Dave and I have been reading probably the best fantasy fiction series ever created recently. At this stage only The Way of Kings and Words of Radiance have been published, but the author, Brandon Sanderson has flagged a ten part chronicles and we are loving it!

In a lot of ways, delving into this other world could not have come at a better time. I feel like we have been straddling a parallel universe and that so much of each world crosses over into the other. The way that Sanderson deals with otherworldly power, with codes of living, characters wrestling with who they are and who they need to be, with breaking out of a dominant culture to be part of something unseen and amazing- is absolutely inspiring and awesome. Both Dave and I have suddenly been pressed with a sense of urgency in life now, and a firm resolve not to let our time here go to waste.

This has culminated in a bit of a watershed moment at Tribe, of things unsaid being tearfully volunteered, of relationships mended, and hurts confronted. We have critically examined ourselves, our relationships and our structures and realised a lot of what we have hoped to achieve is not even on track at this stage. Reassuringly, it seems that everyone's stories and threads are coming together now, to form a beautiful picture of what a community can look like when we be vulnerable and real together.

I'm so excited about life right now! We have had over a week now of poignant moments with friends over dinner and wine and what has become our Tribe game- "Jay's Balls" (It sounds a lot more risque than it is!...Think Trouble with cards and teams). A Google Hangout where over half of Tribe people showed up from their living rooms to mull over what we want our community to look like. Apologies, laughter, hopes shared and dreams ignited. This is so what I picture a Jesus community looking like, and it is so amazing that we get to be a part of it now!

The fact that this has been overlaid by night after night of kid-induced sleeplessness probably reveals just how powerful this elixir of relationships has been. Dave and I have just decided to embrace the exhaustion and unpredictability of this phase and keep having people over, despite the conventional wisdom of 'needing a break'. In doing so, we have uncovered an unlikely secret- doing life with people actually energises you more than a 'night at home' could ever do. This does come with a caveat- I've found that presenting a front of togetherness to your guests is absolutely exhausting and I would be better off having a night at home in the energy stakes. It is only when one is willing to let all the masks go that this path can truly be rewarding.

Tuesday night dinners with Nick and Laura have become something I really cherish, and we also had Coutties and Sharon over this week at the same time. At one point I looked around, Nick and Coutties had gone to get some ice-cream that I had forgotten, and Laura and Sharon were doing the dishes while I made some Golden Syrup Dumplings. The Planes soundtrack was on in all its epicness, and Eli and Hudson were ecstatically playing amidst the hum of laughter and good conversation. We were doing life together and it was absolutely incredible.

I'm almost 30 and I feel like I'm only just 'getting' now, what life is about. In a lot of ways, I feel privileged that we still have decades of this to make the most of. I just pray that we are able to make these moments count and keep seeking the eternal throughout it all. Please keep on breaking through to us, Jesus.

You would think the act of mopping would be quite innocuous. Not so in our household. It turns out that the simple task of mopping can create havoc within mere hours. 

I realised yesterday that both of my dire days of mothering were immediately preceded by mopping. Each crumb taunts me with its unwelcome presence on the perfectly shiny floor. Every drink spilt and morsel dropped hits that bit harder, and if deliberately done, pierces through my defenses of serenity in seconds.

Yes, I am aware of how anal I must sound! Nevertheless, Friday was not a great day by any measure. The first half was actually great, which is important to remember, lest the good moments get swept up in the vortex of the bad. In the calm before the storm Eli and I were enjoying playing with bubbles and I was thinking to myself how magical the hundreds of bubbles looked in the sky. Then, Eli tipped all the bubble mixture all over the deck and I told him it was all over. This resulted in screams, which woke Hudson up. Chaos and overreaction ensued.

I'm not sure why I find it so difficult to rescue the day once I lose it at the kids. Perhaps it is the guilt and shame over my actions, or the worry (as I look into their melancholy eyes) that that one outburst has irreversibly screwed them up, or the fact that Eli is a master of pressing buttons once they produce a reaction (just like his daddy :p)! Whatever it is, it is so easy to listen to the condemning whisper and write off the day as lost.

Happily though, I can report that this apparent failure of a day has not defined me as a mother and we have had a number of amazing days since then! In fact, the last two nights with the kids have been pretty horrendous sleep wise, with nightmares and fear from Eli and pain and teething for Hudson. Normally, this would dampen my outlook for the day and my sympathy for the offending sleeper with each infraction until my patience is completely worn thin. Not saying I have handled every moment with grace and poise, but the same incidents which would normally give rise to a flare of anger have been replaced with a sense of perspective on mess as transient and a product of eager, learning fingers. With a knowledge that calm responses to an already hazardous situation provide water to douse rather than a flame to cause a bonfire. 

So what has changed? I can't even take the credit for my newfound zen. Every morning I have been changing my rhythms to focus on the eternal first. Just reading even a few of Jesus' words as my bleary eyes attempt to focus on the day seems to make a world of difference. Instead of "it's WHAT bloody time in the morning!?" it is now more "today is a new day that will never be able to be repeated". I have these moments every now and then of just 'seeing' my family as if I'm watching a movie of my life. The kids' squeals of pure delight simply to play together and wrestle each other. Dave's playfulness and love for both of them is so beautiful to watch. The innocent and cute phrases that Eli says out of the blue. Hudson's look of unleashed joy when he catches your eye.

It's great to be alive.

I'm pretty sure I have found a new all time favorite movie. 

Dave and I have never been incredibly inspired by the idea of Valentines Day, and this year was no different. We do usually make a last ditch effort, and Dave did collect some nice wine and antipasto ingredients on the way home. In discussing a potential movie choice we settled on 'About Time', a story about a time traveling man who decides to use his power to obtain true love. 

We were both completely unprepared for how the movie would impact us. I was pretty much bawling at the end, bowled over by how much the movie just 'got it' about what is important about life. It has definitely inspired us both to make more of each day. 

It's funny how this theme keeps recurring at the moment. I've stumbled upon a few poignant articles and blog posts which have continued to reaffirm the importance of realising the moment before it becomes a memory, taking the time to 'drink in' all the little interactions with our kids, and, a big one for me- admitting to others our faults and mistakes and seeking forgiveness. 

If I was Tim in About Time, choosing to relive last Tuesday would be a no brainer. Basically, it was one of, if not the, most disappointing collection of moments I have helped create on this earth to date. If there was a molehill, I made a mountain out of it. If there was a slight infraction by Eli, I came down like a screaming tonne of bricks. I may have even connected my fist with a skirting board at one point when the third puddle of wee for the (not yet 9am) morning eventuated. Each time I would stop, try to gather myself and reassure myself I would try better next time. But each time, the tiniest setback depleted my entire emotional energy layer and I was right back to where I left off. Worse yet, my throbbing knuckles were a persistent ode to how low I had fallen and the failure I had seemingly become.

There was pretty much zero in that day that I was proud of, even though I did apologise to Eli a few times and seek forgiveness. At the end of the day we both pledged to try to do better tomorrow (Eli hadn't covered himself in glory either, with a few breakages, incidents with Hudson and deliberate destructiveness around meal times). The next day, however, I was interested to discover that the main memory he retained from the day was when we danced outside in the rain in our underwear before bathtime. He kept on asking when it was going to rain again. Despite all the darkness and failures, my son was an example to me, championing the moment that brought us together. 

Since this dark day I have been rebuilding (along with the much needed help of family, friends and God, of course). I have learned so much about myself, my triggers, and retraining my brain. I have identified a constant undercurrent of criticism and negativity in my inward conversations towards myself and attempted to stop these rivers before they become waterfalls. 

I may not have the ability to erase and remake my past, but I am inspired by the notion of realising the poignancy of the moments before the wistfulness of hindsight kicks in. I am endeavouring every day to breathe in my family and not regret my choices in my interactions with them. And probably most importantly, I have chosen to incorporate more of Jesus into my daily rhythms so my perspective can be constantly lifted from the mire of the everyday to the structures of eternal significance.

A little while ago we borrowed a book from the library- 'Apple Cake: A Recipe For Love'. It is the charming story of Idea and Alfonso and his quest to win his love's heart, through baking.

The book is remarkably specific in terms of his recipe, so we decided to try it out.

We choose three apples, one green and two red. Chopped them up and set them in water while we made the batter. 

 

We beat two tablespoons of butter with a cup of sugar.  Added two eggs (with a touch of shell, thanks Eli!), a cup of flour, a teaspoon of baking powder and a pinch of salt (from the mundane salt shaker, not harvested from the ocean like Alfonso's).

We added some bitters (three wishes- one bitter, two sweet) and blew kisses, then sprinkled cinnamon and sugar on top. 

The smell permeated our kitchen, just as it lured Ida away from her book. Before long we were tucking into warm and crumbly apple cake. It was delicious! Who would have thought a children's book could yield such a delectable cake.

Despite the magical book having been returned, we have now made the cake three more times, including with the addition of jelly. At least if I have a memory blank, we can now refer to this post for future cooking reference. Thanks Alfonso!

Almost 50 years ago, a young Croatian man set off on a journey to Australia. He found a job as an electrician, and sent for his young Serbian wife and two children to follow him into the unknown. Reluctantly and somewhat against her will, the young woman eventually obeyed. Bitterness, isolation, disappointment, fear, awkwardness, the feeling of being out of place in a foreign land, having to abandon two young children to work long hours in a factory for 17 years, sacrifice, loss of family and familiarity, loss of companionship and hope. The two boys grew up quickly, having to fend for themselves and get themselves to school and back every day.

The eldest boy was determined, driven and resilient. Despite his father criticising his every decision, refusing to visit his soccer games because he didn't get into the first division, he made his own way, becoming an electrical engineer and finding faith at university (another decision harshly condemned by his family). He then met my mother on a snow trip and they had a whirlwind romance and soon were married. Two years later, I was born.

We went to visit Baba and Deda this week in Sydney. It was Hudson's first plane trip and Eli's first that he will remember. The travel was exhausting but not beyond expectation, and the kids did pretty well considering the 3:30am start. The exhausting part was, ironically, the relationships and interactions when we arrived. 

I always steel myself going there, knowing it will be difficult, but I was again taken by surprise. Baba hands out well-meaning, but emphatic advice that usually is repeated until accepted. Deda tends to ignore you until he had something critical to say. 

It didn't take long for the first shot to be fired. The topic: Hudson's failure to walk. Apparently I am picking him up too much and not forcing him to stand enough. Never thought I would be accused of being a doting mother, the kid weighs a ton and is only picked up when absolutely necessary for this reason! But Deda's version of reality is hard to argue against when it is derived predominantly from Everybody Loves Raymond, The Golden Girls and the Spaghetti Western- Bonanza. Nevertheless, I hot headedly took the bait and was rewarded by being promptly talked over.

The next day we were informed that we are lax parents with Eli and he never listens to us. It's not just us, though, we were reassured, kids these days are all the same. In their day, their children never thought to disobey or talk back, or need toys for stimulation. They just sat like robots and only spoke politely when spoken to. In fact, when 8 year old Barney and 5 year old Drago escaped one weekend and broke into the school library to read books, the police caught them and  Deda yelled at them and they never did that again. Point proven.

Looking back now I'm not even sure why these illogical criticisms hit close to home. Apart from the fact that I am a people pleaser and it is absolutely impossible to please them, that being a mum is my only job now, and I'm used to only getting positive feedback with my work; and maybe that all sense of reality is completely warped when you are there. 

I also realized that I am actually a lot like Deda, and my flaws, carried out to the extreme, look like his life: bitter, isolated, defensive, angry and unhappy. Guess it never feels comfortable looking in an unflattering looking glass.

In other news, we did have a good family time in Cabramatta, and a reunion with my uncle and cousins. Eli loved playing soccer and with the sprinkler and the Mercedes remote control car there. And, despite my firm resolve not to go on a plane with kids again unless absolutely necessary, the travel part actually went pretty smoothly.

Now, to have a holiday to recover from that holiday.

I realized today that I have not yet posted a blog from our new house! Dave asked me what this meant and I replied that it either means I'm doing awesome or gravely lacking introspection. 

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind. We have moved in, set up the Christmas tree, experienced the craziness of Christmas with two toddlers, packed away the Christmas tree, installed a shelf, put up curtain rods, hemmed curtains, built a letter box, painted tables and chairs, affixed a clothesline to the house and gravely given kids multiple warnings as to marks on walls... We are officially homeowners!

Every morning when we wake up, every time we get home, and every time we re-enter our kitchen, we are filled with awe as to how absolutely blessed we are to have our own home. Despite all that has happened recently, we keenly feel the amazing opportunity that has come our way. 

Hudson has been incredible since his surgery. Happy, talkative and inquisitive, he now responds enthusiastically when you ask him if he wants more food with 'muh, muh!' It is so refreshing to experience Hudson as a kid interested with and enthused by life. A few times now Dave and I have remarked that he is the easy kid now!

Our ninth anniversary mostly went off without a hitch, with a family dinner at TGI Fridays for happy hour. I struggled as usual with unrealised expectations, thinking naively that the kids should somehow understand it was our special day and decide not to whinge, whine or crack it. That didn't happen!

The biggest issues since being here have been a shower flooding on the first night, an awful feeling that the rash, conjunctivitis and runny nose of Eli was the measles (it's not), and a random incident where the soil delivery truck damaged the guttering of our neighbor's house. 

Otherwise, our occupancy has been residential bliss, with Dave fully rising to the occasion as handy man and equipping himself with a complete set of power tools. Rarely a day goes by without a trip to Bunnings! It's pretty cool watching him transform into the homeowner role actually.

The sentence that most goes through my mind these days is 'we are blessed'. With family, with crazy kids, with great friends, with meaningful experiences, and with a house to finally call our own. 

"If you go down in the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise..."

For pretty much the entirety of Hudson's short existence I have wanted to throw him a Teddy Bears' Picnic. Mum has a beautifully illustrated book that captures all the wonder and magic of this occasion, and all the amazing molded jellies and cream cakes absolutely inspired me!

Due to the move and Christmas, however, all the usual planning was left until the last minute. Despite this setback and the weather meaning we had to host at our house, there was more than enough party food, peach iced tea in cocktail glasses, teddy shaped birthday cake, 1930s jingles and teddies hiding in (christmas) trees for everyone to have a merry time.

Despite Hudson being only a couple of weeks post surgery, he revelled in being the centre of attention and inhaled more than his fair share of birthday cake! 

Pictures tell the story with much more eloquence than I can muster, so here are a few of the best.