go back where you came from

There's a Nelson Mandela quote that goes something like

It is interesting to go back to somewhere that hasn't changed to find the ways you have changed yourself.

yesterday I went back to my little old school for a carol service that was run by the school and my parents church. 

There I was in the place I had spent so much of my teenage tears. 

Five (and sometimes more) days a week. Six long years.

There were the buildings more or less the same, there were the students wearing the same uniform. There were the teachers. My old music teacher led the ban I used to play in on the stage I'd played on before. Other teachers scattered round the hall the way they used to do at weekly assembly. Our eccentric English teacher swaying and crooning along with the carols, another taking endless photographs from the upstairs viewing platform. 

Just as the had always done.

The memories flooded back. 

Performances, practices, lessons, friendships. Adventures in the secret tunnels and under the stage. The times we went to sports practice and the times we didn't. Sitting in the freezing cold day house and being allowed to take our ties off when it was hot. Swimming carnivals, modern history, meat pies, videos. Hopeless food tech classes, going to the bathroom when maths was on, climbing through windows to fetch my violin, passing notes to boys. Cadets, reading group, Jim Morrison, camp, substitute teachers.

But I don't belong in that place anymore. A few photos and a name in gold letters on the captains board is all that remains.

And I have changed. While the school plodded on I have left. I have learned many things, I have grown up, become a wife and a mother twice over. I think of the way the world looked back then an realise I have grown. My cares are deeper but my knowledge is greater. My responsibility is larger but my opportunities are too. 

It was nice to sit and think about the times we had at school. But I don't belong there anymore. It has stayed the same but I have changed. I have grown up.

And that's ok.

the gypsies - week one

We packed up our house just over a week ago. It feels like an age.

Our last day in Newtown was a rainy one. We had camped on our bedroom floor after packing up all our things into a storage container.
We had breakfast at our go-to cafe for the very last time. I had the pancakes. With ice-cream.
Time to celebrate eh?



















Then it was a long day of cleaning.
We had booked a steam cleaner to come at 3pm.
When he turned up at one I freaked out. I had to move everything off the carpets.
I was home alone.
When the guy I imagined to be a short middle eastern man turned out to be a tall blonde stereotypical Scandinavian man I left the front door open. It all felt a little too much like a bad taste film.

After pack pack packing and clean clean cleaning we headed to the country. I had a cramp in my scrubbing arm and as we drove off after dropping off our keys I began to feel so sad.
It was the end of an era.
Four long joyful hard blessed years.
And just like that, it was gone.

We drove west for my nieces first birthday, spent the weekend there and then drove down the inland route to Ulladulla. It was so great to drive a different way. It was mostly the same way we drove to our honeymoon and brought back some lovely memories.

We holidayed by the beach with college friends. It was a GREAT week.
I'm going to miss seeing those people regularly. We had seven adults and six kids in a little shack by the sea. We swam and ate and drank port. We chatted and laughed and told very immature jokes.

By Friday we were feeling well rested and happy.

Our youth group camping plans had been cancelled because of rain and the youth camp was happening at church so we headed up the coast to Sydney.

I should have known something was wrong when the little one had an accident en route. A messy accident. And then I got tired. Real tired.

My throat was sore, my head pounding. I ached. I could barely get out of the car to fetch doughnuts from Berry. In fact I didn't. I attempted it then Myl had to come to the rescue. 

The little ones were grizzly. I can only imagine they felt it too but had no words to tell me.
We got to the church hall, set up, and slept.

The next day was a bit of a blur. I slept and got up, slept and attempted food. The girls slept and played. Myl was an angel. And then he got it too.

We stayed the night with friends but our plans to go camping all the next week we feared would need to be put on hold. We needed somewhere to rest and recuperate. Somewhere to lick our wounds. So I write this sitting on the lounge at good ole Mum and Dads. We're here for the next little while till we feel all better and then...who knows!

The wandering gypsies.

On Monday we decided to move out of our house.

It's been a long time coming. We knew it was happening. Myl has finished college forever and we're on to the next stage of life.

With only one catch. The house we have to move into isn't empty yet. The tenants have till the end of the year to move out and they don't seem to be budging anytime soon.

So that makes us homeless. Wandering gypsies, nomads.

It's not as bad as all that. We've got a few weeks of holidays, some camping, trips to the country to see the fam bam. 

Our car is packed with clothes and tent. We have one fox box full of books and a few toys. The girls have matching fold out lounges to sleep on. Eeek!

It's going to be pretty exciting but I'm sure by the end I'll be yearning for a place to rest my head and set my bags down. It's all making me think of a country and western song.

So it might be even quieter than usual over here on the ole blog but I'm sure to be instagramming up a storm so follow along. 

And if you see a four piece family trekking along the road with a pile of laundry and sun kissed faces, be sure to say hello.

when growing up hurts

My littlest one. Smalls.

She's a chilled out kiddo. Smiley and fun.

Lately she's been growing up and it hurts.

She's mastered sitting and crawling and is now pulling herself up on all the things.

She likes to practice these skills at night and because of her new independence she's developed a new clinginess. She likes to practice this clinginess at night.

I remember it was the same with her sister and it really knocked me out and made me doubt my ability as a mother.

This time it's knocked me about again but I feel more like I know where it's coming from and can see that like most things to do with childhood, it won't last.

So even though I'm typing this lying next to a sleeping babe in scared to put in her cot for fear she will wake up in ten minutes. Even though our bed has had three people in it more than it has two. Even though bedtime is a long drawn out process at the moment I'm going to remember that this little girl is growing and changing and learning and it must hurt a little for her too.