Is it a Mansion, Is it a matchbox of sticks, Nah, it's a HOME.

Stand outside, look at a house. What do you see? A mansion with a driveway and a fountain. Nice. Come inside. What do you hear? The pitty patter of feet, clanging pots in the kitchen, a child is singing at the top of her lungs, someone is twirling around in front of a mirror, someone is reading the paper, a child is crying upstairs. It's a home.

Stand outside, look at a house. What is it to you? A unit with trees at the front and a small red door with a red doorbell. Ring the bell. Come inside. What do you see? Careful, someone is crawling and creeping around. Another one is performing in front of a small audience of mom, dad and one other sibling. There's no judgement or comparison in here. Only applause and acceptance. She's a star. She's got fans. She's loved. She can take on the world! Pictures hang on the wall. Happy memories. The hum of the dishwasher can be heard in the midst of all the family's noise. This is a home. 

Stand outside, look at a house. What do you think? A wooden house standing on stilts. Climb up the stairs. Come inside. What do you notice? Hmm, the smell of toast, porridge and coffee. A little clean kitchen shows the hard-work and love of someone special in this house. Look outside the kitchen window. Clothes hanging on the line. Little clothes for little people, made clean again after their rough and tumble. Work shirts hanging there too. A few aprons hanging there as well. Some work dresses hang there too. Someone's labour of love. Feet thundering down the wooden stairs. It's time for breakfast. This is a home.

Sit on your couch, watching TV, look at a house. Or what is left of it. There was a tornado. A typhoon. A hurricane. A flood. Call it what you like, but it was the Big Bad Wolf and he blew this house down. Was it made of bricks? Perhaps. Was it made of sticks or straw? Perhaps. What is it to you? What was it to them? The pitty patter of little feet. Clanging pots in the kitchen. Children singing. Children dancing. Someone reading the paper. Babies crying, crawling, creeping. Someone performing, others accepting, applauding, loving, instilling the confidence to take on the world. Pictures on the wall. Happy memories. Dish-washing. The smell of breakfast. Clothes hanging on the line. It was a home. 

It doesn't matter how it looks, how grand or humble, how big or small. Let's make home 'Home Sweet Home' and let's show our compassion and help to those who have lost their 'Home Sweet Home'. 

Dedicated to people round the world who have been affected by natural disasters.

                                                                                                           - Nancy Eluigwe.

Ten confessions of a real wife / mum

I am first of all a wife and then a mother of 3 (to be honest, my first confession should probably be that I am first of all a mother of 3 and then a wife). My assumption is that the correct order will be reset to the default position when the kids leave home.

Confession #2:
Sometimes I feel like running away. This is nothing to worry about though as it doesn't happen so often (only at 6pm everyday when I have to figure out what to cook for dinner). The good thing is that I'm quite mature so I don't give in to every whim. Moreover, the feeling turns into exhilaration once I've nailed dinner or ecstacy when I remember that I've got some leftovers that I can serve for dinner! #winning

Confession #3:
I take my time when I've gone out alone and left the kids (especially the 3 mth old) with my husband at home. I usually expect a call within an hour because my newborn has refused to drink the EBM I've left with my husband and even though I sound like I'm concerned and hurrying back home on the phone, I'm not. I figure that when she's hungry enough she'll drink from the bottle and I'm also usually happy that dad is feeling the heat of looking after a newborn without anyone else to help him. I see it as a little payback for the expression of pure joy he usually has on his face when he's merrily signing out of the family home to hang out with his mates without the burden of a wife and kids.

 

Confession #4:
95% of the time, I would persist in completing a small chore before attending to my crying 3 mth old(depending on the pitch of the cry). I like to think that I'm passing on life skills so that she realises that the world doesn't revolve around her...i.e. people are not going to drop whatever they are doing to attend to her all the time...i.e. mummy has also got other things to do asides from feeding and rocking her. Also, if she happens to cry when i'm making a lasagne, she had better not choose to do it while I'm making my bechamel sauce as I have't figured out what happens if I leave the sauce midcooking to attending to a crying baby. It hasn't been a chance I have been willing to take at 6.30pm on a weekday so I am always going to finish cooking the bechamel sauce before attending to anybody else. 3% of the time, if dad is home, he graciously comes to pick the baby up while i finish up the chore. 2% of the time, the pitch of the cry requires that I drop whatever I'm doing and pick her up.

 

Confession #5:

I think that we are really really good parents and that my kids are always well behaved therefore, any bad behaviours have been learned from other kids at daycare or school.

 

Confession #6:

I buy his & hers snacks when I really like something and would prefer not to share. I also prefer that my husband gives the kids some from his. I reckon I've done more than my part of sharing when they were in the utero. However, I usually sneak behind him and eat a little bit from his as well. #Shhhh

 

Confession #7:

I dislike parents who let their children be unruly. I also have to overcome the intense desire to smack/pinch these children. 

 

Confession #8:

Anytime I've taken the kids somewhere and we're 5 mins into the drive home, I always have a panic attack because I think I've forgotten one of the kids so I do a quick glance at the back of the car to do a head count. This didn't happen when I only had 2 kids.

 

Confession #9:

I get ticked off when my husband refuses to take the kids out shopping and yet expects me to take them shopping. Hello? Do men get stressed handling any number of children in the shopping centre; rushing through the checkout to take one of them to the toilet for a wee only to get back into the shop and realise that they now want to make a poo; dealing with a tantrum when one kid has spied a biscuit/candy that you are determined not to buy them; having to rush to the parent's room to change a nappy and feed the hungry tired kids? Oh, welcome to the club of human beings. We also feel the same way, so we wouldn't mind leaving the kids at home when we go shopping too. If it seems like we know how to look after the kids better, it may be because we've have had more practice and you know what they say, "practice makes perfect".

 

Confession #10:

I would like to be rewarded for being a good mother and a wife by being treated to a spa and massage once in a while (where a while = 1 week). I am well aware that there are millions of mothers who are alcoholics or just lazy and can't be bothered working or taking care of their family or feeding them vegies so I think I'm doing a fantastic job. I am also aware that my husband is a good dad and husband so I reward him with a nice lunch and dinner everyday.

 

 

Stolen Diamonds...The greatest heist ever

 
image source: www.timesunion.com 

Some weeks ago, the entertainment world was abuzz with news of the Cannes million dollar jewellery heist. Any time this sort of theft is pulled off, readers can expect the media to refresh our memories with the biggest diamond heists of the past. Some recent experiences caused this event to remind me of a heist far greater and more serious than stealing physical diamonds.

One of them was reading an amazing book called The Diamond Polishers in which the writer refers to children as diamonds - valuable, priceless, beautiful and individually unique but requiring to be cleaned, polished and shaped so their brilliance can be seen. It would change the way I viewed children forever.  In the book she also writes about how children like diamonds have to be protected from being damaged, broken or lost (www.themotherhoodproject.org.au). What an amazing way to view children and an enormous responsibility we have to protect these precious gifts.

The second experience was watching a documentary called The Fighters on CNN, which was based on the battle of a woman in the Philippines dedicated to rescuing children and women that have been trafficked as sex slaves. Yet another experience was watching some video clips in a Women's conference in Sydney by the A21 Campaign that showed little girls as young as four who had been born to trafficked women and were already been exploited to perform oral sex on men!  As a mother of 3 girls 4 years and under, I am still sickened to my gut. It's difficult to digest these news and to know that human beings are capable of such crimes against children. It is also hard to imagine what these children and women have been subjected to... children just like mine and yours. Women just like me.
The more I thought about it the more I couldn't shake the thought that these ARE the stolen diamonds and every one of them needs to be rescued. When I think about the enormity of the crime and how hard it is to fight this battle, I feel extremely helpless. I know there are organizations that are dedicated to fighting this battle, but sometimes I think, "Wow, they're doing a fantastic job. I wish there was something I could do". However, apart from sending a donation, I wasn't sure what else to do. Then the other day I read 21 ways to get involved in stopping Human Trafficking (http://www.thea21campaign.org/content/21-ways-to-get-involved/gjf4co ). So I finally decided to do my own part. I will pray. I will blog about it. I will partner with these organizations to offer whatever I've got - money, time, talent, etc...

The golden rule is to do to others as you would have them do to you...If we or our children were in the shoes of these children/women, what would we want people to do for us? How much effort would we want them to put into rescuing us? We should do the same. The cause is urgent and we cannot afford to slack or be afraid and do nothing.  I look into my daughters' eyes and my heart burns within me. My children are my precious jewels. All children are precious jewels. None of them were intended as sex slaves. Every one of them was intended to be jewels in this world and on God's crown. Let's do all that is possible to make sure that these stolen diamonds are recovered. We were born for such a time as this.

Here are some articles to provoke you:

The face of Modern Slavery
Lost Boys
How tourists can help stop child sex trafficking
10 things men and boys can do to stop human trafficking

Big blessings in small everyday packages

At the end of last year, I was taking stock of the year gone by. I thought about the good things that had happened and I made a list of my blessings. Things that featured on this list included getting a new job, a successful overseas trip, a healthy family, etc. The big and obvious things and they were about a third of a page long. I felt blessed. Then I remembered that there had been a few tears or depressing days here and there and thought it might be worthwhile making a list of the things that made me cry or sad. There were only four that I could think of. The amazing thing was that apart from my the passing of my father-in-law, in hindsight the intensity of my distress at the other three items seemed a little misplaced when viewed alongside the third of a page long list of blessings. While holding on to that thought, I figured it might be even more interesting to make a list of things that made me happy, or smile, or excited, or even laugh. My list quickly got out of hand (or page) because they included everyday things like singing opera in the shower, watching peppa pig with my girls, dancing to the madagasca sound track, waking up to a clean crisp kitchen with the sun shining through the window, a cup of cold milo, the sound of my girls coming down the stairs, Iva trying to feed herself, Izabelle asking me to tickle her, watching my husband cook....I think you get my drift. And yes, this list was about three times my original list of big and obvious blessings. But hang on a minute, aren't these the big blessings? They are obvious but because they are everyday blessings, we get used to them and then we take them for-granted. AT least, I do. I reckon these everyday blessings were purposely allotted to each day to make the hard times that much easier to deal with. For example, I've had a bad day at work and I remember my girls fighting to give me a kiss in the morning. That helps me get through the day. I have changed the way I count my blessings. Everyday presents huge and gigantic blessings that totally overshadow and swallow up the little stresses that pop up here and there. Who cares about the bills when the birds are singing on my window sill and there's a cold cup of milo and toast + butter + honey to be had? And why worry about the fact that my car service is overdue when the kids are singing along to the car radio? What are your big blessings disguised in small everyday packages?