T.G.I.F.F. #14 - What a Week

In a week that has been very busy and hectic, I don't feel like I have much to show!  This is how it went....

Monday, I turned 38.  38!!!!!!  Do you ever say your age out loud and follow it with an expletive?  I  do....  Anyway, in what could have been a rather depressing week, I made the most of it and here are some photos to show you!

Andrew had Uni Monday night (he's on the home straight of finishing his MBA!), so the kids and I travelled 45 minutes to his work and went out to the local shopping centre for my birthday lunch.  They're so cheeky!

Nothing like a birthday photo in the food court!

One of my birthday presents.  Yep.  An iron.  Normally I would not care for this type of birthday present, however after the "rust spots on the paper pieced cushion" fiasco, I was quite chuffed with my gift.

I managed to finish this baby for a showcase over at Hollipop Lane.  Have had this fabric on my shelf for a couple of years now.  Perfect for a Black theme!

I came home from work on Wednesday to find this little package of cuteness waiting for me!  I won a little giveaway from Jenna on IG.

I whipped this up one day this week.....I can't remember when?  It's the March Riley Blake BOM.  I'm still trying to figure out the settings on my iron.....

I felt the sudden urge to sew yesterday afternoon.  So grabbed the gorgeous Kokka LRRH fabric and whipped up a simple skirt.  Then offered it for $20 on Ms Midge!  I'm glad it's heading to a new home.

And finally, today, amidst getting my blooms all started for the Bloom Bloom Pow! QAL, I quickly made this self covered big mumma buttons.  They are for some of the ladies going to the Australasian Quilt Convention next week.  I'm going on Thursday as are a few others from QCA, so we wanted a way to try and recognise eachother amongst the thousands of others.  Let's hope one of these pinned on our chests helps!

Oh, and I also spruced up the blog a little.  Thanks for the handy tips Gemma!

Phew.  I'm tired.  What a week.

On a final note.  I got some sad news this morning.  My Aunty passed away.  I just want to acknowledge her, as she was a voracious and passionate quilter, whom I unfortunately did not get to learn from, as the quilting bug only got me recently.  I can remember when we first moved to Melbourne, visiting her house and thinking "what a mess!"  It's only now that I can appreciate that the mess was actually her quilting love covering her home.  She mostly hand pieced and quilted, and had chests, drawers and beds covered in quilts.  I wish I had spent more time with her.
R.I.P. Aunty Lorna xxx

I'm linking up with T.G.I.F.F. being hosted by Quilt Matters.

How to Say Goodbye?

This weekend past was one worth treasuring.  Both of my boys played their first games of basketball, Cadyn was a superstar, and revelled in every minute.  Lochie, at the age of 13, was a little anxious, but held his own on the court and made me proud that he was starting a sport when most other boys had played for years.  My girls made me smile as we talked about sleepovers and friends.  Sunday brought a family outing to Ikea, and excitement at the changes that were happening around us - new house, which means new bedrooms.  New school, which means new friendships.  And to top off this wonderful weekend, my husband and I headed out to gold class for a hilarious movie - "The Dictator".

The end of the movie brought some relief - my bladder could not take any more laughing.  But it also brought tears - as we were told that my husband's beautiful Nanna had passed away.

We were not surprised, she had been sleeping this past week, and we had been given the week to reflect on her 93 years of life.  But it still stung.  Seeing my Mother in Law surrounded by her three boys made me smile, after the tears. 

The predicament I find myself in now, is how to say goodbye?  Not for myself, but for my children?  Chelsea, all of nine years old, crawled on to my lap last night and cried for her Great-grandmother.  They had a special bond, being that she was born on the same date as Nanna - only 84 years later.  As I looked through photographs last night I noted that each birthday we had celebrated with Nanna was captured with Chelsea blowing out the candles.  This year was no different.  Only four weeks ago we all gathered for a celebratory lunch and Chelsea blew out Nanna's candles.

As preparations are being made to farewell the "Matriarch" of the family, I am debating whether our children should attend her funeral?  DO children attend funerals?  Do I give them the choice to attend or do we just make the decision for them?  Although I know it will inevitably be sad - I also think that 93 years of amazing living is one to celebrate.

What would you do?

Nanna  

10.5.1919 - 3.6.2012

Forgiveness.....and other stuff

This post has been swimming around in my head for a week now.  Exactly one week.  For it has been one week since my Dad arrived to stay.  He lives in Queensland, in a caravan park, in a van he oh so proudly owns.  Ask him, he'll tell you about it.

I did not know my Dad for a 15 year gap.  Not long after we (My Mum, Step Dad, Brother and miniature chihuaha - in a powder blue datsun - remember datsuns?) packed up our belongings, leaving our own shit-heap caravan/home behind, and headed to Victoria - we lost touch.  Well, more to the truth.....he kind of disappeared.  The kind of disappearing that happens on purpose?  To avoid paying money.  Nice.

Anywho......it TRULY didn't bother me, most of those 15 years.  In fact, I quite preferred it that way.  It was uncomplicated.  One less person I had to deal with.  It simplified my teenage years, to a degree.

Fast forward to circa 2002.  The phone rings.  Some random is on the other end.  And I have NO IDEA who it is.  Turns out it was my Dad.  Turns out he had a minor stroke and a pretty decent car accident.  Turns out he remembered he had children.

I can't even remember how that conversation went.  Needless to say, it must have gone well - given he's been staying here this week.  What happened after that phone call wasn't overly mind-blowing.  It was quite simple.  I had a choice.  I could hold a grudge against him and never let him in, or I could let it go.  The fact that he pissed away my family's security, all that we owned, and gave in to the gambling demons that haunted him?   We went from being a relatively "normal" suburban family with a very successful business owning Father....... to a Fatherless family who had to gather all of their possessions and live in a caravan for a couple of years.  Fun?  Not.

But I did it.  I forgave him.

Life is short.  

When I picked him up from the airport, over a decade after last seeing him, what I did see was an old man.  With next to nothing.  And he got in the car like nothing had ever happened.  So I went along with it.  And still do.

The strangest part about this story?  That he has been here for most of the seven days he's been in Melbourne, and I can honestly say I have not had a decent conversation with him.  Of course, that's not counting the stories he has told me about his kidney stones, constipation, sore shoulder and the strangers I knew nothing about until he told me!  Each day he has been here has been the same.  I go about my usual routines, and he hovers between watching television and popping outside for cigarettes.  

We are still strangers.

I feel like this should sadden me?  But it doesn't.  It just is what it is.  In essence, I am thankful that I have a Father.  One who has, over the past ten years, taken the time to get on a plane every couple of years to come and watch television at my house.  Taken the time and made an effort to send my children, his grandchildren, birthday cards.  And always calls me a week beforehand to let me know he has sent them something.  He has also taken the time to try to be a part of my life.  Even though I think I haven't really let him in.  I don't think he really knows me.  And probably never will.  

For all his faults, I love him.  And I know he loves me - unconditionally.   He never asks me for anything.  Nor do I ever expect anything of him.  So for now, it's working.  This Father/daughter thing.  It may be unconventional in some eyes, but that's my family.  Unconventionally conventional.

I want to end this with one of my all-time favourite quotes. 

 From one of my all-time favourite quoters - Oprah....

Are you a forgiver?  Or a grudger?

Mums Like Me

Last night, whilst wasting using my time wisely, I stumbled across a wonderful Facebook page - Yumminess Textiles.  I looked them up because I saw they were holding an auction, raising money for Mums Like Me.  I had never heard of Mums Like Me, but now that I have, I would like to shout it to the world!

Mums Like Me was started by an amazing woman, Erin, you can read her story here.  In their own words:

"Mums Like Me Organisation Incorporated is a not for profit organisation, that donates hand made Memory Boxes to hospitals, for newly bereaved parents. Mums Like Me  Memory Boxes are unique as they are made by other Mums who have also suffered the loss of a pregnancy and baby through Stillbirth, Neonatal Loss, and Late Miscarriage . These boxes are made by bereaved Mums, at our Support Group Meeting."


This is a cause close to my heart, not only because I have friends who have suffered the loss of their babies, but also because of my own loss.  I "only" had a miscarriage, but it effected me deeply.  I shall share that little part of my life another time.  Please visit Yumminess and check out their Auction Album.  There are some amazing products up for bidding, including this lovely set I have made.

Highs and Lows

Tonight's blog post was going to be all about my amazingly fantabulous day at my first "real" handmade market......until about ten minutes ago, when my Mummy called. She dealt me the sad news that one of her longest and dearest friends had finally lost her very long battle with cancer. Mum had only shared this morning that this amazing woman had only been admitted to hospital a couple of days earlier. Only a week or so ago, Mum had spent a week with her friend and her family in Fiji, celebrating the marriage of one of her four sons. I'm so glad that they all got to spend such a lovely week together, before she was taken from them. So this is my little ode to Rob........You were always such a happy-go-lucky woman! Four rambuncous little boys, who drew your smiles but not your patience - this is how I remember you when I was a child. The lady who never stopped laughing. May you rest in peace, and may your sons forever remember you as the amazing woman you were......

I shall fill you in on my market day tomorrow. Night all.