Saturday, January 24, 2015

six years























Sometimes its easy
We go on wild adventures with the girls tagging along
We play and laugh and eat delicious food.
We have boundless levels of patience, kindness, gentleness.
Sometimes it's hard.
You've stayed back at work, I've lost my patience with the girls too many times that day.
The patience frays, the kindness turns to scorn, the gentleness is forgotten.
Sometimes I'm very sweet.
I get up early and make breakfast for us all. Delicious frittata with fresh fruit smoothies.
I'm joyful and merry and you come home from work to find a pile of giggling gerties
playing make believe in the backyard.
Sometimes it's not so nice.
I roll my eyes. Things go unsaid. Breakfast uneaten the hangriness casts a cloud over our day.
Sometimes I laugh at your jokes because they are genuinely very funny.
Sometimes I laugh at how much you remind me of Andy Dwyer.
Sometimes I look at you and can't believe how lucky I am.
I see you at work as a pastor or a dad and think of the blessing it is to be married to you.
Sometimes, I wonder who you are. If I made the right choice.

Sometimes I'm pulling my hair out
I'm tired, I'm feeling selfish and unheard.
Sometimes I just want to go back to that sunny day in
January and live it over and over and over again.
Never going past that happy carefree day. Never getting
stuck in the boggy stench of real life.

But sometimes you do things that floor me.
Sometimes you give so much of yourself for me and our family.
Sometimes you go and check if theres a man in the backyard just because
I heard a rustle.
Sometimes you're up with a smile caring for early waking babies.
Sometimes I don't need to look in a mirror because when I see your face looking
at me I know that I look beautiful enough.
Sometimes we chat and chat and you challenge me and encourage me.

Sometimes it is deliciously easy
and sometimes it is so terribly hard.

But,

You are always mine
and I'll always be yours.




Happy Six Years Baby.



Monday, January 12, 2015

not all men in turbans are genies

The other day we were riding the train home from the city. Lu and I were playing eye spy, looking out the windows, giggling, and having a fine time.

We get to Central station and Lu looks out the window with a gasp,

"Mum!" She cries "Its a genie!"

I look out the window and stifle a laugh. Standing on the platform is a portly Indian gentleman wearing a turban.

I turn back to Lu.

"He's not a genie." I say
"But look at his head," comes the reply "he looks like a genie!"

I tell her that while the man looks a little like a genie he isn't one. I'm fairly certain.

Lu doesn't buy it. She insists. I retort. She insists. I retort.

"Lu," I say "I think that man is a Sikh. He is from India like granny. Men who are Sikh grow their hair very very long and tie it up in a turban so they can keep it all neat and tidy. I know he looks like a genie because of his turban and yes genies do wear turbans but not all people who wear turbans are genies.

Not all people who wear turbans are genies.

I think there might be an important life lesson in that.