Beyond the Edge of Adventure

It never ceases to amaze me, the difference in logic between American words and English or Australian words.......like biscuit. We Aussies call a typically round, small baked treat a biscuit. For Americans, a biscuit is more like a flat scone. Take car. Is it more logical to call a car a car or an automobile? What about the logic in calling jelly 'jell-o' but jam 'jelly'? Which word makes more sense? Whose system is better, theirs or ours? It's interesting to compare the two and think about where the names for things came from and which is more logical. Or take names of places like Illinois and Melbourne. I've never met an American yet who pronounces Melbourne correctly. Aussies say, "Mel-bin" and Americans say, "Mel-born". I mean, I'm just as bad - I once pronounced Arkansas how it's spelt, after which my husband nearly burst his sides laughing at my faux pas! Needless to say, I've always pronounced it "Arkinsaaaaaw"

I'm always on the lookout for ideas to make the domestic management side of my job easier. After my third baby was born, I packed up the ironing board and iron for good. I asked my very amazing husband to iron his own uniforms to which he graciously agreed. After baby number four and almost losing my life floating in a sea of washing, I did a search on 'Large Family Laundry Systems' and modified the process in which we kept our clothes clean, dry and wearable! Things have been coasting along OK in terms of domestic systems here. We have a family dirty clothes basket, into which all our dirty washing goes. I then hang it on the line, usually with help from my youngest daughters and sometimes my eldest daughter. It's meant to my eldests' job in the morning before school, but it's simply too cold for her during winter to be out there, pegging away! Our washing is hung in sections: boys, girls, mum & dads and linen. That way, when it's taken off the line

So, after a stupidly busy second term and a term three that's looking like being only slightly less more stupid, we've decided to blow our Qantas Frequent Flyer points and have a little marriage retreat. We've had so many stressful times over the years, but nothing - NOTHING - has challenged me like having my sixth baby. We're finding it difficult to fit in Date Nights , which is pretty sad. My dearest and I have often admitted over the past 3 1/2 months that we miss one other. I lamented recently that I felt like we were great roommates! Life is just crazy-full-on-busy. I often feel like I'm trying to thread a needle with a tea towel - there's just too much to fit into my tiny gap each day around stuff that needs to happen. Somewhere along the line, we worked out that we had enough points to fly away........to a place we hear so much about, but haven't been since he was 14 and I was 5. Melbourne . It's a bit daunting for a tried-and-true conservati

My family loves bread. I'm pretty sure that most of my children have inherited, through their father's genes, a love of all things white, fluffy, savoury and fresh! Not to say that I'm not a fan of warm, fresh bread - it just doesn't like me. Being a crazily busy Mama, I have trained my children to get their own breakfast in the mornings. It saves me heaps of time flapping around the kitchen and teaches my children independence, how to moderate their servings with their appetite, economy and how to help the younger children. There's one thing that I do not like about this system. They can eat whatever they like from the following: -porridge -weet bix -museli (if I have some in the pantry) -toast -fruit One of my children would eat nothing except fruit if we let him! He's the one who says, "Nah, I'm not hungry for a biscuit. Can I have an apple?" - bless his little socks. But quite a few of my children enjoy crunchy warm toast of a mo

Oh, home.   The sweet sacred sound of birds singing, children playing and electrical appliances humming.       A place where life is lived, love is loved and new life is born.       The smell of linen freshly inside from flapping in the wind all day.   Where rambunctiousness and peace are symbiotic.     Home is freshness, green and soothing. It is red, bloody and where battles are played out to seek greater unity.   A dialogue on stage between oneself, God and one another.   Home is where the garden is. The scraggly garden. The small garden. There nonetheless, for poking and planting in when I need grounding.     It's a symphony of shouting love, righteous anger, peaceful battles, safe walls, sweetness, all tumbling under the baton of His right hand.   The war is won at home. It's a precious diamond in the rough of life. Dig it up, put it on a ring, put it on your finger. Never let it go!   Home is a sanctuary. It&#

  The running shoes are back on - again! Every single book I read on depression/anxiety mentions exercise as imperative to recovery. I have laughed every time I've read that, since I have approximately ZERO time to go for hot-jiggety walks, no money for a gym membership or dance class and roughly NO motivation to do exercise!   Why is exercise so hard to do on your own?   I realised I needed a group of like-minded ladies to keep me accountable and to motivate me to get started on an exercise routine.   Walking around a track locally was my first idea - but I wasn't able to get anyone to join me regularly and eventually I was 'too busy' to go on my own.   Then, when I was scrolling Facebook instead of exercising one day, I saw that someone had shared a post by a blogger at Stay Strong Mummy . She's a Mum of three and one of those fitnessy-types - but she found things a little different when she had her children and she couldn't keep up with

I have fallen. Oh, how I have fallen. The dull thud of my hopes and dreams has crashed on the ground. This isn’t the first time. The past three years of my life seems to be a constant acrobatic stunt in which I fail to make it and then fail to make it and then fail........ My (figurative) knees are sore from wordless shouty prayers to God. I feel disrespectful, whingy and weak. Yesterday, I spent the day in bed. I wish I could say it was a romantic dreamy day. But the truth of the matter is, I was exhausted. My main problem with this circus called life is that I think I should be able to perform this crazy stunt called motherhood perfectly the first time. My normal is everyone else’s crazy. So when I fall over from exhaustion, I often need the dull thud to make my eyes open up – to see that what I expect from myself is more than anyone can humanly do. When the thud has happened, I lie there – stunned - wondering how I could have failed so horribly yet again. Then, above the din

My man has gone to get the children from school and kindy, so I'm here bouncing the baby with the toddler sleeping and absolutely bursting to tell you about one of the best books I have ever read...... .....seriously. I've been a long-time fan of Francis Chan's Facebook posts, but I finally got around to reading one of his books the other day. He's written it with his wife, Lisa, and as you can see from the title of this post, it's called 'You and Me FOREVER' . It's a book for those who are seeking a better marriage, but what the reader finds within the covers of this unassuming hand-book sized white book is a revolutionary approach to life and marriage. In that order. Included at the end of each chapter are points you can talk about with your spouse and practical things you can do to become a better follower of Jesus, as well as a better spouse. The Chans have a website dedicated to the book, www.youandmeforever.org , which has a video on i

I love it when I finish reading a blog post and click on a link to another related blog or find out about a book that looks interesting to read.....it's like a never-ending pass-the-parcel! Each post a layer of newspaper which, when finished, leads to another.....and another..... .....like recently, when I read Jennifer Fulwiler's blog Conversion Diary in which she tells, with her typical dry humour, the chain of events in her home after reading 'The Nester: It doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful' by Myquillyn Smith. When I'm emotional, I tend towards creativity. That's what my therapist says. I'll write poems, visualise plots for grand, sweeping novels and have insatiable urges to sketch or sit with watercolours, dabbing away, a la Beatrix Potter..... I must have been emotional back in August reading Conversion Diary because the book title caught my attention. It suggested, unlike every other interior decorating book or magazine I'd

Wow. Almost half a year since my last post! Fair enough to say I've been busy. Really, really busy. Our baby boy, Luke, was born on October 29th and things have been wonderfully crazy since then.... ....he was born on the side of the road at 9pm at night - a very wild and crazy beginning to yet another season in our adventure. It hasn't been easy by any stretch. But God's been faithful and Ben and I have survived having six children under 9 so far. Just. Our evenings usually consist of me falling into bed (and sometimes being put into bed - no exaggeration) and trying desperately to keep my eyes open in the darkness while my dear husband talks to me about important things like bills that require attention, the behaviour of our children, where our next holiday will be, what's for dinner tomorrow night and the 'plan' for the next day. Sometimes we manage to grab half-an-hour to ourselves to catch up. Or a quiet lunch with children resting or at school.