Creative Moments

Mapua Easter Fair 2011

2011-04-30T15:24:00.008+12:00

I sold four paintings and two rock paintings at this years Mapua Easter Fair. Below is the art painted for the stall. It was a grey and slightly damp day but as always a relaxing atmosphere. It was great to have Trish on the stall too selling her owls and broaches.

Support Vital Dealing With Autism

2011-04-22T16:53:00.003+12:00

Opinion, The Nelson Mail 21 April 2011
Autism New Zealand runs a regular coffee group which is a form of therapy for this mother of a six year old daughter with autism spectrum disorder.

Support Vital Dealing With Autism

My six year old daughter has been invited to a birthday party. Typical in childhood? Not for my daughter, because she is autistic.

Previous birthday party invitations occurred because I knew the families and friendships have been carefully nurtured between my daughter and a couple of children.

So I just about shed a tear when my daughter was invited to a birthday party recently by a girl in her class as I had nothing to do with it. Ok truth be told; I wanted to jump for joy! It is a celebratory milestone around my daughter’s social development as she has struggled socially for most of her short life.

Although my daughter was born healthy, in her toddler years some differences became apparent. The older she got the more obvious those differences became. She was disinterested in other children and was non-verbal until the age of three. She communicated through her behaviour which sometimes was inappropriate and was typically misunderstood.

From the outside it was easy to write it off as bad behaviour. But underneath it all was a child who was overwhelmed socially, suffered from high anxiety and could only handle small doses of exposure to situations that were either noisy or unstructured.

Her undesirable behaviour limited our social interactions at a time when most children’s social worlds are expanding. When she was three and a half years old she was diagnosed with ASD – autism spectrum disorder.

At the time of receiving this diagnosis, I was given a booklet about Autism New Zealand, an incorporated society with charitable status. The booklet contained valuable information such as which services to go in the Nelson region for support and assistance as well as information about coffee group meetings that provide links to other families in Nelson/Marlborough with children and teenagers with autism.

I first started attending the local Autism New Zealand coffee group meetings three years ago. It was the coffee group I knew I belonged to as up to then my experiences of motherhood were significantly different to mothers of neurotypical” children. My daughter didn’t reach many of the milestones dictated by parenting books out there. She didn’t sleep through the night until she was five years old. The beginnings of toilet-training were also significantly later and are still a work in progress.

Other children would play alongside each other as toddlers; my daughter would be off exploring the environment or would be fixated on a gadget. It has been incredibly reassuring being able to connect with parents – mainly Mums - who share many of the same challenges as I do.

We might only see each other at coffee group meetings every six weeks but touching base regularly is such an important, if not therapeutic, part of life with a child on the autistic spectrum. Our children are all different ages, and although they all have autism – no two children with autism are the same.

The coffee meetings are a great opportunity to update each other on our children’s progress, to vent if needed and to just meet up with parents who may be living with the same or similar challenges. There is also a lot of information on hand in the form of workshops and seminars which we are lucky to get in our region. Although one child in every hundred is diagnosed with autism, misunderstandings and a lack of knowledge prevail.

A lot of the time autism is stereotyped yet with autism there is no one size fits all. Classic autism is what often springs to mind when autism is mentioned. There is a fascination with it on the big screen, tele and in books - the autism where an individual is seemingly locked in his or her own world, while rocking in a corner. Movies such as Rain Man and television programmes such as The Big Bang Theory feature characters with Aspergers Syndrome – the kind of autism where intelligent but socially quirky individuals reside. These are two examples of autism but there are many different variations in between.

My daughter’s autism can be described as “high functioning”. She didn’t make the diagnosis for Aspergers Syndrome because her onset of speech was delayed. Being a girl puts her in the minority even within the autism arena as typically it is boys that are diagnosed. Although she is challenged socially, she is naturally social yet many think that autistic children aren’t social beings.

Other struggles are to do with sensory processing (she gets tired and overstimulated easily) and managing emotions (she rarely cries). She tends to internalise her emotions so it often appears as if she is doing just fine.

Living with a child with a high functioning autism is a little like living with Jekyll and Hyde. Jekyll participates fairly well in class, progresses academically and is even beginning to make friends during her second year at school. Hyde comes home most days from school jaded, retreats into herself for an hour or two, and can have explosive meltdowns.

Her autism seems to go in cycles. She can have weeks or months of “doing well” – or at least holding it together in the neurotypical world. Then she regresses back to her first language – autism.

During the last three years there has been a team of specialists on board to help with behavioural issues and to ensure mainstream education works. As grateful as I am for the support, it does take a lot of extra time and energy to meet up with all the specialists.

Many strides forward have been made and without a doubt my daughter wouldn’t be doing as well as she is without all the help, but the challenges remain despite the best efforts to manage my daughter’s autism on a day to day basis. Autism is for life and it is important to connect with other families to gain hope and inspiration. That is why an organisation like Autism New Zealand is vital for families such as ours.

The Tahunanui Arts and Crafts Fair, January 2011

2011-03-25T11:33:00.008+13:00

In Term Four last year I enrolled in Painting for The Experienced - a community education course run at Waimea College by Jennifer Murphy. Over eight weeks I created several paintings for the Tahunanui Arts and Crafts Fair. I ended up selling 9 pieces of art - including one piece of rock art on the day. Some of the art sold was created over the last couple of years so it was nice to see it go. Always good to see recent paintings brought too.

It was the first time I had a go at creating a trio of art pieces which was a lot of fun - see the farm setting featured below. It is in my daughters bedroom as she wanted to keep the set! I also had a go at painting cartoons for adults - there were just two in this series: "Why the long face Larry?" and "Happy as Larry". One sold at the Tahunanui Arts and Crafts Fair and the other one an interested customer picked up from home after I removed the word Larry so it just read"Why the long face?"

The fair was a lot of fun - there were three of us the stall . Other products featured for sale were tomato plants, key rings and soft-toy dolls and owls. I have applied for a stall in the Mapua Easter Show but haven't received confirmation about that yet.

Tears for Christchurch

2011-02-25T11:14:00.012+13:00

It's four days since the massive 6.3 earthquake hit Christchurch - the one described as an aftershock, five months on from the original 7.1 quake that hit in September. It was and is still a shock to the nation - especially to those with strong connections to Canterbury.

Living in Nelson, which is located slightly over 400 kilometres away, we are situated unnervingly close. Not close enough to have felt the quake on Tuesday - though some claimed to have felt the one in September. However many Nelsonians have ties to Christchurch. I don't think I've spoken to one person post-quake who doesn't have friends or family there. There are also residents here in Nelson who either are from Canterbury themselves originally or who have lived there in the short or long-term. Naturally there have been many stories circulating in Nelson about the quake - stories ranging from a lack of power and water in many households to lucky escapes to those who have lost friends or family members.

Somehow this quake has offered me an opportunity to reflect not just on this as a national tragedy - because as New Zealanders we are all affected - but also on my own connections with Christchurch over the years. I have realised I have visited Christchurch at least ten times over the years and most visits involved a walk around the very CBD that has been destroyed by the quake. It is the only part of Christchurch I know my way around.

I've lived in a few spots in this fine country of ours, but Christchurch was never one of the cities I resided in. Originally from the North Island (a Wellingtonian) I have had two spells at living in the South Island. The first was well over fifteen years ago when I spent a year living in Queenstown. I spent a Winter as a "ski-liftie" working on both The Remarkables and Coronet Peak. I had the time of my life - skiing, snowboarding and partying (as you do in Queenstown as a 20-something). I made a pile of friends and lived by the mountain motto which was "Here for a good time, not a long time." We travelled to Christchurch on occasion for a big city fix as sometimes life in Queenstown got a bit insular. One memorable trip was going to see The Village People at The Town Hall.

Several of my Queenstown friends in that era were from Canterbury. Many of them I haven't been in contact with for years. I have thought about them this week. Some I have contacted and have been assured they are safe. Some I know are probably living elsewhere or are overseas. It is funny how in the face of tragedy time and lost friendships don't matter.

As a North Islander I had at least one ski trip growing up with my family to Mt Hutt. I also had a rather memorable trip to Lincoln University as a kind of support person with the Victoria University debating team in the late-80s. Several of us crashed in the living room floor of a flat on Bealey Ave after a night out in Christchurch.

In 1999 I had two trips to Christchurch when living in Wellington. Winter that year I spent a few days in Christchurch with a local friend who was living in Sumner at the time on the way to Queenstown. In late 1999 I remember a drive to Lyttelton with the same friend along Sumner Road - the road that was severely damaged in the quake.

My husband and I have been living in the South Island, in Nelson for over nine years. In that time there we have had a few trips to Christchurch. We went to Canterbury as part of a Dragon Boat Regatta the first two Summers we were here, I was in a half-Marathon that started in the CBD and went through Hagley Park almost nine years ago, and we had a night in Christchurch during our campervan honeymoon holiday around the South Island seven years ago. Our most recent trip was almost two years ago when we took our daughter to see The Wiggles at the Town Hall. We stayed in a motel near town and spent a lot of time walking around the CBD - in Cathedral Square, lunching at The Dux, looking at markets, visiting the museum and walking through Hagley Park. As always Christchurch was picturesque - we enjoyed the gardens, The Avon River and the historical buildings that have always been the landmarks of Christchurch. Christchurch always came across as a non-threatening city with a relaxed attitude.

So although I never lived in Christchurch, I have gotten to know it reasonably well - I've shopped there, dined there, partied on The Strip, walked around the city and visited The Cathedral many times. Many of my visits to Christchurch were connected to events - sporting events, concerts, or to catch up with friends who had either moved to Christchurch or were from Christchurch themselves. Many of my Canterbarian friends had a lot of pride about their city and were more than happy to show me around. There is of course nothing like seeing a city through a locals eyes. So it is these friends that I think about at this time - even if many of them are long gone from my life; they will always be linked to Christchurch.

I know Christchurch will never be the same - in the way it looks even after rebuilding it and the memory of this quake will linger for years to come. But I know the people there are strong and will get through this despite all that has been thrown their way this week. I have tears for Christchurch on many levels - the city, the people, the history. For the average New Zealander this whole disaster feels a little too close to home, as we are a small country and this is a first for us - to be in a national state of emergency. I know some Canterbarians have left either temporarily or for good. Some have come to Nelson.

In the meantime the rest of the country carries on with life while waiting for updates and hoping for more positive news. The truth is most of us can do very little and so it feels odd to continue with life - to go to work, to the gym, drop off and pick my daughter up from school when I know so many Canterbarians have had their lives disrupted. Like 9/11, I think I will always remember where I was when I heard about the quake - in the car on the way to the gym and then at the gym I realised just how serious the quake was as live images were aired on the tvs at the gym. I finished my work-out with a sinking feeling, knowing that the footage of men and women who were physically harmed as they emerged from destroyed buildings was only the beginning - the beginning of a horror of a week that no Kiwi will forget in a hurry.

For Kieran

2010-06-13T13:08:00.002+12:00

For Briana's 2nd b'day

2009-08-31T20:58:00.002+12:00

For Sarah's 40th

2009-07-22T18:42:00.004+12:00

My first non-Children's painting. I thought Sarah might like a simple flower painting for her trendy Ponsonby villa. She was rapt with it and it seemed to fit in really well.

More personalised art

2009-06-13T15:30:00.005+12:00

Personalised Art

2009-05-11T21:51:00.010+12:00

I thought I'd have a go at personalising some art as gifts. The first had to be for my daughter (Amelia) - naturally!

Paintings sold at The Founders Fair February 2009 - my first sales!

2009-04-14T21:10:00.024+12:00

I didn't actually sell any of my paintings on my first stall at The Annual Richmond Market Day December 2008. It was a browsers market in many ways, and I decided I may as well give it another go. I had just ten paintings and took them along to my next stall at The Founders Fair in February 2009. To my pleasant surprise, eight out of ten of the paintings sold! An Irish couple bought five of these "first generation" paintings and were rapt with them as it as exactly what they'd been looking for. How lovely to think they are now hanging up on their children's bedroom walls on the other side of the world.

Paintings sold at The Mapua Easter Fair 2009

2009-04-14T08:48:00.021+12:00

Four paintings were sold at The Mapua Easter Fair. I had 19 paintings on display of varying sizes. I took photos of all the paintings the night before and apologise that the quality of the photos isn't the best. I've included a painting of a dog in a hat and a scarf that I gave to our neighbours little girl.

About Art For Children

2009-04-14T08:12:00.011+12:00

I enrolled in a beginners course in painting in acrylics in 2008. I'd never had any formal art training before and wanted to bring my signature style of cartoon-like characters to life on canvass. After ten years of (computer) graphic design, it was time to get my art off the computer and on canvass. In recent months I've held stalls in three markets in the Nelson region - at The Richmond Annual Market Day in December 2008, The Founders Fair in February 2009 and most recently, The Mapua Easter Fair in April 2009. I've sold twelve paintings thus far. At this point my art is for children's bedrooms but I plan to bring some of my cartoons to life on canvass in the near future as well.

When plans go out the window

2008-05-06T21:13:00.003+12:00

"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter May/June 2008

Having babies isn't always a simple affair. I don't think any Mums I've spoken to experienced child-birth in quite the way they'd “planned”. With the number of births that occur each day around the globe, it always amazes me that no story is ever the same with childbirth. Things can go wrong or at least, not as planned. It does pay to be semi-prepared for things to go differently to what you might have hoped.

Amelia's entrance into the world was the complete opposite of the birth plan I had carefully considered with my midwife. I'd envisioned using a swiss ball to rock on as contractions passed through my body. I thought I'd spend some time in a bath in a birthing room at Nelson hospital. I was planning on taking minimal pain relief and was looking forward to seeing how I'd cope with a natural childbirth. I attended antenatal Yoga classes and my husband and I endured many sessions of The Pink Kit video which were incredibly intimate so I figured my body was ready in many ways. I was looking forward to experiencing childbirth and felt as prepared as I could possibly be.

Or so I thought!

Turns out the only part of my birth plan that happened was having my daughter in Nelson hospital! My daughter was in foetal distress and so she was delivered by c-section. Even though we had “acted out” a c-section in our antenatal class at the Parent Centre, when it came to the crunch, the reality of having an emergency c-section was quite a shock. It was the first time in my life I'd been on an operating table and I just didn't know what to expect. It all happened so fast so I didn't have a lot of time to digest what was going on.

C-section deliveries are common but what is uncommon is the fact that I had an ovary removed at the same time. That was the part that was definitely unexpected. I had unexplained pain for three weeks before my daughter's arrival and the cause was never found. But because I was five days away from my due date and in obvious pain that seemed to be unrelated to pregnancy, I was admitted to Nelson Hospital via A&E at four in the morning on a Saturday. Amelia was delivered at 11pm on a Sunday night.

I ended up having a general anaesthetic and this really threw me off for weeks, if not months after my daughter's arrival. It certainly threw me off emotionally. Losing an ovary was traumatic so I did seek out the local Post Natal Depression Support group which was very helpful in talking through my experience.

I was forewarned by the obstetrician at Nelson Hospital that I might enter menopause early as a consequence of losing an ovary. She could have been right in her prediction as it has been a painstaking 19 months of trying to conceive a second baby. Next week I am going in for surgery to have a 6.5cm cyst removed that is believed to be affecting my fertility. That is also quite unexpected - I certainly never envisaged having two major operations over a three year period.

I always thought I'd have two children so it has been a hard road enduring secondary infertility. It has been an emotional roller-coaster ride to say the least. Becoming a parent rocked my world big-time in many ways and life has never been the same since! However despite some of the unexpected medical issues that have arisen along the way, I still wouldn't trade my time with Amelia thus far for anything. It has definitely been worth it all.

Feeding small minds

2008-03-11T13:04:00.004+13:00

"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter March/April 2008

Education in the formative years is all about play. Luckily I have always been a child at heart so play isn't something I find hard to do. However I realised early on that I wasn't going to be enough to keep my girl stimulated and started taking Amelia to the Playgroup at the Tahunanui Community Centre at the age of six months. She is almost three so has been going for two and a half years, twice a week for up to two hours a time.

It has been the most amazing place for both myself and Amelia. It is an excellent stepping stone to either Kindy or preschool as young tots are exposed to a wide array of play areas (over twenty) to fuel their sponge-like minds as well as the opportunity to socialise with children in the birth to four age range. Amelia will be starting afternoon Kindy this year and I am confident she will be ready as her time at Playgroup has been such a positive time of learning for her.

Amelia has also been going to Tots 'n Tunes at St Stephens church in Tahunanui for two and a half years. It has been incredibly rewarding watching her grow from an anxious six month old to a confident preschooler who now knows many of the songs and actions.

Amelia has also had swimming lessons for over a year. We've also done two terms of gymnastics. Any class with children in it has to be a positive thing. They learn so much from following instruction and taking social cues off other children. Not to mention they have a ball. It is crucial, I would say, that education for the preschooler is centred around fun.

Weekly playdates are also on the agenda and the one-on-one time has been an important aspect of Amelia's social development. Concepts such as sharing and playing nice are able to be taught a little easier with just two children rather than in a group.

All parents have the overwhelming responsibility to make sure our children are stimulated across the spectrum. And us at-home Mums have the added pressure of orchestrating interesting activities for our children often seven days of the week.

Earlier today I created several lists to encourage my husband and myself to shake things up a bit at home. They include “physical fun at home”, “physical adventures outside of the home”, “ideas for socialising”, “indoor quiet play”, and “indoor active play.” Most of the ideas listed have been tried and tested by many a Mum, so aren't highly original. But somehow starting the lists has inspired me to think of some new ideas. It was an affirmation that Amelia is getting her needs met at home but we could certainly do more – and have some fun at the same time!

It is easy to get stuck in the same old patterns and then to wonder why your preschooler is mooching around the house. I've just clicked recently that being an at-home Mum can be as creative a job as I want it to be. So now I have these lists started, I hope to move from average to great Mum status. I want to look back at these precious preschool years and know I really did the best I could with Amelia. It is easy to think that our children can only be stimulated in an educational setting but I don't think that's true. They certainly need to socialise with other children. Yet there is plenty we can do as parents to keep our children fresh and interested – it just involves thinking outside the square a little.

Learned behaviour is big with children and as parents we are modeling life as we know it to our children.

What are we teaching our children about marriage/love, family, nutrition, self-care, self-love? Do we eat well, love ourselves and demonstrate we care deeply about our nearest and dearest? What about finances? Are we living within our means? And our addictions? Are they in front of our children's faces demonstrating that they are acceptable to us and therefore acceptable to them? Do we follow our dreams and live passionate lives or have we given in and settled with our lot?

It's important to teach our children family values. Seated dinners every night have taught Amelia that eating nutritious food together every evening is a time for companionship and fun. We tag-team a lot as parents during the week so I personally love the fact that there is this one time in the day when I know we'll all be together.

There is nothing like the words of an almost three year old coming back at you to confirm that you are on the right – or wrong track. It was so pleasing to hear my daughter politely ask for an icecream the other day “Yes, please mummy” she said when I asked if she wanted one, “Thanks, mummy” when it was handed to her followed by a “delicious” when we sat down in a civilised manner in the icecream palour.

Then there are the words, although not bad, that make me cringe upon hearing them parrotted back such as “for goodness sakes!” whenever it appears I might be frustrated about something. There is no doubt that modeling is the most powerful form of learning for a young child's mind.

What a hard job it is to be a parent with those little watchful eyes taking in everything we do - no-one is perfect. I'm certainly not. I'm well aware my daughter in her short life has been exposed to many of my human flaws. But there's always room for improvement.

The value of coffee groups

2008-03-11T13:00:00.003+13:00

"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter January/February 2008

One of the main reasons I chose to do antenatal classes at the Parent Centre is because I had heard that coffee groups usually formed as a result of the classes. I'd also heard that coffee groups were a positive form of support for new Mums.

Sure enough, as our antenatal classes came to an end, our names and numbers were circulated by the coordinator. Most of our coffee group carried on to do the Mums and Bubs and Moving and Munching classes and we acquired a couple of extras from the latter class too. I became the group coordinator at this point in time for our coffee group.

We started off by meeting up weekly either at a cafe or at someone's house. In the early days most of us made it to the group and I know I valued the regularity of such a group. In fact, in the first six months of my daughters life, it was the only group we went to. It was an excellent initiation into the strange and exciting new world of socialising as a Mum.

Most of our coffee group members are from out of Nelson and many initially wanted to make new friends in the same boat. Tears, laughter and many exchanges about parenting newborns and then babies, toddlers and now preschoolers have been made over the months. It was great in the beginning just to have a place to hang with other Mums who I could check in with on a regular basis.

When Amelia was six months I recognised that both she and I needed to expand our social circle and we started going to Playgroup and music classes. Over time our coffee group meeting times dwindled – from once a week, to every two weeks, to once a month, once every two months and now very sporadically – whenever someone gets around to organising a get-together. Second babies, mums going back to work, childcare and other activities the kids were attending affected the regularity of our meeting times.

It is a weird dynamic in a way being thrown together with a group of women who have nothing in common but babies who were born around the same time. Although I am fond of our coffee group and the beginning days hold a special place in my heart, I think eventually we outgrew one another and the need to meet up frequently. Our coffee group has paired off and so most of us found at least a friend from the group.

My husband and I started doing babysitting swaps with another family from our coffee group which has worked out really well. We've been looking after each others children, in a playdate situation for almost eighteen months. Neither of us have family in town and so the exchange has always been valued. It has been great watching our children's playdates evolve into friendship and we've acquired genuine friendships ourselves.

I think coffee groups are an excellent starting point for new Mums. And Dads – it gives them support too when groups meet up with the whole family or maybe Dads go out for a drink together. I've heard stories of coffee groups becoming close and meeting up for years down the track. I'm not sure our group is one of those but we have thus far got together to celebrate the first and second birthdays of our kids - and next year we will hopefully celebrate our preschoolers third birthdays together.

Tis The Season To Be Jolly

2007-10-23T21:41:00.001+13:00

"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter November/December 2007

One of the things a lot of us look forward to as parents is celebrating Christmas with our children. No doubt it's a combination of our own positive childhood Christmas memories and a natural want to share the goodwill of the season with our off-spring.

This Christmas may be the Christmas that Amelia actually “gets” what the season is all about – or at least, the gift-receiving side of it. She'll be two and three-quarters this Christmas – no doubt the “all about me” syndrome will have really kicked in by then!

Amelia was nine months old when she celebrated her first Christmas. Back then it was all about grabbing bits of tinsel and shiny round balls. There was a bit of competition between her and the cat to see who could pull the most decorations off the tree.

Amelia was twenty one months old for her second Christmas. A little over a year and a half, the present-opening side of it was starting to look interesting. We spent that Christmas with family in Auckland and after watching the older children rip open their prezzies; Amelia soon cottoned on to what all the fuss was about. Three under fours opening prezzies in a frenzied rush was a good hour or so of over-stimulation.

Christmas is a great opportunity to teach little ones about the art of gift-giving. This year I plan to make little bundles of homemade goodies to give away to friends and neighbours. I've been meaning to do this for several Christmases and am always touched when others do something similar. The lesson that the spirit of Christmas can be simple is a great message for children – and adults.

A couple of weeks before Christmas we are heading to the Coromandel for a week or so for a family wedding. We are flying this year after a bad sailing crossing the Strait last Christmas. Yes, that bad. Our ferry was running late and just half an hour into our sailing passengers were dished out ice-cubes in cups to suck and warned about what-was-to-come. A half hour or so into the Strait, where the waves were so rough that the decks were closed off, Amelia started throwing up. I don't think many kids on that sailing weren't sick. The state of the family room at the end of the sailing looked like a scene from a drunken students rampage. Parents had either been sick themselves or were covered in their own children's vomit.

So when we arrived in Wellington, recking of vomit and desperate for a shower we pledged back then that next time we travelled, we would fly. Of course we still had the return sailing to take back to Picton. Luckily for us it was a calm day. The only hazard was running around after a 21-month year old for almost three hours. We were knackered at the end of it! Again, we pledged to take the plane for our next trip away.

We haven't travelled greatly with our two and a half year old. Our biggest trip away so far has been to Sydney last February. There is nothing like traveling with a littlie to realise firstly how limiting traveling with a child can be but secondly how possible it is, once you are geared towards it. We stayed at a B&B in Cronulla which was just perfect for somewhere to escape the hot aussie sun and to come back for naps. It was just a few minutes walk to the beach so we took Amelia for a few swims in the salt baths there. And we went for long walks along the esplanade.

I'm looking forward to exploring somewhere different again with Amelia this December as we head to the Coromandel. It is certainly good for the whole family having a change of scene and exploring somewhere new together. A chance to connect as a family outside of the home and to create some cherished holiday memories.

Happy Holidays to everyone out there!

Spring : a confused season

2007-09-09T20:14:00.000+12:00

It is Spring in New Zealand. The time of year we all look forward to after a long, cold Winter. Typically the afternoons are windy, the mountains often snow-capped this time of year in Nelson. The best bit is the days are bathed in glorious sunshine here at the Top of the South. It's a confirmation that despite the sunshine wages and the high cost of housing, living in a location with almost guaranteed sunshine does indeed put a smile on your dial. When the sun is out, that is.

This Spring there has been a fair amount of rain to add to the mix. The whole country has been affected and Nelson has gotten off lightly. The rain has been tolerated, but not enjoyed. Nelsonians have trotted out when the sun has come out for a fix whenever possible - just in case there's another downpour. Our faith in endless days of warm weather is wavering. The other day I put three loads of washing out on the line only to bring them in when the sky turned suspiciously grey. I'd been caught once already this Spring and was on to it - I thought. However the grey sky passed and so out went the laundry again only to have raindrops from literally out of the blue (sky) fall. In went the the laundry, only to go out again the following morning when it finally dried. Normally Spring-time is the time laundry dries in hours as it is whipped around in the wind and blasted with sunshine. Not this Spring with it's intermittent rain-drops.

For the fashion conscious, Spring contradicts itself somewhat. On one hand it is time to strip off a layer or two. But on the other hand it's not quite Summer, so it's questionable as to how far one should go. And with the rain-drops not been too far away this season, often umbrellas and other wet-weather gear get carted around. Underneath my daughter's buggy resembles a bag ladies wardrobe what with a mix of several seasons of clothing shoved below for her and I, just in case the weather should turn.

Out and about on a sunny Spring day, it is often quite amusing observing how this change of season is interpreted by others.

Some, with the first burst of warmer weather decide to skip Spring and to jump head first into Summer. Teens are the typical lets-just-skip-Spring advocates. With their bare limbs and minimal clothing; it is easy to think it is in fact Summer. But when you see for yourself the snow on the hills while walking on Tahuna beach, and shiver visibly, you can only conclude two things: that youth are thick-skinned and/or youth would rather freeze than miss out on an opportunity to walk around in minimal clothing.

Then there are the seasonally confused. Not sure whether to wear Summer or Winter clothing; they end up mixing two wardrobes. The result: clothes that just don't match. Or some take a gamble and decide it is more of a Summer day than a Winter day today and stroll around in the latest Spring fashion in the morning, only having to cover it up in the afternoon with a hefty Winter's jacket when the wind picks up. Or vice versa, the safe approach of dressing warm is chosen only to find that one is completely overcooked midday on a twenty-something degree day in thick woollen socks and a winter jumper.

Layering is a popular option for Spring-time in Nelson. And the safest way to go. Cardies, sweatshirts and jackets are all great ways of covering up when that sunny Spring weather isn't quite warm enough to reveal your fantastic new Spring wardrobe. Just don't forget your umbrella as it seems to be a necessary part of the Spring wardrobe this year.

A Night Away

2007-08-19T07:08:00.000+12:00

Recently I escaped family life to go on an overnight trip to Blenheim with friends. I resisted leaving a long list of instructions for my hubby knowing he is more than capable of looking after our almost two and a half year old. Besides, she's old enough to gesture towards the pantry when she's hungry and it's obviously time to change her nappy when it's dragging on the floor.

I booked a room of my own at a lodge. I was particularly looking forward to eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Since we have been blessed with a non-sleeper, it feels like a life-time ago when I last got the eight hours of sleep recommended for an adult to function.

“You can tell you're a Mum” said one of my friends sitting next to me at dinner as she pointed to my empty plate, finished a good five minutes before everyone else. Little did she know that I have been a food-inhaler most of my life. I cannot blame parenthood for the way I throw food down my throat. But, she had a valid point. Our 5pm tea times are typically so focused on getting food into our toddler, that I often forget to chew.

Dining out, I relished concentrating on my meal alone instead of constantly worrying about what goes into my two year-olds mouth. Sipping a beer with my pub grub was a luxury as there is typically no place for alcohol with our early evening child-friendly meals. Adult conversation just made me feel like, well, an adult. There was no reciting and doing actions from The Wiggles, clapping whenever several mouthfuls got swallowed or counting out pieces of vegetables to get our girl to eat. It was tempting to clap when my friends finished their meals, but I managed to restrain myself.

When I first got back to my room at the lodge after dinner, I wondered what I might do for the rest of the evening. Long shower? Watch TV from bed? Read a trashy woman's mag?

In an effort to pack in as much as I could in my night away, I ended up doing all of the above.

Lights out at 11pm, I looked forward to eight hours of uninterrupted, blissful sleep.

I woke up cold at 3am and thoughts started up about my daughter being awake and my husband struggling to get her back to sleep back in Nelson. Eventually I coaxed the thoughts out of my brain, and I drifted off to sleep again.

When I awoke just a few hours later at 6am, I switched on the electric blanket and desperately tried to will myself back to sleep.

At 7.30am, I awoke somewhat disappointed that I didn't sleep like a log. Clearly I have lost the ability to sleep through the night.

Twenty-six and a half hours later I returned home. By then I was missing my girl and anticipated a joyful reunion. When I walked through the door she gave me a token glance and then carried on playing blocks with her daddy. Seems I wasn't as missed as I thought I would be. Fine by me, as I'm already planning my next night away.

Yay For Dads!

2007-08-19T07:04:00.000+12:00

"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter September/October 2007

One afternoon, after a lunchtime nap, Amelia and I woke up to the unmistakable smell of baking. Sure enough, hubby had a cake on the go. Amelia has had cake before, but treats of any kind are very occasional in this household. One of her favourite books of late is one from the Spot series about making a cake for Spot's dad's birthday. This afternoon in which the house was filled with the aroma of chocolate cake, Amelia made the connection. Cake was a hit, and it became her new word of the day. When we came back from an afternoon outing , “cake” was uttered very hopefully as she searched the cupboards, hoping to find some more. Even at dinner that night, veges and mince weren't quite as popular as usual. And “cake” was uttered even upon waking the following day.

These kinds of shared family moments are priceless. I am forever grateful that I am part of a family unit, that I do have the support of a loving husband. I cannot imagine what it must be like to parent alone. I do have friends and family members in this position and do not envy them one bit.

Although hubby and I tag-team through-out the week, we all breathe a sigh of relief when we get to Friday as the weekend is ours. Parenting together is much easier than parenting alone. I feel my stress levels drop when there are two of us at home. When we're here together we're able to use one another as sounding boards, to bounce ideas around and are able to relish precious family time. And it is so rewarding to see Amelia's eyes light up when she realises on a Friday night Mum isn't racing off to work, her course or anywhere else. On a Saturday moming, it's all smiles when she discovers Dad is at home when she checks on his side of his bed to see if he is there or not.

When we are all home together, there is a different vibe. Amelia has a spark to her and a cheekiness that doubles, or perhaps triples, when she has a captive audience of two. Some of Amelia's favourite family games include getting into bed together for a family cuddle – any time of the day. Or doing roly poly's in the lounge together. Or getting swung in the air between her parents.

I have undeniably been the favourite parent, for lack of a better description, all the way through. I have been the one who has been requested mostly, especially during the wee hours. However lately something has shifted. Amelia no longer fusses or cries when I leave the house. Sometimes I'm lucky to even get a “bye” from her. Now hubby can put her to bed when I'm home without any kind of a protest. I think she's gotten to the point where she's perhaps Mum-ed out by the end of the day and welcomes the time spent with her Dad in the evening. This is a very welcome shift for both hubby and myself.

Recently one wet Winter's morning, we went to Chipmunks and it was “Dees” (Amelia's word for daddy) that Amelia sought to romp around with. So “Dees” followed Amelia up into the play area, while looking like a bit of a contortionist with his six foot frame. Meanwhile I was left to sit and sip a cup of tea while they played. Shame. There are of course some consolations to being the second choice of parent at any given moment.

Although we are going through a phase in which it is difficult to leave Amelia with others, it is nice to see that it is her Dad that she clings to just as much as her Mum these days. We've come a long way in this household since assuring from the beginning that Amelia has had ample opportunities to bond with her dad. It is very rewarding to see that this has happened naturally.

This Father's Day, I want to thank my husband Kev for his on-going tremendous efforts as a dad. From changing nappies all the way through that have included the poo explosions of the newborn days to the solid rocks of today. For bathing Amelia and putting her to bed at night so I can work/go to Yoga/ go to my course. Or watch Shortland Street! For being a solid, steady rock for Amelia and I. And for being understanding and non-nonjudgmental during my less-than-perfect Mum moments.

I have only been apart overnight once from my daughter in the last two plus years. About four months ago when I went to Motueka for a night with some girlfriends. It was the break I needed. I was only gone for 24 hours but it was just enough time to feel like an adult, to feel like me, for a decent amount of time. And this weekend, as I go away with the girls again for a night in Blenheim, I know everything will be fine back here.

I do love that during the week I do see a number of Dads out there at the various groups Amelia attends. Dads add to the groups we go to. It is good for us Mums and great for kids to see Dads weekly who are very much involved out there. Happy Fathers Day to all the wonderful dads out there. Us Mums who are lucky enough to have your support couldn't do it without you.

The Invite

2007-08-19T06:46:00.000+12:00

Entered in 2007 Bank of New Zealand Katherine Mansfield Awards. (short story competition)
Fitting in with the crowd isn't always easy. Warning: some content may offend.

Tabatha looked down at the invitation lying on her desk:

Friday night. 8pm. BYO plate to match the theme.

And the theme?

Dildo Party

What the? Tabatha put her head in her hands and sighed. Why on earth had she being invited to such a thing? She wasn't even that “friendly” with Bronwyn, her supervisor, who was hosting the shin-ding. And she didn't particularly like Sue, Cindy or Chris – The Tight Threesome who would be there, giggling like silly things after just a glass of wine each. Oh god.

“I see you got the invite”.
Oh god. Bronwyn.

“Yes Bronwyn” she managed to say. “Thanks for that. I, um I...”
“You will be coming?” she said “It would be good for team morale if we could all make it. You know, all of us girls in accounts.”

Oh gawd, again. All of us girls in accounts. Well that was a hypocritical statement in itself, anyway. Sure, they were all members of the fairer sex but they weren't a team beyond sharing the same workspace. It was The Tight Threesome who went out for morning teas, girlie lunchtime shopping sprees, facials or a sneaky visit to the bar across the road. Bronwyn was a little older than the rest of them. A thirty-something who was content with family life. She was the boss, she was meant to be on the outer a bit. But Tabatha, she just wasn't a chardonnay-drinking, fashionista despite being around the same age as her work colleagues.

Tabatha's favourite pastime was watching reruns of Seinfeld, having a bubble bath and then going to bed before 9pm with a good book. She did that every week night. And in the weekends her best friend Heidi sometimes came round and they sat and watched a new release DVD with a pile of junk-food that they'd forbidden themselves from eating the week before. Yep, a week of living sensibly off the pyramid food group and then it was all blown in one night. Junk food was her vice, not alcohol.

Bronwyn was tapping her fingers now on Tabatha's desk. So what kind of an excuse is this one going to come up with? She's single, stays in nights so surely there's so other social invites likely to be penciled in her (LOL) – diary.

And Tabatha just couldn't think of a legitimate excuse. So she resigned herself to coming.
“Ok” she squeaked.
“Great!” said Bronwyn. “Just, you know, vamp it up a bit.” And she winked at her as she walked off. Oh great. Tabatha's entire wardrobe was pretty much a department store ensemble. Cheap, sensible clothing. What on earth was she meant to wear to a (god-awful) Dildo Party?!

Thank God for Heidi. Lunchtime the next day they were in one of the trendy fashion chain-stores, trying on some of the latest styles. Tabatha had on a mini-dress, Heidi a long jumper. It was the beginning of Winter and they were both standing there in their neon white, untoned and unwaxed legs. Add the lighting from the fluro bulbs in the changing room, and they looked truly hideous.

“How's it going?” The bouncing, petite assistant popped her head round the curtain. “That would look great with fishnets” she said to Tabatha, and then to Heidi “ And yours with a thick belt. Should I get you one? We have some fishnets in store too...”

“Ok” they both said. Minutes later, they looked a fraction better. But they weren't convinced. Then Tabatha recognised the unmistakable peels of laughter emanating from the next cubicle. Oh god – The Tight Threesome.

“You look hot”
“You look hotter”.
“No, we are all to die for.”
Hee, hee, hee.

Oh man, if they had American accents they'd have been cast into the movie Clueless. They were the Kiwi version of tacky.

Tabatha stepped out. Dammit, Chris was emerging from her cubicle in the same dress! Of course, she looked like a model in it in her size eight figure whereas Tabatha's curves gave the dress a more filled-out look.

“What a surprise!” Chris cooed “Fancy seeing you here!”
And then the three were all on her, like a hawk swooping in on it's prey.
“I've never seen you in a dress before”
“What's the occasion?”
Not entirely bitchy, but close enough.

Within minutes Tabatha and Heidi were out of the shop. They were going to have to work a bit harder to get something a bit more original. They ended up in a recycled clothing shop where Tabatha found a cute top and jacket that looked great with her jeans. Flag the dress, it wasn't her anyway. This was her version of vamping-it-up.

Tabatha was the last to arrive at the party. Clearly, everyone had had a few before she even turned up. And so when she walked in, no one noticed at first, so engrossed they were in company gossip. And the latest about Paris Hilton. The Tight Threesome weren't in agreement around Paris's fate. Chris thought she should be in prison, the other two did not. Of all the things to debate about in this world...

“Tabatha, how lovely to see you!” Bronwyn gushed even though it was 8pm on a Friday night and they'd only parted ways three hours ago at the end of the working day.
“Hi. Thanks” said Tabatha “Ah, where do you want this?” And Bronwyn looked down and smiled at the breasts she'd created out of chocolate marshmellows, stuck together with melted chocolate with jaffas as nipples.
“Hilarious!” she said, almost in disbelief. The Tight Threesome helloed her and then squealed too when they saw the chocolate boobs. Clearly they hadn't thought she was capable of being so risque. All the other plates were phallic shapes – penises in all sorts of guises. Most unoriginal, thought Tabatha.

An older woman, dressed in black leather (what else?) introduced herself as Charlotte. A well-groomed brunette, with red streaks, who said she was the host of a local sex-toy shop called Penny's. Tabatha knew the one as she'd made a point of avoiding it for the last fifteen years.

Charlotte clapped her hands and said in was time to begin. They all sat down, in nervous anticipation.
“I've put a catologue on each of your chairs. And I will simply be talking about each item in it. Mainly vibrators. But we do stock other items such as lingerie, hand-cuffs, edible undies – that kind of thing...” Nervous laugher from all. Charlotte proceeded to explain what was what.

The vibrators came in so many shapes and sizes, and some had some ridiculous names. Some buzzed, some whirled, some had scary-looking bits on the end of them. And some were insanely huge. They were passed around and they all marveled how lovely they were to touch – almost as good as the real thing. Tabatha's cheeks glowed red at that. She knew that they all thought that she hadn't of course – hadn't ever seen a real one. And they were right. She was brought up by her Mum since she was three years old so there had been no nudity from the male side of things in her house. She'd had two boyfriends in college but they'd dumped her once they realised she wasn't going there. She knew the question was coming. How to deal with this one? It would be all over work on Monday that she was a twenty eight year old Virgin. She skulled a glass of wine lying next to her. She remembered a DVD she watched recently – all she had to do was put in her name and tell the story as she remembered it.

“Donald, he was my first” she smiled “An older man. Much older.”
Bronwyn's mouth formed an “oh” and The Tight Threesome sat there in disbelief.
“You've never mentioned any, er, suitors before” said Chris, her arms crossed and in full interrogation pose.
“Well I couldn't could I” she almost whispered “He's married.”
There were lots of ooooooohs!
”Well, what happened? Didn't leave his wife for you love? “ Bronwyn touched her arm.
“No, no” said Tabatha, gulping back her second glass “I used him. Picked him because he was married. It wasn't about love for me. But poor Donald...”
Bronwyn and The Tight Threesome exchanged looks of surprise.

“Anyway, Oliver was my next conquest. He was French canadian. Loved the accent but too soppy for me. Poetry is overratred, you know. So, out the door he went. Next was Gary. Sport jock. Great in the sack. But boring as out of it. Next was Philip. Loaded he was. Foreplay was great at all these exquisite restaurants but I soon tired of the wining and dining – I wanted something more real. Which is, where I'm at today. You know, waiting for someone worthwhile. I've kissed too many frogs I'm sure you know what I mean girls...” she finished dramatically making sure she made eye contact with The Tight Threesome. They all nodded sympathically.
Browyn held up her ring finger “It's worth the wait girls” she smiled proudly as she waved her rocks around the room.

Had they really brought all that? Tabatha was shocked at herself. No wonder she'd steered clear of wine. Clearly her imagination went into over-drive on the stuff.

Chris was eyeing her suspiciously. “We've worked with you for two years and you've never mentioned any of this before...”
Tabatha held up her hand as if to silence her “I don't usually make a habit of kissing and telling. But I trust ladies that my secrets are safe in this room.” They all nodded though she knew damn well by Monday that her sordid fake past would be spread around the office as fast as chinese whispers in a playground.

"The Secret" worth a read

2007-07-03T07:22:00.000+12:00

I finished reading The Secret this week. My Mum bought it for me recently after I expressed an interest in having a look at it. I first heard about it during my Small Business Management Course a few months ago when a class-mate read an excerpt for our class karaka. (prayer). Next a friend told me about it and my curiosity grew from there.

Rhonda Bryne, an Australian film producer, read several books based on quantum physics which changed her thinking, and therefore her life dramatically. She was so blown away by her own experiences, that she created a DVD, and then wrote a book. In The Secret she reveals how avatars and famous historical figures across the ages have effectively held the keys to unlimited success and happiness in life.

Reading The Secret is like having a pep talk with the universe. It's like getting a warm hug from the grandparent who loved you unconditionally as a kid and believed that you could be and do anything you set your mind to do. Some of it I've heard before and some of it was new. It's about an attitude of gratitude, trusting the God of your understanding (which is often referred to as the universe), Feng Shui, visualisation, positive thinking and most of all, believing that you deserve all your dreams and desires. That's the tricky bit, as often there can be conflict between what you want in life and what you think you deserve. It's not only about asking, but trusting and believing deeply that it's all coming to you.

At times The Secret seems insanely simplistic if not repetitive. However Byrne has written the book in a way that makes it accessible to many. I believe she is genuine in wanting to share The Secret with the world and will no doubt get slammed by many because of the warm fluffy nature of her book. But it's meant to be that way. It's about keeping oneself happy and open to the gifts of the universe. Basically you can ask for anything you want. It's about abundance, believing there's enough of everything in life for everyone. There is no such thing as the haves and have-nots when the principles of The Secret are applied.

The only aspect I found hard to get my head around was how every thought we have, creates every life experience. It just doesn't sit well with me that humans effectively cause their own bad experiences including being at the wrong place at the wrong time, according to Byrne. I'm not sure this concept can be applied across the board. The one review I read in The Nelson Mail recently did bring this point up too - that some psychologists are concerned that some in therapy since reading The Secret think they are to blame for their misfortunes in life.

Bryne uses her own weight loss as an example of The Secret in motion. I'm sure many in the field of nutrition will cringe at her claims that she can eat "whatever she wants."

At the end of her book, Bryne encourages the reader just to use the aspects of The Secret that resonate with them. The idea is to keep The Secret close and delve into it, opening the book randomly, whenever inspired to do so.

What The Secret has given me is a written confirmation that I do deserve all I want in life. All I have to do is ask, and trust that whatever I want is on it's way. This is easier said than done of course! Since reading The Secret I now have a greater awareness of just how limiting my own thinking can be. That is the biggest challenge of all; turning around those limiting, if not, destructive thought processes.

I have made my own version of a visual board, one of the recommendations in The Secret. That in itself was a fun exercise - pasting images out of magazines of some of my life desires. I've put it by my dresser so on passing I am reminded that it is all coming.

The Secret is a book I'd recommend to anyone who seeks help obtaining all their goals and desires in life. Just be careful what you ask for, as you never know, it just may work.

Parenting Your Way

2007-06-24T19:48:00.000+12:00

"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter July/August 2007

As soon as I embarked on this journey called parenthood, it seemed I was exposed to several choices. That meant making decisions. And with every decision to be made, there came opinions. Or advice. Whichever way you look at it, there is always someone, somewhere more than willing to “share” their well-meaning advice in that minefield called parenthood.

Once pregnant the first decision was to do with mid-wives – hospital or independent?
I chose independent simply because I'd been given the brochure!

Then of course the birth itself – did I want a natural birth or a drug-induced one, in a hospital or a home birth? Well, I had hoped my birthing experience was going to resemble something a la The Pink Kit that I religiously “practised” during the months leading up to my due date. I opted for a hospital birth as I'm a cautious (or is it practical?) Virgo and quite fancied a few cooked meals post-delivery. (even if the scrambled eggs resembled a slab of cheese).

However, when birth plans go anything but planned, and suddenly every drug under the sun is administered, the safety of mother and child is most important. The birthing story isn't nearly as exciting – how does one relay the experience of being sliced open in surgery whilst knocked unconscious? Call me stupid, but I do hold a little bit of green envy for the Mum's who've experienced the whole shebang – contractions, waters breaking, labour, the bloodiness of birth and seeing the face of the newborn for the first time, covered in gunk and goo. My birth story has a beginning and an end – but no middle. One minute I was on the operating table, next minute a mask placed over my face as my world temporarily turned black. Then I woke up to see a brand-spanking, gunk-free babe in my hubby's arms! It was hard to make the association in my brain initially that she was actually mine.

The choices went on. Breastfeeding or formula? When breastfeeding is anything but natural to begin with, it's easy to see why for some it just doesn't work out. I persevered finding it to be far from natural to begin with. But I would never have dreamed that one day it would not only feel natural but that I'd still be breastfeeding, albeit occasionally, my two plus year old.

Cloth nappies or disposables? Well for this fumble-fingered Mum, dealing with the folding of a cloth nappy was too much. For me, it was a little like origami. I started with disposables and apart from a brief stint this Summer of using a few modern cloth nappies as well, they have been my nappy of choice. Sure I have felt bad about all the waste. And over the Summer I did enjoy hanging out the modern cloth nappies on the line, and felt a little more proud of my green efforts. But for us, they did lead to nappy rash so that didn't work out as a long-term measure.

Choices are made along the way as to how we want to achieve balance within parenthood. And that's going to be different for everyone. Some of us need stimulation outside of the home. Some don't so much. There seems to be a lot of judgment out there around the whole childcare issue. If a Mum is happier having some space in her week from her children, then she should go for it. For the Mums like myself who choose not to use childcare, our kids aren't missing out. So long as they are socialised and stimulated, at the end of the day, they are all going to turn out pretty much the same.

Spacing is another choice parents have to make when expanding their wee families. Some choose to have their children closer together to get “all the nappies out of the way” or so siblings will hopefully play together. Others prefer some space between siblings for economic reasons or maybe just want to enjoy their firstborn a little longer and/or the freedom that comes with having an independent toddler.

Some of us don't have a choice with spacing as we face fertility issues. And so my latest decision to make has been how to approach this. Again, there are very black and white solutions out there. Fertility drugs or herbal remedies? For today I've chosen herbal remedies but will keep an open mind in the future.

It seems a lot of the choices to be made by us Mums (and Dads) are quite black and white, initially. Yet when in the midst of parenting, many gray areas unwittingly appear. There are pros and cons for every choice to be made. And obviously parents are going to be supportive and perhaps opinionated about the parenting decisions they've made that have worked for them. Personally I now I have my own strong views and opinions around some areas of parenting and know that not everyone will agree with me.

We are all different and so we will all parent in our own unique way. I've found in the last two years of parenting that I will always disagree with some parents around their choices just as some will disagree with my choices. The important thing is to believe that you are doing the best job that you can, as you are your child's parents, and only you and you alone have the right to decide how to parent. It isn't anyone else's business how you parent. With that in mind, it isn't any of our business how others parent their kids either.

The Garage Sale

2007-06-24T19:36:00.001+12:00

Entered in The Whakatane Friends of the Library Short Story Competition 2007.
The magic of de-cluttering.
"Being able to write natural dialogue is a rare talent, but this author has the gift. I enjoyed reading The Garage Sale, and while I found the plot a little predictable, the style of writing and skill elevated this story to a healthy mid-field position (a very happy place to be). "

Eva heard the sound of gravel crunching, as someone walked up her driveway. She checked her watch. Eight-twenty a.m. She hadn't even put the signs out for her advertised eight-thirty start for her garage sale yet. An eldery gentleman stood before her.
“Do you have any gardening books?” he asked.
“Sorry, no” she said “I'm not much of a gardener.” He nodded then proceeded to rummage through her box of books anyway. He picked one up and smiled. It was a relationship self-help book. She grimaced as he caught her eye.
“Didn't help me much.” she said, shaking her head and laughing.
The eldery gentleman took in everything that was in the sale in one long sweep. Most of the gear was that of a man's. Shirts, sports gear, records – it was almost as though you could piece together who the character was whose gear was being sold.
“What happened?” he found himself asking.
“An accident...” she trialed off “He...it was a car accident.”
“I'm so sorry,” he said “But isn't having this all out like this rather difficult love? Couldn't you have taken it all to the Salvation Army?”
“Could have” she said “Only, although he died and it was tragic, we were almost over. Before it happened...his accident...there was another woman. I just think seeing for sure that this stuff is going will help me, you know, get over it.”
“Right” he said “Well good luck lass.” He patted her on the shoulder and headed off down the driveway. Eva walked after him and put out the signs.

Within seconds the hoards started to arrive. There were the regulars who scanned garage sales on a weekly basis, either hunting for particular items or wanting to find a great bargain. There were those who just fancied a good old nosey or wanted to spend a little bit of cash on nothing in particular. It was a strange process watching people pick up her personal items that Eva had rejected herself, only to see them put them down again and the rejector then walking away. Or some would buy things she was sure were meant for the tip.
“You a boarder then?”
Eva looked up to see an outdoorsy guy with wild brown hair topped off with a backwards cap, holding up her snowboot boots.
“Was” she managed “I haven't been boarding for years.”
“They're pretty old” he said “But I like the odd retro pair for the shop. How much?”
“Five dollars” she said.
A lined browned masculine hand handed her a fiver.“Thanks” she said as she pocketed it.
“It's meant to be a great Winter – lots of powder. You ought to get back on the horse again.”
He winked, she smiled and he walked off with the boots.

As the sporty stranger crunched off down her driveway, Eva allowed herself to reflect a little. Seeing the boots go seemed to bring up an assortment of feelings. He'd bought her those boots a lifetime ago. It was one of the few things he'd ever bought her, as a gift. They were in a way the last concrete, and sentimental link to a past that was long gone. The boots represented the fun side of their rocky and treachous union. When she'd worn those, their relationship altered. On this sunny Autumn day she reflected how it had been like magic gliding down the slopes together.

“Ahem” a man cleared his throat. “These records, twenty dollars for the lot?” Eva looked to see what the young man in his early twenties with mild acne was showing her. Retro music. Bet he's a DJ, she thought to herself. He'd picked out The Cure, Michael Jackson, The Beastie Boys, The Clash and Boney M. “Sure” she nodded. He handed her a twenty and then strided off down the driveway. Amazing, just like that. Five albumns that represented their courting days. The good old days, when their future was bright.

More things sold. As each item went, Eva felt a little lighter. Sure she could have just taken it all to the Sallies – or the dump. But she was making a little bit of cash from the garage sale and it was proving to be a form of therapy for her.

Then she turned up. Eva knew instantly it was her. She'd seen her at the funeral, the mystery blonde standing awkwardly alone, seemingly knowing noone at the back of the church. Eva couldn't believe she'd even come. And now, it was beyond belief that she was actually on her property.

She stood right before her.
“Hi Eva” she said casually as if they were friends or at the very least, acquaintances. “Um – Holly” she said, stretching out a pale hand.
Eva looked at the white hand, limp, like a dead fish and didn't react.
“Hi” she said, resisting screaming What the hell are you doing here??!! at her.
“I saw the ad in the paper. I, er, recognised the address” She coughed nervously “Mind if I have a quick look?”
Eva shot her one of her worst evil looks. “I do mind” she heard herself saying “I think it best you leave.” Holly took this in, and nodded. Trembling, she seemed to be immobilised. “It's just, I don't have anything of his, I just thought...” she looked around helplessly.
“Well the problem is Holly, what you see around you are remnants of my life with him. Not yours. Everything here is from our time together. From the beginning – to the end.” She shot her another evil look.
Holly nodded. “I understand” she said, a tear trickling down her face. A white hand came up and hurriedly wiped it away. “I'm sorry...” and she turned on her heels.

In that moment Eva realised that she had a decade or more of memories before her. Sure they'd been tainted because of recent events, but they were all hers, theirs. Perhaps the only memory Holly had was of the dirty sheets her lover had left behind. Perhaps she had nothing tangible.

“Wait...” Eva ran half-way down the driveway and tapped Holly on the back. “You can have this.” Holly looked down as Eva opened her hand to reveal a watch. Holly smiled as clearly she recognised it. “Thank you” she said. The two women looked at each other for a few seconds in silence.
“Are you really going to get rid of it all? Because of me? “ Holly bravely asked.
“Yes I am” said Eva “But not because of you. He and I had a real life together. What you and he had was fleeting. Our relationship finished long before you, long before he died.”
“Right” muttered Holly, holding on to the watch tightly.
“Well I better get back to it.” said Eva.
“Of course, thanks for the watch” said Holly as she disappeared down the driveway.

An hour later as the hoards stopped, Eva brought in the signs. She'd made close to two hundred dollars. That afternoon she found herself in a sports shop. She walked past the snowboards and took in the large range of skis before her.
“You a skiier then?” it was the guy from the garage sale that morning.
“Yes, I think I am.” she smiled.
“It's meant to be a great Winter this year – lots of powder” he said, clearly not remembering her from the garage sale.
“Sounds great.” she found herself saying.

The Curse Of The Written Word

2007-06-23T12:56:00.000+12:00

Lately I have noted how easy it is for others to get the wrong end of the stick as such with my writing. Emailing and blogging are not always reliable forms of communication, it would seem. One writes differently in these forums and so if you write freely, like I do, letting the words just spill out, it isn't really much different to not thinking before you speak.

And perhaps I do need to learn to think before I speak.

I have had a backlash recently around expressing myself in the written form. This has caused me to ponder as to whether I could be a better communicator. Of course I can. There is always room for improvement.

I went to see Danny Bhoy (a Scottish/Indian comedian) last Winter here in Nelson with some work colleagues (and we're going again this August). He had me in stitches, but what I actually took away from his gig was the sentiment of direct communication being the most gracious and effective way to well, communicate. It's so easy in this day and age to text, email and now blog. And I'm guilty of being an abuser of all three.

But I've turned a corner with all this. Yes, I have decided that I will continue to blog for myself. Friends, family, and whoever else are welcome to read my posts. But really it is just an outlet and a place for me to write. We have a family blog which is great for family updates. But our family blog can't be soley relied on for contact. Otherwise we are in danger of creating relationships that float around in cyber space. So for actual contact with friends and family, I might try using the phone a little more. Some long distance relationships are exempt from this, as obviously I can't phone everyone on my (email) contact list.

In the past I've resorted to email as a cheats and almost lazy way of making contact. Same with texting. It's so easy to use the excuse of a busy life to flick off an email or to send a quick text. So I'm going to try emailing a little less. In fact I've been doing that already for the last few weeks - checking my emails once a day and switching the computer off afterwards instead of having it on all day and checking my in-box on each passing. Phone calls don't have to be long, if possible I will phone the person (especially if local) and save myself the twenty cents it costs to send a text.

Don't get me wrong, emailing and texting will continue as ways of keeping contact with others, but if it is possible to make a phone-call, then I will. Give me a couple of months and we'll see how I go...

What Was I Thinking?

2007-05-18T21:22:00.000+12:00

Yesterday (Thursday) I decided because we've all been flat-out lately with family visiting in town, and because Amelia had a slight cold and was also was playing so well alone one morning (which has been a rare occurrence of late) , we'd stay at home.

What was I thinking?

Some may think our weekdays are somewhat over-scheduled as we have an activity to go to every morning. Monday is a play-date, Tuesday is playgroup, Wednesday is gymnastics, Thursday is playgroup and Friday is music. We are never usually out for more than two hours at a time and come home for a late morning nap. (yes, both of us!) Sometimes we may go to the park or beach,run an errand in the afternoons or our big afternoon adventure might be walking to the dairy to get some milk. Or we may just chill at home.

The point is, I'm a Mum who needs to get out of the house at least once a day. I need the stimulation and social connections the world outside our two-bedroomed home provides. Amelia needs it too. Although we enjoy the comfort, warmth and security our loving home gives us, we need to get out sometimes.

This was certainly proven yesterday.

It started off well. Amelia did play independently for a good forty-five minutes or so. And then she was into the cupboards. Obviously she'd witnessed me boiling an egg recently and so out came the pot and an egg went in. I watched nervously wondering where this "game" was heading while contemplating whether I should just nip it in the bud then and there or encourage creative play, while supervising from a safe distance. I chose the latter approach. So the one egg in the pot ended up being the whole contents of the egg tray in the pot. And then they all had to go back into the fridge again. And then back into the pot. You get the picture...

It seems Amelia is going through a stage of wanting to imitate life as she sees it. And so bedding was pulled out from the linen cupboard and I was pulled to the ground in her bedroom as she strategically placed a sheet over me. Just days before her Dad had been camped on the floor and I was in Amelia's double bed when family were visiting in town (they had our room).

It is great and encouraging to see that our two year old wants to help out around the house so much. Yet every attempt to help results in a bigger mess than what was there before.

So this Thursday, at home all day with my two year old, I did tackle a few domestic chores from dishes to laundry only to have little hands wanting to rewash dishes I'd already cleaned or items of clothing hung on to the clothes-horse that hadn't been washed. The egg-game continued throughout the day as did the bed-game. A number of other messes occurred around the house that I've chosen to block from my memory for now.

All I know is, a whole day at home is rare for us. We did end up with egg on the floor by the end of the day. But at least it wasn't on my face!

Welcome To My Blog!

2007-05-06T21:30:00.000+12:00

Hi everyone,

Consider this the launch of my official blog!

As some of you know, I have had a writing web site for a year or so. That was great except I felt I could only put published works on it. Since I get published infrequently, I am excited to have this new forum to write my heart out! It was put together by my clever-cloggs hubby, Kev, who sweetly said perhaps having my own blog will encourage me to write more. Who knows how frequently I'll actually write - I will let my natural (writing) rhythm work itself out.

All of the items dated before this one are my published works (articles and my bimonthly column) and short story competitions I have entered over the last two years.

Enjoy! Don't be afraid to add your comments. But be nice, as I'm just a newbie on the blogging block, after all!

Lynda
xx

Two Years Of Mummyhood

2007-05-06T12:19:00.000+12:00

"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter May/June 2007

Today our antenatal class met for a combined two year birthday party celebration. It seems like just the other day that we gathered to celebrate the first year of our children's lives. Some mums are on to their seconds. I had the pleasure of holding a five week old this morning and I commented how it seems as though my daughter was born a two year old as it is hard to associate her today with being the baby she was yesterday.

We celebrated Amelia's birthday last weekend with a small party which included a couple of her friends. The celebration was quite different from the one last year in which we had just had close family present. This years party reflected how we've networked just a little more into the community and made some great connections with some other families.

Two years of mothering feels quite symbolic for me. When I celebrated one year of mothering, I felt as though I was no longer treading water, that I was out of survival mode and able to see the wood for the trees. A year later I feel quite different. I am much more confident, have clear values, opinions and ideas around mothering and am enjoying the independence that comes with raising a two year old.

Life outside of motherhood is happening again for me. I've been for swims and bike-rides and am doing a course in Small Management once a week. And working two nights a week. I am very fortunate that I have a wonderful, supportive husband who gives me the freedom to do all this stuff outside of the home.

As I grow into motherhood and enjoy it more and more, I feel sad and concerned for the brand new mums on the block who might feel overwhelmed, uncertain, unsupported and confused within motherhood. It seems there is pressure out there to have it all together and to have all the answers by the end of that first year which to me, is totally unrealistic.

If anyone has stuck long-term in a job in any industry, they will know that a year in a job is not long. Only long enough to get to grips with the role; not long enough to fly in it. The same goes for motherhood, I believe.

There is a school of thought out there that believes motherhood comes together in many levels around the second year. That has certainly being my experience. I am a lot happier now than I was a year ago. A lot of what we do during our weeks activity-wise is the same and we still have sleep issues – yet I am much more relaxed about it all.

Two years of being an at-home Mum has meant a lot of personal growth for myself. I started off in my new role with (natural) trepidation. It was all so incredibly overwhelming. And I didn't help myself any by putting such high standards on myself. It has taken many months for me to get to know my daughter, work out what style of mothering suits me, and to make peace around my non-Betty Crocker self. However I do enjoy getting tea on the table very night at 5pmish. I love creating a stable, secure home for our wee family.

Of course I've had stretches of time when I've been bored, and uncertain about aspects of motherhood and recently, challenged with the trials and tribulations of living with a two year old. Yet those times are in the minority. I love going to Playgroup and music group with Amelia, and watching her evolve in these environments she's been going to since she was six months old. She's more confident, more independent, and more involved.

The bottom-line is; I wouldn't change the last two years for anything. Being an at-home Mum has been an absolute pleasure and I will continue to relish our next year at home together as we prepare for Kindy in 2008.

Getting The Support You Need

2007-05-06T12:03:00.000+12:00

"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter March/April

I have yet to meet a new Mum who wasn't stripped bare with the whole childbirth experience. Right from the word go there is so much for the new Mum to get her head around – breastfeeding (not as easy as it looks and no guarantees it will even work), nappies (has any one Mum ever managed to perfect the folding of a hospital cloth nappy?), gingerly bathing something smaller than your cat and operating on a ridiculous amount of sleep even though your body is screaming for a week long break on a tropical island somewhere.

Obviously us new Mums are in over our heads. Of course we need support. A ton of it please! And encouragement. We need a shoulder to cry on when the going gets tough, people to tell us we are doing a good job of raising our bundle of joy even though there is dried baby puke on one shoulder and bags under our eyes that hint that perhaps longer than a week on that tropical island may be needed to recoup ourselves. And do tell us we look good even though we are traipsing around in the trackies we swore we'd never be seen dead in or that you turned up unannounced to find us still in our PJ's at 2pm.

A generation or two ago it was a given that a new Mum would have her extended family close by when the newborn arrived. Motherhood was witnessed amongst family and mothering tips handed down in a natural way. These days a lot of us don't have our extended family around us. And so unless we want to go it alone, we are reliant on reaching out within our community for support.

Because we don't have family who live in town, hubby and I set out to create a support network by firstly attending antenatal classes at the Parent Centre. These were an excellent way to connect with other parents-to-be . The Baby And You classes were my initiation into mixing with Mums and bubs. A coffee group followed where it was a relief to know there were other Mums I could meet with that were in the same boat .

Coffee group gave a bit of a structure to my week in the early months of motherhood. Apart from one or two other Mums I'd known before motherhood, these were the only women I socialised with regularly. It's been great to watch our babies move through each stage together – from newborn to infant to toddler and within the next couple of months they will all be approaching Two! As Mums naturally play the comparison game, coffee groups can have a bit of a competitive vibe, yet it is good to check in with those who are raising children the same age.

When Amelia was around six months, I branched out into taking her to a local Playgroup and music group. By taking her to these groups on a regular basis, it started to feel as though my Mum community was forming. New friendships are developing from these groups, but really the support I get from attending these groups is simply in knowing and seeing other Mums out there, week in, week out. In passing one might have a casual conversation about anything from childbirth to toilet training. You can turn up at of these groups after having had a challenging episode with your pride and joy, only to have it all melt away somewhat once you are greeted by a sea of Mums with their tots. In that instance you know you're not alone. So this week when Amelia's groups started up again I was glad to be back in the swing of it all as not only do these groups add structure to our week, a place for Amelia to play and socialise, they also provide me with a great deal of support.

Sooner or later as parents you realise that it is an incredible challenge to raise your child on your own. We did it for what seemed like a long time. Occasionally my Mum would babysit when in town, but very sporadically. I knew we could “just go out and get a babysitter” if we really wanted to, but like many first-time parents, I didn't want just anyone looking after our daughter. So through our antenatal class, a friendship started to develop with another couple who didn't have family in town either. When Amelia was around 18 months, we were ready to start having regular time-outs to ourselves and we suggested babysitting swaps.

So in the weekends hubby and I have been going out for brunch, knowing our daughter is in safe hands. I smile inwardly at other parents who are getting up fifty times during their brunches while I pour my third cup of tea in a row without moving once. (except to maybe go to the loo...) It is a good feeling being able to hand over your child to someone else to look after, even if it is only for an hour and a half once a week.

Support isn't just about babysitters and mixing with a community of Mums, it's also about being respected for the way you choose to raise your children. In this day and age there are so many variations on how to “have it all” as such. It would seem many a Mum is in a quandary as to what might work best for them. There are many reasons why Mums opt to stay home fulltime just as there are many reasons why Mums choose to work casually, part-time or fulltime. Noone has the right to judge another's decision.

Yet us Mums do need to ask for support so that we are able to be the best Mums we can, regardless of whether we choose to be at-home Mums or to combine work with motherhood. Noone else can guess our needs. I've learnt that I have to pencil in time-outs for the things I need to do to keep me sane and healthy. I've also learnt to grasp the pockets of time that do come up during the week as my daughter becomes more independent.

In the early days I turned to Plunket for advice, and made contact with the Postnatal Depression Support Network here in Nelson following a traumatic birthing experience. I have phoned Healthline off and on over the last 22 months with varying questions from problems with breastfeeding to tending to a toddler with a worrying stomach bug. There are organisations to phone for support. It is important to reach out as none of us can be expected to know it all.

Someone just this week quoted me with the African proverb it takes a village to raise a child. There is a lot of truth in that one as none of us can do the child-rearing thing alone.

The Magic of Twilight

2007-05-05T19:13:00.000+12:00

Entered in The Page and Blackmore Short Story Competition 2007. Judged by Owen Marshall
An inconvenience leads to possibilities in love.
"A competent light romance tale which tends to become overly sentimental towards the end. "

Geneva tilted her head back so she could relish the feeling of the wind blowing through her hair as she pedalled. It was twilight, her favourite time of night and the beginning of a brand new year. An opportunity to build a bigger, brighter future. Starting with this bike ride. No more toffee pops on the couch while watching bad television.

Clunk. Oh no. Her legs weren't going anywhere. Geneva stopped and sure enough, there was the chain dangling on the footpath like a legless drunk. Nothing she could do but walk the bike home. There was a bit of traffic on the main road in suburbia as it was Friday night. She felt the “will-you-look-at-that-woman” looks but ignored them.

“Nice night for a walk ...with a bike!” The husky American voice startled her. Surburbian New Zealand was hardly a place for tourist attractions. She turned around and was taken aback to see a good-looking, thirty-something dark-haired man smiling at her.
“Hank” he said, offering his hand
“Geneva” she said, shaking it arkwardly.
“ I'm in town for a wedding.”
Her expression must have been “oh.”
“Not my wedding” he winked. “You wouldn't know if there was a decent bar round these parts would you?”
These parts? He may as well have been walking the streets with a horse.
“Well actually there is somewhere – about ten minutes from here. Kind of lame...” he smiled in amusement. “ Well, the beers okay.” she managed to smile.
“Care to show me the way?” he asked, eyebrows high, and his face on the brink of breaking into a smile. “I have a night off from my bestman duties. Tomorrow's the stag night. Thought I better sample some of this kiwi beer so I know what I'm doing.” She took one out-of-body look at herself decked in sweatpants, disrevelled hair from her helmet and shook her head. “I'm heading the opposite way. But it's easy to find – just walk straight down the next turn-off on the right for ten minutes.”
“Shame” he said “You sure know how to let a visitor from out of town down. Well then, if you don't want to come along tonight perhaps tomorrow night then, just as the party's getting warmed up?”
Geneva hesitated. She was so over the bar scene. Really she just wanted to slow down and enjoy the company of a good man with simple nights in. Crikey – she really was sounding the thirty-two years of age that she was. But then she looked at Hank, with his perfect American white teeth and his adorable yankee accent.
“Okay then” Geneva smiled “Tomorrow night it is.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “ See you then Geneva. 7pm. Don't be late!”

Geneva fingered through her wardrobe. What do you wear when you are going on a date with a hot American to a stag party of all things? She didn't want to be too slutty. So the mini skirts, even though they looked good on her, her legs being her stand-out feature – nope – it would just send the wrong message. Afterall, she really didn't fancy jumping out of a cake...So, something not so revealing...Perhaps the capri pants with the fitted blouse would be a good ensemble? On second thoughts, when she put it on it just seemed to scream boring office worker and no, you won't be getting a kiss from me tonight. She didn't want to look slutty but then she didn't want to appear fridgid either...Then, there it was – a classic shift dress with a bow detail at the waist - sexy and simple. Next the makeup. She didn't want to look like she'd been paid to attend the stag party, after all. So Geneva opted for the natural look. Minimal makeup but she danced her eyes up with eye-shadow and mascara. Next went lip-gloss on her lips. She smacked her lips together – not bad!

Geneva stood at the door of the local and suddenly clicked that this was obviously a huge wedding. Then Hank was handing her a glass of champagne “Thought it was going to be a little quieter than this?” She nodded. “ Tom tying the knot is a big deal to this lot – his whole footie team is over there, half his school here. Amazing he ever travelled to America and met yours truly huh.” She nodded as yes, she had wondered how Hank fitted in. “I'm the son of the host family Tom stayed with when he did a school exchange.” “We were like brothers” he added. “Speak of the devil...” and Tom wandered over. Blonde hair, blue eyes – he was the thinking girls jock fantasy. He reeked of push-ups, chin-ups, crunchies and no doubt had a rock-hard body. But he didn't take her fancy. “Tom, this is Geneva” Hank said “Hey” said Tom “So are you going to be Hank's date to my wedding?” Her look must have said it all. “Hmmm...” she said looking at Hank. “Tom!” Hank gave him a blokey slap “I was waiting til she'd had at least one drink before I asked her.” They all roared with laughter at that.
“So? “ said Hank “Even though we've known each other for a whole ten minutes all up – would you like to come to a wedding on Saturday? Please say yes, I'm a decent guy and quite desperate.”
“Sure” she smiled. There could be worse things to do on Saturday night than going to a wedding.
“Excellent!” He punched the air enthusiatically.

Clink. The wedding guests held their up their champagne flutes to the bride and groom. Hank had given a hilarious speech covering some of the experiences he and Tom had had in America. And of course there were references to Janine who Tom had met at highschool that no american girls had ever compared to. There were lots of awwwws when Hank said that, in his charming American way.

Geneva felt a hand on her shoulder. “I'm all yours now” Hank beamed. “My best man duties are over with – so – care to dance?” With that he held out his hand and pulled her to her feet. “Geneva?” he said. Somehow she never got sick of hearing her name in his American accent. “Yes, Hank?” she smiled as they walked to the dance floor. “ I'm leaving in two days...” his voice trialed off. Of course! She'd gotten so caught up in this whirlwind romance that she'd forgotten that Hank didn't actually live here – that he'd actually be leaving soon She felt a lump in her throat. Ridiculous! She'd known him for a whole forty-eight hours. “Anyway” he said turning her head with his hand so she was forced to look directly into his eyes. “I was hoping you might like to join me for a day trip tomorrow. Just the two of us?” That took Geneva by surprise. “Sure, that would be great .” Hank smiled, picked up her hand and kissed it. As they danced closely to the sounds of the jazz band, Geneva could feel her heart pounding in her chest, just like the leading lady in a Mills and Boon novel.

Geneva and Hank went on a picnic where they spent hours drinking wine and talking. They had more in common than they perhaps originally thought – both book-worms who liked to go on long walks. Neither of them liked dogs. At the end of the day Hank looked at her, his eyes misting up a little. “Geneva” he said “Tomorrow my heart will be broken, when I fly back home. It has been the most amazing day...”
She smiled and wiped back a tear too. “I know” she sighed.
They agreed to keep in touch by email and phone calls. Geneva hoped to make it to America within the next six months. She needed time to save and to accrue some leave.

Hank dropped Geneva off at her house early that evening. He had an early flight the next day. They kissed by her front gate and hugged like the lovers they wanted to be. Then Geneva found herself inside her flat. Her bike, chain fixed, stood invitingly in the hallway. Ten minutes later she pedalled off into the twilight. But the magic of the twilight had gone. All she could think of was that Hank would be in the sky tomorrow heading further and further away from her as each second passed. She wiped away an escapee tear and pedalled faster, wondering how different she'd be feeling now if the chain had never come off her bike in the first place.

Gone Fishing

2007-05-05T19:11:00.000+12:00

Entered in South Island Writers' Assocation Open Short Story Competition 2007.
Who knows who you might reel in if you give it a go.
"This is a good story with heaps of potential. All it needs is a bit of tweaking here and there."

Sam rushed home in a break from the video shop she worked at. Pie and soft-drink in hand, the plan was to scoff her lunch down on the couch while she watched Oprah. Yet the minute she stood outside the door, jangling her keys, something caused her to pause. The front door was slightly ajar, and the pearls of laughter emananting from inside the apartment hit her right in the guts. Sam and her sickened stomach should have just backed out then and there, since she knew what was coming - she had seen the cheesy scene played a hundred times before. Yet some overwhelming need in her beckoned her to inch closer towards the laughter. Sam drew her breath and whipped the bedroom door open wide.

And there they were.

Not completely unclothed like she might have expected, but intimate enough. Sam shook her head, and walked out of the bedroom, clutching her stomach. It was too much, and she was sure she was going to hurl. Outside she gathered herself together for a minute as really she didn't want to come back here again to this tainted apartment, ever. So she sucked in her breath, grabbed her suitcase from the top of the wardrobe, and walked quickly around the bedroom as the awkward couple watched, packing her suitcase, pulling her clothes out of the wardrobe straight off the hangers and stuffing them into the suitcase – there was simply no time to be standing there folding clothes. She flung her tampons, toothbrush and the toothpaste from the bathroom into a toilet bag. Yeah, he could go and buy another tube of toothpaste. Surely it wasn't a bad deal from his end– one tube of toothpaste in exchange for sleazy behaviour. Incredibly, she managed to pack within minutes. Or so it seemed. Amazing what a bit of adrendlin could do for a girl.

And him in the background. “Wait, let's talk this over. We can figure this out...” all the usual excuses. Even he was embarrassed at how unoriginal and cliched he sounded.

“Thanks” Sam said, suitcase in one hand while she smoothed her hair with her other hand while she
caught her breath “For our time together. This ending sucks. But oh well, it's over then. So I'll just leave you and...thingamajig to it then...” Thingamajig let out a nervous giggle. Sam wanted to slap her, oh-so-badly, but she managed to restrain herself.

She turned on her heels and breezed out of the bedroom.

In the seconds it had taken Sam to walk out of the warehouse apartment they had briefly resided in together, and onto the street, their relationship was now history. Just like that. Funny how one minute someone could be your everything and then they were - your nothing. She shook her head in disbelief for a second. It was time to move on – then and there.

Sam walked fast, dragging her suitcase, trying so very hard to fight back the tears in public. Dammit, it was lunchtime and she felt just a bit conspicious as workers on their breaks took in the sight of a mid-twenties woman, dressed in her video store t-shirt, dragging a suitcase down the street. Damn the staring. Sam escaped into a public toilet and her insides welled up like she couldn't believe and she exploded into enormous sobs that came from the depths of her being. She blew her nose loudly with the scratchy toilet paper often found in public loos and her mind wandered back to that first night, wondering how she'd gotten from there – to here...

It was a hot summer's night in the mid-nineties, and Sam was the first to admit she'd had a few too many. Beer, wine, and a couple of shots. Okay, maybe more than just a few too many. She'd had her hair cut that day and was relishing the confidence her new look gave her. Her jeans fitted her snuggly, her t-shirt showed off her toned arms. She felt hip and trendy and proud to be twenty-five.

The bar was packed, and the music was pumping loudly. Coloured lights playfully twirled on the dance-floor and Sam was on fire. Moving On Up by the M People played, one of her favourite
dance tracks, and she was having a ball. She was dancing with Mr Two-Step, one of those guys who didn't know how to break out of the old side-to-side move. And he was slightly out-of-time. Ok, very out. Kind of cute though - in a bank teller kind of a way.

The song ended, Sam thanked Mr Two-Step and looked around for her friends. There they were. Lola at the bar, chatting up the barman. Again. Sonya standing nearby sipping a drink, coolly surveying the surroundings. Sam ordered three shots of black zumbucca. She threw one down the bar to Lola, gave her a wink and then handed one to Sonya. Sonya nodded thanks. And then the lights came on. Curse those three am curfews. And why did the lights have to be on full? Everyone knew how hideous the average person looked at that hour. The girls with their unstyled hair, melted foundation, exposed zits, smudged mascara, and non-existent lipstick. Then there were some whose bodysuits leaked out of jeans that the drunken wearer had forgotten to tuck in during her last pitstop to the loo. And the guys didn't look so great either at that hour with their greasy hair and sweaty underarms. But then the majority of the patrons left at that hour had their beer-goggles on. Small details like that were overlooked.

So Sam, Lola, and Sonya joined arms together, wondering what they might do next as they wondered along Courtenay Place like the rest of the partiers in Wellington, searching for something else to do. It was late yet these three ladies had only just begun. They'd been dancing up a storm and weren't ready to slow down.

They turned around a corner and literally bumped into three guys who also seemed to be having a good time. A little bit of chit-chat on the street and then they were drinking dacquiris in a downtown warehouse-style apartment. Sam couldn't believe it. It was so glam, so american sitcom. Like being Gone Fishing Page Four
on Friends or in Seinfeld's apartment. Except this was Wellington, New Zealand, not New York. Still, close enough.

“I like your hair” he said. She turned and there he was. Schwing! Dimples, tanned skin, long hair and a brown leather jacket.

”Thanks” she said “You know a few hours ago it was down to here...” she said touching the middle of her back. And with that he touched the exact spot her hand had just left and she knew then, in that moment, that she was screwed. She may as well have pulled her heart right out and handed it to him on a platter.

From the start it was all too good to be true. She got wooed in ways she'd never been wooed before. Flowers, wine, and many a dinner out. Romantic nights in at his warehouse apartment listening to Van Morrison. Weeks turned into months and before she knew it, Sam had moved in. Why not, he said, you're here most nights anyway. She didn't own much, since she'd always claimed to be materially-adverse, so it wasn't a major deal. Just Sam and her toothbush, tampons and a few changes of clothes. She'd just naturally assumed that moving in meant that things had changed gears a little. How wrong was she...

There was a loud knock outside the public loo door. Sam came back to reality. She dabbed under her eyes, got out her compact to check her face, then closed it deciding it was just not that important. She opened the door and a guy stood outside. For a moment she was taken aback. Oh yeah, unisex public loos – it was so Ally McBeal.

The guy looked vaguely familiar. Oh yeah – Mr Two-Step! She smiled, he smiled. “You going to be hitting the town this Friday? “ he asked. “Why not? “ she shrugged and as she walked out, dragging her suitcase across the road into the video store she worked at, her co-workers with questions written all over their faces, with Mr Two-Step watching her all the way, she knew was going to be okay.

Seemed there were plenty of fish in the sea. She just needed to go out fishing again. Soon.

Tommy

2007-05-05T19:07:00.000+12:00

Entered in The Romance Writers New Zealand (Nelson Branch) Valentines Day Romantic Short Story Competition 2006.
Love comes in many shapes and forms.
"Characteriaation is excellent. We know a great deal about Tommy and our heroine."

It wasn’t love at first sight. He was almost plain to look at. Medium build. A what-you-see is what-you-get type. No bells and whistles. He’d been around the block yet she liked that he had a history. He was clearly loyal, reliable and willing to go that extra mile. He simply had all the credentials she wanted.

Tommy didn’t say much but she immediately felt at ease in his company. They naturally fitted together so their relationship was a comfortable one from the start. She was slightly more dominating, leading the way a lot of the time. And this suited them both.

When they met she was a bit lost in life. Having recently returned to New Zealand after several years overseas, she felt displaced. She’d left a lot behind and was still reeling from the shock. It was like experiencing culture shock in her home country. It was going to take time to get reacquainted with New Zealand again.

She and Tommy went on many trips throughout the land of the long white cloud. They moved a few times. He willingly followed as she unconsciously searched for a town she could settle in. Their taste in music was similar and they shared many a tune on the open road. He never seemed to mind when she sang uproariously off key to songs playing on the radio.

Tommy was always at her side, supporting her in whatever decision she’d make that affected them. Job and career changes. And just because changes. He seemed to enjoy a change as much as she did. Gradually she fell in love with New Zealand again and his quiet influence had a lot to do with it.

It felt as though he had been a part of her life for so long that she assumed things would always continue the way they had. It was such an easy relationship that it could be said that she took him for granted.

And so the day he hurt himself and his future was unclear came as a devastating blow. It was a moment in time she’d never forget. The car in front braked suddenly and they crashed into it. She sat stunned in the drivers’ seat for a few minutes. The driver from the other car knocked on her window and asked her if she was okay. She wiped away a runaway tear and nodded yes. But Tommy…
Then she got the news that he was going to be okay. He’d be up and about in a few weeks. She got off the phone, her cheeks a rosy glow. Tomorrow she could go and pick up her car from the repair shop. Her Tommy was going to be fine.

Blueberry Muffins

2007-05-05T18:56:00.000+12:00

Entered in a Short Story Competition 2007. (forgotten which one!)
A reminder of how simple , thoughtful exchanges provide some comfort in our times of need.

Seagulls squawked above, cars whizzed by. But it was the sound of the wind rustling softly through the trees outside that comforted her the most as she sat motionless in her armchair. A gentle reminder that she was just a wee speck in the grand scheme of things. Carol got out of her armchair, walked the short distance to her small kitchen and flicked the jug on. A cuppa always did the trick.

A clock ticked methodically away in the kitchen, and the jug whistled happily away. Her dog Hector lay on his side, snoring peacefully without a care in the world as Peanut the cat watched with slitted eyes from her perch on the arm of her favourite armchair.

Carol went to the pantry and chose her favourite mug. She'd been given it by one of her grandkids. Probably from a $2 shop. It said “To The Best Nana In The World”. Silly, but somehow it always cheered her up. Even though two year old Sophie wouldn't have even known what the brightly-coloured letters meant. Carol put in a tea-bag. It was always bell tea. She'd tried those herbal teas but they weren't very appealing at all. Her daughter Laura was always trying to get her to try them. Putrid. Bob always said that they tasted like dish-washing water. Dear Bob...she sure missed sharing cups of tea with Bob.

Damn it. She was all out of gingernuts! Bob had always made sure they had a good stock of gingernuts in the pantry. He didn't need any fancy biscuits and used to say a cup of tea without a gingernut was like apple pie without cream. How right he was. Carol wiped an escapee tear away, and shook her head. Pull yourself together girl.

With a violent thud the jug switched her off. Carol fingered the photo in the silver frame on the kitchen sill of a tanned and lined Bob proud as punch holding up a huge snapper that he'd caught in the sounds just last Summer. Just two months before... Now, stop that, don't go upsetting yourself again.

There was a rat-a-tat-tat at the door. Hector woke up with a start and rushed to the door, barking madly. Shhhh Hector. Peanut jumped off her armchair and fled around the corner, her tail fluffed up in annoyance. Carol sucked in her breath and smoothed her skirt. She looked down at her well-loved baby-pink fluffy slippers, sighed, and then decided to leave them on. She sure hoped it wasn't The Stevens. They meant well, but she wasn't up to all that good-neighbourly garbage.

Oh, Billie. Thank goodness. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Dear Billie with her slightly disrevelled blonde bob and her mismatched red skirt and pink jacket. She was her daughter's age but she was like an old soul. Probably because she'd had her own share of woes in her short lifetime. Billie held out a plate of freshly baked muffins.

“I made these for you.”

“Thanks love. Come in. I was just about to...Would you like a cuppa?” asked Carol.

“That would be lovely” smiled Billie.

So Carol went to the pantry and got out another cup. Without looking she grabbed “I Love You Grandad”. She hesitated for a second and then put in a bag of earl grey tea, Billie's tea of choice. She passed it to Billie, avoiding eye contact for a moment. Billie looked at the cup and smiled.

“How are you?” Billie touched her arm lightly. It was hard to not look up then.
Carol cleared her throat and shook her head. “I, um, gosh those muffins look scrumptious – blueberry are they?”

Billie nodded. She understood. She'd lost her husband four years ago and knew that sometimes company was all you wanted – not the words.
And so they sat down in the armchairs that enveloped the occupant like a huge hug, the muffins before them on the formica coffee table, their cups of tea steaming. Seagulls squawked above, cars whizzed by. And the wind rustled softly through the trees outside.

Preserving The Moment

2007-05-01T20:04:00.000+12:00

"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter September/October 2006

I'm a Virgo who loves a good project. I like to organise, plan and manage things. I practically organised the whole of our outdoor wedding with just under 100 guests. I enjoyed it. Mostly...But sometimes the logical Virgo side of me gets bowled over by my flaky Pisces side that is also part of my astrological makeup. At times I can procrastinate and choose to live in the moment, leaving things to sort themselves out another day. Astrological shortcomings aside, basically I swing between being on to it – and not. Hence why capturing some special moments in Amelia's early life got captured – and some didn't.

The traditional way to celebrate a babies arrival into the Western world is to announce the babies birth in the newspaper – including weight, sex, name and time, thanking as many people as you like. Then there's the matter of capturing your wee bundles arrival with a camera – still or moving – the choice is yours. Baby footprints and/or hand prints are another memento a lot of people go for in the early months. And don't forget the placenta . If you're not sure what to do with it you could always keep it in your freezer for a bit until you find an alternative home for it. Just make sure everyone in your household knows it's there as I have heard a horror story about a case of mistaken identity.

Will Amelia forgive us in time when she realises that not only did her parents never announce to the world, or to Nelson at least, her arrival in the local newspaper but that we never planted a tree over her placenta or bothered to get molds of her wee hands or feet?
Maybe discussing the above with hubby before she arrived might have helped. I was operating in a blur for the first couple of months, perhaps a side-effect of a general or maybe it was just early motherhood. My organisational skills fell to the wayside. Form filling just wasn't an option and my short-term memory was shorter than ever. In fact, I think I had the memory of a goldfish for the first few months of my daughters life.

But all is not lost. Within hours of Amelia's arrival we updated our family web site from the maternity ward at Nelson hospital. Hubby went home and sent the link out to friends and family so they had all the credentials and a photo of a brand-spanking Amelia.

Thanks to our monthly family web site we have managed to capture snippets of Amelia's early months via photos and verbal descriptions on her own web page. I even print these pages out and store them in transparent folder from Warehouse Stationary. It's the best I can do. As simply put I'm no arts and crafts whiz. Scrapbooking is back in vogue and I wish I had the knack. But I'm all thumbs when it comes to dealing with scraps of paper and glue. Even with six years of Graphic Design under my belt, the thought of cutting up small pieces of paper and sticking them strategically in a scrapbook makes me wince.

We filmed Amelia a bit during her first year so we have a DVD that hubby proudly edited that captures her growth almost monthly. It starts when she is around a month old and finishes at her 1st birthday party. We haven't filmed her for a few months so need to get on to it again before her Amelia-speak turns into real sentences. Hubby and I are also rather snap-happy with our digital camera so there are literally hundreds of photos of Amelia stored in the hard-drives on our computers.

A friend gave me a journal for recording milestones in the 1st year. I started off with good intentions of filling it in. I think I got to about six months and then got my weeks mixed up and the journaling came to an abrupt halt. But there is the WellChild Health Book. There are a lot of moments captured in there. You can see that Amelia has had all her shots, what her height and weight was at different stages, as well as all her different “quirks” along the way. Recently I saw an attractive material-bound cover designed for the WellChild Health Book in a local children's gift shop. Not a bad idea. Perhaps I should get one myself.

So I think there is a lesson in all this. Invent your own way of capturing your child's arrival into the world and the precious moments that follow. There are no rules. Do what is natural and works for you. Even if those milestones aren't recorded in every traditional way possible.

The Valentine's Grinch

2007-04-29T19:51:00.000+12:00

Entered in The Romance Writers New Zealand (Nelson Branch) Valentines Day Romantic Short Story Competition 2005.
Even the cynical need love. And you never know where you might find it.
"A strongly plot-driven tale, well suited to a competition such as this - it just missed the cut."

It seems unlikely that Brad Pitt is going to come knocking on her door anytime soon. So Tania thinks of calling in sick. Better than going into work to be faced with the gleeful faces of her female co-workers who had been swamped with a dozen red roses, ridiculous-looking soft toys emblazoned with hearts and acres of chocolate littering their desks.

Tania creeps into work. She hides beneath the Valentine Day paraphernalia that oozes unsubtly from Debbie's desk. Tania is pretty. Bright. Funny. So why did a rose or a goofy toy on Valentines Day have to validate this? She bought chocolate for herself every day. She didn't need some fantasy man to buy it for her.

"SO, who has an admirer THIS year?!" Debbie holds a single red rose. "Let me see" Tania snatches the red rose, feeling all eyes on her.

A card falls out. Debbie's eyebrow goes up. Tania swivels around in her chair and slowly opens the card. "Happy Valentines Day from a secret admirer." Great - so who the hell IS her secret admirer? No-one here I hope she thinks. But she scans the room just in case. Most were off the market. She cannot imagine Bernard The IT Guy wooing anything beside his computer. Jason The Office Flirt? Not likely since she hadn't fallen for any of his one-liners. Unless? Accountant Guy. Oh I hope not she cringes. Too friendly. Too keen. But in reality who else would it be from?

This had to be worse than NOTHING coming her way. At least she didn't have to be plagued with scenarios of ways in which she could avoid Accountant Guy all day - and eventually fob him off.

At five o'clock a scurry of women exit with their Valentines goodies. The annual cry from Debbie. "Not sure I can carry ALL this to the car…" And the annual response - every man in the office clambering to get to her desk like she was the last beer in the fridge on a hot summers day.

"You need a hand with your rose?" She was about to swipe back at the hurtful comment. It's Accountant Guy.
"Do you know why I admire you?" he says. She shakes her head, blushing. "For being who you are - you don't try to be anything you're not".
"Th-anks" she says "…for the rose - it's beautiful." "Not as beautiful as you." How corny - yet how sweet.
"I'm Derek" he stretches out a strong, brown hand. And beneath those glasses is a sweet, wholesome yet kind face.
"Tania" she says, her hand shaking his. He nods I know.
"See you later then." And he's gone.

And then she realises that this could be something worth pursuing. She gathers up her handbag and the rose and rushes after Derek. "Do you want to do coffee?" she says, suddenly nervous. He smiles yes. Perhaps Valentines Day wasn't such a bad tradition after all, she smiles to herself. Who knew where this could go.

This is Amelia

2007-04-29T19:49:00.000+12:00

Published in Sleepy-Hollow Stirs - an anthology of Nelson Writers for 2005. Edited by Mike Lipscombe.
An insight into a birthing experience with no gory bits!

20 March 2005, Sunday 10pmish
The blonde midwife stood silently shaking her head. Her bob neat, her eyes telling all. Her lined brown hands trembled as she took in what the machine was telling her. Clearly, things weren't good. My baby's heartbeat was high and she wasn't moving much. Seconds passed.

Was she going to say something?

I cleared my throat. "So this isn't good then?"

Well…?

Blondie couldn't look at me. "I'll get someone else."
She dashed out. I waited in anticipation. All was quiet on the maternity ward at Nelson Hospital. Eerily so. My obstetrician arrived on the scene and confirmed what I knew deep down had to be coming.
"We're going to have to get this baby out." And she flurried off after a few brief pokes and prods. I lay there frozen.

"Um - can I ring my husband?"
But the one portable phone in the ward wasn't working. Blondie was frazzled - but not apologetic. There wasn't time for this nonsense.
For the love of…
"Don't worry, I'll use my mobile."
I phoned my husband up, a tear sliding down my cheek.
"She's coming tonight." I managed to splutter out.The next bit happened fast.

A couple of the medical staff helped dress me in a checked hospital gown. It was shaped like a sack. My underwear was removed. My dignity was going the window fast. I wondered how much of this my roomie was taking in. Only a thin curtain separated us. This was unfolding just inches away from her.
I was wheeled to the delivery room to be prepped for theatre. I had a little cry - out of fear but also relief. Finally they were going to work out what was wrong and my baby was coming!

In the delivery room a team of medical staff buzzed around me. There was no time for introductions. I felt like I was on the Shortland Street set - although a slightly less glamorous version. Dr Warner was nowhere to be seen. Someone was shaving "down there" where they were going to make the bikini-line incision, a drip was put into my arm and other things were going on that I just couldn't take in. I met the asethesist - tall and tanned. Oh yeah - and fairly cute. Oh god - now what exactly was he going to see?

My husband appeared amongst the organized chaos. I was just one of a series of c-sections performed in Nelson hospital yet for me it was all frighteningly new.

As I was wheeled to theatre my husband walked beside me. He was strong and reassuring. He'd been asleep when I'd called and had hastily dressed to come to the hospital. He'd grabbed a T-shirt off the floor from his side of the bed. It was inside out. The asethesist was with us and had forgotten the code on the door. Another medical staff member didn't know it and so one of them ran off to find out. Crikey, this was an emergency situation and they didn't know the code on the door?! Hubby and I shared a bit of a laugh about that - at least it lightened the situation a little.

Once in theatre I had to get off the bed and on to the operating table.
They can't expect me to move when I'm in this much pain. Oh - they do…
Geeeeeez! Holy mother of…
I sat upright cowering forward in pain.
The asethesist was getting the epidural ready. He explained the procedure to me. Thank goodness it was inserted in my lower back so I didn't see it, as I hate needles. I was embarrassed slightly sitting there in the shapeless checked gown with my back exposed. I wasn't sure what the asethesist could see or what exactly was going to be exposed once I was on the operating table. I was warned that if the epidural didn't kick in fast enough that I would have to have a general. I lay down on the operating table and was covered with a material that resembled a horse blanket with my lower stomach region exposed. Then I was basted like a chicken with iodine.

The prick test was done and I was asked if I could feel anything. I could on my right side. A general was the go.
Oh God. Now I'm really scared. What if I don't wake up? Is this the end? And our baby...?

I asked my husband to pray for me. He held my hand. It was the closest to death I've ever been yet there wasn't much time to even take that in. Now I felt like I was on an episode of ER. The mask was put over my face and just like in the movies - everything went black.

21 March 2005, after midnight
When I woke up my husband was holding our daughter tightly in his arms. She was polished and perfect and unlike the images of newborns I'd seen where they were covered in gunk and blood. It was explained to me that an ovary was removed, as it was "torted and blackened." The only explanation given for why it happened was "bad luck".
My husband handed this angelic-looking baby to me whose birth I hadn't witnessed and said…
"This is Amelia."

In Case Of Emergency

2007-04-29T19:46:00.000+12:00

Weekend, The Nelson Mail 15 October 2005
Recent tragic disasters in the news are a reminder of how sudden and unexpected such events can occur - and the necessity to be prepared.

Most of us have the mandatory matches, candles and torch hidden in the bottom drawer in the kitchen somewhere. But what if a natural disaster on the scale of Hurricane Katrina or the Pakistan earthquake should hit?How prepared are we? What exactly should be in an Emergency Survival Kit? Does your family have a meeting place and a contingency plan should an emergency situation occur? These are the kinds of questions that need to be addressed in order to prepare for a natural disaster.

For the last couple of years New Zealand Disaster Reduction Week has been coinciding with UN International Disaster Reduction Day. The key message for Disaster Reduction Week 2005 (October 9-15) that the Ministry of Civil Defence and Emergency Management (MCDEM) would like to come across of preparedness. It's about creating and encouraging resilient communities.

The disaster most likely to occur in Nelson is a flood. Flooding is at the top of the list as far as declared civil defence emergencies in New Zealand go.

Scientists believe that within the next 20 years a major earthquake will occur on the South Island Alpine Fault. Meanwhile other significant natural disasters include snow, wind, landslide, coastal erosion, storm surge and tsunami.

Sarah Holland, the emergency management officer for Civil Defence in the Nelson region, says households need to look closely at their own immediate area. Rural areas should be prepared for a wildfire, for instance.When disaster hits, people and communities are vulnerable not only to its destructive force but also lifeline utilities such as power, water, sewerage, communications and transport systems.

Threats of international terrorism, and the potential release of hazardous substances or organisms means we have a range of natural and manmade hazards that could impact us significantly. Holland stresses that while Civil Defence is here to help, in a disaster the immediate aftermath would undoubtedly mean that resources would be concentrated on restoring essential services. For this reason people should have an emergency survival kit, as they could well face being on their own for a few days.

Holland is concerned that the average Nelson household and business is not prepared for a disaster. It's a case of all talk and often no action.People have to realise, she says, that the days are gone of Civil Defence immediately coming to the rescue."There aren't going to be any knights in shining armour. People need to be prepared." says Holland.

So where should you start?

You can download your household emergency checklist, and household emergency plan, from the Ministry of Civil Defence emergency management web site http://www.civildefence.govt.nz. The front of the yellow pages is also a useful resource.

If you prefer to keep your Emergency Survival Kit items in the house for everyday use, make sure you know where to find them when an emergency occurs.

Your Kit should contain:
* Canned or dried food
* A can opener
* A primus or BBQ to cook on
* Bottled water (3 litres per person per day)
* Check and renew the food and water every 12 months.

Emergency Items
* First Aid Kit and essential medicines
* Spare toilet paper and plastic rubbish bags for your emergency toilet
* Pet supplies
* Waterproof torches and spare batteries
* Radio and spare batteries (check the batteries every three months)

Emergency Clothing
* Wind proof and rainproof
* Sun hats
* Blankets or sleeping bags
* Strong shoes for outdoors
* Supplies for Babies and Small Children
* Food and drink
* Change of clothing
* Favourite toy or activity
* Special Supplies for Those with Disabilities
* Hearing aids
* Mobility aids
* Glasses

Three days of supplies takes a bit of organising and involves some expense.

Holland suggests starting with water. Wash out and then fill up old juice or fizzy drink bottles. If you fill bottles to the brim and store them in a dark place they will keep for 12 months. Holland advises against using old milk bottles.

A sample list of food you would need includes cereal for breakfasts, soup, noodles, tinned tuna or corned beef for lunches, tinned stew or baked beans and tinned fruit for dinner, and muesli bars, peanuts, crackers and chocolate for snacks.

A torch with a spare battery is crucial. Holland recommends that people use chemical lightsticks rather than candles, as they are much safer. Another highly recommended item is a battery-powered radio, with spare batteries in order to keep informed. Holland says you could use a car radio.

KIT HINTS
Some hints about your Disaster Survival Kit
*Put all items, especially the blankets and clothing into plastic bags (leak proof) to keep them dry.
*Keep the Disaster Survival Kit in a place which will be easily accessible in an emergency.
*Make sure everyone in the house can find it in the dark.
*Make someone responsible for checking (and renewing) the food and water every 12 months.

Service With A Grimace, the Nelson Way

2007-04-29T19:44:00.000+12:00

Voices, The Nelson Mail, 7 January 2006
Whatever happened to service with a smile?

Nelson gets a hard rap for its customer service. Residents are expected to put up with inferior service because in line with the sunshine hours pay rates way of thinking, you get the feeling that you shouldn't complain when service isn't up to par.

When I asked where my cutlery might be on one occasion, I was given the brush-off, so typical in this town. “It's over there” replies the oh-so casual waiter, clearly far too busy to make an exception to the fetch-yer-own-cutlery policy. Dining alongside breathtaking scenery the fact that you weren't given a fork and a knife with your lunch SHOULD be overlooked, sweetheart. Just get out of your chair and get it yourself.Of course Nelson isn't the only place with bad service.

Recently in Tauranga a friend and I ordered a couple of milkshakes at a café. Hers deviated from the one on the menu - mine was exactly the same. “It would be easier if you had the same milkshakes.” said the I'd-rather-be-somewhere-else waitress. Right. I contemplated that for a second. So I pay $4.50 to have a drink I didn't really want? No way! I delivered my decision back to the waitress. Within minutes she was back with our two differing milkshakes. So what was so hard about that again? Perhaps she should have just said “Actually I can't be arsed making TWO milkshakes. I want to go home and get drunk instead.” Because that is often what lies beneath bad service is it not? The distinct impression that this person serving you would rather be somewhere else.

The woman in the department store in the middle of a gossip session with her colleagues. The dairy owner on the phone who continues to serve you without making eye contact. The taxi driver who drives in total grumpy silence as you sit in the back of the taxi watching your fare escalate. The bar tender who treats you as if you're not good enough for HIS bar. The service desk employee who sighs down the phone as you ask what is obviously a stupid question - for the umpteenth time that day.

I've been on the other side. As a waitress I was hardly known for my silver service techniques. A natural klutz, I was typically hung over, tired, PMSing, in love, out of love, on a sugar high, or on a sugar low. Behind the bar I sometimes mixed up people's drink orders. Telemarketing I worked so hard at “smiling down the phone” my face just about ached by the end of my shift. I too often daydreamed about better days.

I've served grumpy, impatient, unreasonable and just plain rude customers. Some deserved a good slap across the face. Yet I was taught that the customer always comes first. No matter how annoying they are.

It's no picnic working in the service industry. But what happened to service with a smile? These days it's often more like service with a grimace. Of course there is good service out there. But it is a rarity to find the kind of service where you feel valued, that comes with an in built feel-good factor - and has you coming back for more. Smile like you mean it. You never know - one day you might.

Demystifying Childbirth For The Uninitiated

2007-04-29T19:42:00.000+12:00

Voices, The Nelson Mail , 17 September 2005
The scary, unknown territory of childbirth that awaits the mum-to-be.

As a first time mum impending childbirth came with a huge question mark. A few months off from my due date I was asked "Has anyone ever told you that it hurts like hell?" Um, yes, I had grasped that much - thanks…

Women birthing on screen tend to pant for a few minutes on a hospital bed, push once and go a bit red. Next the baby slides effortlessly into the doctor's arms. After a few WAAAHS! a somewhat disheveled mum rocks her newborn in her arms, with the obligatory tear in her eye.

In contrast my antenatal class showed videos of women writhing in pain, omitting scary animal-like sounds, and clinging to their support person with clenched fists. Parts of the female anatomy were without a doubt stretched to full capacity. Ouch. It did look like it hurt. A LOT.

With such varying portrayals of childbirth I remained somewhat confused and nervous as to what was ahead for me.

I discovered that mums fell into three categories as far as disclosing their birth experiences went:
1. The Spare No Detail Type - they were bursting at the seams with their labouring tales, sharing frightfully gory details.
2. The I Daren't Speak Up Type - their mouths remained tightly zipped like they daren't utter a word JUST in case the awful truth spilled out.
3. The I'll Just Tell You The Good Bits Type - they shared the warm fuzzy aspects only. The thoughtfully edited version, it was a safe refuge for this mum-to-be.

And just when I'd thought I'd heard it all someone would come out with one of those friend-of-a-friends birth stories that had been exaggerated several times - I hoped.
I read up about the pain relief options. I went to antenatal yoga classes, swam lengths and walked everyday. I even witnessed a friend's drug-free home birth.

Turns out my baby's life was at risk when it was decided I should have an emergency c-section. My baby girl did arrive safely into the world and I remain eternally grateful to all the medical staff who saved the day as such. No amount of preempting can prepare you for the unknown.

Despite how natural and frequent childbirth actually is, it still remains somewhat of a mystery. The birth you expected you'd have (even if you thought you had no expectations - you have them - no matter how small they are), is not the birth you will have. Childbirth rocked my world in more ways than I could have ever imagined. It is the aftermath of childbirth that is often not discussed. Women aren't prepared for the emotional collapse that commonly follows childbirth.
I now understand why women tend to vary so much as far as sharing their accounts of childbirth goes. For some perhaps they never got the chance to debrief after their birthing experience and so talking about it at any given opportunity years down the track is a form of healing. Those who hold their experience close to their hearts may still be dealing with it quietly, in their own way. And the ones who attempt to be PC about it all perhaps don't want to scare mums-to-be from what is one of the most amazing experiences of a woman's life - even if it doesn't go as planned.

Size Doesn't Matter (When You're Up The Duff)

2007-04-29T19:40:00.000+12:00

Voices, The Nelson Mail, 8 January 2005
The unsolicited comments that can be fired at the vulnerable pregnant woman exposed.

It is a strange yet wondrous time being pregnant. For the first few months I got to treasure the miracle of a life growing inside me privately because I wasn't showing yet.

Fast forward to six months, and three weeks. My doctor warned me. "When you start showing you will become public property". Too right she was. The world has their eyes on you as you waddle past, with that titled walk that only those "showing" share. Apparently `'just looking" isn't a concept for those on the outer, witnessing the pregnant woman's changing shape.

Sure there are compliments. Some women DO glow and look radiant. But a lot of pregnant women are tired and cranky and uncomfortable - somehow the glow gets lost amongst all that. It seems the next best place to focus on is her shape. Now people - tread carefully here. Remember emotionally a pregnant women is experiencing a state that is not dissimilar to permanent PMS. And you are dealing with WOMEN. Those creatures who whether they care to be honest about it or not have at some point in their lives worried about their figure. So when a woman is pregnant and suffering in this permanent state of PMS - would you, REALLY, think it was wise to comment on this woman's shape? There are a number of no-no comments and actions that the average pregnant woman may find unamusing or even unoriginal. 1."You're huge/big"
2."You've grown since I last saw you"
3."Are you expecting twins?"
4."Are you sure you got your due date right?"
5." You could never tell that such and such was pregnant when SHE was six months."
6."Mimicking a pregnant women waddling
7."Exaggerating how much space is needed for her to get by
8."Patting the bump like it's your pet dog

Number 5 is my favourite. Note - EVERYONE knows some size 8 whippet who barely showed in her pregnancy. So you will get compared to her. Whether you are a curvey size 12 like myself or just simply shaped in your own unique way.

No two pregnant women are the same. Just as we are shaped differently before we are pregnant it doesn't change WHEN pregnant. Why would I suddenly get the figure of Claudia Schiffer when pregnant?! I was curvey to begin with so of course when with child, I will remain curvey!

For the most part I am embracing my ever-changing shape. I LOVE that no two pregnant women look alike. I go to antenatal yoga classes and looking around, I can see the pregnant glow - the beauty in every woman in the class. It is only in these classes that I can forget my own shape as we focus on our yoga moves. Suddenly the pregnant shape becomes irrelevant.

As pregnant women though it has to be remembered that most people are trying to come from a good place with their well-meaning comments and actions. Perhaps they think we like to focus on the fact that we are pregnant as pointing out our changing shape may be the only way they know how to connect with us. So I try to take it with a grain of salt. And I will continue to bite my own tongue around any pregnant women that I know…

Everything But The Kitchen Sink

2007-04-29T19:37:00.000+12:00

"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter December/January 2007

It never ceases to amaze me how much gear is needed when traveling with a little one. In the last nineteen months since Amelia's entry into the world, we've been on a few excursions. I have flown to and from Auckland twice with Amelia, without hubby. Earlier this year we had a family trip to Sydney. And we've stayed out at Ruby Bay, a mere 20 minutes drive from Tahuna, at my mums a few times.

Some days I'm good at it. I make my checklist and dash around the house filling a suitcase. Yet for the latest trip away, a simple two nights out at Ruby Bay over Labour w'end, I relaxed the rules a little. There was no list. And so in a very un-Virgo way, I haphazardly packed this and that, aware that this method was probably going to backfire on me.

Which it did. I ended up forgetting a bottle for Amelia (ah, a kind of key ingredient in her night time schedule at this point), my moisturiser, only packed one pair of socks for Amelia and then somehow lost my Pilates DVD between our place and my mums. Still yet to be found. My abs that were slowly toning up are settling back into the relaxed flopping belly they were before I started Pilates. Never fear, I bought another Pilates DVD today, there is hope yet...

My mum said when we were kids she always attached a list of what we'd taken with us to our suitcases so that when we left places we could check we had everything. Good idea. We're heading North over Christmas for two weeks, staying an average of two nights in each place.

The potential to lose precious toys is very high. It is amazing how many toys have been lost so far – out of the buggy. Some sentimental toys – but probably more so for us than Amelia as a few were given to her around her birth. I almost lost a toy she is strangely attached to at the moment the other day. I say strangely 'cos it's a doorstop – that is disguised as a cow. (Or is it a cow disguised as a doorstop??) It's fondly referred to as “sausage -cow”. Amelia insists on going to bed with sausage -cow and it ended up in her buggy the other day only to fall out in the last five minutes of our walk

Thankfully I noticed when we got home that sausage-cow wasn't in the buggy and so hurriedly backtracked. And when I saw sausage-cow in the distance, lying in the intersection between Green and Roto St here in Tahuna I :
1. Prayed that no cars were going to come anytime soon and squash poor sausage-cow.
2. Hoped that no one would see me pathetically pleased to see a cow-doorstop on the road...

Past experience of traveling with Amelia has taught us to bring toys, books and a few Wiggles DVDs. The Wiggles are the only magic trick we have up our sleeves at this point to get Amelia to sit still. They are typically on at the beginning of the day when I shower and at the end of the day, while I prepare tea.

Amelia's music cds seem to be a great source of comfort and entertainment – at the moment she can happily sit by her bookcase going through her books while her music plays for around an hour. So those will be coming up North too – the CDs – not the bookcase!!It certainly is a different kettle of fish traveling with a little one. Gone are the days of chilling out to music or watching an inflight movie on planes. Most flights I spend either encouraging Amelia to sleep or keeping her entertained.

Hubby and I have sat down and attempted to nut out an itinerary for up North. We've decided it's probably best on the days we are driving, to drive during Amelia's nap time which is around two hours at noon which is the average time we'll be on the road between destinations. But if there's any great one thing I've learnt about children it's that plans cannot be set in stone, agendas can change at any moment, and to always allow a lot more time than originally planned for the unexpected.

In our family we've discovered that separate bags for each individual is the easiest way to go. So when we went out to Ruby Bay at Labour weekend Kev and I had medium sized bags each and then Amelia had her very own enormous suitcase containing all her clothes, bedding (for the cot out there that we didn't even use in the end), toys, books, and DVDs. Everything but the kitchen sink, it would seem. :)

Celebrating Dads On The Block

2007-04-29T19:33:00.000+12:00

"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter July/August 2006

Dads. They are underestimated, I believe. A lot of literature and media hype is directed towards women and motherhood and the battles, judgements and dilemmas they face in the modern age. However, in our antenatal class dads were acknowledged as having an important role to play in the grand scheme of things. They were put into groups and asked to share their feelings – in a kiwi bloke kind-of-a-way. I know my hubby was relieved to find that other dads-to-be were just as terrified as he was about the impending birth awaiting them. A lot of pressure goes on the poor dads to be the support person – and that of course, means offering support - in a kiwi bloke kind-of-a-way. What about the dads who are somewhat faint-hearted? I’ve heard of more than one dad who went quite queasy within labour and had to leave the room and breathe quietly into a paper bag somewhere. Or in one case a dad who actually fainted.

A few months back at the Lions playground in Tahuna, I was the only mum present. The rest of the adults were dads. It’s not often I get outnumbered by dads when I go to the playground or to any of Amelia’s weekly activities such as Playgroup and music. Typically the places I frequent with my toddler are littered with mums. And when dads make an appearance, it’s somewhat of a rarity. But dads are hands-on these days.

Fathers are in many cases the strong, unseen force in the family, even though they may be physically absent weekdays. Sure, they go out and bring home the bacon but they do much more than that. Dads in this day and age are very often present at the birth. When I arrived into the world thirty-something years ago, it was common for the men to be pacing the hospital floor, outside the delivery room. How times have changed. If anything it’s considered somewhat abnormal if a dad isn’t present at the birth. Mums may feel somewhat displaced redefining themselves within motherhood after several years in the workforce. But dads have different issues. They are out at work, supporting the family and then at home in hands-on parenting roles quite different to their fathers a generation ago.

My birthing experience was kind of like an outer body experience – a c-section with a general on the side. And so, I don’t have a colourful tale of hours of labour – in fact, I don’t have a tale to tell! I remain to this day completely clueless as to what a contraction even feels like. But, my hubby was there for the whole duration of Amelia’s birth. It was he who held my hand as the general was administered. He who prayed “on demand” for me. He who watched me being prepped for a c-section and then subsequently, he who witnessed the c-section. And it was he who held Amelia for the first time – at least a good half hour before I was “awake.”
And hubby has been hands on with Amelia all the way. He has been chief bather from the very beginning. And for the last few months has put Amelia to bed as well which has freed up my evenings to, er, watch tv…

But it’s not just the physical, hands on stuff that dads help us mums out with. It’s the emotional too. Hubby was there through all my irrational and hormonal-filled tears in the early months. He was there as I learnt to breastfeed, and he endured (and still does!) living with a sleep deprived wife, as well as skimping on sleep himself.

We try to work as a team and to support each other as much as possible. After all, we are raising our daughter and working (some weeks) almost 60 hours between us without any outside support. And I work just eight hours out of that so you do the math. Hubby is the one out there doing the long hours in the workforce.

I can see what a special and close bond Amelia and her dad share. I am lucky to have such a hands-on hubby with our daughter. When he gets up in the weekend to Amelia’s 6am start and I get to lie in a bit longer, it is wonderful to hear them laughing together in the lounge. And to get the extra zzzs of course. Lately I’ve been broadening my horizons a bit outside of motherhood. Going out with girlfriends the odd Saturday night and even venturing to the gym. I know I never need worry as not only is Amelia in the safest hands possible, she is also in the most loving. They say a mothers work is never done but in all fairness, is a fathers work ever done either?

Making It through THAT First Year

2007-04-29T19:30:00.000+12:00

"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter May/June 2006

These days we are able to choose when we want to start parenthood. Often we may have ventured quite a way from our hometown and so when we start our own family, we may find we aren't surrounded by our extended family. Not only that, our friends may be at different life stages as well as also living in different cities.

This is the exact boat hubby and I found ourselves in. We'd been in Nelson for three years. Although we'd met a few people in our time here, we didn't have any close friends or family around. It was one of the reasons we signed up with the Parent Center - so we could start a support network. And I had heard that a coffee group typically started up from the antenatal class.

Sure enough just a week or two after our last antenatal class finished, a couple from our class hosted our first get-together. A year on us mums still meet up every second Tuesday, the dads have the occasional beer and we have get-togethers for all of us every now and then.
It was at these coffee groups that I found the missing piece to my life somewhat - women going through the same life change I was. Perhaps we aren't bosom buddies just yet, as they are still very new friendships, but I feel I have a very special bond with them all. And that was certainly apparent at our combined 1st birthday party held in early April. Things were kept simple with a cake. It was a real celebration of our 1st year of parenthood, acknowledging how far we and our babies have come in that first year.

On a deep level I do feel as though I have graduated in a sense. Mummyhood still comes with its challenges. But the chaos and uncertainty that filled the first year has greatly diminished. Hubby and I have our evenings back! We have made the psychological move from two to three. It is no longer a big deal shuffling life around our addition.The thing is parenthood isn't something that you can be greatly prepared for. Not on an emotional level anyway. Physically you can decorate the nursery to your heart's content, and apply for maternity leave or whatever it is you need to do to make some financial preparations. But no one can prepare you for the mental shifts, the highs and lows and the general overhaul most of us go through during this rite of passage known as the first year of parenthood.

All I heard in the wings were dire warnings right from the start. About sleep. Losing your life as you knew it forever. And how with each change within baby's first year, MORE ominous warnings were issued:

1. Before baby arrives “Your time won't be your own.”
2.Once baby arrives “It only gets better.”
3.Once baby gets mobile “It only gets worse.”
4. When baby is almost mobile “Bet you can't wait til she walks.”
5. When baby starts walking “You'll wish she never started.”

Not a lot of us want advice when we go into parenthood. Yet at the same time, we don't often want to go in completely flying blind. So we go to antenatal classes, read some books and observe others from the sidelines making our own conclusions as to what we might be in for.
I was pretty lucky in the advice department. I didn't get a lot thrown my way. The advice I got that proved to be invaluable was sleeping/resting when your baby does. It helped my sanity in those early days of motherhood. And I still apply it to this day!
And some personal gems I've discovered myself for the new parent:

1. You don't have to be perfect.
2. You ARE a great mum (or dad).
3. Love is the best thing you can give your baby.
4. Don't be swayed by marketers that insist you need this and that to make your baby sleep/roll/sit/stand/crawl/walk/poo/fart.
5. Crying It Out is NOT the only way to get a baby to sleep. Don't feel pressured to use this method if it makes you uncomfortable!
6.How you parent your baby is your business and your business alone.
7.Don't feel less than because your baby doesn't sleep through the night. Whatever age your baby is!!

Just as no one can prepare the new parent for how hard and tiring parenting can be; the flip side is no one can explain how amazing it is either. I wouldn't change my first year of mummyhood for the world.

Getting The Balance Right

2007-04-29T19:28:00.000+12:00

"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter March/April 2006

As a singleton in the work force, I used to recommend that coworkers not talk to me before 10am because I simply wasn't a morning person. After a sausage roll and a cup of tea loaded with sugar, I was normally able to string a few words together at morning tea time. However I learnt quite early in the piece that with motherhood there just isn't that guaranteed quiet cup of tea in the morning. So a walk first thing in the morning with Amelia in her buggy is the time where I get my personal space to revive and start the day fresh. I also spend a few quiet minutes journaling every night as a way of letting go of the day positively.
I divide my time in three ways - me time, us (husband and wife) time and our (the whole family) time. If one of these areas isn't given the attention it needs; the other areas will undoubtedly be affected.

Nurturing me time is essential to my sanity and my family's. Just ask my husband. If I don't get enough exercise, alone time or space to nurture my creativity - I'm a grump. I work two nights a week. Mingling with other staff reminds me that I am more than a mum. Even though most nights the other mums and I end up talking about kids. And child birth. Much to the horror of the only male occasionally rostered on night shift.

Us time is still a work-in-progress with hubby and I. We have family meals together, go for walks in the weekend and catch the occasional movie when Nana is in town. At eleven months Amelia isn't a threat to conversation but as she's on the brink of toddlerhood; that will change. Soon us time will need to be rethought.
Our time is simply spending time together as a family whether it be hanging out at home, at the park or at the beach.

We've just got back from a family trip to Sydney. Even within a holiday it was a matter of finding the right balance so that the whole family could have a good time. We managed to attend a wedding, hang out with extended family, catch up with friends as well as have some family time and us time. Every morning I went for a walk with Amelia so I got in my me time. Nana looked after Amelia while we were at the wedding and reception so hubby and I had our first evening out together in at least a year! It was like a date that we needed - nothing like a few eighties classics to dust off the dancing cobwebs.

Getting the balance right for us was a matter of prioritising our family values. The house and material possessions will always be out there. But the first few precious years of Amelia's life won't be. Sure I could have probably managed more hours in the workforce to get us to our financial goals a little faster but at what price? To miss out on this amazing first year that has unfolded before my eyes. It was a family decision that I work just casually in the first few years of Amelia's life. Even me working eight hours a week puts a bit of a strain on family life as it means hubby is looking after Amelia two nights a week on top of working fulltime and sometimes overtime. But it works for us. We just have enough time to smell the roses. And that's what's important to us.

Out and About With Baby

2007-04-29T19:23:00.000+12:00

"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter January/February 2006

As Amelia was an Easter baby the two of us spent the first few months of her life quite happily indoors. Most Kiwi winters I've tolerated close to freezing temperatures inside. With a newborn on board, it was the perfect excuse to have the heater on permanently making home a cosy place to be. Even though our power bill soared this winter gone, I will fondly remember the Winter of 2005 as been a luxuriously warm one. It seemed there wasn't much point to venture much further than the letterbox some days. Breastfeeding frequently through the day, I entertained myself watching Dr Phil and Oprah and reading mags and books and napping on the couch. So really, why would I want to go anywhere else? There was something quite delicious about snuggling indoors with my new baby girl.

But then the day came when I of course had to venture beyond the comfort of our family nest. Coffee group was a great incentive to get out of the house. In fact I remember going to coffee group with Amelia when she was just 10 days old. Our first real outing, I was just a little overwhelmed at the prep required for what seemed to be a relatively small outing in the grand scheme of things. Buggy, change of clothes, nappies, car seat. Man oh man. And then we stayed in town for several hours so to the “parent room” I went for the first time to feed my ravenous daughter. New to breastfeeding and to handling a newborn outside the privacy of my own home, I left the house very much with my training wheels on.

Nine months down the track, taking Amelia out hasn't changed a lot except for me being slightly more relaxed. But don't let me fool you. I still have my days. Not so long ago while coordinating taking Amelia out of the car and putting her into her buggy, I didn't use the brakes on her buggy. A gust of wind had it hurtling through a car park, thankfully without her in it. But an elderly couple panicked and raced after the empty buggy, their brows creased with worry. Even though Amelia wasn't in the buggy I still felt somewhat silly that I'd unwittingly inspired a couple of old timers to run in the hope of saving the day, only to come back with an empty buggy with me holding Amelia sheepishly in my arms.

Add sleep deprivation to the picture and I am destined to be juggling somewhat with the general coordination of baby gear, among other things. One time I met a friend for a coffee and couldn't find my car keys anywhere to lock the car. So I had my cup of tea nearby while watching my unlocked car like a hawk. When I returned to my car I found the keys dangling in the boot. Oh dear. A common term for behaviour such is this is “nappy brain”. I'm so glad now that I'm a mum I have an excuse for my blonde moments, as such!

In recent months Amelia and I have been a little more adventurous in our mother-baby outings. During the average week we might go to Playgroup in Tahuna, to our antenatal class coffee group, to a music group, to the park to go on the swing and/or to the beach for a play in the sand or go on a play date.

Some days we just play outside in our garden in the shade under a sun umbrella. I grab a few toys from inside and put them on a picnic blanket for her to play with. For Amelia The Great Outdoors is simply the world outside our house. Our tiny garden is a constant source of wonderment from bumble bees buzzing to a plastic pink flower that whirls happily in the wind to Warren The Cat who stalks the garden like the lion he thinks he is. But typically Warren is the most exciting toy of all as Amelia spends a large part of her day crawling after him. He in turn spends a large part of his day inching away from her grasping fingers.

Examining a blade of grass captivates Amelia, as do the leaves on the trees. Daily rituals like walks to the letterbox in the mornings to get the mail and in the afternoons to get the paper are a simple pleasure. Amelia willingly helps carry any mail back. I call out “Warren” and he trots down the driveway after us, typically collapsing about halfway down for a roll in the gravel and ever so hopeful that he might get a bit of a pat.

These days Amelia enjoys watching the world go by from the comfort of her buggy. The other day we went for a walk on Tahuna Beach. A windy day, Amelia enjoyed watching the kite surfers, the rough surf and the general going-ons on the beach. Patting a couple of dogs was her highlight and she let out a delighted squeal when one dog licked her on the leg.
Recently Amelia's experience of the world broadened further when I took her up to Auckland to visit family and friends. I got to experience flying with a “dream baby” on the way up - non-crying, non-fussy etc. And on the way back the reverse. Passengers were swiveling their heads to get a glimpse of my little fusspot. It was the longest hour and a half, sitting in a space no bigger than a toilet pew with a baby that had ants in her pants.

This Christmas our whole family including Warren headed to Ruby Bay for just over a week to stay with extended family. We loaded the car up with the usual baby paraphernalia including a paddling pool. There was no need to go far as for Amelia a few days on a one acre property located next to the sea is a bit like going to a national park.

A couple of visits to Natureland have provided Amelia with cheap thrills as such and in turn, have delighted us, her parents. So although I don't envision us tramping the Grand Canyon with Amelia in the near future, I can see that her unbridled enthusiasm with the great outdoors as she gets to knows it, will continue to inspire our family unit to step outside and explore our natural world. After all, watching your baby daughter squinting upwards to get a glimpse of a passing plane as the wind gently combs through her hair while happily kicking her feet in the sand is as intoxicating and gratifying as it gets.

And Baby Makes Three

2007-04-29T19:18:00.000+12:00

"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter November/December 2005

As a singleton-gypsy, I prided myself in being able to fit my worldly belongings into a backpack and a suitcase.
And then I bought my first ever couch five years ago. For this materially-challenged individual it was a big deal. And things spiraled downwards from there. Within five years I bought more furniture, adopted a cat, married and had a baby.

Before kids I thought even as a trained nanny that I understood what it was like to be first-time parents. In hindsight I was completely clueless about the dramatic transformation of becoming a family. Most made it look so easy that I was quite flabbergasted at what a huge life change having a baby really is.

Hubby and I were never great partiers yet we’ve cut down on our brunches, DVD and movie-watching, junk food consumption, general hanging out time and reckless spending. As time passes, our former life is slowly seeping back in a revised form. And now that I am back on a casual basis in the work force again, I have realigned my former child-free self with motherhood. And I have changed. Life has slowed down enough to finally stop and smell the roses. Nowadays my weekly highlight is coffeeing once a week somewhere and treating myself to a muffin or a piece of carrot cake. Life is so much more simple yet so much richer.

Every now and then I have these moments when it dawns on me that I am a mum at home living in the burbs and how much I love that! Once a world traveller, now in the last seven months I haven’t travelled further than the distance between Tahuna and Ruby Bay. Once hip and trendy, now I try to avoid the temptation of clothes shopping. Amelia’s wardrobe is better than mine! Once I was the nurturer within my friendships often instigating emails and phone calls. Now my nurturi