LUNCHEON WITH MAM

It's hard to think of my mam as a widow. It's hard to think that one of her sons - my brother - no longer exists. It's hard to even contemplate how she feels: the agony, the distress of both of them no longer with us. And yet... life goes on - for all of us.

Visiting the elderly in a residential home - the 'forever' home for most, is facing life on the brink of death. I don't say this morbidly - but rather - matter of factly. It doesn't mean it is necessarily a miserable place to be. I have witnessed such kindness, consideration, devotion, patience, sweet vulnerability, wisdom and good humour. I often wonder if what I 'think' my mam would need or how my mam would feel, may not always be the reality of the situation.

Maybe (probably) I am totally off the mark.

Today, at lunch, in the dining room, I had the good fortune of a top of the table seat. Prime real estate.

John: "What did your mom say? I'm sorry - my wife died not long ago, and I'm just not coping..."

Fred: "I want to go back to my room. I don't fancy lunch. Please take me back. Oh, wait... is that ice cream?"

John: " she never had hardly any sick days. She was gone so quickly..."

Fred: "ICE CREAM PLEASE"

John: "Will you keep QUIET!!"

Robert: "Yes, that's from me, too, Fred. You're so noisy"

Mam: "It's a mad-house"

John: "It's like a circus. Everyone's performing 'cos you're here"

Mable: "Could I have some lunch, please?"

Mam: "What if I need something while you are in Sydney next week?"

Me: "Sarah will be seeing you on Monday, Mam. She will bring you whatever you need"

John: "Don't worry. Your mother won't ever go without here. Oh no. She is a Rock. She is a rock to us all...."

Mam: "Hmmm... the Rock of Ages, more likely"

Fred: "Room please. NOW"

Nurse Aid: "Would you like some tea? Sugar and milk?"

Mam: "No, not milk - tea. Do you have any? Can you get my daughter some?"

Tom - with his hands in his mother's mouth, trying to adjust her cliff-hanging dentures amidst partially chewed silverside "...It's ok, mom, I've nearly got them. Do you want them in or out?"

Mam - pointing over to a couple of ladies in mobile recliner chairs: "Sylvia is 96. Ninety six! Oh, and Phillipa is 94. Awwww....."

Robert to me: "Where's your little girls? They were here the other day. When will they be back?"

Rosie, standing, crippled over with arthritis, fists clenched and wrapped around her walker's handles, staring at me, searching my being while waiting for eye contact:

"Hell-ow"

Mam: "Rosie, this is my daughter. I was telling her about that cushion on your walker. It looks much more comfortable than mine. Helen - look at Rosie's cushion"

Rosie: "Well, goodbye then...."

Mam: "Goodbye, Rosie. See you next time"

Farewell to Thee, My Father

His second child, - my second of four older brothers - passed away just five months ago.

I was never really sure how much this news affected him.  He wept, but on subsequent visits, we never spoke about brother Brian's death.  I would have, had my dad initiated it.  But no.  Nothing. 

Was it the British 'stiff upper lip'? 

'Chin up and get on with it'? 

Or was it the opacity of dementia?

Some days, his cloudy brown eyes would drizzle tears - and then, momentarily -  he was asking for an item to be added to the shopping list. 

Oh, the dread, the pain of having to tell his wife - my lovely mam - that he had left us.  She knew he was soon to depart this world.  She was waiting.  She had predicted that the third day of his illness would be "the day". 

She was right.

She lifted her frail hand to her face and cried gently...."He has left me a few times during the earlier part of our 67 years.  I should be used to it.  But this is different..."

"Gonna take a sentimental journey

Gonna set my heart at ease

Gonna take a sentimental journey

To renew old memories"

Oh, the anguish of the widow! 

The agony. 

The grief.

I am so very grateful for my father. He was absolutely perfect for me. He was my jiggly belly gadget man. Soft, and tender hearted. Introverted. A loner, yet still comfortable in company - preferring to listen than to speak.

"I heard about a mansion He has built for me in glory

And I heard about the street of gold beyond the crystal sea

About the angels singing and the old redemption story

Oh and some sweet day I'll sing up there the song of victory"

I love you, Herbert Brian Hudson - BA PhD 

(Born again.  Past having doubts - HB Hudson)

Farewell to Thee, My Brother

I learn that in death there are SO MANY lessons on life. Good lessons. I learn that my grief is secondary to the grief of others that I love. Others that loved him. I want to comfort them. In my rainbow tears, I realise the love I have for all those that loved him. But even every day life - between the sadness, I have "eyes to see". 

I am aware. 

Never before have I been so much in the moment.

My brother knew his time was nigh. That it was getting closer, but alas - I doubt he expected it when it happened.

Then again, who is ever ready? 

Who is prepared? 

Sitting next to the Machinist in the funeral parlour office, which smelt surprisingly fresh without the scents and cleaners, I asked Phil (first name basis) "Phil, from your experience - people who are grieving, do they grieve in strange ways? Ways that they don't expect?"

"Absolutely", he replied. "Basically, Helen - anything goes. Not to sound callous, but people grieve in different ways. When grief hit me, I blanked out for weeks. Months, in fact. I couldn't remember what transpired in that time"

He went on to tell us how he lost his wife, then 8 months later, his daughter...

"

I'm so sorry...."

"Thankyou. The thing is, I consulted with a great funeral director. He helped me so much. He explained so much, was ready to help and advise me - any time of the day. He was there for me, comforted me in his presence and assurance. Told me that I could conduct my families' funerals any way I wanted to - to honour them. And because of his help, in my time of deep sorrow - well - that's why I do what I do now..."

"So, Phil, you found your purpose?"

"I sure did. This is what I love to do. To be here now, for you - to help any way I can...THIS IS MY PURPOSE"

* * * * * * * * * *

My brother's crematorium music:

Intro: All things Bright & Beautiful (old tune - UK)
Intro: Lets Get Together - Bryan Ferry
Photo Slideshow: Protons, Neutrons, Electrons - The Cat Empire
Exit: Hit Me with Your Rhythm Stick - Ian Dury & the Blockheads. 

Never in my wildest imaginations would I conceive a funeral director (A Funeral Director!) to create such inspiration, enabling a client to plan and execute a loved one's funeral with such fervour! 

I hope I did you proud, Bro.x

And to Phil - I'm so glad you found YOUR PURPOSE and you're LIVING IT.

Farewell to Thee

Feel no guilt in laughter, he knows how much you care.

Feel no guilt in a smile that he is not here to share.

You can not grieve forever, he would not want you to.

He’d hope that you could carry on the way you always do.

So talk about the good times and the way you showed you care.

Let memories surround you and he will live forever there.

Dishwashing 101 with Miss Keiralea

Before we began our chores, I told Miss Keiralea that I was looking forward to her coming over and just KNEW she was going to be a great help to me.

She insisted on carrying a kitchen chair over to the sink to stand on.  I rolled up her sleeves.  "If you get wet, don't worry; Mama has another top for you to wear", I assured her.  I rolled a towel into a 'sausage' and placed it on the edge of the sink to soak up any spills and prevent water dripping onto the chair, potentially making it slippery.

I placed a plastic, removable bowl into the larger sink and filled the smaller sink with water for rinsing.

"Mind while we run the hot water into the bowl.  If we put dishes into the bowl the water could splash on you and we don't want that, do we?

"No, Mama"

"Is that too hot for you?"

"A little bit..."

"OK, I'll put some more cold in.  Mama likes to uses the hottest of water as possible to clean the dishes because it makes lots of dishwashing bubbles and it is that hot water and bubbles that help clean all the food mess and oil off the dishes"

"Mama, can I wash this knife?"

"No, Baby.  How's about we wash the glasses first because they are the cleanest of all the dishes.  We can soak all the knives and forks because soaking makes all the food that is stuck to them - soft - and it is easier to wash off".

"To wash the glasses, we put them in the hot, soapy water and use the dishwashing brush or bottle brush to wash inside".

"Why do you use a brush, Mama?"

"Because it is safer than putting your hand inside the glass - with or without a cloth"

"What will happen?"

"Sometimes, some girls and ladies had their hands cut from the sharp glass"

"Did they bleed?"

"Yes..."

"Oh noooo.."

"Anyway, after we have washed the glasses and everything else, we rinse them in the other sink with  clean water, then put them upside down on the draining board so that all the water can drain off and then,the tea towels don't get so wet."

After a decent chunk of time, Miss Keiralea decided it was time to stop. "Can we have some tea now,  Mama?"


A girl after my own heart.....

Cherished Kin

I know and have known for some years now, that we, - the Machinist and I have a very unique situation.  We view our situation very seriously and never take it for granted.  In truth, words cannot describe our fortunate circumstance.  We (separately) think about it each day.  We talk about it most days. Sometimes, the sheer recognition, the joy of it all is overwhelming.  Blissfully overwhelming.

Our children live and have lived with us through to adulthood.  Those that have left home and have married live less than 500 metres away from us - with their children - our grand-children.  Not only do they live with us and near us, they earn their living from our family business.

They show up, each work day.

They desire to be with us.  Seek our approval.  Ask our council.

"Mama's" large living room is a haven for regular family gatherings.  In cheer and delight, in trouble and strife.  In loud disagreements (sometimes furious) and peaceful accord (often without verbal apologies).  Mediation and reconciliations.

The kitchen table is seldom clear.  Not only topped with food and drink - but also crayons, play dough, baba bottles and dummies, bibs,  hair ties and brushes, Lego, soft and cuddly toys as well as "interesting items to occupy the young".  Oh - and blood pressure machines!

The kitchen table; -  without a cloth, but rather - covered most days with chunky babies, passed around as if on a Party Susan.


In younger years, I could never even imagine a life like this.  Nor could the Machinist.  Although I, from a large family, and the Machinist an only child, both of us grew up painfully aware of loneliness.

We are often reminded that God setteth the lonely in Families.

And we are grateful.  Truly grateful.  

Jelly Belly Fan Club

We were at the kitchen table and a pack of Jelly Belly beans was being handed around for all to choose a flavour / colour or flavour / flavour combination.

(This is an exercise in extreme patience as others carefully select their beans by referring to the flavour chart on the packet).

OK, so we all get that.

However....

We all decided to smell the packet, too.

"This smell just reminds me so much of younger days.  I can't figure out what the dominant scent is, though..."

"Could it be pina colada?"

"Coconut?"

"Vanilla?"

Miss K, almost five years old, inhaled deeply

"It's Mama's house!  The jelly beans smell like Mama's house!"

I can live with that.

I know what I have to do to keep up a sweet home fragrance.

The Old, The Young and The In-Betweeners

We planned to leave in convoy.  Sarah with Lyla in her car, and I - in my brother's car.

I've enjoyed driving my brother's car.  It is roomy, not too low to the ground and smooth.  Furthermore, the boot is so big, it can fit two wheelie walkers, side by side, without threat to the upholstery.  Plus shopping.  It holds All of our shopping!

Sarah had a medical appointment, a date with the grocery stores and it was her day to visit with the Grands.  I, on the other hand was accompanying her on her medical appointment and planned to pick up Grandpa so that we could both visit Granny in hospital.

Mam had been admitted to hospital last night.  Paramedics had attended her at home, directed by a wonderful system called "Care Call".

(When Mam or Dad press a button on pendants worn around their necks, a call centre is alerted, details taken and an ambulance is sent straight away, if needed.  Care Call then contact me - as the "Responsible Person" to let me know as many details as possible).

This is her second stint in hospital within one and a half weeks - due to completely different medical emergencies.  It has been extremely hard getting answers as to her diagnosis.  Nurses are run off their feet, doctors are doing rounds.  Nothing new, even though one sort of  expects time and surveys, coupled with political promises to improve conditions within hospitals.  Eventually, anyway.

After being told that Mam was due to have x-rays, an echocardiogram and other tests, I stalled picking up Dad to visit her, as I knew this would fluster her.  Being of the old school, she simply hates to "impose" in any way - including having visitors in her room at the same time as doctors nurses and other professionals and 'important' people.  Just in case we get in the way or under their feet.

She looked pale.  And tired.  Her green eyes were deep set within her beautiful aged face. When she blinked, her eyelids closed and reopened as if in slow motion, just like you see on the movies.  She seemed small and frail - nothing like the wiry woman I'm so accustomed to.  The pillows looked too plumped, and seemed to envelope her frame.  She was sitting with both arms upward facing, exposing blood filled needles within mini syringes, - taped to her crepe-like skin.

And how, pray,  had she earned all those tiny bruises on her forearms?

"Hey up, Ma, what are you doing in here AGAIN?" I teased
"Hello love… it's my COPD.  I couldn't get breath.  They had to come for me.  Was it Sunday, Brian?", she enquired of my dad, who was wearing his puzzled brow, trying to remember himself.
"No, Ma - it was last night - Monday"
"Monday?  It seems longer than that…"

For the next couple of hours, Dad dozed off  on in a high backed hospital chair, while mam and my conversations were prone to double handling: Mam's hearing aid was spitting and whistling, rejecting a used up battery, and most of my contribution was repeated,  LOUDLY as she simply couldn't hear me.  I was becoming ever-conscious of not only the lady in the bed opposite Mams, but wide eyed and enquiring looks from hospital staff as they passed in the corridor.

The lady in the bed opposite took the opportunity of getting involved in our subject topics and I was immediately promoted to the LOUD translator.

"She's a happy soul.  I knew it", Mam observed, as "Debbie" was mid sentence in explaining her current unplanned weight loss problem.  "I knew it from the moment I saw her…"

"My mam says you're a happy soul"
"Oh that's nice of her.  Are you Irish?"
"No, we're from the midlands…"
"Oh, I thought you were Irish. I wasn't sure, though.  Anyway, I'm Debbie.  What's your name?"
"Mam, this is Debbie"
"Who?"
"Debbie, Ma"
"Debbie Lewis? Yes, I can see it on your board…"
"Debbie, this is Joan"
"Hello Joan, pleased to meet you"
"I can't hear a word she said, Helen.  My hearing aid is playing up…"
Debbie laid her head back on her pillow, closing her eyes and smiled at the same time.

She really is a happy soul.

And later…

"Ma, Sarah is popping round to your place.  Would you like her to bring anything else?"
"I can't really think.  It's hard to think when you're like this.."
"I know it is, Ma.  It'll all be ok"
"Could she bring my green cardigan?  I got it ready with the other clothes I was going to wear before I came in here."
"Sure she can.  I'll ask her to bring them, too - and I'll wash the clothes you came in last night"
"I've got a couple of shirts and pants.  Blue shirts.  Oh and some socks…" Dad joined in.
"She's talking about MY washing Brian…"
"Oh, of course.  You can pick mine up later."

As I was about to answer him, his eyes had already closed and he was dozing again.

Later still…

"Isn't she a sweetheart.  She knows you, Helen.  She knows her mama.  Look at her smiling at Helen, Brian…"

Lyla continued smiling at me.  Staring at me intently.  Her eyes smiled too.  Sarah went to heat her bot-bot.  I fed and burped her.  Facing me, all rugged up in a pale pink hooded woollen jacket with woollen pants to match, she continued to smile at me as I sang to her softly.

That Evening…

Walking into the kitchen at home, Keiralea cam running to me "Mama, Mama, I was waiting for you!"
"Hello my daaaarling", I responded, picking her up and gently fairy kissing her head.
"Why do you do that, Mama?"
"Because I love you"
"I love you too"








 

The Nature of Our Village

Many many years ago - in a land far away - my own Mam would take us children on regular Nature Walks.  We lived close to a park which led onto a river.  The river bank was rife with a variety of lifeforms. I would always imagine "Tales of the Riverbank" whenever we were there.

We also lived close to a canal, - deep in some places, shallow in others.  Birds in reeds, frogs and spawn on rocks and in the water.  Tadpoles were ever present.

Mam usually wore an apron with a large pocket.  So many treasures, picked up as we walked were stashed in her apron.

She passed the love of nature, walks and picnics on to us.

The legacy continues - albeit in a foreign land with different flora and fauna:

The Host to our local treasures:  The Village streets and the paddocks beyond....

Thoughts On Homeschooling

We didn't know what we were in for - years ago, when the Machinist and I made the decision to homeschool our children.  At the time, our eldest child was in first year high school.  The other two were in Kindergarten and year one - at our local village school.  We hadn't gone to great lengths to actually research homeschooling either, and nor were we then, or now - qualified or professional teachers.

We were moved towards this decision, from a variety of sources - all confirming that we were doing the right thing for our family.

It really doesn't matter why parents decide to homeschool their children.  We had our own personal thoughts, views, reasons which were then and even now - ours alone.

Every family is different.  What is right for one, may not be for another.

The most important thing that matters is that there is a love and vested interest in offspring.  It's not even about education, but rather - to instil a love of learning in each child.

What we know, without doubt, is that if a child loves to learn, delights in every new snippet of discovery, is happy and well balanced - knowledge and understanding will follow.A child can be trusted to learn, as it is in their nature.

We have no regrets about taking our children out of mainstream schooling - to the learning environment of their home.... Absolutely none.

Non je ne regrette rien

And nowadays we continue in the tradition of instilling the love of learning in our grand-daughter and those still to come, whom we love already....

When Baba Comes To Play

We raised our children in our family business.  We taught them to multi skill in all areas of life - home, work and play.  Nowadays, we are raising our children's children in the same manner.

On many occasion many people have asked if it is hard to live and work with family.  We've never known any other way, so it's just normal to us.

Nowadays, while the younger generation Mommy and Daddy work, another family member steps in to care for the little one.

A day at Mamma's house looks something like this:

"Mamma eat toast?"  (Vegemite Kid)

It's Hammer Time....erm....Puzzle Time

Bathing the ducks in the sink with a lot more foamy handwash  than shown here, while Mamma attempts to discipline her unruly hair with the help of 'Product', stored in the cabinet above.  (Anything for a quiet life...)

Helping Mamma peg out the washing.  (Every second peg was offered to Polly the silky terrier 'cos Baba knew she needed to chew on something.  Just like her own puppy, Dexy does at home)

Preparing the canvas for when we return from the Park.

The apparatus at our local oval.  In other words - the Park.  Every single activity on here has a name.

A young Aussie version of Zola Bud.  With shoes.

Climbing up "The Tube" and seeing Mamma's unruly hair - giving my hiding place away. (She's always onto me).

One of the many gum trees on our way home.

Lunch, a spot of painting, bot-bots and "Mamma Cot" awaiting....

Another day in Paradise....

My Vocation

I was reading through the description of my blog the other day.  While it is as accurate today as it was when I first wrote it, I feel that there is so much more I could add.  As the months and years go by and people and circumstances change, so do our roles.  And priorities.  More and more, I see definition...

"....I can see clearly now, the rain has gone...."

(Yep, there's always a song that relates to life).

My vocation as wife, mother (mamma) and homemaker has never been clearer than it is at this point of time.  I am besotted.  I am obsessed.

I suspect my blog will reflect this in the coming days and months.  How can it not?  Especially from something that brings such joy and fulfilment.

Yes.....

A vocation indeed.

Motherhood: The Hardest Work

"It's the hardest work on God's earth - being a mother" - My mam would often say.  She said it a lot when I became a mom for the first time.  And later - as my children grew, and the workload increased, she would add "... you have to have eyes in the back of your head..." to her repertoire.  Meaning; you have to be ever diligent in watching your children.  You have to always have an "eye" on them for the benefit of their health, safety, attitude and moral character.  It didn't matter where you rustled up that "eye" You had to have it ready as a beacon (or alarm); a call for necessary appropriate action.

These are the people she needed eyes in the back of her head for:

Child Number One, Two and Three

Child Number Four

Child Number Five

I've found my Mam's words to be all truth.  Mothering is never ending, and yes - it is exhausting.  It is hard and sacrificial.   And yet... it is the most blessed and life changing of all careers.  

Content Little Girls

Sitting in the mall - enjoying coffee with the Machinist, it so happened that we were right next to a child's indoor playground.  Neighbouring tables and chairs were strewn with handbags, bottles, snack boxes, nappy bags, coffee cups and tea pots, plates and napkins, little ones' clothing and shoes.  There was shrieking, squealing, crying and moaning.  Then, there was laughter and chuckling even.

"You know, Babe", began the Machinist. "You can tell the good parents.  You can tell who puts great effort into their children, and those that don't.  I'm not saying they don't love their children - ..."

"I know what you are saying.  I know what you mean.."

"See that mother over there, with the two girls?  I saw her give both of them the 'nod'.  It was the 'time to go' nod.  The girls made their way to the table, and mother directed them to put their shoes on.  They got up, and started to run towards the exit.  She told them not to run, and they immediately slowed down, waiting for her to catch up.  And the best thing about it, they didn't complain or whine, and they seemed content.  They obviously felt secure".  

As the Machinist was telling me this, there was shrieking and shouting in the background.  We were on our last dregs of coffee, and about to leave.   

Father passed by, slouching over a full shopping cart.  At least twenty steps behind him was Mother, struggling with a wriggling, shrieking toddler under her arm.  An older child was walking next to her whining at pitch.  Yet another child was running - ahead of Father and the trolley.  Then back to Mother, banging into tables and chairs (and other patrons) as he ran.  When this happened, the mother would give that 'kids.  What can you do?' look. 

And all the time, neither parent communicated with each other, or the children. 

Learning to be Highly Effective - Ha!

We have just returned from town and baby is now sleeping snugly in her "mamma's cot" - still in our bedroom from her sleepover - more than a fortnight ago.  The Machinist has to shimmy around the cot to get to his side of the bed.  Most nights he says "we'll have to move the cot back to the other room, Babe".  We both agree on this, but still - it remains.  Because our room is closest to the living rooms, it is warmer and more convenient, I tell myself.  Others smile knowingly.

In other news - I am a flirt.  I flirt most days, in all areas of life.  I can't help myself. 

I confessed this to the Machinist the other day as we were sorting out his office.  He was / is so grateful to me for setting up systems within his space.  He thinks I'm fab, but he didn't know that I had / have my own struggles -  being able to focus on only ONE THING AT A TIME.  Most of my undertakings stretch on because of this fact.  I'm told that mom's (and business people) have to learn (unless they're that way inclined anyway) to multi-task.  I still have not mastered this as yet.  I don't hold much hope to do so, either.

And so - what happens is - I focus on one endeavour with such intensity, with such passion and then suddenly realise that other tasks are building up.  Tasks which can't wait. 

I am currently listening to an Audibles book by Stephen Covey entitled "The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People".  I would gladly get rid of all my other 'self help' type of books for this one only (even though I am tempted to buy the next book in the series; "The Eighth Habit").  I'm only on Habit Three, and already I am much 'enlightened'.

I've even recognised the Machinist to be in Quadrant One: the Important and Urgent quadrant, while I am a Quadrant Three type of girl - the Urgent (to me.  I think.  I'm sure), but not Important on the scheme of things.  (The business.  The Family.  The World).  

We both need to acquire balance and find ourselves in Quadrant Two: Important, not Urgent. 

This, apparently, is the key to Effectiveness.  

And so - I am learning....It won't happen overnight, but....it will happen!

Keiralea Ann

So much life, growth and change between posts!  She is my love, my blessed life vocation.  And she knows it.  

Love from Mamma x