Shoelaces

Critterbug started school in February. He is 5 - he'll be 6 in September. Until now he's has shoes with some form of velcro fastening, because thats really all there is around. But this year he also started playing Auskick (little kid's AFL - aussie football). He's incredibly uncoordinated, but he has fun, and he looks cute in his uniform.

Theres just one problem. The spikes. They have laces.

He's a smart kid. He can count by tens, by twos, and probably fives if I asked him. He can do simple addition and subtraction sums, and is reading and writing amazingly well - if you ignore the fact that he seems unable to differentiate between capital and lowercase letters. He just picks one at random with no thought as to what should be used. He also uses words like "delectable" to describe dinner. No, I don't know where he picked that up.

Do to the smarty-pants factor, he's picking up the whole shoe-tying thing pretty well. He's got the concept, just needs a little reminding occasionally, and his complete and utter lack of coordination doesnt seem to be hindering him too much.

No, the problem isn't with him. Its with me.

Oh don't be stupid, of course I can tie my laces. We weren't allowed to play in the playground at school until we could tie our laces, becasue the teachers refused to tie everyones shoes at the end of lunch everday, and we had to take our shoes off to play. I learned pretty quick.

The problem isn't that I can't tie my laces, the problem is that I can't tie his.

My husband taught him how, and he does his VERY DIFFERENTLY. I can't make my fingers do his way.

• Cross the laces, tuck one under, pull tight. CHECK.
• Make a loop. CHECK.
• Wrap the other lace around the loop. CHECK.
• Pull the wrapped lace through the hole and form a second loop, pulling it tight. NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He makes a loop BEFORE he pushes it through the hole!!! I CAN'T DO IT!! I get in theory that you end up with the same result, I can see that you get the same result, but I can't make my fingers do it! They get all twisted and dumb and just won't do it!!

And it's made me curious. Is this simply an individual difference, caused by someone in our respective pasts figuring out different ways to do it, or is it a larger scale difference, anerican V australian/english?

I'm so tempted to just have the kid use bunny ears. Make my life easier by far.

noise in the small hours

slowly, awareness comes. it is cold, and dark, and i do not want to be awake. my furnace-hot husband is curled up in a ball behind me, our backs pressed together, the only part of me that is warm. vaguely i am aware that i should pull the blanket up, but today is technically the first day of summer, and i stubbornly refuse to give in, especially as up til now it has been so hot we've been forgoing even a sheet at night.

i roll over, determining to go back to sleep, ignoring the slightly distressed tiny noises the man makes whenever i move away from him. after six years, they hardly register, unless he is facing me and i have to disengage his suddenly vicelike arms and reassure him i am not going anywhere. with my face pressed against his back he relaxes, and i allow consciousness to leave me again. as i slowly drift, a noise jars me back to the cold - obviously the reason i was awake to begin with. insistent and annoyed, my daughter is awake, and only milk will satisfy her. i pull the blanket onto the bed as i leave the room, and my husband barely stirs.

in the dark and the cold, the creak of the floorboards is deafening, and i am sure i will wake everyone. miraculously, only the mini-one notices, and her insistent annoyance becomes fear and sadness when i do not materialise next to her bed the moment she hears my footsteps. her sobs of anguish are only quieted when tiny outstretched arms and feathery soft head find their resting place on my shoulder. in the heat of yesterday, the sleepsack was her only nightwear, but now, in the dark, her pudgy arms are cold to touch, and i reach for a tiny soft shirt to keep her warm, before we return to my bed to nurse.

my footsteps still creaking, suddenly i freeze. a voice, loud in the darkness, and baby's head startles off my shoulder - i have to make sure and get more chicken so we don't run out. silent laughter racking my body, i try not move, as her tiny head swings from side to side and she questions into the dark, not understanding. i just didn't know anymore so i went and did it. my son has inherited my sleeptalking, and i wonder, not for the first time, how sleeptalker and nightnurser do not constantly disturb each other.

eyes adjusted to the dark, i see the skinny body sprawled across the bed. one foot hangs off the side, his head is pressed against the wall, toy-puppy gripped firmly by the arm twisted behind his arched back. satisfied he is still sleeping, i pull pirate-covered blankets over my cold skinned boy - when do we get to go back to the zoo for burgers again? - and make my way back to my own bed with the now-warmer-girl. tired and hungry, she cries again when i lay her down, never remembering in her half-awake state that i will be joining her shortly and the milk will flow. as we adjust ourselves to more comfortable positions, a sleepy arm is thrown over me, and she startles off, squealing with delight as she feels daddy's hand. he is oblivious, lost in the sleep i crave, and she soon resumes nursing, the possibility of daddy superseded by the reality of milk.

comfortable between two warm bodies, i search out the clock in the dark before i let sleep claim me again. 3-4-9 i see in blurry green. almost 5am, as we don't change this clock for daylight savings. slowly the dark becomes complete as tired eyes close, and sleep cautiously returns. i drift, warm and dark, till again i am jarred awake, by the 5am alarm calling the man to get up and ready for work. he stirs, moving away to end the jarring alarm, my back suddenly cold without his bodyheat to warm me, and then, silence.

slowly sound and warmth return, wakeup call ignored in search of rest. small body in my arms warm and still, save for twitching fingers and breath-raised chest, husband behind me asleep almost instantly, his constantly-hot-body keeping my back warm in the cold, hand holding his daughter's, his sleep-steady breath beside my ear lulling me to my own sleep once more, and blocking out all other noises in the small hours.

My Husband Is Not Special

I have a friend whose husband is a cop. Another is married to a doctor, another a head chef. My father is a lawyer. My oldest friend helps businesses find solutions to their biggest problems, his father helps with the pipelines all across Australia. A lot of my friends husbands are, or are training to be, ministers.

My husband is the manager of a refrigeration parts warehouse. Before that, he worked on the counter in a warehouse. Before that, he drove a truck, delivering stuff from a warehouse. Before that, he was the heavy lifting boy in a warehouse. Before that he was tech support, telling old people how to connect their computers to the internet.

Its very easy to see what he does as less important than the other men I've mentioned. He doesn't save lives, or catch baddies. He doesn't ensure our country's sewerage, gas, and water are all working. He doesn't know the bible inside-out and backwards, read it in three different languages, and speak to a congregation every week about our Lord. The only people he cooks for live in this house.

He doesn't have a good singing voice, he can't play an instrument. His writing is incredibly messy, and he can't paint or draw. He doesn't have an extraordinary memory, and he doesn't make up amazing stories. He isn't drop dead gorgeous by most people's standards, though I wouldnt change anything about him.

He sells copper pipe and refrigerant gas, components for cool rooms and filters for air conditioners, stud finders and tape measures, and gloves. He drives a truck and delivers parts to the fridgies and plumbers and sparkies who actually use the stuff he sells.

My husband is not special.

But without him, when the coolroom at your supermarket breaks down, everything is wasted. He goes to work in the middle of the night to get stuff for the technicians so the supermarket doesn't lose $50'000 worth of dairy (true story. He left well before midnight and didn't come home till the small hours). He sells the parts to keep your local department store air conditioned. He supplies the people who service the steelworks.

All of us have a job to do. Some look more important on the surface, but none is without worth. Just as none of our lives are without worth. God created each and every one of us, and he gave us each a job. Who knows what that job is? I don't. You don't. Only He knows what we do and why. But none of us is unimportant.

Fighting those jealous feelings

My husband and I got married when I was six months pregnant with Critterbug. Now, while obviously we didn't wait for marriage*, I did wait for him. He was my first, and will hopefully be my only (since for him not to be, one of three horrible things has to happen). I was not, however, his first, and sometimes that bothers me.

I know all about his priors. Who, when, where. While some women prefer not to know details, my curiosity is far too strong, and I just had to know what I was up against. I also get a giggle out of his stories, and it gives me an insight into who he was, and therefor who he is. It doesn't bother me knowing about these other women. I know he loves me, I know he chose me, and I know that no matter his previous experiences, he wants to wake up every morning with me. But sometimes I get jealous.

There are women out there who have a piece of my husband that I will never have. Women he knew before he ever met me, women who make up a part of his life that I will never be a part of. Oddly though, its not them that I'm mostly jealous of (although there are occasional twinges). When we started going out, he was almost 23, and had calmed down a lot from his teenage partying days (he has calmed down even more since then). They knew the boy, I married the man. I think I got the better end of the deal. And to be jealous of them, I also have to be jealous of everyone else who knew him before I did. His best friend, who he's know since 5th grade. His mate he rented his first apartment with. The girl he had a crush on in high school, who only thought of him as a friend. And yes, there are occasional twinges of jealousy there too, but they are fleeting, mere wishes that I could have known him longer.

Who I'm really jealous of though, is those women who aren't in this situation at all. Those who never thought "how do I compare?" because there was nothing to compare to. Those who never thought "wait.. what number does this make me?" because they knew they were the first. Those who have never experienced any of the thoughts that have gone through my head over the last 6 years.

I wouldn't choose any other man to be married to, but sometimes I wish our lives had been a little different.



*This is something I both regret, and don't, at the same time. I regret that I was disobedient to God, but I most certainly do NOT regret the consequences of my disobedience: my son, directly caused by the disobedience; my marriage, fast-tracked because of my pregnancy (my husband believes in loooooooooooooooooooong engagements. like 3 or 4 years kind of long); moving back to Australia; my daughter; my husband's current job, necessitating a move for us out of the city. I struggle with this dichotomy of my feelings, but in the end I figure if God has forgiven my transgressions, I need to just forget about it and move on.

5 years

A year ago today, I was feeling like crap. Tired, nauseous, and I couldn't stop coughing. I didn't know I was pregnant.

2 years ago, I was trying to figure out what to wear for my dad's wedding.

3 years ago, I was reaching the end of my weight loss. 15 kg in 3 months, then I hit a wall.

4 years ago, I was probably trying to figure out how to stop my 9 month old from eating the cat food.

5 years ago today, I married my sweetheart and became the happiest woman in the world.

I Don't Like The Way My Husband Does The Laundry

I know, I know, I should stop complaining about nappy-fluff on the clothes and just be grateful I have a husband who knows that a washing machine even exists, let alone does the laundry at night while I'm feeding the baby and shoos me out of the room if I try to take over.

I love my man.

Not stupid, just different. Very, very different.

“Boys are stupid. Throw rocks at them.”

Maybe you've seen it on a T-shirt, maybe a sticker on a car. Maybe you have no idea what I'm talking about, but its everywhere. Boys are stupid. Throw rocks at them. Yet another dig at our other halves.

Sometimes its tempting to believe though. Sometimes they do things that are just so... different. Their minds don't work the same as ours, and its easy to mistake this for stupidity. I'm sure they think the same thing about us.

One of my jobs is laundry-put-away-er. This also translates to clothes-sorter-outer-er, since I'm the only one who knows what all we have. A few months back I told hubby I was frustrated because I couldn't fit everything in his t-shirt drawer, and he told me to just go ahead and put in storage anything I didn't think he wore any more – if he missed something, he'd ask for it back. So I attacked that drawer with a vengeance, culling madly as I went. You would not believe how much better everything fits now.

Anyway.

Since there was space to actually see the clothes, and since I'd noticed hubby having trouble finding what he was looking for sometimes, I decided to sort the clothes in the drawer in a more easily accessible layout: light t-shirts in one pile; dark t-shirts in a second; sleeveless under-shirts in a third; and shorts off to the side. It was easy to see what I'd done, no pile was disproportionately bigger than the others, and it ought to make his life easier.

Or so I thought.

A couple weeks back I saw him wildly rummaging through his drawer, and then he asked me if a particular shirt was in the wash. I told him no, but since its black he'd be better off looking in the dark pile than the light pile. He looked at me as if I'd grown a second head.

Sarah: There's a light pile, a dark pile, a singlet pile, and a shorts pile.
Hubby: Are you sure?
S: Yes, I did it when I got rid of everything months ago!!
H: Why didn't you tell me?
S: I thought it would be obvious, since everything in that pile is light, and everything in that pile is dark, and I've always kept your singlets separate!
H: Its only obvious now that you've told me!!

He didn't see. He absolutely did not see that one pile contained light clothes, and the other was mostly black. He's not stupid. My man is a smart man. He does stuff I don't even pretend to understand, and makes it look easy. But his mind just doesn't work the same way as mine.

Boys aren't stupid. Just different.

husband-unit

seen this a couple places and since im totally lacking in motivation right now, here we go.



1. He’s sitting in front of the TV: what is on the screen?

anything. probably news, or some scifi show like babylon 5.


2. You’re out to eat. What kind of dressing does he get on his salad?

honey-mustard.


3. What is one food he doesn’t like?

pasta. lasagna counts as pasta, macaroni does not.


4. You go out to the bar. What does he order?

some sort of beer. little creatures or hoegarden probably.


5. Where did he go to high school?

somewhere in the mojave desert in california.


6. What size shoe does he wear?

um... 10 i think. same as me. possibly he wears a 10 1/2?


7. If he was to collect anything, what would it be?

swords.


8. What is his favorite type of sandwich?

um... i dont know. ham/turkey/cheese/lettuce, or peanutbutter and jam, probably.


9. What would the Husband eat every day if he could?

oatmeal raisin cookies. i made some the other day. he asked me not to make any more because he eats them too fast and hes trying to lose weight.


10. What is his favorite cereal?

muesli. how boring is he?


11. What would he never wear?

pink. ive tried. he has worn a dress and makeup (and a very long wig) for halloween, and he let me put lots of little butterfly clips in his hair, but he wont wear pink.


12. What is his favorite sports team?

um.. i think the swannies. YAY!!! we'll make an aussie of him yet!


13. Who is his best friend?

hopefully me? but since i dont think it meant spouses, id say this one girl he's known since they were 12 or something. the only woman i know isnt a threat when he says 'i love you' to her.


14. What is something you do that he wishes you wouldn’t do?

tear my toenails off instead of clipping them. he doesnt mind the talking in my sleep though.. he thinks thats funny.


15. How many states has he lived in?

in australia? one. in the USA? three i think. and england also.


16. What is his heritage?

english (mother) and italian (father) mostly. also a little french i think. on both sides. he just looks italian though. my wog boy.


17. You bake him a cake for his birthday; what kind?

white chocolate cheesecake with raspberry goo on top.


18. Did he play sports in high school?

yes.. american football and basketball i believe.


19. What could he spend hours doing?

video games. internet. gardening. BBQ.




so thats the husband unit.

allergies, addendum

asked hubby about his poison ivy rash. apparently he was got by poison SUMAC (well exCUUUUUUUUSE me, since its the same thing in poison ivy, oak and sumac that causes the rash and a lot of people dont know theres a difference anyway) and ended up looking rather like this, but less red, almost like this. and his arms were so swollen he couldnt bend them.

apparently he also got it on his legs once and the bubbles all had green pimple-type heads on them - the poison building up. he was told by doctors that his best option was to have a hot oatmeal bath and scratch to get it all out.

yuck.

oooooooooooooooh how we grow up

when my husband (then boyfriend) and i first moved in together, laundry was my responsibility. since he worked monday-friday, and i only worked a couple days a week, it would have been silly to do it any other way. so i did the laundry.

and i was soooooooo embarrassed. because it meant i had to touch his... underwear. luckily the apartments had dryers, not a washing line, or i would have died of embarrassment. and when the laundry was done, i would put mine away, hang up anything of his that could be hung up, and leave the rest in the basket. partly because i didnt want to put any of his things in the wrong place, partly because i didnt want to touch... his underwear. i was pregnant. with his kid. and i was embarrassed to touch his underwear. sigh.

now, not only do i TOUCH his underwear when i do the washing and put it away, i do random inspections to see if he's neglected to tell me theyre falling apart and we need to buy new ones. (seriously, how can he fail to notice a hole big enough to fit his hand through???) oh how we grow up.

God does not do the sermons at my church

theres a man sitting about 2 feet away from me, who am incredibly thankful for. even though he hasnt responded to a single thing ive said in the last half hour. hes paying much more attention to his own computer. but hes cute when he concentrates, so thats ok. dont tell him i said that.

ive just finished watching an article on 60minutes about the idiotic things kids do, driving too fast. something they mentioned is that the human brain is not fully developed until the age of 25. this means that not only was i still a child when my son was born (i was 22.. i guess im just barely an adult now, at 26), so was my husband. he was 24. and i can believe it. i saw him do some pretty dumb things in the year or so we were together before critter happened. matter of fact i remember doing some dumb things myself. like driving around with my mates during our lunch break, with 7 or 8 of us in a station wagon - one lying down in the boot, 4 squished on the back seat. the front seat was a bench, so three of us fit. at least we werent driving too fast.

but it got me thinking about how grateful i am for him. not simply the fact that none of those dumb things ever got the better of him, but everything. he works hard to provide for us. hes a great cook. he does the dishes. he makes cute faces when hes concentrating (dont tell him i said that). and he loves me, for some reason, just the way i am.

most of my friends are stick insects. they eat too much salad, and work out all the time. i used to look like them, somehow without the salads and working out (oh the lucky 16 yr old me who could eat 4 quarterpounders, 20chicken nuggets, 3 large fries and a thickshake.. in about half an hour. and still look like a twig). not so much anymore. a slowing metabolism and pregnancy has added a fair amount of pudge. and he doesnt mind. "you look like a girl. girls are supposed to be soft and curvy." i look at my ever-expanding, baby-enclosing stomach in the mirror, and i hate it. i still dont think i look pregnant, just fat. i think of my skinny friends, and i wish i looked like them again. "why would you want to look like her? you can see her bones. its gross." (for the record, this 'bony' friend is not extreme.. she doesnt look anorexic by any means, but you can see her hips bones when shes in a swimsuit.) he doesnt mind the stretch marks. he doesnt mind the scars. he doesnt even see the things that bother me the most. if pressed he admits that i could "maybe lose a little weight, for your health. but you look perfect to me."

i dont know why God has given me this amazing man, who is so perfect for me. a friend of mine, who i fancied when i was younger, likes his women skinny. his family rates his girlfriends on the SII - the Stick Insect Index. God didnt give me that man, or any of the other men i knew. he gave me the one that was a match for me. the one i had to travel to the other side of the world to meet.

the one who gave me the cutest child in the world.

last week, in church, i reminded critter that we have to be quiet, so we can hear what the minister is saying, when he tells us about God. when the minister started talking, after the first hymn, critter stood up, straining to see to the front over the heads of the other parishioners. he turned to me with the hugest eyes i've ever seen and said "mummy! is that GOD???" not the best thing to say to a pregnant woman. i nearly wet my pants and had an asthma attack at the same time.

all because of this wonderful match God made.

the men in my life

this is the man i fell in love with.
before you ask, those curls are ALL NATURAL

this is the man who gave me a child.

this is the man who scared the life out of me.shaved without telling me he was going to. surprised me half asleep.

this is the man who chose to leave everything he had ever known, for me.

this is the man i married.
six months pregnant here. not so lucky this time!

twice.

this is the man who held my hand, and stroked my face, and cut the cord, when our son was born.

this is the man who helped me through the down times, and made sure i was ok.


this is the man who kisses it better, and loves our son.
first time my critter or i ever saw/experienced snow

this is the man who always looked out for me.


this is the man who made me laugh.
the sexiest man alive lol

this is the man who prettified my house.


this is the man who gave me another child.

this is the man i fell asleep next to on friday night.

this is the man who bought a new car with me yesterday.shaved for MOVEMBER. much prefer a furry-faced hubby.

these are all the man i love.

well that was a weekend and a half

yesterday we went to the car show. shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiny. shiny shiny shiny cars. SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINY.

hubby is (more than) slightly disturbed by the white ferarri. aparantly they are only allowed to come in yellow and red.

i fell in love with the old cars. like the stuff from 1928.mmmmmmm. pretty.

critter just wanted to see roary the racing car. which we couldnt actually find.


we did have a look at various cars, to see if we're interested in getting one. the astra is just a little too small for two adults and two car seats. and it hates us. the brakes suck, and the engine keeps wanting to die. so a new car is in order before sproglet #2 turns up. the question is just what.


then today we went over to the eastern suburbs to spend some day at the park with dad at the sukkot festival. and the kid ran ALL DAY.

and he doesnt like fairy floss. excuse me? obviously i grew him wrong. maybe i'll do a better job with this one.

now, my feet hurt from walking around the car show yesterday, and i think i'm sunburnt.
but it was fun. and the kid was happy. and everything is good.

now if only i could get him to stop throwing dirt all over himself....

my baby, he grows up too fast

i went to work today. it was good, but tiring.

but thats not the point.

the point is, while i was at work, my two boys got to spend time together. hubby took critter to work with him, then they went out to lunch, and then they went to the shops. and he texted me about all the things my not-so-baby-boy was doing.

apparently, as well as reading, he can do simple addition.

"daddy, you have 2 forks, and 1 knife, so thats three."

he also seems to be going through a growth spurt. i cant even begin to get my head around how much he ate today.

who snuck round behind my back and replaced my sweet little munchkin who loves giving people 'cuggies' with a big happy boy who wants to play in the dirt? well God obviously.. but still. i miss my baby. i know i'll have another one soon enough, a BABY baby, but i miss my critterbug.

i love how grown up he is when he promises to take care of me, and helps me around the house, but i miss those toothless smiles and drooly kisses, and i miss him falling asleep on my lap. he looks so grown up with his hat and his backpack when we go to preschool, and i know my heart will burst when he actually starts school, and i see him standing there in his uniform.

i kinda miss the man i married too, although im totally in love with my husband. but we've grown up so much in the last 4 years, we arent really the same people. i miss the long hair, i miss the freedom. i miss the time alone.

im sure he misses the old me a little too. the sarah that wasnt totally pre-occupied with what the kid is doing, the un-stretchmarked body. but i know he loves me just as i am. i look in the mirror and see stretchmarks and sag. he sees a beautiful wife.

hopefully his perception wont change now that he wears glasses :D

I just don't know how to help

My husband's mother recently found us on facebook. Really not that hard to do when you know someone's name, is it. And i suppose its a good thing. International phone calls are expensive, even with a phonecard, and this way she can see pictures of everyone too. But.... it does cause some problems.

My husband does not get on terribly well with his family. Especially his mother's side it seems. His fathers side is not so bad, since he hardly has contact with those siblings, and hence nothing to have problems with. His mother, and his siblings through her however... well.

The major thing at the moment is, of course, the baby. She wants to know what it is. Hubby wants to know what it is. I don't. I didn't find out with the last one, and I don't want to find out this time. I told hubby he could find out - I'd stick my fingers in my ears and shout LALALALALALA while he was told - but he said it wouldn't work. He'd end up letting it slip. So we aren't going to find out. He got a message from his mother, and since he was in a bad mood and doesn't get along with her to begin with, he responded in a sarcastic manner. So she called him.

Which is probably a good thing, because its the only time he ever finds out how his father is doing. He had a stroke 2 years ago, and is basically paralyzed. He can talk a bit, and his mind is all there, but he can't move much, and he won't do his physical therapy because it hurts. And his so-called best friend, to whom he signed over power of attorney, has stolen all his money. So they need to cancel that, and now hubby's sister, who isn't his fathers daughter, and has problems of her own, is in charge of expenses.

And yesterday she gave hubby's mother a bunch of money, because hubby's father wants her to be able to come out here and see the baby after its born. He can't afford this. He also wants to send us money to buy something for the kids. He can't afford that either. And now my husband is sad because he is so far away from his father, and he can't do anything. He thinks that if he was there, things would be better. Possibly true. He would have had power of attorney instead of the friend, and his father would still have his money. He's been taking care of his family for years, he knows what to do. But his father still would have had the stroke, and would still be refusing physical therapy. And we would probably be worse off, and hubby would be stressed beyond belief all the time, instead of for a few days after the occasional phonecall or email.

And I just don't know how to help. I don't know what to say, or what to do. He is a long way from his family, and they are hurting, and he is hurting. And my hugs just don't seem to be helping.

more in love than ever

4 years ago today, or close enough since i cant be bothered figuring out the time change, i was in las vegas, holding hands with my new husband. most of our family and close friends were there, with a few notable absences. most of my family and friends were in australia, and therefor couldnt make it, and his father decided he would rather visit his girlfriend in china than attend his own sons wedding.

i couldnt stop smiling, and he wouldnt let go of me. it was as if he was afraid i might vanish if he let me out of his sight or grasp. and our mothers were very mother-at-wedding. i still dont understand his mother's choice in outfit, but she was happy, and she was there.

it was hot. very very hot. and im glad we were inside in the coolth. did i mention i was 6 months pregnant at the time? we did things a little out of order, and im not very proud of that. then again, if we HADNT gone out of order, we might not be married, and i definitely wouldnt have the beautiful child who is currently riding his bicycle around the house.

weve had some tough times in the past 4 years. packing a house at 6 months pregnant wasnt fun. and he was a little scared to fly across the world with his pregnant new wife, to a new country where he didnt know anyone other than said wife. the birth of the beautiful child was a little traumatic for all involved, and my husband had a lot of trouble living in the same house as my sister. losing a child was tough for me, and though it didnt affect him the same, my pain has bothered him. finances have not been great, though we definitely have enough to currently survive and a little. hes on his third job, and there are a lot of things we need to do to the house. we cannot afford a place of our own without moving far enough away that he cannot get to work, and i cannot get to shops, so we rely on the kindness of our mother to let us live in her house while she lives and works interstate. in return we fix up what we can, and we pay all the bills - we just cannot pay rent, and with house prices and interest rates the way they are, buying is so far off as to be completely laughable.

but ultimately, its been good. hes made some friends, he likes it here. our relationship has strengthened and deepened. we had known each other only 16 months when we got married, and i am still learning new things about him. he is a good provider, though he doesnt believe it, and no amount of insistence on my part will convince him. he is a great father, a wonderful husband, and absolutely the love of my life.

i dont know what God has planned for our lives. why it was so important for us to be together that i went against everything i had ever believed. but i am glad to have this beautiful man in my life, who i love so much it hurts. this man who makes my heart sing, and who i want to please more than just about anything.


and i pray that Gods plan involves us being together for a very, very long time.

if i didnt know better....

id say i was pregnant again. ive been incredibly cranky, and suddenly i REALLY REALLY want one of those egg sandwiches my mum used to make... boiled egg cut into tiny pieces and mixed up in too much mayonnaise....

i hate eggs. and mayonnaise makes me gag.

but i cant get the memory of those sandwiches out my mind, my nose, my mouth... im salivating just thinking about them. GROSS. the idea of them absolutely disgusts me. but i really really want one.

good thing we dont have mayonnaise in the house or i might be tempted.


in other news, i cant really think of anything.

oh wait. i remember.

i have a job.



ill just wait for a moment while you all pick your jaws up off the floor and/or stop yelling at me for working.



better? thankyou.


i have a job. a little little job. i am... The Invigilator!!

ahem.

about 2 saturdays a month i get up far earlier than i would like, get hubby to drop me off at the station, catch a train into the city and them spend the next 8 hours or so supervising overseas students sitting english language tests, and then marking said tests.

this gives us a little extra money, and gives my boys some time together without Mummy Interference. even though hubby sometimes has to work on saturdays, its only from 8-12, and hes allowed to take the munchkin with him, so they still get to spend time together.

it does make our weekends shorter, and it means i have to trust my man to do the groceries... which is a little hard for me to do, i admit. i write a very detailed list, including what he can buy, if its below a certain price, and which store to get each item from. this would all be a lot easier if my shopping method didnt consist so much of getting everything on the list, and then going up and down the aisles grabbing stuff i know we use regularly, and is currently on special, but wasnt in the catalogue. like toiletpaper, sponges, evaporated milk, tortillas...

anyway, you dont want to know all that. back to my job. i get less than 200$ each day, but this means i make less than the lowest tax bracket, so I DONT PAY TAXES. so all the money comes straight to the family.

and this is where my husband becomes incredibly wonderful all over again.

i am a compulsive saver. he is not. so im in charge of the money. he doesnt even want to know how much we have. but the compulsive saving does have downsides. if i see something in the shops that i like, and even need, but can in any way do without, i wont get it. even if we can afford it. massive 40% off underwear sale, all my underwear has holes in it but still technically not 'falling apart'? wont buy any. 2 for 1 shoe sale and the straps are falling off on my nicest shoes? no new shoes for me!! which is incredibly stupid, because when i empty the washing machine to find all my clothes have disintegrated, and i go to the shops to get new underwear/socks/shirts/whatever, not only will it all invariably be full price, there wont be anything in my size anyway. and when i discover on monday that i have a birthday party on saturday to go to and my only pair of nice brown shoes (because any clothes i own that will go with the black shoes are either too grotty or have since fallen apart) somehow managed to lose a heel in my wardrobe and have been stretched too much to fit me anyway, i will go to every shoe shop i know of, and find that every brown pair in my size has been sold already, unless i want heels so high that i cant walk, but at least ill be able to see clear across the world when i wear them! (i am about 6ft tall. anything bigger than 2 inches makes me look ridiculous.)

not so now that i have this job. because my wonderful, gorgeous, incredibly sweet husband has made a Rule. we have very few Rules, but the ones he has made, i try my hardest to stick to. (1. no new sewing supplies - except to finish current projects - until at least 2 projects have been finished; 2. no new computer games until at least 2 games have been played through to the end; have you guessed my only 2 spending downfalls?) and the new Rule has to do with my pay, and his also, to a lesser extent.

my pay, and any overtime he gets, gets split. half goes straight into the savings account, since its 'extra' money, not accounted for in our budget, and therefor not counted on for buying things like clothes. its pure savings. the other half is PLAY MONEY. we get to do whatever we want with it. subject to the other Rules. so if i see some clothes i really like, or a book ive been eyeing off for a few years, i dont have to worry about spending the money.

and if i decided to put it straight into the savings account and earn interest, thats cool too.

i have discovered something amazing

i like cheesecake.

i didnt think i would.

it seems too.... non-floury.

but hubby loves it.

and there was a recipe on better homes and gardens that was in the magazine and easy to follow.

white chocolate cheesecake, with dark chocolate sauce.

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. chocolate.

and some very dear friends came over on tuesday night. (i will have known them for 25 years in jan/feb. i turned 25 in august. they are as close as family.)

and i wanted dinner to be really nice.

so i made the cheesecake.

and managed not to ruin it.

and i tried it.

even though it contains EIGHT EGGS.

and it was yummy.

oh was it ever yummy.

and i am now a convert.

and my friends loved it.

and hubby loved it.

and mum loved it.

and i want to make another one for hubby.

with raspberry sauce.

because he said it would be good.

and i love him so much it hurts.

both my boys are sunburnt

on saturday my mother gave my hubby a BBQ for christmas. yes, we are aware that its only october, but by the time christmas actually rolls round, BBQ season will be half over. (funny story. one time when we went to the states on holiday, my dad went to the chemist to get some asprin or something, and upon finding out he was from australia, the girl asked him 'when do they have christmas over there?' my overall impression of americans has improved a bit since then.... but not as much as id like.)


so yesterday, sunday, my husand spent the better part of the morning putting the BBQ together. with the help of our 3yr old. IT WAS SO CUTE. he just wanted to be out there helping his daddy so much... and except when he spilled EVERY SINGLE PIECE IN THE TOOLBOX, i think daddy enjoyed the help.

he insisted on wearing his hat backwards, just like daddy.

for some reason he decided to get changed into different pants before helping daddy put the legs on.

i just loved watching them working together. critter loves his daddy so much, and was so so excited to help. i just hope they continue to have a good relationship when he gets bigger.

the Lord provides.

yesterday hubby rang me in the middle of the day. unusual, but not totally unheard of. usually he calls on his way home from work, and thats it. sometimes he calls around lunch time, if hes really really bored.

yesterday, he rang to say he was being moved.

the company he works for has two branches about equal distance from our home. a-west, and a-city i shall call them, since they both start with an 'a', and one is in the west, the other in the city. see? LOGIC. a-city, being in the city, obviously takes longer (30-45 minutes) to get to because, well, its in the city. he drives WITH traffic, at a time when everyone else is also driving into the city. a-west takes only 15-20 minutes because not only is it AWAY from the city, he can take the motorway and avoid most traffic.

when he was given the job, he did a week of training in a-west, which is actually our states main office as i understand it, and was then transferred to a-city - the busiest branch, i think he said. he preferred a-west, both for the distance, and, i believe, the people, but he likes a-city well enough too, and people at both locations like him, in fact, a-west wanted him back, but a-city told them they could want all they wanted, they werent getting him. this is A Good Thing indeed, to have everyone be so impressed and want him. gives him a good chance of moving up in the company, and getting opportunities.

now. the people at a-city are a bit... rougher than those at a-west. lots of swearing goes on, lots of stupid-boy-talk, and hubby is ok with this, although it took him a couple days to get used to it again after being with calmer people for so long - hey, he spent like a month at home with me and a 3 year old, and i dont think his old workmates were rough either - but like i said, he's ok with this. hes a bit of a rough person himself.

now me on the other hand... obviously im thrilled that he has a job. i am so thankful. i would possibly be more thankful if he was earning a little more, but his current wage is entirely livable, just not 'brilliant'. and he enjoys his job, far as i can tell, and gets along with his workmates. the company thinks he can advance easily, and he wants to. and the distance, well even 45minutes is not that far away, really. but honestly, i would prefer it if he was at a-west, where the people were no so rough, and it took him less time to get to and from work. i like having him at home for as long as possible in the mornings, and home early at night - gives us more time to do things like go for a walk, and allows us to eat dinner earlier. but i was happy he had a job, any job, and i thanked God from the bottom of my heart.

i didnt even THINK to ask God to move him back, because i was simply so thankful for the job he had, and was sure God had a reason to have him where he was. maybe there would be more opportunity to move up in the company at a-city, since the people are so weird.

but God saw what was in my heart, a desire for my husband to be in a better environment for himself, and us, and he has been transferred back to a-west. one of the employees has been fired for some reason, and one has been transferred somewhere else, so they are lacking in staff, and specifically requested my husband. so back he goes, sometime in the next few weeks.

i didnt even realise how much i wished he could be at a-west until he called me yesterday and told me he was being transferred. it felt like a weight had been lifted. God saw what was in my heart when i didnt even realise it, and my unspoken prayers were answered. truly our God is a good God.