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 :)