Smiley Riley.

Still trying to get through all my kids, Riley is number five in amongst my seven. If you know her, then you know that she is almost certifiably crazy.

18th of March 2006, to be honest with you, her birthing story is a bit ridiculous, my midwife and I had set out a lovely birthing plan, which included minimal drugs, maybe some water and a nice relaxing entrance into the world for my Lil girl. After having the twins I was ready to deliver this baby and literally walk out and go home.
One week before my due date, when Waitakere Hospital declared that my bmi was too high and that I couldn't deliver there, we made plans to have my nice natural birth at North Shore hospital..
The day I went into labour, both Waitakere and North shore hospitals failed me. I rang my midwife to tell her we were on the way to the hospital, she was happy with that and said she would meet us at North Shore hospital. 5 minutes later, we are pulling into the carpark and she rings me to tell me that the delivery suite aren't accepting anymore patients. we sit in the carpark, and I am so confused, is the hospital shut down? why aren't they taking patients? where do I go now? lets not mention the pain  I was in. My midwife rings Waitakere to see if we can go there, that's a no go, so we are sitting in the car park, and my midwife is having a meltdown, swearing and yelling at her bosses, the only other option we had was either to go home and deliver, or to drive to Auckland hospital.
From North shore hospital to Auckland hospital at 4pm on a Friday afternoon, the traffic was not kind to us, I was upset and pissed off and in pain all at the same time.
We were changing health boards, so since Waitemata health board weren't helping me out, we had to go under the Auckland city health board, this meant that my midwife, who is a Waitemata midwife, couldn't do anything for me during my labor, and was only allowed into the room as a support person. My birthing plan was completely out the window, all the stress of getting into a hospital caused my body to shut down once we had arrived at Auckland hospital. My contractions stopped for about an hour, then they started again ... contractions usually come and then they go, you get a slight break before the pain starts again, but for me, the contractions wouldn't actually stop, so I had to have an epidural, just to stop the pain, and as soon as it took effect, Riley was born, my body got to relax a bit and voila. a baby. (I spared you all the real gory details).

We all call Riley, Johns baby. When she is being naughty, it's Johns fault, he raised her! When she was 3 months old I went to work and John stayed home with the kids, you could call it role reversal, but really, all my roles were still in play, when I got home from work.
Riley is our fairest kid, she has blonde in her hair and def my meat on her bones. lol. people always say that she is the most like me, but I tell you, she is the most like her dad. smart ass, always hungry, always joking around. She is for sure a little bit bi polar. mood swings for days, and she hasn't even hit the tweens yet. I am so scared of what she will be like as a teenager, not for me, but for anybody that crosses her, she is feisty and not afraid to show it.
The happy side of Riley, is one that makes me laugh everyday. She sings with her headphones on, loud and proud. she dances, but only when her older sisters aren't around. I catch her trying to write lyrics down on paper then making up her own songs. She gets so excited when she feels like she has made up the next greatest pop song ever. then she sings it to me. oh man she needs lessons in rhyming and rhythm. Riley is only 7, but she fits a size 10 and acts like she is 16. She will always be a great source of humor in our house, and is destined to be a pain in the butt for her brothers, but I say good, they need  to learn to love her a bit more, even if she embarrasses them at school...every day!

She loves her Aunty Annie like no ones business, farts on her, giggles and laughs with her, writes on her, climbs and lies all over her (and she's not light!) Riley begs to go to her Aunty Annies house every weekend. you would think it was to play with her cousins, but I know she just loves annoying Ann. You can't help but love Riley, she is just too comfortable in her own skin, which lets her be a little bit more out there and ready to try anything. She manages to con most of her Aunty and Uncles into giving her what she wants, she used to follow her Aunty Ali around asking her the same questions over and over again, but there is nothing you can do but laugh, she's smiling while asking and you can't get mad at that!
Her teacher says she struggles to follow instructions at school, usually talking to her friends too much to even hear the instruction, but once she is listening and on task he says her work is always different to her class mates. she thinks outside the box, he tells me that she is one of his brightest students, because she always goes for the odd and strange, always explaining things longer than needed, doing things the hard way to prove a point and would rather be doing something different to the group, just because that's what excites her and gets her learning more. I said to her teacher, isnt that annoying? having a student that doesn't like the normal and who get bored easy. he says to me, no, that's a sign of pure genius. I laughed. But I see now, the way she does things are always going to be the hard way around, she always sees her arguments out to the end, till she's won, till she has defeated her opponent. be it her 2 year old sister or the 14 year old one. She will always fight to have her opinion heard, or her needs met (food being the main need) but I have to say, when I watch her write, she is immersed in it, head almost touching the paper and pen furiously writing, I've kept some of her stories, when she is older, I will read them out at her 21st, they sound like a female version of that stupid Adventure Time cartoon, with fat fairies and witches with pink hair.

I can't describe the love you have for your kids, till you have kids of your own, then you just know. I might have a few more children than most, and they are all different, so you love each one differently. Fellyn is my hard one to love. I love her, but it can be hard to show that love when she literally hugs my legs all day long and cries when I leave the room (what is this called? separation anxiety, I think she needs a therapist. I think I need a therapist to recover from Fellyn) Anyway! Riley is the easiest to love, she hugs you and sloppy kisses you. I find myself giving her a quick kiss goodnight, in the hope that she might go to bed quickly, and so that I don't have to wear her saliva on my face, but no, she has mastered the art of injuring you AND loving you, all at the same time and usually when you least expect it. I hope like heck that she will never change.

nice riley

the real riley

Double the trouble, twice the love

My boys turn 9 today.

27th September 2004 they were born, 7 weeks early. Levi weighed around 1040 grams and Jackson was 1440grams. Basically around 1kg and 1.5kgs. they were so small, luckily they didn't need any assistance breathing and just had a little oxygen for a couple of days. Being born so early, they didnt have their sucking reflex yet, so they were fed through a nasal tube that went into their stomach. so on sight after birth, seeing so many tubes as well as their heart rates/breathing rates and oxygen levels being monitored, it was a little overwhelming watching them in their incubators. not to mention not being allowed to hold them, barely touching them, with a nurse watching your every movement, is very frustrating. My family were so annoyed they could only stand at the doorway and look in, but better they kept their germs out of there.. It was a long and drawn out ordeal for me, we found out that one twin was growing at a faster rate than the other, I remember crying when the doctor told me that this could lead to one twin dying. the thought of losing one over the other was very upsetting to me, even more so now if I was to think which boy we wouldn't have.
Thank goodness we didn't have the twin to twin transfusion that can lead to one twin dying, but the membrane that separated them in the womb was very thin. So in other words, Jasckson was a hog and Levi missed out. So we monitored their growth and at about 26 weeks I was admitted to hospital to keep an eye on them daily and because my kidneys kept flaring up causing me pain. So we stayed there for 6 weeks, I read almost every magazine on my floor, talked to the orderlies, I knew the menu back to front and waited everyday for hubby to come visit me after work. I missed my two girls and stressed at my mum having to watch them. finally, and I mean FINALLY they set a date for a cesarean. Levi (twin one we used to call him) had stopped growing and became clear that he would grow better on the outside, rather than in my belly. They gave me shots of steroids to help strengthen the twins lungs before the operation and assured me that everything would be okay.
The day before the cesaer I was in panic attack mode, just the anticipation and being in hospital for so long, the day had come and I actually couldn't deal with it, I was scared they would be too small and not survive, I also had read too much (a reoccurring fault of mine) about premature babies and the problems they can have, both short and long term. Good thing I was in hospital, lots of drugs around to help me calm my nerves!
So the day arrives, John is here nice and early and I am being prepped for the cesarean, they put a epidural into my back and put onto the operation table, I was told to put both my arms out, to the side, then these board things pop out and I realise I'm looking like I'm on a crucifix. While I'm already feeling nervous and a little uncertain, the bloody bed tilts to the left. John is sitting next to me, holding my hand, trying to reassure me, but he could probably see the fear in my eyes. I've told this story to many, esp the part where all the doctors walk in and they are wearing these big white butcher boots. John looks as confused as I am, but when the started to cut me open, there was a splash on the floor and poor John who is wearing his nice timberlands, looks at me and says "my shoes!" So now you know, wear ya gumboots. lol

We had two teams in theatre, one for each twin, they were whisked away promptly and John went with them upstairs to the NICU and I was left to my own devices with the doctors in butcher boots.

Each boy had their own set of problems, sleep apnoea (when they forget to breathe) this would make the alarms go off and wasn't very good for my nerves as I would be in a panic and the nurse would just sit there and wait for them to breathe again. At 4 weeks old Jackson was diagnosed with a hole in the heart, a very big one that would need an operation, they gave him another 2 weeks to see if it would close up by itself, and thankfully it did. Although the doctors were amazed that it did considering the size of the hole. I say that's the power of prayer.
We were transferred from Greenlane, to Waitakere Hospital then when the boys took a little turn for the worse, we were transferred again to North Shore Hospital. At one point I had Levi at North Shore Hospital and Jackson at Waitakere Hospital, and me with my expressed breast milk running around trying to feed my babies. It was a ridiculous time, but it was needed, when I finally got to take them home, they were feeding and breathing and beautiful. Many thanks go to all the people that lended a hand during those 3 months of hospitals, doctors and ambulances. On the night that it was decided that Levi needed to be transferred to North Shore, the nurse said to me do you know anybody who can come and give him a blessing. So John rings our friend, Elia, who rushes up and while the ambulance is waiting for us to load him in, they give him a blessing in his incubator, and then he is whisked off  leaving me behind in a state, but grateful for friends that calmed my mind for that night. So many people who brought me food, or kept me company for a few hours. I will never forget it.
We were so excited to bring them home, Lara and Deon had been waiting for 6 weeks, and were prob dissapointed because I wouldnt let anyone hold them in case they sneezed. I didnt want to go back into the hospital! I'll tell you, it's much easier in hospital when they are on a schedule and closely monitored, than at home trying breastfeed two. I soon realised that that just wasn't going to happen. We settled into a good routine of bottles,burping and nappies. (Aunty Jas was the best nappy changer!) They were good babies, funny how under more stressful circumstances you step up and become more organised.

Anyways, hospitals soon became a regular spot for us, both the boys would go down with bronchitis and we spent many an night in hospital, their first birthday we had the party then we drove straight to the hospital with Levi, every time I would plan to go somewhere, I'd end up in hospital. Middle of the night I would leave John with girls, come home after 2 or three days, then go back in with the other twin. They liked to keep us on our toes! Thankfully as they have gotten older the asthma has gotten better, only needing an inhaler if they get a cold.

If I was describe them now, they are naughty, but quietly naughty, they love to read, but then I catch them trying to reenact pranks from the book they've read onto their siblings.. or me. They love drawing, but only cartoons, like their dad. They are indeed so different, Levi is sensitive to everyone around him, at school and at home. He knows when his papa is grumpy he will go and give him a hug when the rest of us go and hide. lol. Levi almost has a sixth sense to how I'm feeling, he always does the job before told If (and only IF) he knows I'm in a mood, he rubs my back and tells me he loves me. Jackson is little more robust, he has a cheeky and sneaky side to him, and he has a right temper too.. just like papa schwencke. I caught him calling someone a homo once..me and john just looked at each other and were like.. that's papa! (don't worry he got an earful) Jackson is long sighted and wears glasses, but that doesn't seem to stop him, his creative side is very detailed and precise. No room for error and definitely no room for mess.

I can't even imagine life without these two, they both bring so many headaches, but so much joy. I have often wondered which child I would have had there been just one baby, and not one single once of me could pick between. I am truly blessed, with all my children, I'm blessed that they are all healthy, talented and great kids. I might not be saying this when they are all teenagers, but for now, I'll let them be blessings!

Lies

Number Two is off to camp tomorrow, I am extremely nervous and don't want her go. LIE. I'm hanging out for that 8:15am bus to pull up and take her away. 

Number One keeps telling me she is doing her homework on her new laptop. LIE. The amount of homework seems to have quadrupled since the laptop was made available. p.s I know how fast you can close Internet Explorer, esp when your mother is walking towards you.

When my kids blame something on their little sister. 

Question: "Who drew on the wall?"  

Answer: "Fellyn did it"

Take a glance at the height of these lovely drawings, and measure them against the two year old, she cant even reach that high. Line up all the kids so I can figure it out based on their height and arm reach. bingo. you can now scrub the wall and all the other walls in the house. Lies will only get you into more trouble, and that's the truth.

Another myth about motherhood (sorry if you are male and about to read this) Breastfeeding. I know that breastfeeding is good for my kids, I have fed them all at some stage and for various amounts of time. 

I have gone from 6 weeks of using a breast pump for the twins whilst in hospital, I quit after one day at home with them, sanity soon became a major priority. big props to twin mums that breastfeed. 

To feeding an almost THREE year old toilet trained toddler who can speak very well, telling me in public that she is now ready for boo boo. and loudly too. And yes she has lifted my top up in public in search of her boob, and she has looked at me with hungry eyes, saying, 'hey mum, i like your boo boo'. lordy, Fellyn is finally weaned and she still spends a good amount of time stuffing her hand down my top just for comforts sake. You lovely plunket ladies are LIARS. You didn't tell me about the time consumption, sore nipples, no hay fever medication or alcohol. I LIE, breastfeeding is the most wonderful bond you can have with your newborn, just not with a two year old, that will drive you nuts.

Breastfeeding helps you loose weight. 

Don't even get me started.

People say to me, your twins are sooo adorable, such well behaved little boys. Ohmygosh. Big Fat LIE. Between the two of my boys, they own 2 pairs of ears, all four ears seem to be failing the criteria for listening skills. ie. I am looking straight at you, you are staring straight at me, I am giving you ONE instruction, you walk away, do a full circle around the lounge, scratch your head, and sit down, happy with what you just accomplished. 

Lies lies lies. 

"There is no such thing as middle child syndrome" I think this may be a lie that I told myself, so that Riley (my number 5) wouldn't be labelled as a middle child. Riley is 7, only 18 months younger than the twins, but is now displaying disturbing signs of middle child syndrome. I don't even know if this is an actual medical term, but she suffers from 'poor me'.. usually at bed time when i'm over talking to children and always when the other kids might have, at some point during the day eaten something she has missed out on. Bi polar just might be another characteristic of middle child syndrome, not to belittle the condition in anyway, I'm just describing my daughter, she can literally laugh hysterically for long periods of time, then hit the floor with a frown on her face. I call it the darkness, dark clouds set in over her little chubby face, the eyes go dark and she starts looking at everyone sideways. Not to worry though, she will be dancing to Beyonce in 3, 2, 1 ... 

When your 5 year old tells her teacher that her mum is 40. Geez Taylor.

She told me that she only said it because her friends mum is 40. Taylor reckons we look the same, so I must be 40. Yes, you know that LIE that says that kids will keep you feeling YOUNG, LIE LIE LIE

The biggest LIE of all, is the saying that Kids get easier with age. That is not my experience at all, the older my kids get, the more they talk. Talking means more asking, moaning, fighting and crying. Whoever you are, you LIED. Little kids are easy, food, fun and sleep is all they need. Big kids need whatever the neighbours have and everything that we don't already own. 

I'm so sorry kids, you can all have an iphone 5 for Christmas. 

LIE.

A few more things that I have learnt recently.

Soggy Cornflakes do not come out of kids hair in time for their bus.

Being my Husband does not mean that you are a Food Critic. When Wifey cooks, you are allowed to Lie all you want. LOL. words cut deep. hahhahaha.

Walking around the Lake does not mean that you can have Chocolate for lunch. Lying to yourself Leilani.

Walking around the Lake with all the other mothers that don't even need to loose weight will only make you feel shitty. and you will come home shitty. and then you will have chocolate for lunch which will make you even more shitty. Lesson: Go walking when its dark or in the countryside. hahaha. 

There is nothing wrong with having size Eleven Feet, even  if the the lady serving has a look of horror on her face when you ask for help. I am Samoan. forgoodnesssake. 

Gripe sesh over, I feel so much better now. MONDAY MONDAY bring it on. xxxxxx

No room for mediocre. Deon V Hunt.

I have one sentence to describe giving birth to Deon "I don't want to."
I now knew what childbirth felt like. I knew what was in store and was not up for it. If I had been clever, I should have asked for a cesarean, but I didn't, I didn't even ask for an epidural. I suffered it, and repeated that sentence maybe a good 20 times. John eventually said to me "well you don't have a choice, shes coming!". Even as she was coming out I was still saying " I cant, I don't want to". Denial is a very silly thing!
After finally weaning Kalara, which was a major victory for me, I found myself pregnant.. again. I was almost 21 and had other ideas for my 21st than dinner at Tony's in Henderson. I was not happy with myself at all, I had planned to go to Uni and get myself a career, John and I were having fun times still figuring out how to put being parents  before ourselves, but here we were preparing for baby number two.
She was born on June the 11th 2001. That day was a Sunday, and for some stupid reason, even though I knew I was going into labor, I went to church. I was asked to stand up during the Sacrament meeting and upon standing, I had a major contraction. I must have looked like an idiot, wincing in pain, but still trying to maintain composure. After sacrament we are walking out of the chapel, saying good bye to friends "where are you going?" "I'm going to have a baby!", they laughed and thought I was joking. I wasn't.
We dropped Kalara off to my parents place and went home to wait for things to move along. Evening comes and we get visitors and I'm trying to signal to John ... get them outta here! I'm trying to gracefully remove my self from the couch and as soon as I make it to my room, my waters break and the longest and worst contraction came with it. John comes to check on me, and I tell him we are going to the hospital now and to say goodbye to friends, I couldn't care if they stayed there in my house, but we were leaving!
The "I don't want to" moaning started there. From the time we left home to her arrival was only about 40 minutes. I cant believe that I actually was such a baby about it, at one point the midwife just glared at me, I know she wanted to tell me to shut up. lol. there was no time for meds or even the gas, she came too fast.
As soon as she was born I was fine, completely oblivious to the drama queen that had come out during labour. Pain does terrible things to people, especially this person. We were home within 24 hours. I hate hospitals and since I seemed to have come out of this still alive, I wanted to go home.

Deon Vana Hunt. We had made a list of names via the alphabet. One name for each letter, then selected our favourite. She hates that she has a boys name. Too many people comment on it, thinking I named her after Dionne Warwick. Sorry Deon, It was just bad luck we liked that name on that day! Vana is after Johns good friend Silvana Talamaivao. Though I'm sad to say Deon cannot remember her at all. A truly great lady who knew how to hassle and mock my hubby like no other. One day when we get our butts back to Nz, she will be on our first to visit list.

Deon was different to Kalara, she was fair skinned, but still with the dark hair just not so much of it. She was chubby and cheeky. Always playing in the mud or eating grass. Lara didn't like being dirty, Deon loved it. She has always been fussy though, rough and tumble outside but she used to line up all the shoes in order, then get annoyed if a shoe was missing, line her raisins up and eat them one by one, and yes, if you gave her a packet of m&ms, she would split them into colours. The same with her toys, all lined up from biggest to smallest and good luck to Kalara if she messed it up. Today she is still the same, hair needs to be perfect, all school work in order. She hates chaos and thrives when things are in order, but she still loves to be outside, always doing something. (something usually includes the most expensive extra curricular activities, or baking the most complicated recipe everrr)
This year she is in her last year of primary, year 7. She is also the girls School Captain . We are so proud of her, she doesn't take no for an answer and truly gives her best in everything she does. She worries me the most too. When I say she doesn't take no for an answer, that is slowing starting to apply to me. To be honest I'm kinda scared of her ambition. The thought of having to support her and be her advocate is scary, who knows what trouble this kid is going to get into. Kalara has always been quite self sufficient, happy to join everything she wants , but usually gets herself there and doesn't beg for me to come watch.. That may have something to do with sideline yelling.. but you get my drift. Deon is all about parental support.. mum you need to... mum we are going to be late.. daddy can you please take me.....(and daddy always takes her too).
She has a way about her, always smooching up to her uncles, she always gets penned as the favorite, much to her sisters disgust. Always eager and ready to go.. should somebody put shoes on to leave the house, she has mastered the art of sneaking into the car and coming home with a treat for herself.
She is my responsible one, my little memory card, reminding me of all the things that I need to purchase, pay for or sign. If it wasn't for her, half the kids school stuff would go forgotten, come to think of it, I would probably forget a child or two at a park or shopping center if she wasn't there to pull me back into reality.
I love this girl, I admire her, she has qualities that as an adult, I still don't possess (which I wont list). Everyday she teaches me something new. I've had to relearn Algebra, so I could help her out with homework, she forces me to bake something different should a Saturday afternoon get boring. She makes me walk around the block when she can see I'm getting the grumps. Sometimes the best reflection of yourself is in your kids. I don't mean that to gloat, I mean it as in, she makes me reflect and improve who I am and what I need to be doing. you could say that I am actually scared of failing her. There are things I want for her, that I need to provide, and I am finding that scary. I find lots of little notes to my self around the house, 90% of them include things that I must remember to do for Deon.
She recently secured a scholarship at the local High School for years 8 and 9, it is called the EXCITE program. Its an excellence program covering all basic subjects, which also means 2 hours of homework every night, she also got into a Sports Excellence program in Touch Rugby. So I'm thinking that for the rest of this year, we will be relaxing a bit, next year it seems will be a true test for her and for me. I'm not looking forward to it, but I am looking forward to watching her grow and achieve as much as she can.
Mediocre is a funny word. It means ordinary, neither good nor bad. It also means 'of middle height'. I suppose you could say, that it is not something I want for my kids. the mediocre. I'm not really satisfied with mediocre things. Not when you know that they are capable of superior and great things. Catch 22 , As the parent, I have to leave mediocrity behind and stop being of middle height. and there lies my fears, can I live up to my children's expectations, can I live up to my own expectations?
I am sure I will muddle through it, as I have up until now and will keep doing. I'm grateful to have family that support my kids to no end, both sides of our family, they love them just as much as I do. And to have a John. A John that has my back, even if I'm wrong, and still loves me when I'm wrong (p.s I am always wrong.)

As for Deon. I'm praying that she will manage all the work ahead and do it with a smile. I know I will be struggling to smile while keeping the other 6 kids quiet so she can study, you know the saying goes, you reap what you sow.  So let the sowing begin because I need to reap some rewards!
Happy weekend xxxxx

Tell me

"Tell me." My son says to me, "Tell me mum, tell me what it was like in the old days."

I had to stop right there, rewind a bit, and tell myself to breathe.

Since when was my life an ancient one? since when did my childhood require a good 5 minutes to remember the details or be so long ago that its referred to as the "olden days". 

Did I get old. Am I Old?? I'm laughing, but not really, just a fake laugh to soothe the 'crap I am old' thought that just entered my head. I look at Levi and explain to him that the good old days are Pre 1980. I make the cut because I was born in 1980. Sorry to John who was born in 1978. hahaha. you are old hun. 

I am not old. I am 33. that's young isn't it? I feel young, I know I don't look young, but I've never cared for what other people think, so in my head and my space, I'm still young. I still listen to cool music and get excited when I get my hands on a new album. I'm down, I'm hip. And then again, if you use the words, cool, down and hip, then maybe you are old.

I will say that I'm not old ......fashioned. I may be ageing gracefully (not) and trying to reverse all the effects of child birth, late nights and bad food, but I still know whats cool. At least I think I do.

Cool things for me include. Clean house. Clean children. Quiet children. Quiet husband. Pinterest. Oh dear.

Actually anything clean and everything quiet fits into my cool zone. Maybe that's more in the 'I wish' zone. 

Start again. 

I know whats not cool.

A conversation with the 14 year old and within maybe 30 seconds of her explanation of her day, she has said the word 'like' a good 20 times. That's not cool. that's just annoying. 

Talk to Deon, 30 seconds with her and she has told me that I need to fix my hair, there is no food (to her liking) and that she need new runners because her friends got new ones. You know the Nike free runs 5.0. That's not cool either. 

Things like the word SWAG. Do not use the word swag. First of all it is a stupid word, second of all, what the hell does it mean anyway. Oh you got swag, because your pants hit the floor or your skinny jeans make you look like your gonna cry from the extreme tightness. Sorry to all the people I know that rock skinny jeans, I'm talking about the extreme skinny. Like, you may as well have worn your sisters tights today, kind of skinny. 

Jeggings are not cool, they are ugly. They are just a more stupid version of the extremely skinny jeans. Lol. 

Rude people, nosey people and judgy judgy people. they aren't cool either. 

My hair is not cool. Yes I still have curls that refuse to cooperate with me on a daily basis.

Sugar is not cool. My recent war against sugar is turning into a slight obsession. Whilst I'm still to master the art of eliminating it, reading and understanding what sugar does to your body. very uncool! 

okay maybe only old people rave about health issues.

Anyway, since when did your age affect how cool you were. Stop worrying, its not till your children tell you that you're not cool that you need to worry. That hasn't happened to me yet. YET. They have told me that I'm not funny, "no mum you're not funny." But I am funny, I'm sure of it. Don't they know humor comes with age! 

I think that when you start turning the music down because its too loud and cringe at teenagers clothing, you might be getting older. Older is a better word. I am getting older.. therefore I must be getting wiser. That would be the concept. Good concept, if it were true. I have learnt from my mistakes, taken trials turned them into triumphs, but I am still none the wiser. I still leave my wallet at the supermarket, I still cant read a map, even when I've studied it and think I have it sussed, on the road, you can guarantee I'll point you in the wrong direction. I left my youngest child at my sisters house one day, packed the kids in the car and we drove off, only to hear Riley ask why Fellyn wasn't in her car seat! You can prob put that down to too many kids. I'll cop that one. OR when a lady driving past stopped me and my daughter and asked for directions to the police station, I confidently pointed to the left and explained where to go only to turn around to my daughter shaking her head "No mum you just sent her to the Fire station" safe to say we were rolling around on the street laughing, till we saw her car again and quickly ran away. Trust me I have plenty of stories like this.

On a serious note... the older I get, the more I am able to look back and laugh (or cry), sometimes I look back at my life and just shake my head. at least now that I am OLD, I have a few more skill sets to help me deal with those shake your head moments. At least with age comes experience. I have experienced a lot of dumb stuff and a lot of good stuff, all the stuff combines together to make me who I am, what I know and gives me the leverage I need to instruct and teach my kids. I realised the other day that Lara was going to be 15 next year, I said this out loud to John on a drive home, I also said to him "Do you know what I was getting up to when I was 15?" He just nodded and said, "lucky shes not like you." That's for sure, and its because of my experience and AGE that I can steer her in the right direction. something Ill be doing for long time to come.

Tell me that the ageing process will be kind to me. Tell me that growing older will grant me more wisdom and less durrr moments. Tell me that my kids will love me regardless of my uncool and old fashioned ways.

Tell me, my son asked me. I think I will just tell him, that yes I am old, I lived in the 'olden' days and I have plenty of stories for you. So next time Levi asks me about those 'days of old', I may be able to give him the answer he wants instead of trying to weasel out of it. 

Cheers to my friends out there, because if I'm old, then you guys are too! LOVE YA!

Homemade Muesli Bars

Im sick of buying muesli bars for my kids. If I think about it, the only reason why I buy them is to fill up their lunch box. Look at the the sugar content of your run of the mill muesli bar, and you might as well pack a few tablespoons of sugar into their lunch box.
So I remembered my mother making muesli bars, as well as breakfast muesli. We dug up her old recipe in the infamous, cocoa/flour/butter/oil covered recipe book, and gave it a go.

So this is the paper recipe

 But this is what we ended up doing (based on what was in the cupboard and what we like)

1 cup coconut
2cups wholegrain oats

Toasted them separately, then let cool down. Then we added.......

1 bag of mixed nuts (500g)  (had raisins, sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, almonds, cashew, peanut and brazil nuts)
1/2 bag apricots. chopped up.
handful of cranberries
2 cups of cornflakes

Then we made the glue that sticks.

1 cup peanut butter
1/2 cup honey
1/2 cup butter
1/2 brown sugar

Melt this in saucepan and bring to a slow boil, dont let it burn, so dont walk away and play on facebook because it'll burn. lol.

So just add the sticky stuff to the dry stuff, mix it up well and press it all down into a dish. precut it before you refridgerate as it gets quite hard.
chuck it in the fridge for about an hour so it sets well. If you have a few kids this will last a weeks school lunches. If you have seven kids like me, maybe two days, if the adults keep their mits off it!

the best thing about this is its homemade, still has sugar in it, but not loads and not over processed either. You can chuck in what you want, some choc chips, dried fruit that you like. I was tempted to put in some LSA(linseed,sunflower,almond) mix, but I didnt, I'll fool them into liking it this time and next time ill nab them with the good stuff!
Check out Mama Schwencke's recipe book from the 80's. most recipes you actually cant even see, It's covered in baking love!  I've typed them out plenty of times, but still pull it out when we bake, just for comforts sake :)

Me and John + One

Friends often ask me about my pregnancies/deliveries. Seems like I should have this birthing thing down pat. When in reality, the more children I had, the more horrific the birthing got. I struggle to remember all the details from each birth. The more I think about those experiences, the more I'm  remembering. Those first few days with your newborn is something that should be greatly treasured. Never will they be that small again, so new and pure, relying on you for all necessities of life. Having a new little spirit around the home is probably my favourite part of having a child. Don't worry it quickly turns to endless nights, sore boobs and undone housework, but watching a newborn child sleep, first smile, first eye contact, they are all truly special moments. My first child was born 3 months after my wedding to John, and in my 19th year of life. I was young ... and selfish and naive and emotional. ha. Lets say I was not ready for the demands that a baby brings, but I muddled through it thanks to a few great friends, my mother and of course John was always there to hold the baby while holding the playstation control, a technique that is highly commendable, and something that he can still do to this day. Picture Fellyn who is now two slipping her head under the playstation control so she can sit with her dad, and so politely get in the way.

So I'll start with her. My eldest child. I'll try not to ramble but in this case I think I might have to!

14th of May, 1999, Kalara Lee was born around 11:45am, to a 19 year old mother who had carried her around for 2 weeks longer than she'd wanted to and was quite possibly the grumpiest person in West Auckland. I had a feeling that she was going to arrive the night before, so I packed a few more things into my bag and went to sleep. I woke up around 5am to my waters breaking, panicking ringing the midwife only to be told to stay home till my contractions were closer together. So we stayed up, John turned his playstation on and I sat in bed just waiting, breathing through my contractions. Picture my hubbys head popping into the door frame, "Are you alright hun?" Playstation control still firmly gripped. He quickly became my least favourite person.
I remember waiting by the door at Waitakere hospital for somebody to open it up so we could get in, I remember John guiding me through the doors, I being calm but was very nervous, all I wanted to hear was that wooshing noise of her heart beating. Sometimes when you read a little too much on giving birth, you end up thinking the worst of everything. As my contractions progressed, my midwife started talking about going into the water. All I could think of was a stupid birthing video I had watched with a mother in a pool in her home, completely naked and way to composed for childbirth. "It's okay you can keep your top on" she told me, and I replied.."can i keep my pants on too?" (I did say I was naive). So I had Kalara in the water, the water seemed to take all the pain from my lower back away, plus once I was in the bath there was no way I was getting out.
She was so long and hairy, it sounds like a funny description but all I could see was this head of black hair.
9 pounds and 4 ounces, she was a big baby. We didn't know she was going to be a girl, but I smiled as soon as they told me.

During labour I had only had the gas, but I couldn't get the rhythm of it, always going for it when the contractions were peaking instead of beforehand, then id be all out of it when I should have been recovering. John did so good, holding my hand, even though I'm sure he wished he had never offered it in the first place. he cut the cord, poor nurse though who put her finger in the wrong place, John cut her finger too. hahaha. I remember being surprised that the breathing techniques actually worked. I also remember my midwife and mother playing around with the placenta like I couldn't see them right on front of me, and thinking to myself, old people have no shame. haha. sorry mum. Having mum at Kalaras birth seemed to stress her out, seeing her daughter in pain didn't go down with my mumma, and I could hear her harassing the midwives,"give her something!!" and she wonders why she was never allowed into the delivery room after that.
The best feeling  in the world is the moment that the baby is OUT. I never thought I could be so grateful to have pain end, then couple that with a little girl that now belonged to me, but my disapointment when everyone said "She looks like her dad!!!
I dont know why but I had thoughts of having a blonde baby with my eyes, but no all my children look like their Dad. Good looking polynesian kids that dont look anything like me! I cant complain, cant be helped that their Dad is so incredibly good looking. Although I remember having to defend my motherhood once when somebody asked me if I had adopted an Indian baby. :)
I remember holding her for the first time and thinking what the heck am I supposed to do now?
The nurse or midwife was trying to get me to give her the breast but I think I was still in shock from delivering her. I tried to, but soon got very tired and dizzy. I had lost so much blood, my blood pressure plummeted and I passed out while the midwife was trying to take my blood pressure, which led to being put on oxygen and some fluid via drip. I was okay after something to eat and drink, I remember being annoyed at having to share a room, I obviously still thought I was a princess. Our first night together was nice, she only fussed a little and I think I spent most of the night holding her and just looking at her. My baby girl.

Turned out my great grandmother had been admitted to Waitakere Hospital, so once I was able to, I bundled up Kalara and walked over to see her. She loved holding her, this little brown baby with jet black hair. Her first Great Granddaughter. 4 months later Grandma Davy passed away at the age of 104. Somewhere I have a 5 generation photo and it is greatly treasured. I'll always remember the thin skin on her arms, bruised and so delicate, compared to Kalaras new born skin. She said to me that day. "You are so lucky Leilani, to be young and have babies. have lots of babies, you wont regret it.". She could quite possibly be the only family member that has encouraged me to have more.

I could tell you alot about Kalara,  She had reflux, so sleeping was something that we struggled with, she also liked to vomit all over the place, which is really annoying when you breastfeed, you cant just replenish on demand because the baby just threw it all up. Thats liquid gold your dealing with kid! We used to pop her into the car just so we could get her to sleep, she loved the hum of the car, it just used to put her out straight away. Follow that with disapointment when she would open her eyes as soon as the car stopped.
She was so clever as a toddler, a caring big sister to Deon and just a really great kid. She was my rock, although now I know children aren't really meant to be support for adults, but at that time in my life, she was my focus, and she allowed me to grow into a mother and wife, (like dragging bricks around I was kinda reluctant to take on those titles. Comes with being 19) and she was definitely our trial and error baby. Poor first children of this world, get to suffer through new parents and all their insecurities, and errors!!

Now she is 14, and from the hundreds of selfies that I find on my laptop to the latest song being played over and over again, I wouldn't change her for a million bucks, nor would I change the teenage pregnancy. Sometimes in life things happen that truly are blessings in disguise. Where I would be with out her or John, I cringe to think.

This picture is of my Grandma Davy holding Kalara who is 2 days old.

Saturdays

When I was a kid, I always looked forward to Saturdays. Sleep in, torture my siblings and annoy the olds. Now I spend my Saturdays trying to keep my skids occupied, as far away from me as possible and spend as little money as you can (with seven kids). All the times I would refuse to clean my room, do my weekly job of cleaning the bathroom. My mother is probably smirking behind closed doors as I spend my Saturday doing exactly what she used to do.
You could say Karma was a bitch, but now I'm convinced that she just may be called Saturday.

Saturdays as an adult consists of constant talking, reasoning, explaining and unfortunately, yelling.
Every Saturday morning I'll let the kids hang out till about 9am, lounge in their pyjamas, have a second breakfast. But after 9am, it's clean up time, all the stuff that I didn't get to do during the week, I now make the kids do. They all have their jobs, bathrooms, bedrooms, floors, uniforms down, bags unpacked. If my kids are clever, we can knock this out in an hour maybe two. but if its Saturday like yesterday. Forever doesn't describe the slow motion torture that was our Saturday morning.

Different to my normal 6am wake up to get the kids on their bus by 7am. On Saturday, I get to sleep in to 6:15am. super stoked. Cue the arguments that followed over Taylor taking too long with sugar, the spilt milk and the one kid who wants to have pancakes, and proceeds to ask 500 times even though she has already got her answer. and yes it was Riley.
So the tv goes off at 9am, usually followed by the predicted moans and groans, how hard their life is and how mean their mother is. I love how we do the same thing every Saturday. If common sense prevailed then maybe they would get up and do all this on their own, but that would be too helpful says my friend karma.

As a kid my mother would always threaten us with the wooden spoon, especially when she was trying to get us to clean, I don't recall actually getting hit with it, but I remember it just being waved about in the air, by a frustrated mother wanting her children to obey! My threat is Dad. "Ill tell your Dad!!" "Do you want to sit with Dad instead??" I love how John just has to say something once and they are on the move, furiously doing what they've been told, no chat back, no stomping of feet, no "ohh but...." Shake my head you kids make me look bad. I'm always complaining about how you don't listen.
Funny how we were the same with our father, poor mum would ask and ask and then Dad walks in. oh jobs done. scared. haha.

After dragging their feet forever, jobs are half done, lounge and kitchen are clean, so it was shoes on, pack a bag and walk to the park. Love that we have a brand new Library just down the road, comes with a pool and a kids park right next door. I love walking with the kids, we can talk and laugh and I can stop being grumpy mummy. Taylor likes to play eye spy on the way there. She is a funny five year old. "I spy with my little eye something beginning with B". Of course noone gets is right. "B for Bath" she says."You know we're walking on the bath". I think she has been watching too much Laughing with Samoans.
Number one and two are conveniently missing, always making sure their Saturdays are consumed with their friends and better fun than I can offer. leaving me with 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7. No big girls to give me hand may have been a good indicator to stay home.

I figured a morning at the library and park should tire them out, but after getting dodgy looks from the librarian due my kids making tunnels out of the new circular seating they have, and the man trying to do some study throwing his hands up in the air, (he actually 'threw' his hands UP!!)  I could see that today was going to be longer than usual. Outside to the park, we spend an hour playing, I spend most of the time apologising to other parents for my twins hogging the slide and Fellyn throwing bark at other kids, I saved a little girl who had climbed up the rope web thing and was stuck, just as she was about to fall off I caught her with one hand, funny we stared at each other for about 10 seconds afterwards before she started crying. bloody stress me out. tell your mum to come and watch you. lol.

HH finally arrives to rescue me from the overcrowded park. Plus I was feeling a bit under dressed with my shorts and tshirt. next week ill remember to wear my designer jeans and see through top. bleh.
Lunch and a harsh warning to the kids, this afternoon was going to be nice and quiet, you have books and cards, choice of any movie, draw, make a mess I don't care just keep it quiet. As I shut my door to have a rest, the volume of talking automatically rises. Its like a volume knob, my bedroom door, open it and they are quiet, start to close it and the volume increases. I try to ignore them, hoping they remember earlier instructions. yeah right. sometimes you just have to laugh, I would spend a fair part of my day angry if I didnt laugh at my kids. Just like the noisy bird that squawks in the morning (Australian birds drive me nuts) what starts as a quiet chirp soon turns into a full volume bleating. My kids seem to have the same tendencies to build their conversations up from nice quiet talking to full yelling and eventually someone crying.

I'm making a promise to my children, when they have moved out and have their own lives, I promise to turn up on Saturday mornings, to say their names over and over again till they answer the door. I promise to tell on John and all the mean things he does to me and how they have to fix it. I promise that I will be your Karma. Whatever, I will be in bed enjoying my Saturdays and you all will rock up with the grandkids. How do I know, because thats what I did to my Mum, and since Karma is making a nice appearance in my life, im learning to anticipate anything that I may have thrown at my parents. (BAR the teenage pregnancy, drug use and boyfriends) LOL.

My Lara Bear

 

 

 

My girl. My first born. My learning curve, that is still curving. She has been my Koala bear since she was the baby that wouldn't sleep at night and just cried allll the time. (Ask Moira Neho, she endured that with me!) That may have been because I was only 19 and didn't know what the heck I was doing with a baby. She is now 13, turning 14 in May, and she is still my baby. Kalara Lee Hunt. From the second we said her name, she smiled, and shes still smiles. Till today. Today out of nowhere we started talking about bullying, and tears well up in her eyes. She is like her mother, cries in an instant when the raw nerve is touched. With a little encouragement, she talks about people at her school that hassle her. people who call her names, tease her, mock her. my blood is boiling. I am trying to remain calm, talk calmly, ask the right questions, but all I want to know who they are and where do they live. My heart breaks for her, for her confidence to be attacked, for her heritage to be mocked and for her friends who have been going through the same thing.
Kalara says to me that its not that bad, only sometimes or some days. But even once is too much.
She tells me about a conversation with her friend, who wants to go home because in NZ you're not teased for being brown, being brown is pretty cool. So we talk about changing schools, and I'm reluctant to offer that. She is in a good school, or so i thought, academically it is a great school, but I'm wondering if the school harbours this culture. Where brown kids are considered to be less important, or are targets for stupid teenagers.

Kalara has always had a strong spirit, she is the eldest of seven and is just as responsible as you would expect of her. She plays all the sports, sings all the time, joins all the nerdy clubs, loves church and has an awesome group of friends, which mainly consist of kiwi kids. Till today I've looked at her and always been happy with how things are going with her. Now I am a worried mess. What do I do? Do I change her school, does that mean that we have let them win?? Do I make a fuss with the principle and embarrass her? Pull these kids out and berate them, knowing that they would just retaliate and probably harass her further.
My letter to the principle is written and ready to send. I suppose we will wait and see how this next term goes, but I am armed and ready for war.(verbally that is, no machetes here) Every line has been carefully repeated in my head, I'm laughing now at the imaginary conversations with her principle in my head.
You would think these kids would know that if Lara is Polynesian, maybe she has Polynesian parents... they obviously don't know the repercussions of that fact.

So this is how we got to the hair cutting. I was brushing her hair and said that she should cut it short, then she started to tear up, I was taken aback a bit and quickly said that we did not have to do that. She tells me that the only reason why she doesn't want to go short is because she will get 'paid out' at school. Being old and all she had to explain that being 'paid out' means being mocked and teased. It means being bullied.
So we talk about bullying, about what has happened to her, and it goes back to last year. I'm slightly shocked and annoyed at her for not letting me know, but still just surprised at the extent of it all. she wont name the people or repeat the names shes been called, but I know. I know the words, I could tell that if she repeated the words to me, that I would cry too.

Then my girl looks at me, as if she has drawn strength from somewhere and says "lets do it". after several "are you sure?'' and a few google searches of what she wanted, I have shaved half her hair off and she is now looking a little like Cassie and loving it. She says that she can handle it. She tells me about a girl at school whos father has leukemia and she wanted to shave her head in support of her father on 'Worlds greatest shave" but her mother wouldn't let her because she was scared she would get teased at school. Lara is certain that when school starts she will be proud to be a bit different and the people who want to tease can do so without effect on her. So she is sticking a finger to the bullies. And I support her 100%.

We live in a country where being called an Abbo is a derogatory remark, that kind of says it all for me. In Laras first week at school, she was called an Abbo, like that was something bad or something to be ashamed of. I told her to tell them that she is Samoan, and maybe explain just what a Samoan is.
But what if she was an Aborigine, would that make her less of a person, does that mean that she is worth less?
I have always noticed the slight racism here in Australia, I've always ignored it and carried on, it has not affected me personally because I am fair skinned. My husband has had people stand rather than sit next him on the train, but I tell him that's just because he's scary. Majority of people down here on the Gold Coast are lovely and embrace kiwis as their brothers, just not when the All Blacks are playing. We have many 'palagi' friends, my kids love their Aussie mates, its only a few that ruin it for us. I suppose it doesnt matter what coutry you live in , racism can be found everywhere, Im just sad that this is something that my kids might have to deal with purely because they are brown.

Maybe I can get a little closer to my girl, today has definitely made me realise how much she doesn't tell me, how much she has bore on her own. It has also shown me how strong and resilient my baby is. I am proud of her. I always have been proud, today I am so proud of her defiance. I love it, I love that she made this choice on her own and will own it. As long as that defiance doesn't reach her parents (crosses fingers) I know that the hair will grow back, and one day she will look back and laugh at the heroics of it all. I'm just hoping for the rest of her High School journey to be as painless as possible. Hoping.

 They say to let children experience pain, emotional and physical, as it teaches them to be more robust. I would wrap my kids in cotton wool if I could, that would give me great satisfaction, but in the real world, where real people live, they will have to learn how to deal with bullies, There will always be that crass idiot and the b**ch that doesn't leave you alone, Mama cant always be there to fight every fight (she would love to though). So I'm hoping that while this is hard for me, to let her fight her battles her way, she will figure out a way to be happy and successful in everything she does.

Now I just need to go back and delete all the swear words and unnessessary rants.
Time for a chill pill, a sleep, and a refocus on whats important. Easter weekend my friends, enjoy the family time, and sorry for the sad post. LOVE to you all xxxxx

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 





Patience

I have this fear. My children only remembering the worst of me. My grumpy days, the lost temper, the angry face or that argument with dad. While these are usually few and far between, sometimes they can all occur on the same day.. maybe even within the hour!
You try your best to provide the best environment for your kids, but sometimes 'eff it' does not mean 'effort'. It means leave me alone till my head has healed and I can think like a normal person again.
It can just be something like too noisy. too messy and too naughty. this is what a kid is isn't it? This is what they are made of, noise, food, play, mess. It's what my kids consist of, and this is all good with me, when it is contained. You could say we have containment issues. You know like on border control, I feel like walking around with a red light going off, telling my kids they have breached the border, time to go back.
I think what I'm struggling with this last month is boundaries. My own boundaries. where do I set them, am I supposed to be grumpy and yell all the time just so they will listen. we have charts and reward systems, my kids know what they are supposed to be doing, I know I've drilled it into them. but that's just it. I don't want to be drill master. I want to have fun too, I want to play handball instead of cooking dinner or play outside instead of mopping the floors...again.
 Last week Riley brought home a letter from school, stating that it was Easter parade time again, and I (being her mother) am to make her an Easter hat. I usually pike out and just send her with bunny ears, but she said to me "mum can we actually make a hat this year?" I said no. If I make one hat then I'll have to make Four. No thanks. But she was still asking me everyday, till last night I raised my voice at her, telling her to leave it alone. She had her answer. That one lil tear that rolled. No noise from her for the rest of the night (unusual) and just the sulky face. bad mummy. Today I brought all the stuff to make an Easter hat. Not that I know what that really looks like, I'm sure riley will know. That feeling like your always playing catch up. Forever forgetting things, or refusing to do something then having to deal with the guilt of knowing that you didn't really have a good reason why you cant. I lie in bed at night and cringe at all the things I should've done or forgot to do. Its like a revolving slide show for 'this is your life'. All your failures.
Don't worry, I'm okay, most of my decisions regarding the kids are fair. they usually just depend on time or money. I just feel like that patient side of me is disappearing. a slow motion drain from my body. I feel like I'm saying 'No' all the time, either I'm growing less patient or my kids requests are getting more stupid.
HH has about as much patience as he has a 6 pack. Its there, just underneath. I grew up with a father who had no patience, the difference is he had a temper to match. John is impatient, but he can keep it reigned in. My dad would loose his patience first, then he would loose his temper second. I can tell you that growing up with someone on a short fuse isn't good. That fear that a parent can instill into a child does no good. they loose self confidence. Adults may think that behaving like that brings them respect. I yell and make a noise, so you better respect me. Ah no buddy, all that does is bring fear. Being fearful of somebody, is not respecting them.
I am constantly mindful of this, when I'm instructing my kids, I raise my voice, so we can get things done, keep our home clean, do our jobs, function. but I try to keep the anger behind those words out of it. I want them to listen to me, because that's the right thing to do, not because they are scared of me. Some days I can feel that patience slip and the frustration set in, and I'm not even sure what to do in those moments, I usually just busy myself cleaning or cooking. keep the body busy so the mind will follow. I should read a parenting book, but I'm way to cynical. I think ill just rely on my old friends. trial and error.
What I want for myself is right in the middle. Hard line on the rules and respecting each other, but still a soft place for my kids to fall. I have seven children, I am a responsible for how they feel about themselves. I think this is prob the hardest part of being a parent. I can cater for all of your physical needs easy. Ive done it for the last 13 years. but emotional support I find hard, it means talking about feelings and to be honest, I hate doing stuff like that, it means that I have to be unselfish, think about how your feeling and then, because I'm the parent, I'm supposed to have answers? I don't have answers yet, I'm still coping with being over 30.
My mother always says patience is a virtue. I have always said "well i am not very virtuous", much to her annoyance. Maybe mama is right, patience is a virtue, as only the virtuous can have real patience. Something I need to work on, just like my six pack of abs. its there, just underneath.

School and Hugs.

Sometimes the weeks go by so fast, I cant even keep up with what day it is. This past couple weeks have been so busy, number six started school, stationery for six kids almost sent me to the poor house, bus cards, shoes, bags. socks and fees. I'm still reeling from the actual cost of it all. I know this time of year will always be expensive, but I still seem to get caught out on something. Number one is still wearing a school shirt that is too small, she reminds me everyday, succeeding in making me feel like the worst mother in the world. Number two thinks her bag is falling apart, when in reality its fine, she has forgotten the coolness that duck tape has to offer. Sometimes it doesn't matter how much you buy or spend, someone is always disappointed. I watch my kids walk out the door, nikes on their feet, billabong bags and ipods plugged into their ears and I realise that my kids can go without. 
Its so easy to get caught up in who's got the latest and what label. One of my twins told me they NEEDED a Gshock watch. not wanted, needed. I didn't even bother answering. Sometimes its better to just say nothing, the other option involves some less dignified language.
You always want your kids to have the best and look the best, you want them to be happy to feel accepted by their friends, but I'm starting to think that my kids need to learn a lesson in being grateful for what they have. Go get 'em child number two saved hard for her ipod, did jobs and got money for preforming at school, she saved the whole $200.00. she now looks after it and is so careful with it. I ended up feeling sorry for number one because she didn't have an ipod so i gave her my old one. She saved no money towards it even though she does just as much work as her sister. She just spent her money on lollies. I felt gulity because I wanted  her to have the lastest gadget like her friends and her sister. I know now that I got suckered in. Now she thinks she can get what ever she wants just by asking really nicely and smiling with that hopeful tinge to her eye, not for actually earning it. Lesson learnt. We now call Kalaras ipod the pity pod.

I'm finding my eight year old twins are starting to 'care'. They care about their hair, their teeth, which bag they're using. Its so funny watching them get ready for school, they would never admit its because there's a girl girls, but you can tell when they give each other the double eyebrow raise, giving each other that reassurance "yeah you look good".  They've got their own silent language, must be a twin thing. Last year was very different, I would watch my twins walk out the door with 4 different sized and coloured socks between them. This was part of my teaching them all to get themselves ready for school. A bit of a fail when the teacher asks you at parent teacher interviews if they may be colour blind. I just reassured her that were just to lazy to fish out matching pairs of socks, which in turn made ME look lazy for not doing that for them :)
I would ask them what kind of hair cut they wanted and it was always "like dads", that is easy for me, I can do a number one easy, but now its all fade this and fringe this and what the heck is a metro cut? Well that is a lie. I know Sonny Bill very well.
My boys used to be more interested in hiding their transformers in their pockets, but always I would see bumblebees legs sticking out of their hip. Sometimes id call them back and march them back to their room to return their bloody expensive toys, most days id just let them go just to watch the look on their face when they had made across the road without being snapped. I'm 99% sure they would hi five each other once I was out of sight.

Number Five. My Riley. She does not care. She doesn't care if her shirt is dirty, half hanging out, undies showing socks missing or hair almost out. you know when the hair tie just sits right on the end of the hair.. almost out. I promise when she walks out my door all hair is intact and all clothing are sitting in the correct places. I take no responsibility for how she looks on the way home.
She is the most lovable, most funny kid. She always has been. She has no shame, although that is slowly starting to fade, she will still dance like no ones watching and still grins at us when she sees that we are. She is lucky to have a great set of school friends, they are all she talks about and when at school they are her backup and her fun. What I love the most is that one is Maori and one is Fijian. It gives me great pleasure that she gets to hang out with a brown crew, no discrimination against the beautiful blonde kids but there something different about polynesian kids finding each other. Funny for Riley though she is my fairest child, teachers struggle to make the connection between her and her siblings as they all have their fathers dark hair and dark eyes, but Riley was blessed with my sunkissed blonde hair and bronze skin. hahahahaaa. she is also blessed with a healthy appetite (like her mother) and a beautiful tummy to match (like her father)  like her mother. lets be honest now Lani.
One thing I hope she never changes is her crazy laugh. Maniacal laugh, which usually occurs whilst running or when trying to get away from her fathers tickles. Its so pure that laugh, its tooo loud and she laughs for too long. She usually gets told off for it, be quiet your too loud. Scratch that my girl. you laugh as loud as you like. I only wish I had the same ability to throw caution to the wind and laugh like that. Cons of growing old, you know people are watching. Pros of being a kid. you don't care.

I could write about Riley forever, shes a source of lots of laughs in our house. Almost a sad feeling when you write about your kids, you know that once the day is finished, you can never get that day back. I tried to tell my 5 year old that if she didn't learn her letters today then she wouldn't know them for school tomorrow. She proceed to tell me that she has a teacher now so no longer needs my input on the matter. Kids change so much once they start school, almost instantly they don't need you anymore. Taylor is naturally a quiet and shy kid. However, her mean streak is not to be messed with, you get the devils eye if she doesn't know you and your standing in her house and will only warm to you if you are family or staying at our place for more than a week.  Before she started school, I was tryng to excite her about school and being able to make new friends she said to me "But I already have friends" I said to her "Who?" She replied to me "Nathan is my friend". I had to laugh, Nathan is her 18year old uncle who was home with us most days last year. He taught her how to kick box and punch with gloves. Some great life skills for a little girl. She was adamant though. She didn't need new friends. She had Nathan.
So my five years with her have run away from me now. I usually look forward to kids starting school, more space for my head to recover from the mornings and be ready for the afternoon onslaught. Now I'm a little deflated knowing that she wont be my pre-schooler anymore.

Now my services are needed only for the dumb stuff. Feed me, wash this, I need money and guess what is sooo awesome, I get to be the someone to go to when they need to tell on someonelse (500x a day)! I want to do the cool stuff still, stay up late with her, sneak out for late night feeds once the big kids are asleep. now its go to bed, you'll be tired for school tomorrow, and no don't give her that she'll rot her teeth.
I think Taylor will survive her early days at school, as for her mother, I think she needs some kind of detachment ceremony to stop her from pining for what was. Don't talk to me when number seven starts school in 3 years time. I'll be a blubbering mess. And I dont cry (much).
Common sense tells me that my kids still need me for all emotional and spiritual support, there are still endless words of wisdom I have yet to share. It just FEELS like its all maid work sometimes. So far I'm coping via lots of hugs from the kids. Riley's hugs are the kind that give you a sore back instantly beacause she puts all her weight into it and hugs me like a one year old does, all grip and head burrowed in. Riley is 6, almost 7 and bigger than her older twin brothers. Easy to say that she heavy. but ill take it, they make me feel like im being a good mum. When they all try to get in for a cuddle at the same time, that usually ends up in me leaving the room, several fights, a hair pull and someone crying. Leaving the room is purely a precautionary measure.
I was talking about my kids growing up and going to school, but it seems to have turned into hug descriptions. haha. Im tired. Fellyn is hugging my neck in a hug/choke hold as I type. Actually Fellyn is the exception (for now). I am over hugging her. I hug her allllll day long. Hug her while I'm doing dishes, cooking. sitting on the toilet, I hug her till she sleeps. Her word 'hug' is very tricky, its her way of getting picked up. I mean who denys a child a hug when asked?? only horrible mothers. So I'm not a horrible mother, I am a martyr to the cause of my two year olds need to not walk anywhere because she needs a hug. Lets just say staying home with one child really isn't the piece of cake thought id be eating.

So my advice to my friends and my family, at whatever stage of life/marriage/kids you are at, enjoy it all, once the days are gone, they are gone forever. Enjoy the dumb times, the poor times and the funny for no reason times. does that even make sense? I know if I look hard enough ill find the perfect quote for you all. but I cant be stuffed. I give some powerful words advice! Ha!
So here's to the education system. A wonderful system, gets our kids learning and achieving. however, I hope you know you are also responsible for changing my kids from my babies to big kids, and costing me a fortune every year without fail. Oh well, always look at the bright side of life..... Hunky Hubby says that the quicker they grow up the earlier he can retire and they can look after us!

                            Riley at her best. And Fellyn propbably crying for a hug :)

Introductions

 

Its hard for me to find a photo of all my skids  kids together. I'm not really the kind of mother that insists on a photo at every occasion. Although I probably should, I tend to leave that to my mother who has discovered the satisfaction of receiving likes and comments on her facebook updates. most of which consist of my children's precious moments. bad mother I am. Next investment will be a camera. Promise.

So I have Seven children. Yes they all belong to me, yes they all have the same father and no I'm not crazy or catholic. Most of the comments I receive when my mother kindly informs everyone that I have seven children, consist of wide eyed 'wow, you're brave' or 'dont you know how to watch tv?'.

Here's a few more of my favourite 'comments'.

"ohh your starting a netball team!!" (add rugby/touch/hockey/basketball)

"don't you know what contraception is?" (like I'm gonna respond to this esp if you are a Stranger. highlight the STRANGE part).

"are you going to have any more?" (I always say yes, I'm trying to get to TEN. which would be an accomplishment as I've had my tubes tied)

 

I don't take offense, to be honest I usually just laugh it off to save them the embarrassment of a mother on the defense. It is just getting old. (or I'm getting old). The surprise is tiresome to me. At the end of the day, they are mine, not yours, so don't worry, i will feed and clothe them. yell at them and love them till the day i die. I am their mother. that's my job.

I didn't plan on having seven children. any person who goes about planning this kind of life needs a head check. I've had six pregnancies, a set of twins, water birth, epidurals, two cesareans and a husband who was convinced at number fives birth, that if i hurried up he might make the Auckland blues rugby game that night. Hmmm. think again HH.

I could write a book about my pregnancies, i probably should. but i wont, i swear too much and will tell you to never trust the doctors and to leave your husbands at home.

 

So I wanted to introduce my kids. to let the world know how perfect and wonderfully behaved they all are. then I realised that id be lying. My kids ARE wonderful.. when they are asleep, or quiet doing something else at someone elses place. when they are under my feet, asking for food, my laptop, my sanity, they are not so wonderful. My patience has waned over the years, I see my kids gear up to ask me something, then mutter that I would just say no. "mum can i?... oh don't worry you'll just say no". I've thought about changing this, but I fear that'll be like letting the flood gates open for Hunt children to break all the rules and ask for everything under the sun. HH has mastered the art of saying no, but my big girls have figured out that if they ask nicely and rub his head, he will take them almost anywhere. No is just always the first response. You are getting soft John.

As for me, I just surprise them every now and then with a "what do you want to do today?", this way, I'm the one in control, and only after chores are done will we venture out into the world where people still try to count how many kids are walking with me. Yes this does happen and I'm still surprised we haven't caused an accident yet as some people crane their necks whilst driving just to try and count my little ducklings. So maybe my inclination to saying 'No' is because, on the odd occasion that I actually take all the kids out with me, I feel myself getting on the defense fast and furious. So to save my kids the embarrassment of mum flicking someone the finger, or glaring an imaginary laser beam through said nosey womans head. best to stay home and have fun with me there. its for safety's sake. public safety.

 

One thing I do know about my children is how special they are. It may be all noise and crying babies sometimes, but they are all special, each in their own unique way. My job may be to control the mess and feed the masses, but one thing I take seriously is the nurturing side of parenting. When saying No is going to put that look of defeat in their eyes, I say yes. Then subsequently spend the next hour cleaning up play dough or paint (curse the person that invented paint). Sometimes as an adult, you have to see that those times that you say yes, usually bring the most joy and the most out of your kids. Now that my big girls are getting older, their requests are more selfish, buying something or spending time with their friends, I'm no longer the person they are asking to be with. My little kids ask to blow bubbles, or play in the rain. I'm thinking these moments will soon fade too.

 

I have no regrets in having seven kids, its not the end of the world. As you can tell I get annoyed at strangers who think its appropriate to comment on the size of my family. If they took a second to look a bit closer they will see that they are all well dressed, shoes on (number seven excluded), semi -clean and good mannered kids. I've never looked at them and wished them away. That doesn't mean I haven't rolled my eyes at the amount of things I need to do, or said to my husband "I need a holiday!!" Usually I just break into the silly laugh because life itself (with 7 kids) can be crazy. Scratch that. It IS crazy, but its a good crazy, the kind that gives you laughs and giggles at the silly things. The kind of crazy that comes with having so many different personalities in one house, but also the kind of crazy that you would never change.