Let me know if there's anything I can do

I hear that statement a lot. The offer of "let me know if there's anything I can do" is one which gets thrown about a fair bit in our society. Sometimes I wonder though, how often the offer actually comes to fruition. How often does the recipient of the offer actually take it up and ask for the help they need?

I am someone who finds it difficult to take people up on this kind of generosity. It's not that I don't want the help, it's just that I find myself thinking about other people having busy lives and not wanting to impose on someone else's time.

I make the offer fairly regularly too. But it is rare, probably for much the same reasons, for people to take me up on it. Hmmmmm. It's perplexing this kind of generosity and kindness isn't it? It requires a directness and a willingness to say "yes please, I need your help".

Well tonight, it happened. I have made an offer of help a few times to a special person I know.

Tonight she needed some help. She called in the favour I had so willingly offered. I delievered.

It felt good. I hope it helped. I think it did.


Do you say to people "let me know if there's anything I can do"? Do they take you up on it?
Are you a graceful recipient of someone else's offer of assistance?

Image from We Heart It

Grateful for bloggy friends

Autism kicked my butt today. Anxiety and meltdowns were the order of the day for precious eldest. It was a tough afternoon with little rhyme or reason.

So often now, my online life is the place I go to for solace and comfort. I went there tonight. I blogged and I tweeted. Those bloggy friends, those connections forged through great gals being willing to read what I share and to share with me, they came in numbers to comfort, encourage, make me smile, share and empathise. Lucky me.

There are great supportive people in my real life too, it's just not as easy to connect, to share what's going on, to ask for help. Our online presence has certainly changed the way we do connection don't you think?

So this week's grateful shout out goes to those beautiful bloggy friends who cheer me on so consistently.

You know who you are.

Know that I am grateful.

PS: Thank you to all of you who read here. I love it that you are willing to read what I write. In case you didn't know, I write a blog exclusively about the Batsman's autism journey over here at The I Love You Song. I'd love you to follow me there too if you are so inclined.

PPS: Thanks Maxabella for the Grateful link up.

To sir with love on Daffodil Day

He was thirty seven years old when he died.
Cancer claimed him quickly.
He had six months from diagnosis to death.
Lightning speed to live out the last days of your life.

He was my teacher at high school. He taught maths mainly.
He had a sense of the goofy about him. His enthusiasm was infectious.
An easy laugh and a keen sense of humour made him popular school wide.
Kids loved to learn from him and he instilled respect as readily as he taught calculus.

It was coaching volleyball that he really came into his own.
Throughout my high school days, he was coach and volleyball mentor.
He wasn't a gifted volleyball player himself. In fact his regular awkwardness afforded many a team giggle.
But my oh my he could coach. Motivate, teach, push, direct, inspire.

With school days over, we continued to play volleyball together.
The team was a mixed bunch of ex-students, teachers and housemates.
Success was varied but we had the time of our lives playing each week.
The game regularly followed up by a parma and pot at the local pub afterwards.

His cancer diagnosis was devastating to many.
Fit, strong, non-smoker. It made no sense.
There is no reason in the cancer and young person combination.
None.

I spent many hours with him in the last weeks of his life.
Thin, weak, barely able to eat a lemonade icypole.
His attitude remained defiant to the end.
One of the hardest things was watching his ageing parents shrink with the knowledge that they were going to outlive their beloved son.

There were hundreds at his funeral.
Tears and roses.
They played "To Sir with Love".
Students in school uniform formed a guard of honour.

The words that have stayed with me since that day are worth sharing here, penned by another of his mourning friends:

The pain is over.
A muscular frame.
One so fit, fluid and full  of sun.
Bent, angular, tormented.
Sparkling glances that warmed and wooed.
A wide eyed knowing spare.
Pleading yet defiant.
Incomprehensible courage.
I shall carry the message of our friendship into the future.
Our laughter shall ring in the ears of the next children.

Garry, beautiful Garry.
Know that you are loved and remembered nineteen years on.
Your battle inspired and touched so many.
Proudly donating to the Daffodil Day appeal in your honour today

Buttermilk and chocolate chip muffins



I am utterly obsessed with baking at the moment.

The coldness of this winter in Melbourne has inspired me to spend a lot of time by the warmth of my oven.

I have baked and baked and then baked some more. Cupcakes, loaves, biscuits, muffins, tarts.

It was a windy old day here today and we spent most of the day inside while the Batsman recuperated from his winter ills. With the Bowler off enjoying a day at child care, a baking opportunity presented itself.

I often search through cook books and magazines for recipes to try and increasingly, the internet.

Today I found this gem of a recipe and it was so fabulous I thought I would share it.

Buttermilk and Chocolate Chip Muffins (recipe adapted from here)

220g of sifted self raising flour

1/2 cup of vegetable oil

3/4 cup of buttermilk (or regular milk)

1/2 - 3/4 cup of caster sugar

1 egg, lightly beaten

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

150g chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 180 degrees celcius.

Line a 12 cup muffin tin with large paper cases.

Mix dry ingredients together and make a well.

Mix all wet ingredients together and pour into the well.

Add chocolate chips and mix well until just combined. Don't overmix the batter.

Divide mixture between the 12 muffin cases.

Bake in the oven for 15 - 20 minutes.

Devour!

All kinds of flavour combinations are possible with this basis muffin mix. Substitute the chocolate chips for 150g of other flavourings. Next on my list to try are:

Pear and ginger.

White chocolate and raspberry.

Grated apple and cinnamon.

Banana and passionfruit.

Mango and coconut.

Grated orange rind and chocolate chip.

Mmmmmmmmmm.

Sorry. Is my obsession showing?

Wordless Wednesday - I'm two years old, what of it?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Cake Creations - August

Butter, sugar, flour, eggs. Love.

This is not my bum (Disclaimer)

Disclaimer: This is not my bum

I’m not quite sure how it has happened.


I have managed to get myself a little bit addicted to exercise.

For at least three times a week over the last few months I have trudged down to the gym to do a gym circuit class while the Batsman does a therapy session and the Bowler cools his happy heels in the leisure centre’s occasional child care. The circuit classes are a mix of cardio and strength work and that has been a happy combination for me that has not only seen me lose over nine kilograms but also achieve gains in strength, flexibility of my weary old bones and muscles and overall fitness. The others in the class are primarily women my age and older so it’s a comfortable place to be and I know that if I turn up, do what the instructor says and work hard that I have done well.

But the biggest gain in all of the exercise for me has been its impact on my mental health. The mornings I exercise are the days I cope the best with the demands of two small children, the running of the house and the Batsman’s hectic therapy schedule. The post exercise endorphins last all day. It is amazing. I am happier, more energetic, less anxious and am beginning to feel so much better about myself, my appearance and buying clothes that are a couple of sizes smaller.

It wasn’t easy at the start. Convincing myself to get to the gym on days when I just wanted to curl up on the couch with tea and chocolate biscuits was hard work but the perseverance has been worth it. Step by step by step. It’s all any of us can do.

And now I have enrolled to do a fitness challenge camp aka boot camp for six weeks. Six weeks of three mornings a week at 6am for 1 hour, most of it outdoors. Utterly terrifying. But I feel like, all things considered, I am ready to take the next step. I want to push my fitness to the next level and drop some more weight. I have about six or seven kilos still to lose to reach my goal weight. Go, me!

What do you do to push yourself to exercise? Have you ever become addicted to something that is good for you?


Postscript: Since I wrote this post, my ankle has decided to take on a distinct level of dodginess (technical term, you understand) and it is looking like I may have to postpone the boot camp for a few months. I am hereby promising, where you can all read it, to continue the fitness work, albeit in a slightly lower impact, less ankle injuring fashion.


Image via We Heart It

Stay at home mummy guilt

I had an attack of the guilts this week.

Much is said about the guilt working mums feel as they strive to balance everything and do the best for family and children and careers. I am not sure if we talk so much about "stay at home mummy guilt" so much. Do we? If we do I think I may have missed these conversations.

The Bowler was off color, off his food and had a tummy upset from Monday to Wednesday this week. He was cranky and whiny one minute and sunny and chirpy the next. I couldn't predict the next thirty seconds in our household and it was utterly exhausting. When Thursday arrived and with it the much loved 2 day stint the Bowler usually spends at child care, I wasn't 100% per sure he was ok. It was probably somewhere in the 80 - 90% vicinity.

But I sent him.

I sent him to child care in spite of not feeling sure of how well he was. I was desperate for a chance to collect my thoughts, deal with house stuff (hello, 23,000 baskets of washing) and spend some time at kinder with the Batsman.

And then I felt guilty. All day.
The guilt ate at me, even as I managed to finish a much longed for cup of tea in peace.
Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.
Guilty for wanting and needing to be away from him. Guilty for taking the risk that he would get through the day without being unwell. Guilty for feeling relieved as the Captain strapped him into the car for the child care drop off.
I stifled thoughts of going to pick him up three hours early.
The pit in the bottom of my stomach stayed with me.

Guilt is such a negative emotion isn't it? And you know what, when I went to pick him up at 4:30pm, the staff told me he'd had a wonderful day. He was fine.

I, on the other hand, was a wee bit wrung out from all the inner angst. Glass of wine with your guilt anyone?

Hoot the Owl birthday cake in pictures

The Bowler turned two on Sunday.
He adores Giggle and Hoot on ABC for Kids so the birthday cake was always going to be a great big Hoot the Owl.

I had big plans to do a step by step of how to make a Hoot the Owl cake but time restrictions over here at the Pavillion have meant that the pictures will have to tell the story.

Hoot hoot.

Juliet Lily

A little girl came into the world today.

You are so very welcome precious Juliet Lily.

You have the most amazing mummy and daddy.

You have a big sister, Hope, forever missed. Tomorrow would have been her third birthday. Remembered and loved.

You have a big brother too, Angus, a sweet and gorgeous boy. He'll give you a run for your money as you grow though, as big brothers usually do.

You won't know it yet. You probably won't know it for many a year to come, but you are a lucky little girl.

Know that you are loved, cherished, adored, protected.

Have a wonderful life sweet Juliet.

Image via We Heart It



Wordless Wednesday - one foggy morning

Images by The Captain

Happy Birthday Bowler Boy

Bold

Boisterous

Funny

Feisty

Affectionate

Chatty

Two years ago you joined our family.

We are so happy you did.

We all love you madly, especially your big brother.

Happy Birthday Bowler Boy

Grateful for joy

I spend so much time rushing around, doing what has to be done. Perhaps I also rush around doing stuff that doesn't have to be done. Hmmmm.

With the Batsman's autism early intervention program based here in our home, life is highly scheduled by necessity. It works better that way. Everyone gets what they want and need most of the time and the Batsman gets the routine and predictability that helps him tick along with minimal anxiety.

Sometimes though, I feel that while it looks to the outside observer like the family of ducks gliding peacefully across the pond, underneath it is me paddling my little webbed feet at lightning speed to stop us all from going under. When you are paddling like that, you can miss stuff. You can miss the good stuff while you are busy making sure the icing doesn't melt off the side of the cake.

So, I am consciously working on being present in my own life. I remind myself to pause and notice the little moments. The ones that bring joy. The moment where the Bowler says something hilarious. The moment where the Batsman gets his "my", "yours" and "I" right and articulates himself with amazing clarity. The swan we saw tonight flapping its wings to ward off some annoying nearby ducks. The stunning rainbows we have had in Melbourne lately. The first sip of the first soy latte of the day.

Small things. Small moments. Joy.

I'm grateful.




Image via we heart it

A sign from Ivy

I gave blood the other day.
It was easy, painless and a small commitment of time out of my day.
I feel a bit embarassed that it has taken me until 42 years of age to donate.

When I arrived at the blood bank I was nervous. First time doing something new, the unknown and all that.
The reception staff who greeted me were lovely. The nurse who did the interview with me and to go over the paperwork, not so much. Maybe she was having a bad day, maybe the monotony of blood donors day after day gets boring. Who knows.

As she went through my paperwork and asked me a cavalcade of questions, I sat there nervously feeling like I was sitting an exam and would be kicked out of there any second.

I looked up and there she was. Ivy. Products from donated blood help Ivy 's body to fight against infections which regularly threaten her health. Ivy's mum, Tiff, blogs here and together, Ivy and Tiff, advocate loudly and clearly for the importance of blood donation. Absolutely inspiring. Ivy appears in Red Cross Blood Bank promotional material urging blood donation and it was from one of these poster's that her sweet face smiled at me while I answered the questions of Nurse Cranky.

It felt like a sign.
A sign from Ivy.
It was like she was saying "don't worry, the questions will be finished in a minute and then you can get on with the giving".

So I did.


PS: Later this year Ivy will have a wish granted by the Starlight Foundation. A very special wish. So if you don't follow Tiff's blog, go over and visit and wish Ivy well for her wish day.

Oh, and go donate blood. Really.


Image via we heart it

Wordless Wednesday - chocolate sparkly cupcakes I made

What the Bowler said

This boy is almost two.

This boy is full of cheek and daring and an absolutely irrepressible enthusiasm for his ever expanding environment.

This boy is affectionate, sociable and funny.

This boy has a growing sense of humour, loves a laugh and loves his big brother even more.

And he never, ever stops talking.
As he gets older, the words that come out of him keep getting funnier. I am endlessly entertained.

One day this week he woke up from his afternoon nap and he was very cranky. He was cranky in the "do not look at me, speak to me or touch me" way that toddlers all seem to have perfected in their repertoire.
I got him dressed and in the car to head out for a coffee while the Batsman completed the last hour of his therapy session. The whining from the Bowler persisted as I started the engine. I turned to him and said "Have you got your cranky pants on?"

What he said (with dangerous looking frown): "No mummy, got jeans on".

Ok then.

We're going to the circus

The weekend has arrived.
Phew. The week has seemed long and busy and full. Too full.
I love the weekends. It's time to slow down.
And this weekend there is great fun ahead because we are going to the circus.
A little bit of solo time for me and the Batsman.

I'm grateful to go a wee bit slower for a couple of days and I'm grateful for the businessman who donated our circus tickets. Thank you.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have a couch to nap on.




Image via we heart it