Life

On our way again…

/ Denise / 3 Comments

How many times must I make this journey to see my grandkids before I lose the excitement of getting there. Many many many more I can only imagine, for each visit brings its own thrills.

This time like 4 other times before, we are meeting one of our grandkids for the first time.

I remember Solomon our first, meeting him at 3 months old. And your first in everything always brings with it varying emotions. From excitement to anxiety. From ‘I can’t wait to get there’ to ‘Wait, is this really happening?’ From ‘Do I remember what to do with a baby’ to ‘Oh my word, I can’t wait to snuggle his baby toes’. And always to moments where your heart is so full it empties through your eyes.

But I’ve realised that those emotions never disappear. I remember Wyatt our second. Meeting him when he was already one year and a bit, after the drama that was Covid. There was a longing, a feeling of wanting to catch up on everything I had missed for the past year. FaceTime allowed us to get to know each other but only just barely. The real deal was about to happen. I could only imagine that I had been but a funny face on the other side of the screen for his entire life. Was I just a movie for him? Did he think I was a real person? What would his reaction be when he met me face to face and realised that that funny face was actually his Grandma? A permanent fixture in his life. A bit of dread mixed with anxiety but always my heart spilling out from my eyes.

I met Julius our third at the same time as Wyatt, just two months old. He was oblivious to anything around him. Just happy to have these big humans hugging and loving him day after day. He still loves his cuddles and at two months old he was an angel – ‘was’ being the operative word.

I never wanted to leave. My three grandsons were growing up and fast. I felt I had missed out on so much that it would be impossible to make up for lost time. Whatever moments I could enjoy, I did, without restrain. Whatever milestones I could witness, I committed to memory. Whatever cuddles I could get, I savoured. Leaving was the hardest part and still is. My heart would swell and my eyes would overflow. There would be moments of no return when I felt torn and broken into pieces.

These three grandchildren became the magnet that would draw me back to Australia time and time again. I was growing accustomed. I was in my comfort zone with these boys. They had also come to visit and knew that their Grandma also had a home of her own. She had dogs and fish and lived close to the sea. They had lots of cousins where Grandma lived. There were toys and books and a hill they could roll down in glee.

And so, I thought that the visits would become just a normal way of life. I could do this without the ‘what ifs’ going through my mind. Maybe the anxiety would go away and just be replaced with excitement. Maybe my heart wouldn’t swell so much and the tears would dry up.

But nope! As fate would have it, a Princess was born and everything turned topsy turvy. A little girl. How would I even know what to do with a girl? Boys were rough and tumble. I could do that. They loved being outdoors riding their bikes and digging in the sand at the beach. We mastered that. But a Princess? The excitement once again was mixed with anxiety. And the thought of meeting the first girl filled my heart to overflowing. I could hardly wait. And the journey took forever.

I met my Thea Molly Rose at 4 months old. Already her personality was shining through, and she melted my heart with her big smile and ready to come to Grandma with open ar. We bonded easily. She allowed me into her Princess world and quickly wedged her way into my heart making it ever so difficult to leave.

And now Princess no. 2 has arrived. She’ll be just 10 days old when I meet her. And I will leave her when she’s not even two months old. Already my heart is growing making room for another lifelong love. And once again the excitement is mixed with anxiety. The ‘she’s so small and will not even remember me’ haunts my every thought.

I am already preparing myself for the inevitable. A swollen heart, swollen eyes, pieces of my heart left across the globe and a longing to make the journey once again. For I already have another little love to meet before the end of the year.

I know now though, that these emotions are never far away and will resurface as soon as my journey begins, whether I like it or not.

The best time ever…

/ Denise / Leave a comment

“Let’s go firefighters” and off we went to the movies.

The excitement was building (for us anyway) ever since we discovered that Moana 2 would be showing before we left Aussie. And as soon as we told the boys we were going, we were all pumped.

“Julsie, we’re not going to school today. We are going to see Moana with Grandma and Pappi and Wyatt”. Faces lit with excitement and good behaviour was the order of the day.

The car ride was a bit long I must admit, but the songs and storytelling certainly helped in passing the time successfully. When we arrived at Wyatt’s school, the excitement intensified. Jumping and running to meet us, joyfully waving goodbye to his teachers and friends, Wyatt literally launched into the car joining his two cousins, sharing snacks, chatting about everything under this sun, singing the Moana songs like true Moana-ites.

We were finally on our way.

As we reached the Mall they were let loose and ran ahead like crazy picnies, stopping only to know which way to turn. The giggles, the screeches, the laughter, filled out hearts. We purchased 5 tickets and in reality only used 3 seats as one little firefighter needed some cuddles during the ‘scary’ parts, much to my delight, and the other two had their movie comments to discuss throughout.

“I need cuddles, Grandma.”

They’ve grown so much since we last saw them just a mere 3 months ago.

Solomon, now 5 is maturing daily. Loves story telling. Is knowledgeable on any animal topic. Is engrossed with Lego and never forgets anything as “it is right here in my memory” Grandma. He wears his heart on his sleeve and is a loving big brother, except when his rules are not followed.

Wyatt is 4 and his big brother instincts are kicking in slowly but surely. Loves riding to and from school with his Pappi, gets a kick out of playing football on an afternoon and is super excited to join his new friends at Ju Jitsu. His hugs are heartfelt and when his little face lights up you can’t help but fall in love all over again.

Little Julius just turned 3 and does not stop talking, or singing for that matter. He too loves story telling and knows how to push his big brother’s buttons pulling the “I’m the little one card” when he needs it. His hugs are to die for and his smile melts your heart.

Thea Molly Rose. A 1 year old toddler going on 13. Aware of everything around her and super sensitive to her brother’s needs, bringing him his water bottle when she sees him fussing. She’s not a push over by any means and has mastered the art of wrapping you around her little finger. Julius is wary of her as she makes her needs/demands known in no uncertain terms. I imagine she will be a force to be reckoned with.

It is heart warming to see them together. Excited and happy to be with each other as often as they can. Riding, swimming, playing, just being kids who are cousins.

It’s been a world wind of a visit. A mere 5 weeks together. And I’ll do it over and over again, as long as my body and mind can handle it.

It’s a short list…

/ Denise / 2 Comments

So many social media posts list up to 40 life-long learnings of those of us blessed with age. Lists that, while trying to help those younger in years to skip the line to really understanding what life should be all about, tend to dismiss the fact that the very struggles of daily life, navigating the ups and downs are in fact, part and parcel of growing up and finally reaching the stage when you too can actually own the simple cliche – don’t sweat the small stuff. The journey, in my opinion, is the real deal.

So this is my short but sweet list.

1. You are in control. Be accountable. Take responsibility for your life.

2. You are supposed to make mistakes. Own them. Learn from them and move on.

3. People will always have something to say. If it’s not true – forget it. If it’s true – do something about it.

4. Laughing is therapy. Laugh at and with yourself first and foremost. You will find that you actually have a great sense of humour.

5. Spend time alone. Become your own best friend.

Do you have a list?

Thea Molly Rose turns one today…

/ Denise / 6 Comments

I am a mother of 3 boys. I’ve lived the life of lots of talk, lots of action, constant movement until bedtime for many many years. Mine were the only female hormones jumping up and down in my house. Even my pets were all male. Testosterone abounded. The camping, the fishing, rough and tumble games, hiking, outdoor sporting activities. You name it. We did it. All with the boys in mind.

Then one day I took the off chance to see if I could pass at least one of my hobbies onto my boys. I called them all together, turned on my sewing machine, and started to show them the joy of putting fabric together to create something new and useful. At first, they seemed interested. And I was pleased. Such sweet boys humouring their mother. But as I went on, I noticed through the corner of my eye that my audience was dwindling slowly but surely. Until my youngest could take it no more and sneaked away to giggle somewhere with his brothers. I must admit I was a bit hurt, but I smiled. At least I tried. Fortunately though, my love of the garden was not lost on them. And today at least two take pride in growing their own food and creating a warm and welcoming outdoor environment for their families.

And the boys kept coming. One, two and then three grandsons were born. I felt at home. I knew what to do. I knew what they’d love. I knew how to be rough and tumble. I knew how to play their games. I knew how to love them. I was in my comfort zone.

Then little Thea Molly Rose graces our presence. For a long time, I had wished for a little girl to love. But being a tomboy myself growing up, I could never truly imagine what it would be like to have a little girl around. I never played with dolls, I never liked wearing dresses, I loved playing cricket with my elder brother, and I spent a lot of time climbing trees with our neighbours. So, Thea has literally pulled me out of my comfort zone, for I imagine that she will like all those things that I have no experience with. But maybe, just maybe, I can teach her to sew.

Thea turns one today. I met her when she was just 5 months old and left her two months later. We were just getting to know each other. I loved having her fall asleep in my arms. I loved taking her for a walk, and I loved our morning cuddles, as short lived as they were. I’ll meet her again in one month’s time which may very well seem like a first meeting all over again. For she will be a toddler. With her own mind. And her developing personality. She may no longer fall asleep in my arms, but I am hoping for some morning cuddles and most certainly looking forward to her teaching me how to love a little girl.

What 70 really looks like…

/ Denise / 2 Comments

I must have been 8 or 9 years old when I discovered that my mother had just turned 40. I stared at her cutting her birthday cake with my father and I wanted to burst into tears. She was smiling and happy. We were all happy. But to me 40 was such a big number. A number that felt ions away and in my childlike mind, my mother didn’t have much longer to live. And so, 40 became for me the big bad age.

When I turned 40, in the peak of health, with a young family like my mother had been some years prior, I felt dread. For no other reason than what my mind had recorded so long ago. I didn’t want to receive any birthday greetings so I escaped with my small family where no-one could reach me, just for the day. Since then, though, I’ve realised that age is just a number. Your health, your happiness, your family are a few of the most important things in life. And now that I am in my sixties and the real big numbers are staring me in the face, I dig deep into my memories for what those ages could possibly mean.

My mother breathed her last breath just a few months past the age of 70. She had been ailing since her early sixties. My father heroically took on the role of caregiver like no other. And even with her family rallying around her, her quality of life began to fade towards her late sixties. She had lost her speech. I can only imagine that she felt trapped no longer being able to communicate as she had wished. And yet, even with this memory, the dread that I felt at 40 no longer haunts me. It has now been replaced with a sense of newness of life. For in my own experience, there’s still time for adventure. There’s still time to learn new things. There’s still time to love – your family, your friends, yourself.

A few weeks ago, my sister turned 70. We had been joking about it for some time, reminiscing on our experiences and wondering what this new stage would bring for her. The day after we celebrated her, she messaged me – it’s not so bad after all – she said. I smiled a big smile. For my sister has now become my new beacon of what 70 looks like.

And what does 70 look like? It is at peace with oneself. It is accepting of what life has to offer. It is grateful for every moment, every day. It is quirky and has a sense of humour. Ready to go new places and experience new things. Its arms are wide open welcoming love and adventure. It is wise. It is kind. It is generous of heart and spirit.

Thanks to my sister, I look forward to 70, hoping that I too will find that it’s not so bad after all.

For Roses …

/ Denise / 7 Comments

My mother-in-law

This is a brief simple recap of the relationship I shared with my mother-in-law who recently passed away. It is not meant to recount her many idiosyncrasies. It is not meant to expound her many wonderful and sometimes crazy traits nor remember her many quips which most find so endearing.

It is simply sharing another side of Roses that only a few chosen ones have been fortunate enough to experience. The in-law side.

My first introduction to Roses was facing her straight on from the back, her rear end pointed to the heavens as she doubled over on the floor in a desperate effort to relieve some ‘gas’. It was not a pretty sight. There are some things in life that you just can’t un-see. I stood still and remained silent. I wanted to run, but Roger my now husband, was holding my hand very tightly in a desperate effort to keep me there. She eventually jumped up, laughed her infectious ‘ha ha’ laugh, her blue eyes twinkling as they always did, and we moved on as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

And therein began a very open, no frills, no fuss, nothing to hide, take it or leave it type of relationship, with the woman who was to make a huge impression on my life and the life of my three sons.

Mothers-in-law have always had a bad rap, especially if you marry the first-born male. They are interfering, pushy, want to tell you how to take care of their ‘baby’, treat you as if you know nothing, and generally make your life a living hell. Or so I was warned. But he was so cute, I took my chances and waited, ready and armed for battle.

Well that battle never happened. Instead I was faced with a mother-in-law and father-in-law mind you, who were both so happy that I relieved them of their son, that I sometimes felt that I could do no wrong. On our 10th wedding anniversary Roses with her very mischievous sense of humor, presented me with a medal, laughing her ‘ha ha’ laugh, twinkling her blue eyes.

She never interfered, well not that I noticed anyway. She was always ready with advice when asked, generous of her time and love, and knew exactly when to appear, like magic, to show her support in whatever way needed. My boys loved her. Alexander, my second in particular, as he was the one who spent a few years at home before moving on his own, loved to visit his grandmother. She made him feel at home. They shared their stories and more often than not a drink or two. He was always welcome.

Each of my boys felt special. As I am sure all of her grandchildren did.

I learnt how to be a good mother-in-law from Roses. Well, the truth is that I learnt what a good mother-in-law looks like anyway. She made it seem so easy but in essence it’s a hard act to follow.

At her last moments, I thanked her for putting up with me. For never making me feel inadequate. For always making me feel like family.

Here’s to you Roses. May you rest in eternal peace.

Making the most…

/ Denise / 1 Comment

So many times we talk about making the most of every day, every moment. I often wonder however what that really means and whether or not I am living a life of ‘making the most’.

There are moments filled with excitement, moments filled with anxiety, love, adventure, sorrow, sheer joy. Those moments filled with the good stuff should be easy to enjoy – and I even wonder if we actually do. And what about the other moments, where we are not sure what to do, where we become angry or are faced with challenges seemingly beyond our control. How do we make the most of those moments that we would rather they just disappear.

When you can make last minute decisions to spend time with family just because. When you can drop what you are doing and drive an hour to your favourite location on the coast and spend a few un-interrupted days with no specific agenda. When you can drop by a friend for a spur of the moment glass of wine. And those times when you can spend the day tucked away in your personal cave reading, watching videos, sewing, creating. When you have nowhere to be and lots of time to get there. Sure it’s easy to make the most.

I firmly believe though that making the most doesn’t depend on the amount of free time that you have – otherwise we would all be a lost cause. When you are disappointed – how do you make the most of that moment. When you are angry, sad, lonely – how do you make the most of those times in your life. How do you make the most of the times you’d rather forget. Moments that probably make up a very large percentage of this short life we have on earth.

If I’ve learned anything in my plus 44+ years, it’s your attitude that pulls you through every single time. It’s the choice that you make every single moment of the day to keep looking forward, to seek the silver lining, to do what you can to fix those undesirable moments, if you can – and if you can’t, you need to work hard to accept those moments and carry on regardless.

It’s not easy to make the most of every moment of our life, but it certainly is worth the try.

Life is a *itch, and then you die…

/ Denise / Leave a comment

How often have I heard my mother-in-law utter these words. And each time I chuckle, thinking that it could be true, but not quite understanding the depth of it from her point of view.

The first time I met my mother-in-law, she was crouched on the floor with her butt in the air, ‘releasing gas’ as she later explained. She was not aware that I was coming to visit. But as the years have passed, I realise that that would not have made any difference. She needed to ‘release gas’ and that was the best way she knew how. She would have crouched on the floor even if I were there, for the first time.

You hear many stories of ‘in-laws’ and I have made it my life-long commitment not to be the nightmare mother-in-law, as described by so many. But quite frankly how could I be when my personal experience has been filled with great examples from both sides. Little or no interference, always there to support when needed. Everything has always been just easy.

Actually it’s also been quite entertaining when we consider the character that is my mother-in-law. Strong-willed (although not always so as a teenager), frank (and you better be able to take it), loud (a trait the entire family has inherited), kind (always thinking of others – she would feed the world if she could), generous (to a fault), grateful (more and more so as she gets older).

I was once asked about my ‘parents in-law’ – you know to give my experience. And I found it very difficult to find something wrong. I could think of not one moment when I felt unaccepted, frustrated or even annoyed. Today, 32 years later, I have the privilege of sharing a few days with my mother-in-law, and I am beginning to understand why life could be a ‘*itch’, from her point of view.

Imagine a busy life filled with its ups and downs. Imagine being able to manoeuvre this life with strength which comes from within, the support of family and friends that makes it all worthwhile, the love of a spouse which is beyond description. Imagine bringing up 5 children – the physical and mental agility that is needed to stay one step ahead of them, so that you can ensure that in turn they will be capable of taking care of themselves in the future, and, secretly, you as well. Imagine achieving your goals, in one way or another. Imagine that stage of your life when you feel accomplished, that it was all worth it.

Then it all starts to crumble, slowly at first, then with increasing speed. You become slower, less agile. The aches and pains of your deteriorating body. The loss of your companion of over 40 years. The feeling that you have become a bother to your family as opposed to the guiding force. You loose your independence and now need to rely on those you took such care of years ago.

You become tired, you become confused at the slightest change in your daily routine, your memory fails you and what you remember most and long for most are those days when you were at your peak. Or do you? What do you really long for at this stage of life?

And I guess, that’s when you realise that life can be a *itch, and then you die…