Sharing with strangers....

Approximately 48 hours ago, I ventured to K-mart to make a few purchases for work. Whilst there, I quickly popped up to the layby counter to pop some money on my xmas layby. The lady in front of me was patiently waiting for the adolescent boy behind the counter to sort out some sort of muck up on the phone. I noticed she was buying a DS, so whilst waiting started up some small talk, which in my world always seems to be easy to do - when you start talking about your kids!

After a couple of minutes, this lovely stranger tells me she is having a bad day - to which I genuinely understand and tell her I hope it gets better. She then goes on to say that she had just lost a child a few weeks earlier..............We are both leaning on the service counter, and when she imparts this very personal piece of information, tears well up in my eyes and I just want to hug her. I fear words are going to fail me, but I tell her that I completely understand and that I too had lost a child a couple of years ago. I go on to say that if it makes her feel any better, four months after my husband and I lost our baby, we fell pregnant and my little baby girl has just turned one. She replies ''my husband doesn't want to''. I feel even sadder for this woman I had just met, and can only manage an ''oh no'' in my reply. ''How far along were you?'' she asks, ''13 weeks'' I reply. And then comes the sucker punch of the conversation - ''I was five months pregnant, and had to give birth''...........................

I held in my tears and just told her that I really was so very sad for her, and hoped that she could find some support and that things would get better. But in my heart of hearts, I just didn't know or understand how you could recover from something like that? My miscarriage had left me feeling empty and sad for such a long time - even after conceiving Chloe - and there were times I didn't feel like I would ever get over it. And like this lovely stranger, I felt alone. I had a wonderfully supportive and emotional husband, but didn't feel like anyone I knew truly understood. Sometimes, I wonder what that little baby would look like? Was it a son or a daughter? But I so very lucky to have a beautiful daughter, who would more than likely not be here had that sadness never visited me. And I could never imagine being without her in our lives.

I parted ways with this stranger, feeling like I had known her longer than the five minutes we had spent at a layby counter. She has been in my thoughts for the past 48 hours, and I wonder how she is doing? Whether her day got any better, and if she remembers actually talking to me?

How many of us have had incidental conversations with strangers and thought nothing of it? Even more importantly, how many of us have these same conversations, but are touched by their words?

The few people who were there for me, and for Andrew, during what is most definately the hardest time of our lives - will always be remembered for the ''little'' things they said and did. One friend called and said ''I don't know what to say'' - but it was the fact that she cared to call anyway that meant the world to me!

So I guess today's quote is very appropriate - ''No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted'' - Aesop

And it is never forgotten. x

Out of the mouth of babes....part one

So I have titled this ''part one'' on purpose.......because I know for sure that there will be more parts to this subject!

Today marks a milestone in Chelsea's life......she is having her best friend sleep over for the very first time. At six years of age, I have had a few parents raise their eyebrows - surely because they think it is too young? But I simply couldn't resist! Some of the best memories of my childhood are from the copius amounts of sleepovers I had at friend's houses and vice versa.

I was lucky enough at the age of nine to move to a wonderful little Gold Coast town called Oxenford. Back then, in 1984, it was a town - now it is a fully fledged suburb! It was a newly developed estate, and my parents bought a block of land, and as what had become somewhat tradition - my plumber father built a house on the land and we called it home.

Our house was opposite a very small little culder-sac, where I soon figured out another girl I went to primary school with - Sarah - lived. And much to my delight, soon after this also discovered another school friend - Kate - lived three doors up the road! This triangle of homes became a well worn track very quickly.....and much to our parents' ''joy'', we made it a weekend ritual to work out whose house we would be sleeping at and how we would go about making sure someone's parents agreed.

This ritual continued for many years, even after my family moved further up into the estate (soon after my father discovered gambling - but that's a whole other story!) and the three of us had to ride our bicycles up the dreaded huge hill to get to my place.

It was actually in high school that my sleepover tactics began to really annoy my Mum. It is only now that I'm a Mother myself, I can truly understand and appreciate her level of annoyance, because I can almost guarantee that if my kids pulled the same stunt, I would probably have a cow! Another bestie, Jane (who is still to this day a bestie) and I caught the bus home from school every day. I still lived in the estate, however, Jane lived further up into Mt Tamborine. You have to understand - we caught a ''coach bus'' to and from school, because where we lived at the time was a good 30-60 minutes bus ride from the closest high school. So in what became a very annoying ritual for our parents, I would very conveniently ''forget'' to get off at my bus stop, and even more conveniently, wait to get off at Jane's bus stop - a further half an hour drive from my house. It was at this time I would then phone my Mum and state the rather obvious fact that I was literally up the mountain! To say she was not happy would be a huge understatement...

Soooo, it is with much amusement that I make this post, as I have just told Chelsea and her bestie to have another drink (that they realllllllly needed) and go to the toilet again, and stop coming out of bed! They have spent the evening giggling, playing princesses, annoying Cadyn and generally having a lovely time together.

As my children reach the different milestones in relation to their ages, the memories flood through - an overwhelming majority of them are joyous, and then there is that tiny little minority that makes me that little bit more protective of my bundles of joy!

So the quote for this evening and hence the reason for the title - ''Jimmy called me sexy when he became my boyfriend'' - from Chelsea's bestie!

Good night! x

My debut

I have finally bitten the proverbial bullet and am officially diving in to the world of the ''blog''. This is unheralded territory for me - but something I have been urged to do by many who seem to ''enjoy'' my daily rantings on my facebook page...

So where do I begin? I am thinking you (now i say ''you'' in the wonderful anticipation that there may be many you's in the near future) may want to know more about me? Well, I try really hard not to pigeon hole myself in to one category ie. mother, wife. But to be quite honest - being a wife and mother is truly my greatest achievement in life, so I have to bring them up first!

My four beautiful children are Lochie 11/98, Chelsea 5/03, Cadyn 9/04 and Chloe 08/08. They are probably the main reason for me to get up in the morning - believe me, if they weren't here I would sleep all day! All four of them give me joy, heartache, pain, laughter, tears and unbelievable pride. Most days it's only one or two of those things, but there's also days when all of those feelings are rolled in to a 12 hour period, and I repeat to myself ''I chose to have them, I chose to have them, I chose to have them''!

I'm sure as I get in to the swing of blogging, you will put many a puzzle together. You see, my life has been a mosaic of family and friends, life choices that have changed unexpectantly, and decisions that have changed the path of my wonderful life for better, and sometimes unfortunately - for worse! But I will keep it simple for my first blog....best not to make you run!

The other wonderful reason for my waking every morning, is my ever patient and delightful husband/soul mate/friend - Andrew. I met Andrew at a time in my life that I truly started to believe I would not meet anyone like him. He burst on to my computer screen just when I had begun to give up hope.....and has every day since given me reason to smile and be grateful for the unexpected in life!

I guess the other ''big part'' of my life is my job. Job - noun - anything a person is expected or obliged to do; duty; responsibility. Looking up the dictionary for the ''official'' description has led me to finally believe that my job is more than just a job! I have been a disability carer for twelve years. It is an occupation I sort of fell in to. I know that sounds odd......but one does not go from one day working in an office to the next day caring for people with a disability without a bit of falling! But amongst all the falling, tripping and potential stuff-ups along the way, I have managed to thoroughly enjoy myself and find something that makes me feel like I'm making a difference in the world, albeit a small one.

So, that's a really, really quick rundown on what I'm about. My hope for this blog is to really just share my daily thoughts, tears and triumphs......and hopefully to make someone out there smile and understand ''it's not just them'' on this journey we call life.

And for today's favourite quote ''Mork calling Orson, come in Orson''.........from the hilarious 80's sitcom ''Mork & Mindy''. I find myself using this quote from time to time - mostly to try and catch my children's attention! Usually all it achieves is a strange look and a ''whatchutalkinboutwillis'' kind of feeling!

Have a wonderful day! x