Kind and Generous

'I have become what I never wanted to become.' The thought struck me recently as I recalled a funeral I had attended as a teenager. I held my boyfriend's hand as a priest spoke about his Grandmother's life. Despite never having met her, I left feeling so disappointed on her behalf. Her whole life had been summed up by saying she was a wonderful Mother and a kind and generous friend. It seemed paltry praise for a women who had taken a slow boat from one side of the world to the other to grow up on Australian soil. A woman who had waited for family and friends to return from wars. Who had watched as domestic life changed and her copper boiler and ice chest were replaced by a washing machine and a fridge. Who watched with wonder as man walked on the moon. Who traveled the world. My teenage self railed against this distillation of her life to 'wife and friend'. I never wanted to be 'just a mother', 'just a friend.' I wanted more. A bigger life. A life you couldn't contain within one sentence.

Yet, with age and wisdom I realise how deep and meaningful those words were. I realise I am following in her foot steps. I am wife, friend and mother. And these are big things. I am valuing similar ideals. I too want to be a wonderful Mother, a generous friend. What is more important in life than to be kind and generous? How simple and profound to be remembered as such. 

There are different ways to live a big life, but surely none are more important than loving and being loved?

Go and tell someone you love them. xx

This Moment

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. - SouleMama 

Opposites Attract

Looking at these pictures (taken with my phone) reminds me how opposite in nature my husband and I are. On paper we would hardly be an ideal match. 

He feels comfortable in a crowd of thousands. I feel comfortable at a table of friends. 

He can navigate by memory years after he has been somewhere. I rely on my GPS. 

He loves sport. I love books. 

He likes his music fast and loud. I prefer mine quiet and meaningful. 

He has a "she'll be right" attitude. I have the tendency to over think (everything.)

He can't sit still for a moment. I'm a homebody at heart.

And yet, it works. Somehow, these opposite parts of our personality have come together to form a balanced, loving, supportive relationship these past twelve years. One in which I feel safe leaving my comfort zone at Dave's encouragement and partaking in his adventures. 

On the weekend our mini adventure involved Dave talking me into fishing with the children, in spite of the rain and wind chill. I went, despite my initial reluctance, and I'm so glad I did. I wish I'd brought my camera with me. The clouds hung heavy, but the rain held off. The sunset was as moody and colourful as an artist's canvas. Three dolphins rose and dipped in the water around the jetty. Cohen and I followed them with fingers outstretched and a chorus of "Oh! There they are, over there!" We talked about jetties, ferries, fire men, sea birds and fish. Cohen proudly held the rod. 

We weren't successful at catching fish. 

But sometimes success isn't what you thought it would be.

Four

11 December 2012

My dear Cohen,

Last night I tucked a three year old in to his bed. This morning a four year old clamored in to our bed for a birthday cuddle. Yesterday I could still, just, call you a toddler. Today you are a little boy. You even look more like a little boy now, with your Lego Star Wars pajamas, (a gift from your Aunt and Uncle.) Recently a friend sent me a photo of you taken on your last birthday. Your features seem more defined now, with only traces of that dear little baby face remaining.

I want to tell you a little about yourself as you are now. I know we will both forget, despite our best efforts. There are all these little things that make you you. Parts of your personality, your quirks, your character. You have such a wonderful imagination. You live in a world where imagination and reality overlap. A world with imaginary friends, things and places. It is beautiful and heart breaking; knowing this innocence is so fleeting.You are a confidant, happy, joyful little boy. You have your own mind about most things, which can lead me to despair at times. Some days are just perpetual negotiations. You will do or say anything to try to change a no to a yes, especially at bed time.

Photos of you are harder to come by now, as you are either camera shy, or determined to get the camera yourself. You still don't like chicken and you would be happiest if your diet consisted solely of sausages, potato gems, bread, fruit and ice cream. The introduction of new foods is met with a determined "I can't like that," before you have even tried it. You do love all things Lego and Star Wars. You ask to go to your Aunt and Uncles at times, just to play with their Lego. You have a handful of unique sayings, such as - do you be happy Mama? (when you've been naughty,) can you like this? (about everything) And there are the words of your own making, including 'ya-ya' for a light saber/sword (because of the sound you make when you wave them around) and 'Pahwah' for Grandpa (which has stuck).

You have written your name for the first time, you can count to ten, but you often cheat and jump from 4 to 9. You know all your colours, shapes and seasons. You recognise garden plants and love sunflowers, your favourite colours at the moment are blue and orange. You eat strawberries fresh from the garden each day, you snack on basil leaves while I water the plants.

You are so in love with your little sister and will share all your toys, bar your matchbox cars with her. I'm really not sure why. There have been a few unfortunate incidents, where you have for example run past her and knocked her over, then hidden. But for the most part you are gentle and loving and I find you talking to her, or patting her, or cuddling her, while she stares back in admiration, or giggles at you.

There is so much more. I'm sure you'll hear much of it many times in the future, as I recall fondly these moments of your childhood. What I want you to know more than anything is that I love you and I always will.

Happy fourth birthday!

Love Mama.

Moments that shimmer

Do you ever have those moments where your heart seems to give a little burst and everything seems to shimmer? And for those few seconds you feel overwhelmed by love in such a positive way, like a surge of love that brings with it a feeling of clam? Recently I experienced it while laying Emerson down after she had fallen asleep in my arms. I watched her head slowly fall to one side on the mattress, her eyelids fluttering for a moment in that in between state where you're not sure if they will cry out and wake up, or settle and sleep. Her hand touched her face, as it is prone to do when she is very tired, and I knew she would sleep. As I watched her I felt a surge of emotion and in that instant there was an overflowing of love, contentment, gratitude, hope.

Another such moment I sat in bed, my children either side of me, as I read them a story. I recognised this moment as an image I held of motherhood long before I was a mother. Something I had yearned towards. An aspiration now fulfilled. The warm bodies and sleepy eyes beside me suddenly filled me with an immense and quiet joy. An intense wave washed over me, before the emotion receded. Everything was back to normal in a few moments, and my voice continued to rise and fall with the narrative.

I wonder what you call those moments?
Perhaps there is a word for it in another language?
Do you experience them too?

This moment

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. - SouleMama

(A day late, but I couldn't resist.)