the things not said

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Be England What She Will, With All Her Faults I Love Her Still

This will be our fourth Winter in New Zealand now. In many ways it’s hard to believe we have been here that long but at the same time, England feels like a distant memory.

I am homesick.

I think it’s a number of things that have triggered it off. Facebook posts of friends over there at the moment. The delayed Christmassy feeling I get in June. Jackson having another birthday with no grandparents or cousins being there.

I think most of all it’s just, about time.

We’re very happy here. Christchurch is a great place to bring up a family, we have a lovely home, good jobs, we’re in a vibrant church, we’ve made some awesome friends. My homesickness isn’t about being unhappy here. Anyone who lives away from where they grew up will know this feeling, it’s not that you want to go back as such, you just miss all the good things you had there that you don’t have here, like for me…

I miss being able to get a meal deal at Marks and Spencers on the weekend and throwing in a bag of Percy Pigs and Friends at the till.

I miss knowing every good eatery, shop and place to visit in a city, because I have literally been in or worked in every one.

I really want to be able to show my children where their parents grew up. Because they are really beautiful places.

I miss seeing architecture that dates back centuries and you look at it and wonder how it was built so wonderfully with the resources they had at that time.

And I miss that even though these buildings are really old, you can walk into every room in the house and it’s warm, because they have this innovative, modern invention called GAS CENTRAL HEATING! Heating you don’t even notice is there and allows you to move from one room to another without the need to put your coat, hat and scarf back on. Heating that doesn’t feel like you’ve got five hair dryers pointed at you.

I am acutely aware that our children have only vague recollections of most of their uncles, aunties and cousins. They don’t know the pure joy of knowing this guy.

I mean the one on the right.

Now I’m not ignorant to the fact that we are currently living in what could arguably be the most beautiful country in the world. I am in awe of how many stunning places we can reach after travelling only a few hours in the car. BUT I do miss a short flight getting you to places like this.

I think what would sort me out is a trip home. I want to be the one that’s posting on Facebook that I’ve just seen the lesser spotted sunny summer’s day in England. I want to drink a pint of shandy and eat a hearty pub lunch in Keswick. I want all our family to delight in Jackson’s strong Kiwi accent. I want to let Minnie loose in Zara Kids. I want to fill a basket in Boots.

New Zealand you are an amazing country and it’s a privilege to live here, thank you for letting us in. But what I really want now, is this.

In Four Years

Published by thethingsnotsaid

In less than a week, our little man is going to graduate from toddler to full-blown child.

In celebration of this “coming of age” I thought I would share a few things I have learnt in the last four years. ‘Lessons by Jackson’, if you will.

One of my earliest revelations after Jackson arrived was that even though your little people share the same genes, womb and passage out into the world, they are really very different. I know this is obvious but when you are barely sleeping at night, you spend your days changing nappies and feeding people that can’t work a toaster or peel a banana, you could miss a bus falling on your house, so it took a while for me to realise what worked for Minnie was going nowhere with Jackson.

Minnie screamed for the first three months of her life, Jackson seemed to be stunned into silence for the first six months of his life.

Food was interesting and attractive to Minnie, Jackson refused anything other than milk until he was eight months and then survived on a diet of yogurt for the rest of his first year.

If you want to have a kiss or cuddle from Minnie, you have to write a letter three weeks in advance, requesting permission. Nine times out of 10 your request will be rejected. Jackson likes to snuggle ALL.THE. TIME.

Minnie is loud and cheeky, she loves to make people laugh and it’s very easy to spring her out of a mood. Jackson is the moodiest person I have ever known.

Before Minnie goes to sleep she likes to talk about what we’re doing tomorrow, most likely so she can consider how many outfits she will need for the day and get them laid out ready. Jackson doesn’t care what you have planned for tomorrow, there is only one way this family is going…

Having one of each, I have observed how boys and girls have some really obvious differences. Don’t get me wrong here, we’re all equal, women can do anything men can do, it’s a travesty that women aren’t paid the same as men for working as hard and boys can totally wear pink, but in this house, there is only one child that likes anything on wheels.

Jackson’s arrival also meant that I became a mother of two, and for me, once you have more than one there is no chance you will maintain any level of order or civility in your days. Going to the shop can result in sobbing, wailing and pants down tantrums, and I’m not talking about the children here. I have sat in my car in a number of supermarket car parks and wept because of the humiliation endured at the till. And Jackson did literally pull my trousers down whilst waving off family at the airport.

People who have three or four children and still remember to wear shoes when they leave the house are amazing to me. Anyone who has more than four is just weird. Having said that, and I’m not really close to anyone who has had more than four children so I am only observing from a distance but I do notice that these parents, crazy as they are, don’t complain nearly as much about how hard it is to raise a family as we lesser procreators do. My competitive side wants to say that they lower their standards significantly but maybe it’s just they have learnt the well kept secret that once you get to five, it gets easier.

A lovely thing that Jackson brought to our family, was companionship for Minnie. They are only 18 months apart, so once he was able to walk and talk they have been the best of friends (before that, Minnie was only interested in her brother if she could strap him to something). Jackson’s third year was wonderful because they became such lovely playmates, they’d run around endlessly, share secret giggles and delight in the simple things of life.

This still does happen but they also now punch each other, fight over who is in charge of any shared game or task, steal toys they’re not even interested in for the sole purpose of seeing their sibling cry, they encourage one another to do exactly what Mummy just said they couldn’t do, test out the worst insults on each other and I’m pretty certain they have a signed agreement that states that once a day, one must distract Mummy so the other can damage something in the house. Just this week, whilst I was helping Minnie get ready for bed, Jackson went into our newly carpeted bedroom, sat on the floor, switched on the hair dryer and singed two perfectly formed circles into our brand new, light grey carpet. It’s like he wants to be assigned to another family….

The thing is, one day, he will move to another family. A lovely girl (oh Lord please let her be lovely!) will steal my boy’s heart and he will leave to start his own family. The idea of it is too devastating to consider right now, that I won’t be the most important woman in his life, that a cuddle from me won’t be all that he requires. I’m believing that it will be possible to let him go, that by the time he’s 18 and he’s no doubt trashed one or two more carpets, I will be happy to nudge him out of the nest. But for now I will celebrate the four years I’ve had of him so far and be delighted that I have four and 10 left with this little hotty.

And in that time I will continue to learn that my life is not my own, I can’t sit down without permission, I can’t rest until he’s lined up all his cars, I must accompany him to every toilet visit (I do sometimes refuse actually) and there is only sleep when he sleeps.

You teach me so much Jackson. Happy Birthday to you.

Good Junk Food

Published by thethingsnotsaid

In our family we refer to the restaurant with the golden arches as “Dirty-donalds”. I’m not proud to admit that my children have tasted a McNugget or two from there but we haven’t been through in months and I intend to keep it that way!

That’s not to say that our children don’t have junk food, in fact at least once a week I throw caution to the wind and serve up a dinner for the children…pause for mum to turn away from what I am about to type… that doesn’t have any green vegetables in it!! Six days a week I plan and cook evening meals for the family that are clean, healthy, representative of all the food groups and one day a week, generally Friday because it’s curry night for mum and dad, I provide what I like to call good junk food. It’s junk because something on the plate came from a can or the freezer or has added sugar. It is good because it’s the highest quality of its kind, I cooked part of it from fresh, there is some salad sitting right next to it on the plate.

Here are our Top Three.

Hot Dogs.

The ‘dog’ part of this meal is the worst part. Those smokey pink sausages have a bad reputation for being full of colouring, additives and sugar. BUT I bought ours from the very good butchers down the road, so much more fresh than your suction packed ones from the supermarket, and they are sitting in a bake-at-home mini baguette, so yes to white bread but a relatively good quality bun. To redeem the meal I also added cherry tomatoes, cucumber and olives.

Fish Fingers and Chips

Well there’s fish in this one, which is not easily consumed by my children! The chips are made and baked at home, so fresh potatoes chipped, tossed in olive oil and salt and baked for about an hour – yum! The fish diners have an oat crumb and are baked for the last 20 minutes of the chips. And the beans…OK high in sugar but at least they’re…

Pizza

There is a lot more I could do to make these healthier and there was a time when I would make the dough from home (the machine broke) and I would make the tomato sauce (it’s really a faff and doesn’t come out nearly as well) but now I just buy the nice quality pizza base found in the chiller cabinet and a good jar of pasta sauce. The toppings are generally fresh, I fry up mushrooms, garlic, courgettes and peppers and put them on top of the tomato sauce, finishing off with some cooked chicken and grated mozzarella cheese.

Well loved by children and adults alike!

Pitched Perfectly To Come Second

Published by thethingsnotsaid

I shall warn you now, Anna Kendrick will not come off well in this review. If you are a lover of the little songstress prepare yourself to feel defensive and most likely a little offended.

The film is of course a sequel and sadly like 95% of sequels (unless they are part of a trilogy or adapted from a volume of books by the same author) it really didn’t entertain like the first. I think it tried to. In that, I’m pretty sure the new Director and her team sat down and said, ‘whatever was good in the first one, let’s do that again but louder’. I think this will have been their to-do list:

1. A plot about the underdog. The Bellas were successful at the end of the last one so let’s bring them back down to rock bottom with something super shocking. Which leads to…

2. Fat Amy. She is by far the funniest character in the whole film so let’s make her part bigger and more outrageous, cue her flashing her ladies parts to POTUS in the first five minutes of the film.

3. A love story. Obviously Becca is blissfully happy with her man from the first film. Except she’s not, in fact they seem more like distant acquaintances now, with absolutely no chemistry, which makes you question whether they in fact did get together at the end of number 1?! Not forgetting Point 2, let’s make Fat Amy and Bumper’s weird “thing” a love story. Of course because they’re not the skinny people, let’s make it really over the top, hard to watch and when they kiss they have to look like something David Attenborough would commentate on.

4. Coming of age. Becca was our ‘young girl with a dream’ in the first one, so let’s bring in pretty little lamb Hailee (Becca #2). Also she is skinny so let’s have her falling for someone, but in an awkward and shallow way because this is a comedy.

5. Mash Ups. Nothing really to change here as it worked so well in the first. Let’s just pick different songs and bring in more professional Acapella groups. Which reminds me of our next point.

6. Offensive and racist remarks. Arguably what caused the most shock and shameful giggles in the first film were the comments from Acapella commentators John and Gail. So let’s bring in a German Acapella group, lots of comedy material in there and a chance for Americans to once again remind everyone else that they won the war.

7. Sisterhood. Always good to have a bunch of girls coming together, overcoming their differences and standing shoulder to shoulder as they rise to the top. In this case it was lying shoulder to shoulder at a retreat/boot camp and flying to Copenhagen to show them there Europeans what for.

And finally, because I did warn you and I don’t want to disappoint, Anna Kendrick. My main question is, is Becca meant to be miserable and self absorbed or is sulky all that Miss Kendrick can do? Her performances in these films remind me a little of why Scarlet Johansson ruined Lost in Translation for me, who wants to watch a practically adult woman do an impression of a simpering four year old for 90 minutes? Being able to sing is of course the main reason she is cast in this and a few other films (I am still struggling to forgive Emily Blunt and James Corden for making me watch ‘Into The Woods’), because it can’t be for her captivating performances that draw you in and inspire you to greater things. I thought I would give her a chance and watched an interview with her for Pitch Perfect 2. Oh. Dear. At one point she forgot what film she was talking about and when she did remember, she pretty much said it was a naff sequel. This is part of your job Anna, I know there’s lots of press to talk to and they all ask the same questions but you’re paid millions, it’s part of your job, be a professional!

There are funny parts, the singing performances are good, Rebel Wilson is in it. I’m giving it a 5/10, because if the first one wasn’t there to compare it to, it might be worth a watch at home on Apple TV when you’ve got some mates round for a night in. But as we do have the first one, I’d say this was surplus to requirement.

All that said, I went with seven other ladies to see this at the cinema and they all seemed to genuinely love it, so don’t just take my word for it.

Every day is a school day

Published by thethingsnotsaid

When you have a young family, sometimes a lesson to be learnt trumps fun times together.

It’s a lovely Autumn day and we thought going to the park would be fun for all of us. That is until Jackson decided he was going to bring his cars, about 50 of them, in a box, that they didn’t fit into.

At that moment I saw the opportunity for a lesson in taking responsibility for your things and kissed goodbye to fun in the park.

We explained what we were planning to do – we’ll be walking a lot. Gave him clarity on the help we would give in carrying his cars – none. Suggested an alternative – don’t take the whole box, just take one or two that will be easy to carry. Reminded him that his cars were his responsibility – not ours.

We went through this three times before arriving at the park and still he wanted to bring them.

Within two minutes of walking Jackson had had enough carrying his cars. His arms were aching, they were too heavy, he didn’t want to carry them anymore.

For 20 minutes Jackson sat on the floor and screamed, you may have heard him? Groups of people stopped and stared, other parents either judged or sympathised, older people attempted to make him smile, yeah right.

It’s so hard, so humbling, so upsetting, so necessary.

Jackson carried his cars back to the car. He took responsibility for his cars. He followed through on his decision.

Lesson learnt… I hope.

Mother’s Day

Published by thethingsnotsaid

Being a mum is the great equalizer between women. No matter how your babies came to you, now matter how ready you were for their arrival or qualified you feel to look after these precious gifts, whether you are a real disciplinarian or spoil them rotten, you are exactly the same as the next mum when it comes to how you feel about your children – literally every part of your being loves them, from the tips of your toes to the ends of every strand of hair on your head.

Mother’s Day is this Sunday in New Zealand so I’m getting pretty excited about my lie in. Today I was treated to a special assembly by Minnie’s class that included a short play on everything mum’s do for us and then also a song about how our children try to show us love but often end up making a mess and trashing the place. I also learnt that more than $18 billion is spent each year on Mother’s Day in the States – yikes!

Since Minnie started school at the beginning of the year, we have all been “adjusting” to the new regime. Jackson is also coming up to four and I am told by many reliable sources (better read-up mum’s of boys) that it’s right about now they receive a new injection of testosterone so I am assured that my sweet, gentle, loving boy has just been taken over by hormones, not in fact aliens – an explanation I have honestly considered exploring a couple of times in the last two months. I have finished a big project, started painting three rooms in the house and both Gareth and I have recently got new jobs (go us!). Our life is full and moving fast, like everyone else’s living in the 21st century, damn Apple and its ‘you can do anything’ philosophy.

One of the outcomes of this full and fast life is that four mornings out of five in the week I can be found screaming at my children as we get into the car, ‘We’re late, AGAIN, why can’t you just do as I say, there is no time for playing in the morning, tomorrow I am locking you in the kitchen until you are dressed, breakfasted, cleaned your teeth and got your wretched shoes and socks on!!’ A few weeks ago this shocked the children, now I think they would miss the lecture on ‘not being distracted by fun before 8am’ if it wasn’t given on the way to school.

Things not going to plan is one of the hardest things I personally have had to reconcile myself with since becoming a mum. Each mum will have her own “equalizers”, i.e. the changes you make to be a good mum to your children. Others for me are; not living on jelly sweets because it’s a bad example to the little ones, a leisurely coffee with a magazine is out of the question for the next decade, no matter how early you get up to do some things for yourself you will still get interrupted, going to the cinema costs three times as much as it should because you have to pay for a baby sitter, you can share a sleep in with your husband only once every two years when your parents come to stay. But by far the hardest one for me is no matter how much I plan, organise and prepare, a day will only go as well as I am able to manage the unpredictable wants, moods and accidents of my children. I think I have only truly succeeded with this three or four times in the last five years. I know it’s about that many because it’s so rare, I can remember every single time.

The rest of the time, it’s chaos.

But this blog is not to say that my children have ruined me, or that I don’t know who I am anymore or that I am SO TIRED. Whilst all that is true, what I want to say today is, I wouldn’t have it any other way. My children stretch me more than any other challenge I have faced in my life and I have been so humbled by my failures to be the prefect mum, BUT I am also so thankful that being a mum has changed me, softened me, shown me that life is not to be lived independent of others, enabled me to sacrifice my needs for the needs of others, feel so much pride and joy at the achievements of a little person, filled me with so much hope and expectation for the future. I love being mum to my monkeys.

I have been listening to Jon McLaughlin recently and he wrote a song called ‘Imaginary Tea’. I think it says so beautifully how we feel as parents, that we will miss them when they are all grown up and in the short, fast moving time we have, we’re trying very hard to let them know that no one will love them as much as we do and we will always be there for them.

I love you, more than you will ever know

And I love you, no matter what you do

I’m going to hold you, for as long as you’re going to let me

Because you’re mine, I love you

I loved you before I ever heard your voice and before I knew your name

And I loved you before I saw those pretty eyes

I loved you right away

So take it slow, before you know it, you’ll be old and grown

And just remember that I am always here, hands that you can hold onto

I love you

Don’t worry about what anyone else will say,

Don’t hurry to break that precious heart

And when you try to be like to somebody else, remember I love you the way you are

So take it slow, before you know it you are going to be old and grown

Just remember I am always here, a hand you can hold onto

I love you

So let’s climb every tree, drink imaginary tea, speak a language only we can understand

I will fight back the tears as we fly through the years and I will keep you as close as I can

Because I love you, more than you will ever know

I love you, no matter what you do

And I am going to hold you as long as you will let me, because you’re mine

I love you

Happy Mother’s Day.

The Age of Adaline

Published by thethingsnotsaid

This category of blog is the one I am hoping for the most interaction and feedback, a Movie Club if you will. Please wade in with your thoughts, if you have seen the same film.

I like to watch films. I’m no buff, I don’t want to set my stall up as being someone who is qualified to be a critic but I enjoy “the movies”, so this is my space to share what I think of a film.

Last night I went to see Age of Adaline. I really enjoyed it.

The story goes that Adaline, played by Blake Lively, was born in San Francisco at the beginning of the 20th century. She marries and has a daughter. Her husband dies in an accident connected with the building of the Golden Gate Bridge. Soon after, in 1935, she is driving at night during an unusual snow storm, crashes off the road, her body freezes, gets struck by lightning and for some crazy made up scientific reason her body stops ageing.

The film is set in present day, when Adaline is 106 years old but still living in the body of a 26 year old. From the age of about 40 she has lived life on the run and effectively alone so that people won’t become aware of her unique physical state and make her their lab rat. Where we catch up with her, she is working in the archives section of the San Francisco Public Library and she meets Ellis Jones who falls in love with her at first sight.

They have a really romantic first few encounters. She struggles to let her guard down but her now 80 year old daughter encourages her to live life, and so she allows herself to get more involved with Ellis and goes home with him to celebrate his parents 40th wedding anniversary. Ellis’ dad, played by Harrison Ford, knows her from his younger years and so things get complicated….

I have a real love for nostalgia, I love history and I personally would like to be 26 for the rest of my life so thoroughly enjoyed the concept of the film. Adaline has very good taste in clothes so essentially we get to see the very classically pretty Blake Lively wear awesome outfits from every decade of the 20th century – man she must have loved this job!

Obviously the concept is ridiculous, but hey we over look that for Star Wars, The Matrix, Hunger Games etc so why not for a love story? And as love stories go I thought this was sufficiently captivating. The film follows the usual formula, girl meets boy and they fall in love, there are obstacles to them being together and the film is about whether they can overcome these obstacles or not, and if there is a happy ever after? I’m not going to tell you what happens but let’s just say, if you like to feel warm and at peace with the world after a film, you’ll most likely enjoy this one.

Of course the heroes of the film aren’t unpleasant to watch either. Michiel Huisman is new to me, he plays Daario Naharis in Game of Thrones, which I haven’t watched and doubt I ever will. No idea if he’s a nice guy in GOT, but he’s just yummy in this. What I like about this film, where the protagonist is a woman, is that the men aren’t portrayed as silly, useless or needy. In fact they are honourable, kind and know their own mind – you know, men you can respect and deem worthy of the female characters.

It’s at times very weird to watch as Adaline is a 26 year old woman living in 2015, but is also 106 years old and has lived through the whole of the 20th century. Her style in clothes and in her home reflect that she has stayed somewhere in the 1950’s and 60’s and the way she relates to people is with a calmness (maybe aloofness) that I assume is meant to portray the wisdom and experience of her soul’s years. You just want her to loosen up a little and enjoy life! Maybe after 80 years of being 26 I would be tired of that age but I think I would have liked to see the character revel in the benefits of being immune to ageing. There was very little comedy in this film.

Ultimately I liked it and may even purchase it on iTunes to watch again as it is a very pleasant to watch love story, the sort I watch when I’m having a cosy night in on my own. I don’t think Gareth would care for it much, I would say it’s definitely one for the girls.

6.5/10

Recovery

Published by thethingsnotsaid

We hit our NZ three year anniversary at the end of March and whilst the day passed with little recognition, it was in fact a significant milestone. When we first had the crazy idea of moving our wee family over to the other side of the world to be part of Christchurch’s rebuild we said the adventure would be for three years. We’re still here.

Because how long does it take for a city to recover? The Oxford English Dictionary states that to recover means, “to return to a normal state of health, mind or strength.” When you travel to other cities, you realise what is currently “the norm” for Christchurch is far away from normal anywhere else.

This is a typical view of Christchurch city centre, to the left a building half demolished, in the middle the new bus exchange being built and cranes EVERYWHERE!

Gareth came here to work as part of SCIRT (Stronger Christchurch Infrastructure Rebuild Team) which is essentially the horizontal and underground rebuild that makes the vertical, buildings going up rebuild possible. SCIRT has recently passed its halfway point, see https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrg8SnvSn0M and look out for Gareth, but that’s not even halfway to the city being rebuilt. I think the general consensus is it will be 20 years for Christchurch to be a fully functioning city again.

As I get to know Christchurch, and even though I didn’t experience the earthquakes, I feel like I know how she feels.

Truth is, although Gareth and I were motivated to come to Christchurch to do some good and help out, we came for our own recovery too.

Our “earthquake” happened in 2007 when we were told at the beginning of the year that we couldn’t conceive naturally. That’s when we were shaken to our core and everything came tumbling down around us. Our hopes, our assumptions, our plans, our dreams, our understanding of how life works, our confidence in our own strengths.

The thing with an earthquake is it effects each place in a different and unpredictable way. It is unique and complex and therefore very difficult to understand. It comes out of the blue so you can’t protect yourself fully from it, things will break. And even though there are experts to help and people who care all around, they can’t stop the earthquake, they can only help with the aftermath.

The earthquakes in Christchurch did different things to different places, some buildings came down, some suffered major cracks in the walls, some inexplicably seemed to barely change. Whole sections of the city had liquefaction, a drive from one side of the city to another can feel like a roller coaster. So dealing with the aftermath looks different for each place, some you have to go right back to the foundation to deal with the problems, other places just need cracks to be filled in.

We’re the same, our earthquake was unique to us and just like Christchurch’s earthquakes, there were aftershocks for a long time later. An earthquake has an epicentre but you’re a fool if you think it’s only going to hurt in that one place, an earthquake reaches all around. For me, finding out we couldn’t have babies naturally, didn’t just hurt in one place in one isolated moment. Just when you think the shakes have stopped and enough time has passed, it shakes you again.

Just like Christchurch, when the initial quake hit we collapsed and aid came in immediately to help.

First thing you need is care, comfort, provision. You’re in a state of emergency. For Christchurch that was communities helping each other out, giving each other shelter, food, rescuing people from danger, digging out liquefaction from their neighbours gardens so they could get into their houses, rescue services and the army and just regular people all came to guide and protect people. For me it was hugs, wiping away of tears, sharing our disappointment and our hurt, bringing round chocolate brownies, being there.

Then you need the experts, the people who can come and tell you what to do next. For Christchurch that was engineers, geologists, contractors, scientists and so many others who worked with the local and national government to make a plan for recovery. For us it was the IVF Consultant at Liverpool Women’s Hospital, who explained how IVF could help us make embryos, friends who could help us understood how this all fitted in with our faith in the God of miracles and the Giver of life, people who had experience with infertility – these people gave us hope and a plan for recovery.

Then the work begins and you get focussed on the end result, a solution to the problem. For Christchurch, repairing the infrastructure so the city can be rebuilt. For me, going through IVF and praying and believing for a family.

The aftershocks came along the way; realising the miracle wasn’t going to look how we wanted it to, words and actions of others close to you causing pain, you and your spouse hurting in ways that the other doesn’t understand, a failed first round, the humiliation of the procedures.

When I think about the people of Christchurch, I think it was an extremely vulnerable time for them. To be so exposed; news channels literally beaming images to the rest of the world of your ripped up home or bloodied bodies being brought out of collapsed buildings. Needing to ask for help. Christchurch was so blessed by the rest of NZ and all around the world, sending aid, sending money, sending encouragement. Even now, four years on, the city has so many organisations still helping, and visitors sympathising with the devastation the earthquakes left.

I found that part hard. This would normally be an intimate and private thing between a couple. Something a couple could choose to only share when they want to, usually with their 12 week scan picture. It’s not like that when you do IVF, people knew where we were up to all the way; how the drugs were effecting me, when the embryos would be put in, when we should know if it’s worked. You’d have to lock yourself away and be mute with your friends and family to keep this stuff secret because it takes so long and involves other people, it’s not just a quiet night in or a weekend away. Nurses, consultants and lab technicians are with you every step of the way. I wasn’t conscious when my eggs were taken out and Gareth dropped off his swimmers on the way to work. My babies were put into my womb whilst I lay on a raised bed with a doctor in between my legs holding a giant needle, a lab technician standing by and Gareth fully clothed, sat in a chair in the corner – I cried every time.

I am so grateful that we got what we hoped for, a daughter and then a son. Our earthquake passed, but recovery continues. You travel a road to recovery and there’s no telling how long it will take. I guess it depends how far down it shook your foundations.

Street art often has the theme of rebuild in Christchurch.

Christchurch is doing really well. When we moved over here, we saw the resilience. We were moved and convicted by people’s ‘we can get through this’ attitude and I think it’s something that they can be so proud of, how they faced their earthquake and didn’t let it defeat them. But recovery is hard. It doesn’t happen as fast as you want it to and it’s not easy. Christchurch’s earthquakes took away the city centre, wiped out entire communities and residential areas, permanently shut down schools, threw average people into four year (so far) arguments with insurance companies over repairs on their homes, and left children with PTS that causes them to duck for cover when a lorry goes past the window. Whilst the new buildings are being built, there are still some buildings being demolished. It’s messy and mistakes are made and the best intensions don’t always produce the right results so people keep getting hurt and let down. But the danger has gone and the city is standing tall.

We’re doing really well also. We have recovered so much by being a family and being here. But I know I’m still a little messy. When people I know get pregnant, there is a little jolt of disappointment that hits me. I have a recurring question in my mind, would I want more children if it were possible? Why did we have to go through this? I think our infrastructure has been repaired and we have become stronger, we’ve learnt lessons, we know where we are weak and when the next earthquake comes it hopefully won’t do so much damage. It’s taken so much more time to get to this place of healing and I’m surprised by how much is still to be done but rushing the process or fighting what needs to be done to recover doesn’t help anyone. And of course there will be scars forever.

Just like Christchurch, in our lives there is always a possibility of another earthquake. There’s no way of stopping it, or even predicting it and we can’t know for sure where it will come from, what it will look like and where it will hurt the most. But by recovering well from the last one, we are stronger and we have more character than we ever had before the earthquake. Never underestimate the importance of recovery.

My symbols of recovery exploring Christchurch’s recovery.

Chocolate Orange Hearts

Published by thethingsnotsaid

I am not surprised that my first blog after over a year of radio silence would be a food one, as my interest in baking has grown stronger in the last few months. I have actually considered creating a new blog that is called ‘My Training For The Great British Bake Off’ where I track the development of my baking skills with the sole intention of entering that blissful show. But I don’t know that I’m there yet. Let’s just play with the theme on this blog for a little while shall we.

And where better to start than with a little recipe I’ve invented. And when I say invented, I began with a Nigella recipe and then made several changes due to personal taste and lack of required ingredients, so that it now looks nothing like what the goddess was aiming for.

They love their “free from” food over here and after three years of living here I must confess I do like the odd liberated recipe to keep me intolerance friendly. This one has no gluten or dairy. Don’t panic they taste yum!

Ingredients

2 large egg whites

230g caster sugar

a pinch of salt

zest and juice of one orange

1 teaspoon of almond essence

250g of ground almonds

50g cacao powder

Whisk up the egg whites until they are stiff. Gradually add in the sugar, then the salt as you keep whisking. Fold in the orange zest and juice, almond essence, almonds and cacao powder. You’ll have a grainy dough.

Roll this out really thinly. Use icing sugar on your surface and over the dough to reduce stickiness. Using a small cookie cutter, cut out your shapes, I use hearts. Place them on a lined baking tray.

For a soft, slightly chewy bite of chocolate goodness, bake them in a 140 C oven for no more than 15 minutes. Take them out, lay them out on a cooling rack and wait about two minutes before you “test” the first one.

This makes about 50 biscuits and I eat two at a time. They are my little injection of energy during the day and they’re gone in just over a week (please don’t do the math on my daily intake!!)

Ive also used limes instead of oranges as they also go very well with chocolate and almonds.

Your are very welcome

So many roles, so little time

Published by thethingsnotsaid

I read this blog http://carolynee.net/a-letter-from-a-working-mother-to-a-stay-at-home-mother-and-vice-versa/ this week. And it resonated so much with me as I am quite sure it did with so many other women (and men). I’ve been thinking since reading it about how complex it is to be a mother of two pre-schoolers that works from home. I am so many more roles than mother and freelance event manager; I’m Daughter, Friend, Christian, Sister, Home Owner, Housekeeper, Cook, Dietician, Accountant, Personal Trainer, living in a country that is on the other side of the world to my family and close friends. These roles overlap, they compete, they conflict, they are relentless and at some point in most days they overwhelm.

I’m going to give you a little look into what I am talking about. It will probably read like a crazy person’s diary, but I would wager this is a typical woman’s day. So when you see us with screaming children pulling our ill-fitting trousers down whilst we bite your head off because you won’t take back our faulty iPhone cover and then we’re sobbing in the car in a supermarket car park, don’t judge us – this is probably the day we are going through….

Personal Trainer gets me up earlier than I would like to do 30-day shred, because I’m on day 19, because I committed to do it and because I want to enjoy wearing my clothes again. Daughter gets call from mum in the middle of the workout, Personal Trainer messages that she’ll call her back after she’s finished. Mother worries that the children will run riot if she takes time to talk to her mum but Daughter wants to talk to her mum because Friend found out yesterday that her friend’s mum died of cancer and Daughter realises how much she misses her mum and wished they lived near each other. After workout Dietician makes up a smoothie that is good for me, and Wife makes enough to give to husband who needs the healthy stuff too. Daughter has call with mum, until Mother realises she is running late on getting the children to pre-school and Freelancer re-calculates in her mind how her day will work if she starts 15 minutes later than she scheduled last night.

Mother drops off children to pre-school and misses them the second she says goodbye, Freelancer hands in form asking for them to go an extra day in the week. Mother worries that she’s missing the time she should be spending with her children but at the same time argues that when she is expected to also be Freelancer, Housekeeper, Home Owner and Friend her days with her children are generally filled with screaming, stress and tears – who is benefiting from that?! Mother and Freelancer agree that doing this is good for the children, they love pre-school, Mother has one full day being a mother (where Freelancer will not interrupt trying to squeeze in calls and emails) and Freelancer gets to have four days (and three nights and half a Saturday) to focus on her clients.

On the way to a doctor’s appointment Wife and Friend rush to a card shop to get Valentine’s and birthday cards. Whilst choosing cards Home Owner is called about insurance on renovation work and is taken through official statements, which she is only half listening to as Wife tries to find suitable card in unsuitable selection. Accountant is surprised when asked to pay for insurance on work that doesn’t start for five weeks so suggests insurance company sends invoice and Accountant works out in head how Home Owner will pay for it in five weeks time. Wife selects card then goes to shop to buy beer for Valentine’s present wishing she had more time to be romantic, Dietician stops me from getting a treat for myself. I go for referral appointment about my boobs. Friend is reminded of friend who has just lost her mum, how it all happened so quickly and how she wishes there was something she could do for her. Mother is traumatised with the thought of not being able to bring up her children because of illness. Christian searches for the faith to believe God is good and He has a future and prosperity for me and my family. Doctor reassures that the boobs are fine but as a Scientist she suggests a scan to prove her theory. Of course I am happy to get full reassurance of my health, Accountant worries about how our budget will stretch to it. Appointment is booked, Freelancer notes that is two hours lost from next Friday’s working day.

Freelancer gets back home and is frustrated by the unemptied dishwasher and the dirty dishes waiting to go in. House keeper wants to get the kitchen clean but Freelancer wins this argument and kitchen stays as it is. Freelancer begins her working day, working on three clients which she juggles on email, phone, Word and Excel for the next five hours. In that time Home Owner makes calls about renovation work, Friend gives money to a whip around for her friend who has lost her mum, Accountant worries about if we can afford it, Christian shoots the worry with the belief that God will honour our generosity and Daughter misses her mum some more.

Mother is delighted to get to 3.45pm and pick up her babies, Freelancer wishes she had more time to do more and calculates what she can get done between husband getting home and putting her daughter to bed. Whilst Mother picks up children, Home Owner gets a call about the new kitchen and Freelancer takes a work call. Mother takes babies home, Dietician cuts them up fruit and House Keeper puts on the TV so she can empty the dishwasher, fill it up with dirty stuff, Cook gets the dinner on and Freelancer gets to make a couple more calls and one email. Mother sits with children whilst they eat their dinner, which is a little burnt because Freelancer took a call when Cook should have been serving up. Mother tidies up dinner and then helps children to tidy up all the rooms in the house that have been messed up in the half hour when Cook was making dinner and Freelancer was taking calls.

Wife greets husband and wishes him Happy Valentine’s with beer present, whilst Mother is aware children need to get into the bath and Freelancer wants to finish off an email she started before husband came in. Freelancer finishes off her work for the day whilst children are bathed. Mother puts her daughter to bed and tries really hard to remain relaxed and engaged when all she can think about is flopping in front of the TV to watch The Voice.

Wife sits down to take-out dinner with husband. For the first time that day I rise to the surface and try to share how I am feeling, that I am overwhelmed by all that we have ahead of us this year. Gareth answers in role of Husband and Main Bread Winner, which makes me feel misunderstood and vulnerable. Wife realises now is not the best time for this conversation, Mother feels too tired and emotional to go there, Daughter wishes her mum was here to talk about all this, Personal Trainer reminds me I have to get up early if I’m going to get Day 20 done and Dietician is screaming at me that I CANNOT have the sweets I want to eat right now. I win that argument (it’s Friday night for crying out loud) and I get a half healthy (I used coconut oil instead of butter) rocky road slice and bottle of cider. Mother remembers she needs to start on book she is making to send to school that she wants to send her children to but is out of zone for, so Mother does that whilst Wife lets husband clear up.

I collapse into chair and watch The Voice with my husband who is bemused by earlier half-conversation but is no doubt equally too tired to pursue. We stay up too late for Freelancer and Personal Trainer’s liking and Christian worries that she lives her life too much in her own strength and understanding so reaches for her Bible to get some comfort, which she gets in the book of wisdom:

^1-2Good friend, don’t forget all I’ve taught you;
take to heart my commands.
They’ll help you live a long, long time,
a long life lived full and well.

^3-4Don’t lose your grip on Love and Loyalty.
Tie them around your neck; carve their initials on your heart.
Earn a reputation for living well
in God’s eyes and the eyes of the people.

^5-12Trust God from the bottom of your heart;
    don’t try to figure out everything on your own.
Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;
    he’s the one who will keep you on track.
Don’t assume that you know it all.
    Run to God! Run from evil!
Your body will glow with health,
    your very bones will vibrate with life!
Honor God with everything you own;
    give him the first and the best.
Your barns will burst,
    your wine vats will brim over.

So true, so simple. We all go to sleep – thank goodness!

I thought about writing this this morning whilst Personal Trainer took me through workout 20 of the 30-day shred and as Dietician and Cook made my pineapple and coconut smoothie. I have written this whilst Freelancer has screamed at me that I should be working and Wife is feeling guilty that I write this whilst my husband takes the children swimming alone and Mother worries she should be with her family and Friend has tried to think of something nice to get for her friend’s birthday that Accountant is concerned is too expensive.

It’s Saturday today and I will be all of these roles, all day. There is no day off and THAT is for me why being a Work At Home Mother is so much more than just two roles.

I’m reminded of a passage written by Paul, one of the first ever Christians, who literally experienced torture for living his life. He’s talking about not giving up;

. . in hard times, tough times, bad times; when we’re beaten up, jailed, and mobbed; working hard, working late, working without eating; with pure heart, clear head, steady hand; in gentleness, holiness, and honest love; when we’re telling the truth, and when God’s showing his power; when we’re doing our best setting things right; when we’re praised, and when we’re blamed; slandered, and honored; true to our word, though distrusted; ignored by the world, but recognized by God; terrifically alive, though rumored to be dead; beaten within an inch of our lives, but refusing to die; immersed in tears, yet always filled with deep joy; living on handouts, yet enriching many; having nothing, having it all.

I can relate. I am bewildered and challenged by my life, and yet glad to be in it.