elation when you have that gooey, strange little bundle of joy in your arms.

Sigh.

I'm so very thankful, however, that I don't have that option any longer.  My body waved the white flag and I surrendered.  I am so very happy with my tribe.  Only a matter of weeks ago I told one of my best friends that I was happy I did not have to go through the up's and down's of a new baby.  The elation of its arrival, and the deep desperation for sleep.  An hour later, she told me she was pregnant!  Problem solved.  I can live vicariously through my friends.  I am finally the one who can offer to babysit.  I am on the precipice of some form of freedom.

I'm almost on the other side.  2013 will be dishing out time.  For me.  For the first time in more than 14 years, I will have more than a fleeting couple of hours to myself on a regular basis.  In fact - I will have TWO WHOLE DAYS A WEEK!  When this occurred to me a few months ago, I said to Andrew I could pick up some extra work.  And then I found my head and screwed it back on and slapped myself.  Those two days a week are going to be filled with lots of nothing.  I am not planning anything.  I'm winging it!  (Ok, I'm being hopeful, but I really AM planning on doing lots of random shit that is totally unplanned)

So, as I patiently await the arrival of numerous bundles of joy, from a lovely array of friends, I will be busily not planning what I will be doing next year.  I will be filling my diary with play dates, of the grown up variety.  I may finally remember what it is like to go a whole day without having to feed someone else, change the channels constantly and figure out why Barbie's shoes won't stay on or translate Dora's antics!  Hola!!

  

How to Say Goodbye?

This weekend past was one worth treasuring.  Both of my boys played their first games of basketball, Cadyn was a superstar, and revelled in every minute.  Lochie, at the age of 13, was a little anxious, but held his own on the court and made me proud that he was starting a sport when most other boys had played for years.  My girls made me smile as we talked about sleepovers and friends.  Sunday brought a family outing to Ikea, and excitement at the changes that were happening around us - new house, which means new bedrooms.  New school, which means new friendships.  And to top off this wonderful weekend, my husband and I headed out to gold class for a hilarious movie - "The Dictator".

The end of the movie brought some relief - my bladder could not take any more laughing.  But it also brought tears - as we were told that my husband's beautiful Nanna had passed away.

We were not surprised, she had been sleeping this past week, and we had been given the week to reflect on her 93 years of life.  But it still stung.  Seeing my Mother in Law surrounded by her three boys made me smile, after the tears. 

The predicament I find myself in now, is how to say goodbye?  Not for myself, but for my children?  Chelsea, all of nine years old, crawled on to my lap last night and cried for her Great-grandmother.  They had a special bond, being that she was born on the same date as Nanna - only 84 years later.  As I looked through photographs last night I noted that each birthday we had celebrated with Nanna was captured with Chelsea blowing out the candles.  This year was no different.  Only four weeks ago we all gathered for a celebratory lunch and Chelsea blew out Nanna's candles.

As preparations are being made to farewell the "Matriarch" of the family, I am debating whether our children should attend her funeral?  DO children attend funerals?  Do I give them the choice to attend or do we just make the decision for them?  Although I know it will inevitably be sad - I also think that 93 years of amazing living is one to celebrate.

What would you do?

Nanna  

10.5.1919 - 3.6.2012

What If Land

About ten days ago I had a little "turn" and thought I  was going to pass out.  I didn't, but somehow travelled to a different planet for the following 36 hours.  To say I felt "odd" would be about right.  Away with the fairies was I.

I did the right thing and took the pathology request that had been under a magnet on the fridge for the past two months and finally had my GTT test.  Turns out I'm not diabetic!  Which is a good thing, seeing as I have just eaten a row of chocolate before I sat down here.....

I also did another right thing and went and saw my GP last week, thinking she would say my test was fine, all was fine, just keep on keeping on.  Fail.

It turns out that being off with the fairies is not an ideal outcome after nearly passing out.  It also turns out that when you tell the GP this has happened a few times before, said GP gets that little concerned furrow on their brow as they sit back in their chair and look quizzically at you.

So now I look like some kind of cyborg.  

Little patches of annoyingly scratchy tape are attached to long cords that lead to a funny little computerised box.  It's called a Holter Monitor.  And it's going to tell me what my heart does over a 24 hour period.  Fun!  Or not so fun.

I also have an appointment with a Nuerologist to look forward to drain my account.  You know, just to rule out whether I have had a minor stroke......  Just as I wrote that I think my heart monitor would have recorded a jump.....

Now, I know you're not supposed to be alarmed when your GP says they are requesting these tests "just to be sure", but I am quite seriously shaking in my freakin boots!  All the what if's in the world are spinning through my over-active mind, and the whole reality of getting older and gaining more health issues seem way too close to home!

Yes - it could just be that I am stressed.  There's plenty going on in my life to induce stress, anxiety and a whole lot of other feelings.  But what if??

I've obviously had to explain to my kids what all the cords and patches are.  It went something like this - 

"Mummy hasn't been well, and is stressed out, so now they're seeing how my heart is working" - this was said through gritted teeth as I attempted to get them to stop fighting as they were going through the front door.....

This comes less than 24 hours after having to explain to them they their Great-Grandmother has gone to sleep and more than likely will not be waking up.  Chelsea replied to this news with "At least she got to live to 93".  Kids are resilient.  And naive.  Just the way I like it.  My husband, on the other hand, is devastated.  As he should be.

Stressed.  Me?  Nooooooooo.......

A positive twist to all this?  I have just opened and read a letter sent from our World Vision Sponsor Child, Keriya.  Well, her Father told the volunteer what to write which is great.  The last line of the letter made my voice quiver.... "Dear sponsor, she will be so happy if you write her a letter and send a post card that can give her an idea about your self and expresses your place to her".  Fills my heart - take that heart monitor!

Do you ever go in to What If Land??  How do you navigate out of that place?

Royalty Reigns

Last night re-affirmed my belief that good karma comes to those who wait!  I am also of the belief that myself and my two gorgeous girlfriends must be good people to collect said karma.  This is how it all unfolded.....

My all-time, number one, favourite artist in the whole entire world is Prince.  I can still remember listening to him for the first time.  I was around nine years of age (circa 1984 - don't do the maths).  My older sister and her bestie - Tammy - were avid fans.  Tammy had a purple bedroom, plastered with posters.  She also had the most coolest purple guitar in the corner of her bedroom.  I was in awe of her coolness.  Her Dad was also a glazier, so her bedroom had full length mirrors on the walls.  The epitome of 80's coolness.  So I would listen to the music they listened to, and just loved the grooviness of Prince and his tunes.  Tammy said to me that when Prince finally came to Australia, one day, she would take me. Fab.

Fast forward to 1992, when Prince finally announced he would be touring Australia.  I was now 17, and Tammy was long gone in my life, but my bff's had finally caught on to what I had known all along.  Prince was the hottest artist in town. So we jumped on a train and went to our first ever concert.  BEST. NIGHT. EVER.

Press double fast forward now, to present time.  A month or so ago, Prince declared he would be touring again.  Hoorah!  I was thrilled that Hayles and Bec wanted to go.  Hayley jumped on line at 9am the Monday morning tickets went on sale.  At precisely 9.05am she had allocated tickets - right up in the "Gods" of Rod Laver Arena!  I was not bothered as I was going to see Prince!  Slightly bummed the next day when I realise two more concerts were for sale, with seats down low.  But I got on with life - I was going to see Prince!

So last night, we jumped in my car and travelled to the city.  Spent far too much time worrying about where the hell we were going to park, and whether we would be lucky enough to dodge the imminent rain on our walk to the arena.  Thank you Richmond Football Club for your open car park and thank you Mother Nature for turning off the water.

Excitedly entered the venue and found an usher to show us our seats in the northern hemisphere.  He asked us if we were all together to which we nodded.  He then walked off.  We were a bit confused, but then saw he had wandered down the small flight of stairs and was summoning us to join him.  "Give me your tickets girls, I need to change them over".  Huh??  Had we inadvertently found ourselves with scalper's tickets?  Were we in trouble?  "Just stay calm" he says.  He then handed us tickets for seats in the LOWER level - ROW G!!!!  Many expletives left my lips before I asked him his name.  "Allan" - couldn't help myself in the excitement - Allan........allan, allan, allan - was all I could say!  If you have no idea why I was blurting this out - watch this...

Allan!

I then asked if we could kiss him?!?!!?  As you do?  Of course he said Yes!  I could not believe our luck.  Or good karma?  Things like that just never happen to me, or my friends.  Thrilled beyond belief!  We very calmly (on the outside anyway) found our seats and were dumb-founded to see how close we were...

I spent the following few hours in awe of this amazing man and his talent.  It was like one big "jam".  Songs that I have listened to for nearly 30 years, live and right in front of me.  My feet were sore, my bladder was full (I couldn't miss a second for a toilet stop) and my hands stung from clapping.  A truly brilliant evening.

When we finally left, Hayley asked me if this concert was better than the first I saw?  I couldn't possibly compare.  The first concert you go to is always close to your heart, it's kind of a "right of passage" in my opinion.  And having the privilege of seeing the same artist some 20 years later.....you see it through different eyes.  Not just older, but more appreciative.

Here's a couple more pics from my most brilliant evening.

I'm still a little high from it all!  Who is your all-time favourite?  And have you seen them live?

To Medicate or Not to Medicate - THAT is the Question.

I have thought about writing this post for a few weeks now.  Sort of mentioned it here, but something always stops me.  I'm going to try.

When I started blogging, way back here, my little "tag line" was - "From One Un-medicated Mummy to Another."  Back then I WAS un-medicated, and still am.  But it hasn't always been that way....

I was told by my GP back in 1999 that I was depressed.  I was 24 years old and had a little baby boy who depended on me.  I can still very clearly remember returning home to my then husband and telling him that "The Dr says I am depressed".  His response?  "You're not depressed".  This pretty much summed up the support system I had at the time.  Zilch.  I soldiered on for a while longer until I decided I should fill the script for medication I was given.  It was only a year or so later that I realised I wasn't really depressed - I was really unhappy.  In the boldest move I would ever make in my life (I am was a chronic people pleaser) I decided I would take control, and left my husband.  Strangely enough - my depression left.  And so did the medication.

I was lucky enough to meet my fabulous husband - Andrew - about 14 months after that.  Bliss.  We have now shared over ten years together, and that unhappiness that weighed heavily on me has never shown its ugly face again.  For that I am grateful.

Regardless of my giddy happiness, and complete and utter fulfilment family wise, my dear old brain and its battle with serotonin have led me to medication a few times.  Well, three times to be exact!  It seems one of the downfalls for me whilst being pregnant, was that I felt like a crazed woman.  I couldn't control my temper, my emotions, my anxiety.  I had no control.  Over anything.  I was in the fortunate position of having a wonderful obstetrician when pregnant with Chelsea, and he suggested anti-depressants could possibly help.  And he was right.  They did.

I always made a point of explaining to people that I was NOT depressed.  Anti-depressants, for me, level me out.  They lessen my stress levels, my anxiety, and make me a little more "zen".  Throughout my last two pregnancies, a point would come where Andrew and I would have a conversation that went something like this....

Andrew - "I think maybe you might need to go and see the Dr?"

Me - "I think maybe you're right!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I wish I had of had such insight back when I was pregnant with Lochie.  I was the same anxious, stressed ball of emotion back then - but did not have the support or type of relationship where it was acknowledged.  There were warning signs.  Like the time we got in to a fight (I was probably 7/8 months pregnant) and he locked me out of the house to calm down.  In the rain.  Not a good idea.  Let's just say I ended up kicking a glass door in.  Hmmmmm......should have taken that warning sign and run with it!?!

Anyway.......... The reason I am writing about this NOW is that over the past few weeks, well months really, I have admitted to myself - and Andrew, that I'm struggling.  Struggling with everything.  And unfortunately I take my frustration and lack of control out on my beautiful kiddies.  I've always been a bit of a "yeller".  Not something I'm proud of, but it's me.  When I feel like I have been feeling, I lose control, and I can scream like a banshee.  I hate it.  I hate myself when I'm doing it.  I hate myself after doing it.  

I'm super aware of the fact that mental illness is part of my family.  It's part of my genetic make-up. I figure I shouldn't put it off, so it's off to the Doctors again.

I have a LOT of people ask me how I do it all?  How do I have four kids, work, run a small home business and still have it all together?  I generally laugh it off and joke about how I manage.  I look like someone who has it together, but THIS is the truth.  I don't!  I'm not worried about it.  My darling friend at work reassured me that sometimes we just need a little help.  SO I'm going to get it.

My question to you - How do you do it all?

Done - Finally

Last night, I spoke briefly about Eden, and her journey to Niger on behalf of World Vision Australia.  I promised I would sponsor the child I have spoken of sponsoring for years now.  And then I went to bed.  Today, amongst the running around with the kids, getting washing done and finishing sewing orders - I kept thinking about the child I hadn't sponsored yet.  But I kept getting busy, and forgetting.  So tonight when I read Eden's latest post, I walked over to my husband and said "You know how I keep saying I want to sponsor a child, and I never do?  Well, I really want to sponsor a child - now."  His response?  "Ok."

I came back to the computer and clicked on the link.  And then got flustered.  Should I sponsor the first child that came up the screen?  Should I choose?  Boy or girl?  Which country?  Should I click on the link that said "longest waiting"?  I became a little overwhelmed.  I'm still overwhelmed now.  I decided we would sponsor a girl.  And the first girl who popped up and was the same age as my eldest daughter was it.  So, it is with great pride, and a feeling of "finally", that I introduce the latest addition to our family...

I feel really silly writing this, but just as her photo came up on the screen then, I've started crying.  Told you I was overwhelmed.  I have no words.  I hope that our $43 a month can help Keriya and her community.  I really do.

Thank you Eden.  Thank you.  I've just shown my nine year old Chelsea the photo of Keriya and explained to her what our family will now be doing.  And she just quietly smiled.  I asked her what she was thinking?  "I'm just happy" she replied.  Bless.

Forgiveness.....and other stuff

This post has been swimming around in my head for a week now.  Exactly one week.  For it has been one week since my Dad arrived to stay.  He lives in Queensland, in a caravan park, in a van he oh so proudly owns.  Ask him, he'll tell you about it.

I did not know my Dad for a 15 year gap.  Not long after we (My Mum, Step Dad, Brother and miniature chihuaha - in a powder blue datsun - remember datsuns?) packed up our belongings, leaving our own shit-heap caravan/home behind, and headed to Victoria - we lost touch.  Well, more to the truth.....he kind of disappeared.  The kind of disappearing that happens on purpose?  To avoid paying money.  Nice.

Anywho......it TRULY didn't bother me, most of those 15 years.  In fact, I quite preferred it that way.  It was uncomplicated.  One less person I had to deal with.  It simplified my teenage years, to a degree.

Fast forward to circa 2002.  The phone rings.  Some random is on the other end.  And I have NO IDEA who it is.  Turns out it was my Dad.  Turns out he had a minor stroke and a pretty decent car accident.  Turns out he remembered he had children.

I can't even remember how that conversation went.  Needless to say, it must have gone well - given he's been staying here this week.  What happened after that phone call wasn't overly mind-blowing.  It was quite simple.  I had a choice.  I could hold a grudge against him and never let him in, or I could let it go.  The fact that he pissed away my family's security, all that we owned, and gave in to the gambling demons that haunted him?   We went from being a relatively "normal" suburban family with a very successful business owning Father....... to a Fatherless family who had to gather all of their possessions and live in a caravan for a couple of years.  Fun?  Not.

But I did it.  I forgave him.

Life is short.  

When I picked him up from the airport, over a decade after last seeing him, what I did see was an old man.  With next to nothing.  And he got in the car like nothing had ever happened.  So I went along with it.  And still do.

The strangest part about this story?  That he has been here for most of the seven days he's been in Melbourne, and I can honestly say I have not had a decent conversation with him.  Of course, that's not counting the stories he has told me about his kidney stones, constipation, sore shoulder and the strangers I knew nothing about until he told me!  Each day he has been here has been the same.  I go about my usual routines, and he hovers between watching television and popping outside for cigarettes.  

We are still strangers.

I feel like this should sadden me?  But it doesn't.  It just is what it is.  In essence, I am thankful that I have a Father.  One who has, over the past ten years, taken the time to get on a plane every couple of years to come and watch television at my house.  Taken the time and made an effort to send my children, his grandchildren, birthday cards.  And always calls me a week beforehand to let me know he has sent them something.  He has also taken the time to try to be a part of my life.  Even though I think I haven't really let him in.  I don't think he really knows me.  And probably never will.  

For all his faults, I love him.  And I know he loves me - unconditionally.   He never asks me for anything.  Nor do I ever expect anything of him.  So for now, it's working.  This Father/daughter thing.  It may be unconventional in some eyes, but that's my family.  Unconventionally conventional.

I want to end this with one of my all-time favourite quotes. 

 From one of my all-time favourite quoters - Oprah....

Are you a forgiver?  Or a grudger?

Today's post is brought to You by the letter E

E for Emotion.

Emotion is something I feel a lot of.  All the time.  And today has been a roller coaster of emotions.  

From my beautiful catch up with one of my besties this morning, talking about our kids 

and the issues we face.  TEARS.  

The frustration with Ms Chloe as she relentlessly seeks out food because she is hungry.  GRUMPY.  

The annoyance whilst spending over ONE HOUR to vacuum my house. STUFFED.  

The amusement that people take pot shots at each other on Facebook.  Every day I see this, and still - LAUGHTER.  

And the joy at seeing Ms Chloe following my Dad around like his new best friend.  HOORAY!

There were added bonus emotions thrown in, just to mix it up.  But they're not even worth mentioning.  I don't have time.  I can't be bothered.   I give myself a hard time over all the things I could be doing better.  How I could be a better MUM.  A better WIFE.  A better SISTER and DAUGHTER.  

What I DO know - I'm doing my BEST.  And to the people who matter, that is good enough.  

We women give ourselves a bad rap at times.  

Must stop.....