Confessions of a sugar addict - day 19

the greatest temptation by far so far, is the garlic bread baking in my oven as i write...

winter has arrived, chicken soup is cooking,and my family will enjoy butter smothered garlicy goodness on yummy buns. I, however, will not.

So far i am doing good. I havent had a major breakthru... yet. but i am living without sugar and mostly enjoying a sugar free life. My skin is way better, and i have lost about 3-4kg. pretty happy with that!

anyway, back to my soup!

Confessions of a Sugar Addict and mini holiday

Day 11/42. Well, I feel tired. A bit overwhelmed.

The last couple of days I haven't been feeling too flash. Feel a bit better today though.

My in laws had the kids on Friday night and my hubby surprised me by taking me to Paihia for the night.

We stayed in a lovely place, ate at the restaurant and bubba joined us. He was good, despite it being way past his bedtime, and all the other patrons doted on him.

We met four other lots of people who had a direct correlation to very prem babies themselves...

in fact, one, Mr Woods, bought us a bottle of champagne and had it sent to our room! haha. it felt very American.

We were very well accomodated for, I dont think ive ever stayed in such a friendly, hospitable hotel.

I was true to my fast and remained sugar free for our stay. Not always easy!

I stumbled upon these tasty looking treats... discovering that they are actually soaps made by a woman with NINE kids- called the soap patisserie. This is her evening crafty hobby. pics below...

My prayer for today is that God would show Himself strong on my behalf, so I may be strengthened in this time and able to live in victory. And that He would enable me to learn keys so i can release victory to others!

Confessions of a Sugar Addict day 8/42

Eight days in. It's easier.

Most people are genuinely accomodating of my sugar fast and don't mind me skipping many little luxuries to just eat my chicken salad...

I am satisfied, and I am barely craving a sweet treat after dinner. A cup of hot peppermint tea suffices if I need it.

I'm enjoying plain unsweetened yoghurt with a small amount of fruit, and salted peanuts with a few raisins as a mini treat. Yum.

I feel good, and feel thin on the inside, which goes hand in hand with proper nutrition. No more bloated, overfull or heavy tummies... satisfied, fed, and happy tummy instead ;-)

I've even lost a couple of kgs.

Day eight: day of continued endurance
Feel: good, clean, more balanced. Still have challenges everyday.
Temptation: the other night it was the tiptop 2L tub ice-cream on sale, and thinking of it smothered in caramel sauce and chopped nuts. I left the supermarket WITHOUT it.
Realisation: God is surely helping me in my moments of weakness. I actually can do life like this, have hard and bad days with they kids and not need a sugar fix. 
Prayer: Father I want a breakthrough that impacts me for life. Do away with this addiction completely and help me to find balance in food. Give me new eyes and transform my thinking. Help me give my body good fuel. I surely know the statement 'you are what you eat' is true.

And that's me!  Ps. I even had a yummy creamy homemade Indian curry this Week (I make authentic Indian from scratch) delicious!

X

Confessions of a sugar addict - day 3/42

Onto day three....

Feel: tired, a bit low energy, know my body is changing its sugar for energy conversion to a fat for energy one.

Temptation: everything sugary is calling my name today. Biscuits, muesli bars, icecream. I'm looking away and pressing through by keeping true to myself.

The other night, I dreamt of all kinds of sugary treats- like I was eating them. I kept waking up full of guilt and wondering if i had actually cheated or if it was just a dream!

Prayer: oh God. Help. Give me grace to get through the days that are hard, like today. Help me overcome. May I end these 42 days with a renewed mind when it comes to food and nutrition. Change the way I think!

Below- tandoori beef with coconut cream, my morning coffee with cinnamon and cocoa, and a pear and nutty snack :-)

39 days to go!

Confessions of a Sugar Addict

I'm a sugar addict.

A real life addict.  Sugar is sooo sweet.  It tastes so good and feels so satisfying as it passes my lips, drips down my tastebuds and finally reaches my stomach.  Pure delight, heaven in my mouth.

After a recent hospitalisation and compulsory fasting for 48 hours, then one meal, then more compulsory fasting - I found myself going OVERBOARD on food.

I would eat something then think - "what the heck did I just do that for!"

Having a hard day?  Must eat chocolate.
Having a good day? Must eat chocolate.
Kids finally in bed? Must eat chocolate.
End of the week? Must eat chocolate.
Night in with the hubby? Must eat chocolate.
Out with the girls? Must eat chocolate.
Friends over for tea? Must eat chocolate.
Easter? Must eat chocolate.
Birthday/Christmas/Celebration?  Must eat chocolate.

OK you get the point.  Well, you could take chocolate and replace it with dessert or any other baked delicious goods, sugary awesomeness - or just add it, which is probably the more likely event.

Anyway, I recently was feeling like I need to kick this bad habit.  Feeling 'prompted' to do it.  Well, my response, "I don't want to".

I think this is one of the very first times in my life I have actually wrestled with and deliberately chosen to NOT do what God has asked of me.  For three weeks my response has been, I'd like to, or I know I should, but I just don't want to.  I just "don't want to."  Most unusual for me.

On Sunday something at church finally struck a chord in me, when the Pastor said "I don't do things because I feel like it - I do them because I know it is the right thing to do!"  and I was like, oh, heck, I need to sort myself out.

And so, finally, I have decided I need to deal with this LARGE problem.  In my disobedience I have actually got worse than I have ever been - to the point where I scare myself.  I just don't want to go there.  I've been there before, I vowed to myself that I would never go back there.  I never want to see 'that' number on the scales again.  The number that says this is an epidemic on legs.

So, it leaves me here.  Day ONE of a 42 day sugar fast.

No sugar.  No added sugar.  No sugar replacement.  Unless I don't have an option, no food with added sugar.

This is pretty similar to previous things I have done.  I am a low carber and enjoy it.  But this time, it's different.  While low carbing, I have always allowed myself a couple of pieces of chocolate at the end of the day.  Good chocolate.  Or the odd treat.  This time, it's ZILCH.

It's a fast.

I can't fast completely because I'm breastfeeding.  But I HAVE to kick this.  A month is too short.  Two months is too long.  So 42 days is good.

This will be a stretch.  I need to overcome this... my addiction.  And have sugar as a semi welcome treat but a treat, not a staple part of my diet.

I will try to keep a note of what it's like in very brief terms, and take a few pics of my boring (or not so boring) food and post in semi regularly with updates.  You can follow me on instagram if you want #42daysugarfast

Day one: today is the day of motivation. 
Feel: optimistic yet overwhelmed. 
Temptation: the brown sugar from the family breakfast was sitting on the table screaming my name.  I eliminated it by putting it in the pantry.
Realisation: you can enjoy the quality of real flavours and food when it's not full of sugar.
Prayer: Lord, help me to realise that you truly "satisfy me more than the richest of food" - Psalm 63.5

Talk to ya soon
Arna

And so it is done!

For over two years now, coming close to three- we've been waiting on a dream.

Waiting... wondering... pondering... sometimes struggling... usually believing.

We have wanted to sell our home.

We've wrestled with our dream over and over.  At first it started with an "I gotta get outa here" feeling.  I didn't grow up with neighbours, and then I acquired five very close neighbours and one that is there a couple of mornings a week.

I felt like I lived in a fishbowl.

We've done circles over and over about the dream, whether it is the 'right' thing to do, whether we should... having the "maybe we should stay, work hard, pay the mortgage, do a few jobs on the place and see how we go"

We bought in the very month that the housing market peaked in 2007.  It was an absolute we would lose money.  This was painful on a young couple who have worked very, very hard to pay as much of our mortgage as we physically could over the 5.5 years we have had it.  Not to mention the accountant I married.

No matter what the struggles, questions or musings, one thing never left - the desire to sell our home.

Over the course of time we have had it privately on the market, then with an agent, then moved out for nine months and had a tenant, then moved back and re-listed with an agent.

We started off incredibly hopeful, we had people through and it got to the point where some came for a second look and were heading to the bank.  We never heard back from them.  We had open homes, and for many of them no one would turn up.

Picture this... turning my family upside down spending all of Saturday cleaning frantically to have the place immaculate.  Chasing the kids around Sunday morning picking up every loose crumb, every strayed toy, pushing them out the house to church so that it remained tidy... arriving home full of anticipation to a card that said "there was no one through today" - week after week after week.

Still, we moved out to house-sit my parent's in laws house and were there for nine months of 2012.  We shifted back both with agreeance that we want to sell, and re-listed.  We had people through our open homes, but there was always a reason they weren't interested.  Sometimes there was no one through.  Then there was weeks of nothing.  Deadness.

This time there was much less effort on my part.  Inintially I was heavily pregnant, then began having complications.  So the house was tidy but not immaculate.  Then I had bubba so there were weeks of open homes for a house that was 'average' tidyness with me having nothing to do with it.

About three weeks ago, our neighbour listed her house on the market.  At first I was a bit resentful.  It was a much higher price than ours and we have been hanging out for this for so long.  Then I felt like God spoke to me and said "pray that she sells her house."  Initially I was surprised, taken aback, pray someone else, right next door, sells their house!? That's ridiculous.  But then I just felt like it was the right thing to do and so I whole-heartedly prayed she would sell her house quickly, just like she wanted to.

She had one open home and then had a contract on the house.  My response was joy.  Really, hey - God answered my prayer - cool for her.  But there was a little ache of - what about me God!!?

Him and I have had a monologue going on about our house for quite a while now.  About once a week I would have a bit of a melt down to Him about it.  I think He got fed up, cause then He just said "you can sell your house and buy another anyday, but if you wait, you will get my best" - I figured that was a "you're wearing me out - shuuush already!!"

He has told me many times - even right at the start "it is already done".  Then "I will do it soon" - what is His soon anyway!?  then just "I will sell your house".  Every time I asked, it was the same response.  In the natural, this has seemed completely impossible.  Smack in a recession, people not wanting to buy, non-committal viewers and a funny shaped house - nothing much in our favour.

Anyway, I was visiting my grandmother and we were discussing my home and I just confessed that I was so downhearted.  My uncle suggested that we should take it off the market and in six months re-list it higher.  My instant internal response was "NO! that is not what we want".  We had already lowered our price to $30k les than we paid for the house.

I came home and felt desperately flat.  It was the worst day in the entire process.  To me, it just seemed I had come to the point of our circumstances being the exact opposite of our dream.  We have three kids, in quite a small home.  We LOVE hosting people, we are musicians, we struggle to do things we love because our kids sleep directly above our living quarters and hear every ounce of noise.

I reminded myself there are people in smaller homes with larger families, and was greatful for what I have, but my heart was sinking.

I cried out to Him - God, please, if you are going to sell our home like I feel you have promised, please do something today outside of me and myself!  Please show me in some other way that you are going to do it, please, please.

Within an hour the phone rang.  Our agent.  Down the road with an investor who initially didn't want to look at our house, but she had persuaded to come in and view.  Could she come RIGHT NOW!?  Anyone who has one child, let alone three (including a small baby and a toddler) would know that turning up at a family home out of the blue means you would likely find a bit of a mess.  But this, a potential buyer - aaah!  I said yes of course.

Thankfully the house wasn't too bad, there were toys everywhere an overloaded nappy bin in the baby's room and our room was a pigstye, but still, the lady said it wasn't messy.

She was really kind.

I knew at this point that His promise was true, He was going to sell our house, His way, His time and we just had to rest and wait.

Later, the phone rang again, can we have a 'second view' please - on Monday.  HECK yes!

Mowed lawns, finished garden, finished projects, replaced curtains kids had ripped, did washing, cleaned rooms, checked cupboards, tidied house, scrubbed bathroom, vacuum cleaned, made beds and out we were...

She offerred that night.

We declined, wanting a better price. I felt to go with what my man suggested, I doubted so bad and wanting to take the offer and run, but I knew what I was to do. It was a little test, my hubby said if this was God's answer to our need then the lady will go up by 5k. If she did not, we were to refuse her offer.  She did.  This is a cash offer, instant unconditional, solely dependent on a brief builders inspection to ensure there was no large jobs to be done.  The builders came that afternoon and it was all signed and sealed... and done.  Tears flowed.

Sparkling beverages, icecream and caramel sauce all flowed.  We are overjoyed.  Our Father has kept His promise to us and in a very, very short swift move of His hand - took it from impossible to done.

I cannot begin to explain what it is to have such a major battle won.  This has been a real dream for us for a long time.  We have no idea what is next, but we know we are in the right place.

So more than this story, here is what I really wanted to say....

I know for sure - what happened in my heart between the initial desire to sell our house, and the actual sale is far more important than the promise fulfilled.

I had let the lack of seeing the fulfillment of this dream become an excuse not to pursue other dreams.  I had a wrong attitude about my house, which was originally a great thing that the Lord did for us in helping us get it in the first place.  I had been ungreatful and sometimes, I had despised it.

When we moved out, we both became so greatful for our home.  Our warm, loving home with our colour schemes and our deck in the sun and all the beautiful things we had worked so hard to do.  We longed to be back.  And since we have been back, we have been greatful.  We have tried to be thankful for it everyday, thankful for our neighbours and all the little things.  I would even thank God that it is small enough for me to clean completely in half to a full day - a real good clean, because bigger houses are much more work.

We realised that we had found excuses to not pursue other things - like hosting people regularly and being a blessing to others.  I had this sense that we needed to "occupy until He comes" - to pursue our other dreams despite our situation - and know that if we focussed on His Kingdom, He will bring the other things to pass.

My attitude is different.  I am no longer on the escape to fulfill my selfish needs to have a bigger and/or better home.  Now it is all about what I am able to do with what He has put in my hand.  If I have more in my hand I am able to do more.

I just wanted to write this as a testimony to the faithfulness of God.  I have journalled this process and as I read back I discover that it has been just as He said it would. 

Yes, we have lost a lot of money - but He is abounding in faithfulness and goodness and in light of who He is and what He is doing, the money doesn't matter.

He doesn't save us from our ways, He just has higher ways.  The collision of our ways with His is where we face the choice of who's way it will be.  He will always have His in the end.

Release blessing on other people who are doing what you want or living their dreams.  Life's not a competetion, we need every piece of the puzzle, every person to live their dreams.

I truly believe that this year is a year where we as a people have stepped into a season of fulfillment.  We have closed a chapter on many things and turned to a new page, almost like a brand new book.

We are beginnng to see promises and dreams fulfilled - some we have held dear for many years.  Included in this are some things which we thought were a long way off - something for much, much later in life - but time is of the essence and in this He is heaping time upon time as He prepares His people for great and glorious things.  We must actively cease the day and live in pursuit of the things we hold dear, not hoping for them for "someday" but living like they are possibilities any day now.

All I can say on this day is, hold onto your dreams.  When the time is right He will release them to you completely, wholly and fully and with great haste.  And you will marvel at His wonder.  He is so good.

Yummy guilt free yoghurt treat

Now I don't know about you, but I'm pretty disgusted to know that one small pottle of yoghurt has between 4-5 tsps of sugar in it.

Natural and added- read the stats on the back.

Anyway its not very low carb friendly but this is an alternative that has become a regular favourite of me and the hubby.... yummy, easy, mostly sugar free and therefore guilt free...

3/4 cup plain unsweetened greek yoghurt
1/3 tsp Vanilla paste (expensive but goes a long way)
Handful of blueberries (could substitute any berries or frozen berries.

Put in cup, mix and serve

Yum! If you're a sugar addict it might take a bit of getting used to, or add extra sugar- but this really is much better than bought stuff :-)

Happy house party

Sometimes you just need a little family fun.

Dave brought home a pack of balloons on the weekend and the kids proceeded to have them all blown up.

We promised if they would wait until Monday, we would blow up the whole packet and have a 'happy house party' that night.

We had party friendly food- chicken nuggets, sausage rolls, watermelon and salad as well as pink milk... all followed by icecream sundaes. Complete with chocolate cracking sauce and sprinkles.

I think suddenly I remembered family should be fun and we must do this again soon!! (Maybe not the sundae bit).

Creme Brulee Recipe!

I have to apologise for my lack of photo laden blog posts...

While having my phone connected to blogger is awesome, I am yet to figure out how to actually place pictures in the blog post... I'm not even sure you can do this - it just wants to put them at the end of the post.

And the beauty of smartphones, is that now I'm too lazy to be bothered turning on the computer to do a post. haha.

Anyway, my hubby has been begging me for weeks to make him Creme Brulee.  It's not really part of a healthy eating regime, but I was surprised to find it doesn't use too much sugar and therefore is a semi low carb treat.

We didn't do anything spectacular for Valentine's Day... put it this way, I'd just recovered from a cold, Mr A had an ear infection & conjunctivitis, Miss L then contracted the cold with +40 degree temps, hallucinations etc in the night and hubby had a cold.... valentines fell in the midst of this.

Still, I found some loving enough to make him creme brulee.... and here is my variation of the recipe:

Don't be put off by the steps - REAL easy to make.  This will serve 4-6 people easily.  I made half this and it made two very LARGE portions or three perfect sized portions...

Ingredients:

• 600ml cream
• 1 vanilla bean, split and seeds scraped (or 1-2T Hansell's vanilla extract / OR 1 large tsp Hansell's vanilla paste - both available from New World supermarkets)
• 6 egg yolks (save the whites and make a quiche or omelette ;-)
• 1/4c caster sugar (I actually used half this amount and it was still YUM! but I'm used to not having things too sweet)
• 120g demerara sugar (I used raw sugar and it works just fine)

Method:

1. Preheat oven to 120 degrees celcius
2. Place cream and vanilla bean/seeds/extract/paste into pot and bring to scalding point (almost boiling) on medium heat - this does not take long!!
3. Whisk together egg yolks and caster sugar together in a bowl until pale in colour (2-3 minutes)
4. Remove vanilla pod from cream and pour over the egg yolks, whisking until well combined
5. Pour into ramekins (fills 4 x 200ml) or, you can make it in one large dish (I haven't done this)
6. Carefully place into a roasting pan or similar dish.  Fill the dish to halfway up the ramekins with boiling water (to create a water bath)
7. Loosely cover with foil and bake for 35-40 mins until JUST set (looks really wobbly)
8. Remove from water bath and set aside to cool
9. Sprinkle demerara sugar evenly over top of the baked custards (about 1 heaped tsp per custard should do it) and place under max heat grill until sugar bubbles and caramelises (watch them) or be fancy and blow-torch them ;)
10. Serve immediately

YUUUUM this stuff is like, velvety smooth & delicious.  If you chill it in the fridge I suggest covering with gladwrap while you chill it.  Stops the top drying out.

Recipe courtesy of masterchef Australia: http://www.masterchef.com.au/recipes/crme-brulee.htm

I'm a Finalist....

So I entered a competition.

I didn't think much of my chances, so I popped a little story about me and my last couple of years of heaven on earth (not). Then I thought nothing of it.

Out of all the entrants, they narrowed it to six very deserving mummas. (All mummas are deserving). I am one of them.

I had to do a panel interview and get asked LOTS of questions bout weaknesses and dreams and goals and how my friends would describe me and the support networks around me etc.

This competetion is like a dream come true. A second chance after making a huge mistake.

Its a 'mummy to yummy' package worth thousands of dollars for a six month total transformation.

My vision of the result would be a fit, lean, toned, happy and healthy woman with a new outlook on diet and exercise and how vital it is to wellness and life. I already know a bit, but I'm keen for more.

It includes personal training, life coaching, nurtition consultations, massage and other things, and is finished off with a full makeover, clothing, a photoshoot and article for a magazine.

I find out on the weekend coming.

I'm trying to not get too excited so I won't get disappointed if I'm not successful.

This would just be the icing on the cake to years of effort after getting up to almost 100kg a few years back. I'm hopeful it would right the mistakes in my body that I haven't yet corrected.

It will be hard work, an emotional journey as much as physical and spiritual- and I will have to rely on people for help with my poppets, but I am so keen.

Here's hoping!! If I win, I promise to blog about it, although there will be other things I have to do (like weekly video updates etc).

Good times. (What have I got myself in for!!!?)

Our mini holiday

Nothing like a family holiday... especially a rushed one. Hehe.

3 days away has its many benefits, and its unpleasant bits too.

We got to Auckland just fine. Found our octopus arms and managed ok without dropping our gear more than twice.

Checked in our bag, our three carseats and our five people. Ate dinner.

Missed the call to board our plane so got our names called over the loud speaker. Hehe.

Got on the plane and flew to new plymouth, no trouble. 'Sure beats driving!' The hubby remarked. Until the plane tried to land... three times.

We flew down on a steep angle, wheels down, next thing about 100m from the ground we were launching up on a steep angle.  This repeated and after the third attempt we turned back to auckland. I was feeling rather ill by this point. I only feel non motion sick today- felt sick in cars or planes the whole trip. We were all tired, hungry and not knowing when we will get to new plymouth or where we would stay for the night... while trying to make it an adventure for miss 3 to avoid concern...

We jammed into Air NZ paid accomodation for the night. A nice hotel, the kind with the silky sheets that crunch when you move. Luxury for us, sheer torture with a super wriggly 1 and 3 year old in the bed next door. Hence, Mr A slept on the carpet. Which was equally luxurious I might add. Mr E slept in the bathtub on his mattress and sometime well after midnight we were settled for the night. 520am up to catch the bus to the airport so we can catch a 650am plane back to New Plymouth... the rest is history. Had a lovely time, cousins played beautifully, adults shared yummy meals, glasses of yummy drinks and chatter about various topics. On our last day we drove up Mt Taranaki- which even had a little snow on the top (hence the inability to land), visited an uber child friendly cafe, ate massive icecreams, flew to Auckland and then took in excess of four hours to drive home with grumpy and hungry boys... Still, as we lay in our bed we both acknowledged that we survived and that it was worth it :-) a

Recipe for adventure...

Todays recipe....
3 small children
4 bags of gear, clothes, blankeys, special toys, nappies and bottles
1 long car ride
1 short (if you call any flying with three small children 'short') plane ride
Arrival post bedtime

Directions: load the three small children in the car. Find space for the four bags of gear. Pick up coffee to retain some form of adult sanity. Put the dummy in the babies mouth. Drive around for a while and hope like anything that the two smallest ones fall asleep.
Discover you have arms like an octopus as you juggle 3 kids, 3 carseats and 4 bags at the airport (thankfully 3 bags are childrens backpack sized). Eat dinner at the airport. Get on the plane at almost bedtime. Hope you are seated away from people staring (hehe). Blend all of this together in a confined space with capacity for 40 adults and quite a few thousand feet in the air.
Get out, get car, drive to destination, settle children to bed then relax and enjoy....

One 3 day holiday to Taranaki to visit my brother, sister-in-law and my beautiful niece and nephew.

Wish me luck!! Hehe.

The Higher Call of Living

I'm hiding from my kids... I should get a better hiding place, not in the lounge, and wondering if I really should have yet another coffee today.

Yip it's one of those days... bubba is sleeping. I'm trying to get him into a better day pattern. Poor kid gets dragged all over the show he doesn't quite know when to sleep or not. At least he (usually) knows night is for sleep.

He thinks the carseat is some kind of torture, like, going into it suddenly causes an onset of baby insomnia and episodes of crying whenever the vehicle ceases to move.

They're funny these little people. Such personalities while still so young and small. They know what they do and don't like and just how to tell you.

In all its frustrations and delights I often find myself thinking over how to raise these little people, discipline and teach them, while fully enabling them to be confident in who they are and what they are capable of.

Never before have children been so free to discover who they are and live their dreams like the generation being born right now.

There is no ceiling, no limitations in what they are able to accomplish if they really want to.

My hubby and I have noticed lately.... in the childrens books of our parents, there is a recurring theme of being 'small' - being in a safe world and staying well within your safe little comfort zone. Being confined and definitely not stepping out or trying to break the mold... and if you did, right back to the safe little place you go once you discover the world is big and bad and you simply cannot break out.

What a message to send to a generation. And, they largely lived within the parameters of that. It was and is very difficult being of that generation and not fitting the mold.

Then you get todays books.... living dreams, trying everything and anything. You are capable and competent. You are incredible. The world is waiting for you to be!

And somewhere in between there was a revolution, and we didn't even know it.

My generation, our generation, is crying out for freedom. For social change that enables. We are beginning to see people that rise up and live their dreams as amazing, rather than crazy or silly. We want to do it too. We want to break the mold and the holds of society on us.

We're discovering who we are and who we were made to be. And we're ok with that and have found that in being that, we are the closest to free we have ever been.

What's more, we have people rising up... in pockets all over the world, who are prepared to or are fighting for anothers right to that same freedom. What a stage we have set before us.

I believe we are the closest to a radical shift that the world has seen in a long time.

So how do we raise a generation facing possible impossibilities for their future?  I mean, while freedom is great, and we want it and need it - there are good and bad in both scenarios.

How do we find a balance between chasing our dreams, living our dreams, and facing the reality of life and what is necessary to make life good and make life work...

The large majority in our parents' generation know how to work hard. Get a job, have a job and keep a job.  They know how to turn up on time, keep house and yard, cook a meal from scratch.  They know how to save money and work towards a reward, how to start at the bottom and work towards the top.

Somewhere in the revolution, we have a whole bunch of people who are living their 'freedom' all the while acting like the world completely owes them something. 

They don't know how to get a job, work hard and keep a job.  They don't keep time, don't know how to do basic things around a house, they couldn't cook a basic staple meal from cupboard ingredients....  and they don't know how to start at the bottom and work for something better.  The amount of people with horrendous debt is shocking.

For example - I am astounded at how few young people have their driver's licence, their own car or a part-time job now a days.  They want to have the latest stuff, go to the beach, the movies, shopping - wherever and whatever, but they don't want or in some cases even see the need to pay their way, make a fair contributionor at least work to finance the newest thing.

I got a part-time job and my licence as soon as I was old enough, I learnt to drive, and as soon as I had saved enough money, paid for my very own first car.  I paid for the petrol, the warrants and registration, and the insurance.  I bought my very first cellphone and always paid for the top ups.  We help in a youth ministry, and the outside of 'church' setting, the activities we can do are limited - because virtually none of the youth drive, let alone have a car...

Somewhere while entagled in the idea of freedom, people have become so idealistic that they expect everything to come knocking at their door - instead of involving hard work, which leads to increasing levels of freedom... they want to chase their dreams, but neglect the responsibility that comes with life as an adult.

It is true when we hear that saying "they want what their parent's have now, without the sacrifice and hard work their parents put in to get it"

I want to raise kids that are well rounded individuals... to do enough for them that they have what they need and some of what they want, but that they recognise and have incentive to work hard and reap the rewards and self-respect that come from earning an honest living.

Hopefully balance can be found somewhere around here....

• work = money.  Learn how to save it, spend it and give it
• every person is valuable and deserves respect and dignity, including yourself
• life is not always fair, your turn will come
• work hard, play hard, be fair
• arrive on time
• discover who you are and what you are good at, and do that
• don't spend most of your time trying to overcome your weaknesses.  Do what you can do and do it well
• encourage others
• make good choices for yourself
• tackle challenges, face your fears
• it's ok to make mistakes
• say sorry, apologies are valuable
• pray everyday
• be thankful
• learn to drive, get a car, get your full licence
• relationships are more important than anything else
• give to others without expectation
• look after your spirit, your soul and your body
• have only a few non-negotiable rules
• find your place, rise up and give it 100%
• let other's have their opinions, and you have yours
• don't forget to live - especially while you're waiting for the next big thing
• live for a greater cause than yourself and your family
• there is always more

Its time to study hard, work hard, do well at what you are supposed to be doing and see the world change. It really can become a better place for the generations to come, and with all we've been given, it should!

Today may your eyes be opened to the world of possible impossibilties around you, and what is in your hand to do...

Fit and food low down - check in

I have lost 6kg! Oh my! I am surprised.

This week another 1.4kg bit the dust..... dun dun dun.... another one bites the dust (hehe)

I went for 2 good walks and tried to up my exercise in general. I've had several appointments in the mornings which have interfered with my goal of walking every week day.

I still want to get to that goal.

I am stoked to see the scales going down as I started to wonder why it seemed progress has slowed. I added the extra exercise and it has helped.

I even had a small helping of icecream one night and this didn't interfere. Several weeks in I always remember why I love eating so well, my body feels so alive. I feel thin on the inside (the outside still has to catch up) and just strong and healthy.

Anyway I still have 8kg to be at my first goal but I want to go about 3kg less than that. So 10-11kg to go!

Getting there! Hopefully a couple of months will see me much closer to my goal.

So there you have it. I could start my own 'arnaharrisbikinibodychallenge' hehehe snicker snicker.

Ps. I do NOT have a bikini body even in the slightest ;-)

Life's little indulgences

I did it. I went for my first decent walk in a LONG while yesterday...

In the heat of the sun, wondering if I'd get sunburnt, pushing my boys and thoroughly enjoying it.

I always get that exercise optimism, like 'oh I could set my alarm for 6am and go every morning before the kids wake up!!' but I'm sure the optimism would drown with the 6am alarm. Besides I am getting up in the night so I should cut myself some slack ;-)

I'm hoping to go most weekdays. We'll see whether that develops into a new habit.

Alas here are a few pics from my place...

Saturday night picnics and play at the park

 

 

a wee indulgence

 

vacuum cleaner fun.  It was funnier when Mr A was sucking his lips into the vacuum!

 

my cheeky faced little man

 

one word #lattesonthedeck and another #addictedtocoffee

 

I'd just finished my walk... this is my surprised face.  See the 'glow' hehehe

 

Spontaneous hand holds

 

Strong necks from a boy who has JUST about outgrown NB size!!

 

good fun!

 

 

The best job in the world...

My check in for the week.

Tuesday is weigh in/measure day.

I hate doing it on a Tuesday.  I am a Monday girl.  Start the week, weigh in and measure.  But when I started my new eating plan I quit the junk on Monday and started Tuesday.

I am one of those people who says, oh well, it's Tuesday, I will start on Monday - and then spends the rest of the week over-indulging knowing that I am supposed to start eating good come Tuesday.  This time I just bit the bullet and began.  I can't force myself to weigh in a day early to get to a Monday weigh in.  I'm a bit pedantic. hehe.

Anyway, I have lost another 1.3kg and a few more cm from the main parts of my body.

I still haven't mastered the exercise, but kindy resumes tomorrow and I'm hoping to find a 30 minute out each morning after kindy drop off to pile the boys into the pram and go for a walk. 

My eldest baby is starting morning kindy tomorrow!  People always tell you when you have littlies, time goes so fast.  It hardly ever feels like it at the time.  But when the day rolls over and your child enters the education system, even if its a half day, 5 days a week - you suddenly realise, time actually DOES go fast.

And as the littlest one looks up at me with his big blue eyes, I can't help but think that this stage of life, with babies in arms, needing lots of time, cuddles in laps, being brought crumpled flowers, having full, clean dishracks pulled off the bench to the floor... tornado worthy destruction in and out of the house every day, kids at my ankles, never ending hungry tummies and a little bit of chaos in every waking moment - it's short.  And you know what - it's a lot of fun.  It is totally worth it.

People have looked at me a bit sideways, seeing me out and about - I probably look like chaos on legs.  A 3 year old in the near distance, chasing a daring toddler and lugging a capsule along for the ride.  Someone commented about how busy I look...I just looked around with a big grin and said "I LOVE it!"

I have never felt more settled, more content and more happy in my role as a mum of little ones than I do right now.  My babies are beautiful, they make me laugh, they drive me wild, but they are SO awesome.  I have taken a long time to feel like this part of my life is ok.  This is what I'm doing, and it's ok.  In fact, it's good.

The pay isn't great, and as for rewards - it's incomparative to the business world which I clung to, now some 4 years ago.  It might be 5 minutes of quiet for a coffee on the deck, a big cheeky grin, watching someone master a new tunnel or height that they haven't yet scaled, say a new word or sleep an extra hour at night, a big sloppy kiss or just to play nicely with the other sibling for 10 minutes - but the real rewards are eternal.

These are artworks, but they carry their own brushes.  I must provide the materials, the paint, the studio for the beginning stages - but at some point, they will be displayed in the great exhibition of life. The strokes that they make with their brushes will be those that shape their worlds, and more so, change their worlds and the worlds of others. 

The investment requirement is 100%. All or nothing.  The hours are long, with a permanent on-call basis, the job description ever changing, task-list never ending.  Seems a crazy business deal. 
You don't quite realise what you've signed up for when the contract first arrives, even though you've read ALL the small print.

But the best job on earth? Some days, I think it comes pretty close.

All in perfect time

Today's the day.  I'm going to try and tackle the monster of a story, because I get asked all the time and I know that lots of people want to know.

Time has lapsed, and in time, you forget and are 'healed' of the agony that you find yourself awash in sometimes.  But I'm ready.

This is the story of Mr E, and his 11 week premature arrival.

While pregnant, someone said to me "everything about this baby, the day he is born and the name you give him will be significant."  I filed this away for the day sometime in December 2012 he was meant to arrive.

Knowing he was likely to be my last baby, things were going smoothly with this pregnancy until I hit about 22 weeks. I started to grow exponentially.  I went from being "small" to being "massive" in a short time.  Then it started... contractions.  On and off contractions, JUST like last time with Mr A (who was 6 weeks early).

They were painful, every well meaning person kept saying - "oh that's braxton hicks" you know, practice ones.  I've had two babies previously by this time.  I know what BH contractions are, and I also know these are NOT them.

I'm full of fear.  Absolutely terrified that my baby is going to arrive soon.  I'm 26 weeks pregnant.  I decide it's time to be as much of a couch potato as possible.  Lots of rest, extra sleep and being extra kind to myself. I'm reassuring myself that it's going to be ok and telling myself that I will carry to full term.

I'm 27 weeks, a visiting ministry comes through our church.  He says something from the front about a person having gone through a traumatic event, and now, being in similar circumstances, is feeling terrified that history is going to repeat itself.  My last baby nearly died.  He was premature. My heart is thumping and tears are flowing as I know that this is for me. I go up to get prayed for at the end.  I feel nothing.

I'm 28 weeks and I start having 4-5 hour long stretches of consistent painful contractions every couple of days.  I'm still paralysed in fear.

It's Friday night and I'm in Delivery Suite.I've had a killer back ache for a couple of days. The contractions are coming again and this time my midwife says I need to be monitored.  I had called her and all I could do was sob and tell her that "I know there is something really wrong".  She takes me seriously.  I spend several hours there.  The obstetrician then decides I need a foetal fibronectin test.  This, when negative, predicts with 99.8% accuracy that you will not go into labour in the next week.  It is negative.

I reassuredly jump into the car, confidently knowing I am not going to go into labour in the next week and that I do not need to worry.

Saturday the back pain intensifies.  I can't sleep for sheer pain.  This is not normal.  Lucky I have osteo booked for Monday I tell myself.

I'm one day off 29 weeks. I'm at church again and I decide I need to get more prayer after Friday nights episode.  I go to my precious friend and Pastor and ask her to pray.  I explain what is happening to my body.  She prays.  Fervently, a prayer like she had seen my heart fully and completely and hears heavens answer.  Mostly, she prays against fear.

Monday comes, I am 29 weeks and today I am trying to feel confident I will carry to full term.  I am not afraid.  I go to osteo and there are some things out of place. I leave hoping for the best.  My backpain turns excruciating and debilitating.  I figure it needs a day or two to settle, so pop a tramadol and go to bed.

Tuesday arrives.  I lazily get out of bed at 730am.  There is some bleeding.  I calmly tell Dave he wont be going to work and call my midwife, while packing a suitcase.  I know I wont be leaving the doors of the hospital for a while.  I arrive at Delivery Suite to a virtual roll of the eyes that says "here comes the hypocondriac mum to be again."

My midwife, still taking me seriously arrives.  She throws all the jurisdiction between doctors and midwives out the window and pulls strings to arrange a scan for me later that day.  I cannot get comfortable with my back.  I writhe and roll and stand and sit.  I am being monitored but it seems to show a non-event.  They doubtedely run tests and leave me to it for long stretches.  Ihad the negative test remember.

Scan comes and goes.  The sonographer tells me that there has been a bleed, that there is lots of fluid, baby is quite large and that my cervix has shortened slightly.  I am concerned.  I dont know what to make of this.  She tells me she will prepare a report and have it sent to the doctor.

I relay this to a staff midwife who confidently tells me I will not be going far, I will be closely watched from the hospital and they will closely watch my babies growth.  I understand this.  The obstetrician doc comes and reassures me, the blood seems to be an old, now healed bleed.  I am weakly confident.  She leaves me to await the scan report.

Within the hour, contractions resume.  This time they seem a bit more hard and fast.  And they seem to be getting worse... I hesitate and lie there trying to work out what is happening for over an hour.  I then decide I better let them know.  They come in to the sound of my buzzer, where I declare that contractions have resumed but feel more serious this time.  They decide to check and I am now 2cm dialated and fully effaced and therefore in labour.

They immediately commence steroid treatment to try to stop labour and book a helicopter.  I'm going to Auckland.  The in-laws have our kids, so hubby rushes home to grab supplies, bottles, blankeys etc to get to their house so that they are ok for the night.

The steroids arent working.  And baby is breech.

I am loaded onto a very uncomfortable stretcher and whisked off to meet the chopper on the roof.  My hubby is no where to be seen.  He is met at security and delivered to the roof of the hospital.  He is there waiting as I come around the corner. <enter sigh of relief>

In the chopper I think to myself that this may be my only ever chopper ride, I better enjoy it.  The view was beautiful.  I wish I wasn't in labour.  The contractions seemed to have eased off a little.

I arrive in Auckland to a very organised Delivery Suite, where they immediately load me onto a bed.  The contractions have resumed hard and fast.  They (finally) offer me gas.  This is the best feeling of the day as for the first time in a week my back is not bothering me.  I have IV lines inserted into both arms.  One for a drug to help babies brain.. magnesium sulphate perhaps.  This is a four hour infusion and they hope that they can buy enough time for it to come through fully.  They tell me this is going to make me hot and bothered.  I am happy with the gas and this does not phase me.  The other is for antibiotics and fluids.

I suddenly feel the urge to push.  I tell them this, to which they check and advise me that my waters are bursting but I am not dialated more than 2cm and that if I push and break my waters they will have to put me to sleep and get my baby out.  Lucky I have had babies before and therefore can control this urge.

Baby is breech, it is confirmed.  The anaethetist arrives and asks me if I would like an epidural.  I strongly decline.  He then bribes me by asking if I would rather be put to sleep when they get my baby out.... I strongly refuse.  He then says 'oh, so you want an epidural?' to which I agree.  While he prepares this I ask if I can have my baby feet first, they refuse.  I then ask if I am really going to have him today... they say yes.

I get the epidural in.   By this time the contractions are coming on top of each other.  They are long, I suck the gas, I stop for about 2 seconds and then another is coming and I resume gas-sucking.  The anaethetist and Dave keep telling me, "you need to breathe some real air!" typical men.  They do not realise that there is no let up at all.  It is like one big contraction.

Finally the epidural kicks in.  It is like heaven.  Whoever designed those is a legend.  I see why people rave about them, I cannot feel labour pain at all.  I can relax and be fully aware of what is going on, not spaced on gas.

The charge midwife arrives, she takes a look at me, and the monitor.  She notices something.  She says, "we need to get this baby out now" and I jump the queue of all other cesareans booked for the night.  I am rushed to theatre, which is smartly built into the Delivery Suite.

They check with some ice around my neck, can you feel this is icy cold...? yes.  Can I feel it lower, no.  Ok, she is numb.  They proceed with the operation.  I can feel the sensation, but have no awareness of what is touching me.  I can tell which organs they are moving around and what they are doing inside me.  Dave is gowned up and at my head.

They pop my waters and measure it.  3L of amniotic fluid.  Most normal pregnancies have between 1 and 1.5L of fluid.  This is probably a good reason why at 29 weeks I measured 37 and felt like I was 37.  They find my baby, get him out and he is taken away.  I ask if it is a boy, they tell me yes.  They say nothing else.

They are gone a long time.  Dave is still at my head.  I begin to wonder why he hasn't been taken yet to see our baby - they told me he was going to go with them.  They finally come and get him.

He brings me back photos of our son, wrapped in a plastic bag for warmth, with a breathing apparatus in his nose. He weighs 1660g. 3lb 9 oz. I later discover that he required resuscitation and he was quite deliberate about not breathing.  He has a mechanical ventilator breathing for him for the next day.

They show me the placenta.  We see that it looks very peculiar.  It gets sent away for tests. As they cut it out they discovered that it was abrupting.  If it had fully come away, bubba would have died instantly.  I would have haemorraged and may have died.

I am taken to recovery and then later, on my way to my room, wheeled past him.  He is tiny, but beautiful. Perfectly formed.  His head is about the size of a tennis ball. Maybe smaller.  His whole hand is the size of the tip of my little finger.

The next day, we name him Ezekiel David.  It fits perfectly.  Ezekiel means "God has strengthened" and David means "beloved of the Lord".  We had chosen this a few days before he was born.  We didn't know what was to come.  His name is significant.

For the next 2-3 days I am written off while I recover.  Sometime, I get up and go down to visit him in a wheelchair.  I sometimes hallucinate from the pain relief I am given.  I am on close watch in the maternity ward because of the haemorrage risk.  There is not even coffee on this ward.  The staff are kind, and show me where I can make coffee. I am about 200m away from bubba.

Bubba is strong.  He had a blood transfusion because of being extremely anaemic when born.  He had stopped getting blood from me.  He is on CPAP, a breathing device which keeps his airways inflated but adds extra oxygen as he needs it.  He is reliant on this for his survival.  He starts having one ml of expressed breast milk every few hours.  He begins to tolerate this quite quickly.

His brother and sister are down for a visit.  They are not allowed in Neonatal Intensive Care (NICU)to visit him at all.  I show them pictures.  They leave with their grandparents.  Bubba is in a stable condition.  This can change at any time.

His milk requirement slowly increases 1ml by 1ml.  I am expressing 3 hourly around the clock.

The team who delivered him come to see me.  This is about day 3.  Here I am told that he didn't want to breathe.  I am also told that the very same night they delivered a 29 week baby by cesarean - who died.  I cry.

I am surprised when the paediatrician tells me I can hold him at 3 days old.  I expected it to be weeks before I was allowed to hold him.  I get my cuddle on Friday 5 October.  I notice that his ears are stuck to his head.  They haven't grown enough to be separate.  He is so tiny.

Saturday arrives.  It is our 5 year wedding anniversary. Dave gets his first cuddle. I weakly try to stomach my usual favourite turkish kebab for lunch.  I can't eat it.  Dave has to leave for Whangarei and our older kids, I am alone.  I cry myself to sleep.  Bubba has lost 250g.  This is a lot when you only weigh 1.660kg.

Sun 7 Oct.  Bubba opens his eyes a tiny bit, and looks at me for the first time.  I cry.  Today is my hardest day.  I am full of emotional/hormonal baby blues, and the agony of the situation.  I get lots of visitors, but there is nothing like being in a foreign city, away from your husband and family with a sick baby.  For the first time I am buckled over in emotional pain and cry out "Papa, help me" - to God.  I have no other words.  I try to contain the big heavy sobs that are knocking at the door.

This buckling over in emotional agony and crying out "Papa, help me" occurs most days that I am alone in a big city from here on in.  I don't have anywhere else or anyone else to look to than my Father in Heaven, whom I know has everything under control and knows all things.

7 days in I discover that the placenta had a large growth on it, called a chorangioma.  It was 5cmx6cmx7cm.  I googled it.  I found out that this is the leading cause of maternal death in the world.  And that it causes sudden infant death in utero from heart failure. I also discover it causes all of the complications I was experiencing in my pregnancy.  I thank heaven that God knows best, and I realise that if Ezekiel hadn't of arrived on the day he did, we would of lost him, and probably me too.  I am greatful for life, but again I cry with big heavy sobs.  The day he was born was significant.  One day later would have been too late.

I am now off the ward and down in Ronald McDonald House Family Rooms, emergency accomodation for out of town parents with children in Intensive Care.  They feed me and are very kind to me here.  Ezekiel has more tests, and they all return normal.

He has a brain scan.  It returns normal.  I cry at the overwhelmed goodness of God who has kept him perfect in every way.  I realise that for many people the situation is very different.  I am amazed that Mr E could be 5 weeks earlier than his older brother, and be in a much better condition.

For three weeks Auckland City was my home.  I had visitors nearly every day.  I had coffee and food brought to me.  I had gifts delivered and friends arrive from my home town.  I was loved upon.  I spent a lot of time crying in sheer pain.  And crying at the sheer goodness of God to me.  I know it's going to be ok.  Most of the time I am happy.  I make friends with some of the nurses in NICU.

I pray in the Emergency Accomodation, for the families, for the children.  I see people take their children home well, and the accomodation empty out to half capacity at a time of year that this "NEVER happens".  I am pleased to know God cares for these people.  I am also faced with the agony that in this place, families lose their children EVERY day.  In one week, four children died out of the accomodation I was in.

We stayed as a family at Ronald McDonald house a few times.  This is an amazing facility that accomodates whole families, and is on the Hospital Site.  It meant Dave and the kids could visit me but I could still be with bubba.  It felt like home.  Each time my family leaves I am grieved inside.  I cry and cry and have to tear myself away from my husband and not look back.

On 22.10.12 they finally tell me that they have booked the helicopter for us to fly to our hometown.  On 23.10.12 after three weeks in Auckland we fly to Whangarei.  I was hoping for fine weather, but low cloud made for a not so fun ride and I couldn't see anything!

For the next almost six weeks we were in Whangarei SCBU (Special Care Baby Unit) where the focus was to keep feeding and growing him until he was strong enough to learn to breastfeed and then get ready to go home.

The process is painstaking.  Prem babies sleep ALL the time.  They are hard work.  I had to commute to and from the hospital everyday.  At first, by bus or reliant on rides because of the cesarean.  You just sit there, hold them, bathe them, feed them (through a tube in their nose going into their stomach), change them, cuddle them and wish for them to get well.  Some days are good days, some days are bad days.  Some days move forward, some move backward.  Some weeks show a lot of progress, some you feel like you have nothing to show.

People used to ask me where my baby was, not realising that prem babies have to develop on the outside all the things they would of had to do in your tummy between weeks 29 and 40.  All the while getting fed, digesting food, learning to breathe etc. Its a long haul in hospital.

He was on the CPAP breathing system for about 5 weeks, then another system for a few days, then he was breathing on my own.  The doctors all told me that I was "very lucky" to have my 29 week baby off oxygen before I went home, it doesn't always happen.

I expressed milk 6-8 times a day (through the night) for almost 9 weeks, in hope that he would breastfeed.

I made friends with the staff (again). Coming back into SCBU was like a welcome reunion after my previous child spent four weeks in there.  I was so glad to be back in my hometown.

Some days I had visitors, most days I sat next to my baby alone longing for the day I could finally take him home.  The greatest emptiness I felt was at an extended family dinner when I suddenly realised our entire family was there, except for Mr E - and when I left to return to the hospital, my heart broke.  That was the night before his discharge.

The day I went to stay with him to prepare him for home, I wasn't sure if he was really ready.  I decided that I would take out his nose-tube and forcde him to have to breast feed.  It worked, and two days later the paediatrician said I could bring my baby boy home.  I cried and cried.  She cried.  The nurse cried.

I could go on forever about the experience, but I don't think words could adequately describe what it is to have a baby so early, to not know whether your baby will make it through the day, whether today will be good or bad.  To be stuck in another city and reliant on the charity of others and their goodwill as to whether you will get company that day or not.  To be faced with the rawest emotions, the deepest heartache, the loneliest place in the nation (hospitals) and have to cling real tight.
To have to daily choose gratitude instead of the 'why's' or wondering how you got to this place.

I don't know how people do this stuff without Jesus.

We are indebted to the countless people who prayed for me, for Mr E and for our family. Those who bought us gifts, cards, food, coffee.  Those who visited.  Those who text, some every single day.

We are indebted to the people who followed their deepest desires and dreams and became nurses and doctors and midwives and professionals and saved our lives. 

Mostly, we are indebted to God, our Papa, who held us close and loved us and covered us completely with love during this time.

Traumatic and stressful as it was, for the vast majority of the journey, I was full of faith, full of hope and full of exceeding joy.  I didn't fake it once.  Sometimes I had to make a choice, but usually it was natural.  I cried only a few days, but I laughed every day.  I gloried and marvelled everyday in wonder and amazement at how good Mr E was, and therefore, how good God is.  With all the complications and everything that could of and should of gone wrong, I stood in pure amazement and wonder that I had a healthy baby and that every single test came back ok, clear, normal.

Sometimes I felt undeserving of such goodness.

I wholeheartedly believe that we were supernaturally carried through the storm.  I also believe that our previous experience with an early baby helped us to carry through.

We need to fight for our babies.  For the babies that are born, the babies that are unborn, and the ones that aren't even conceived yet.  We MUST fight for the next generation.  They carry the greatest legacy the earth has ever seen.  They carry destiny.  We MUST stand for them and on behalf of them.  Where they are non-existant we must find the courage to call them into being.  But we also must live with our children fully surrendered to the will and purposes of God.  They are not our own, they are His.  They have been given, lent to us for us to do the best we can to raise them, grow them, teach them and release them.

I want to testify that even in the most dreadful of circumstances, when everything familiar and that you hold dear is shaken, when you're in the furnace of life's trials and the heat is hotter than ever - you can stand, you can raise your head, and you can carry joy, hope, life and love in that place.  You can release those things into other people when you're in that place.  You can laugh.

I want to say that the day my friend and Pastor prayed for me, just before I had him, neither of us had any idea what was to unfold.  In the process of labour, delivery and the weeks that followed, I did not feel an ounce of fear once.  If I felt like it was trying to knock at the door, I would suddenly think - if God made Him come on the perfect day, at the perfect time and preserved his life - He WILL come through for this too.  I was confident and fully able to trust that everything was going to be ok.

People credited to me that I was 'such a strong woman' - I don't credit that to myself.  The only place I credit that to is because I know where to find my strength when I face a struggle and a challenge.  I have a God who is much, much bigger than life's problems, situations and circumstances.  And I know Him.

I cried a lot, but I didn't cry in emptiness and despair to nothing - I cried to Him, and He came to me and held me and took care of me.  He put people around me to love me and help me and encourage me.  He anchored me.  I had never known Him before this better than I know Him now.  You get to know Him in a trial like you couldn't know Him any other way.

My prayer for you, is, whatever you are going through, wherever you find yourself today, whether you are in love with life, or whether you are at the dregs and don't know what you have left to hold on to - that you would truly find Him in that place.  He longs to be found by every person, and if you really want to find Him, you will.  I dare you to ask Him - if you are real, make yourself known to me.  That is a prayer He simply cannot resist.

Afterall, He knows you and He made you and He sees you anyway - good and bad, everything about you.  He is not surprised by you in the slightest.

I am more than willing to share with any one at any time if they want to know more.

For now, may you find the victory and freedom you are searching for in your life and your family.

Much love
Arna x

Poor bubba

the fun to be had with a real, live baby  when you're 18 months old!

Lets just say it was lucky I was standing close by ;-)

My food and fit low down

Christmas has come and gone, and here we find ourselves halfway through the first month of 2013. 2013!!! I don't think I ever dreamed as a child what I might do in 2013.

With the newyear, and aided by recently giving birth, I find myself a few kgs heavier than I should be and need to be. Quite a few.

So I'm back on the wagon of a slightly modified low-carb/low gi diet. I break the regular rules, like I still drink coffee and I still have cream and brown sugar on my oatmeal each morning. I even often have a cream and berries snack at night when the kids are in bed.

But what I do works. Its modified because I am breast-feeding, so I have to think about the nutrition of Mr E too. Otherwise I would b more intense.

So I had about 15kg to lose and I've shed 3. Hopefully mid year I will reach my goal. Anything under 70kg will be good for now, I think then I will fit most of my clothes.

The thing I find hard, is fitting in the time to exercise... I mean, how do you do it with 3 kids 3 and under? Maybe if I get up super early but that's laughable at the moment. Night is out cause thats feed feed feed time for bubs. I wish I had a treadmill!!

Anyway, that's the little challenge I face and I'm going to try to fit in a decent walk at least 3 days a week by the end of this month. I could try the #mileaday which the beautiful paisleyjade does...  search it on instagram.

For now I'll leave you with that, a good walk 3 times a week by 31 january. Its not a resolution, its a return to health and being fit after a rocky pregnancy, an emergency cesar and followed by a traumatic couple of months.

Will post in how im getting on ;-)

An invitation to dine....

Welcome to my dining table, effectively what you're getting from this, my new blog, is an invitation to my table.

An invitation to a 'meal' with us as a family.  Our meal times are usually chaotic, noisy, messy, yet exciting.  Usually someone is crying, someone is refusing to eat, someone is wanting to sit on an adults knee, the baby wants breast-feeding all the while Mr and Mrs are trying to eat, feed the three hungry mites, and have a conversation.... 

So I can't promise a beautiful, smooth sailing, non-dramatic dinner party.  I'd prefer to say we put the party in the dinner.  Feel free to sit, relax, and enjoy your meal though - this is just a day in our life with three small people.

I write as honestly about the way I do and see life, it is as if you were sitting at my table, dining with me.  Alas, even if its chaos, you will get served a good meal... I love cooking.

Bon appetit

Welcome to my place!

Constructing...

in construction, or should I say re-construction, please bear with me.....

Welcome 2013!

I think I better find some blogging mojo again.


There's this thing that happens to me when I blog, and trawl through all the blogs available for perusal at any random time. I seemingly turn into an inward focused 'life is hard' person. I don't know why it happens, but when I get too involved something chemically changes in me and I don't like it.


  Too much facebook, online stuff etc - what I would call living vicariously through other people's lives - it actually isn't good for anyone. We were made for relationships, true, real, deep, open, loving relationships... the kind that come from actually seeing and spending time with a person. I'm not talking about the lovey dovey type - just general friendships with people. So I'm not sure how I'm going to do this 'blog' thing and not turn into the incredible sulk ahem, hulk while trying to add a little something, a little more regularly. I'll think on that one.


While I sit here, on this 30+ degree celcius balmy Sunday afternoon, Mr 18 months playing with tongs, a shirt, a saucepan and lid among other things... Mr 3months asleep and Miss 3 out to the movies with her dad, it's the very last day of our much needed summer holiday. We needed a break. Our lives have been a rollercoaster the last 2 years. We've moved house twice, I've brushed death, we've had and nearly lost 2 premature babies.... combined between me and my kids we have spent over 15 weeks in hospital since March 2011.


Hospitals aren't fun places to spend time as a patient. They turn into quiet, solemn, lonely white halls at night. Deathly places. I'm sure its different if you work there, but when it's your life, and 8pm visiting hours finish arrives, it's like my heart would sink and a lump would rise in my throat as I faced another night alone in a strange place, separated from all I knew and loved. It's hard to keep your head even and stay focussed. I will write a little (or a lot) about our most recent journey someday soon.


Anyway, we've had an amazing holiday getting used to being a family of 5, and just being a family again. Our baby was discharged on 2 December after 9 weeks in Neonatal Intensive Care and then Special Care and we had been split apart as a family for that entire time.


We've spent time together, we've spent time with our wider family, we've spent time with friends. We've visited the beach, the farm park, playgrounds, the pools... played in the paddling pool nearly all day. Made messes of our house and barely cleaned up... eaten fruit salad for tea. We've eaten several kilograms of chocolate and treats, we've gained several kilograms each. The grown ups have started a health regime (mostly eating so far)....


 And it all ends today as my hubby donnes his shirt and tie, shiny shoes, leather belt, woollen socks and returns (greatfully I'm sure) to his airconditioned office tomorrow. So now, I think I might be able to find a few minutes in the day to write a little something to you readers (thanks for being patient)... maybe I won't seeing as I'll have 3 kids on my own again from tomorrow - haha - who knows.


Happy 2013 everyone. I pray that this year is a year of pure joy, and a discovery of Joy Himself as each of you walks out and finds enjoyment in each moment - cause that is what this is all about anyway! x