Masonisms.

In recent days, the boys have taken to raiding my wardrobe. I found it a little amusing at first until I discovered them adorned in sock-stuffed bras, doubled over laughing. I told them in no uncertain terms to go and remove my underwear at once. (Mind you, I had to bite my lips to stop from laughing). As they shuffled from the room, Luca pokes Mason and says "Mine are bigger."

Mason's reply? "Yeah but mine are stronger".

And we all fell about laughing.

Today.

 Today the boys started school.

Today we ran around like mad people 

trying to get out of the house on time.

Today we bought Ivy a fancy new carseat 

while she cried on my hip and 

continually asked for toast.

Today I paid a hundred bills. 

Or so it seemed.

Today I went to school too early for pickup 

and the boys had too much cake 

and I spent an hour tidying their 

unbelievably messy rooms.

Today, Ava should have started school. 

I 

thought 

of 

nothing 

else.

The Beach, Family and Friends*

* Post Title courtesy of Mason.

For the Australia Day public holiday, we went to a local beach here with family..

I didn't hold out a lot of hope, after all we just moved from some of the best beaches in the World..I couldn't imagine it being anything too impressive. I was wrong. We had a really lovely, relaxing afternoon - it was actually dark when we left! I don't know what it is about Australia Day, it really does make you want to put your thongs on, throw some snags on the barbie and play cricket.

Here are a zillion photos..

(You'll have to excuse the filthy state of Ivish..I'm hoping her sweet little face distracts.)

The boys cut a deal with me that went something like this:

"Mum if you take a photo then we have to be allowed to get our legs wet."

"Okay, it's a deal. But only up to the bottom of your shorts. I don't want you dirty."

And here's cold hard proof that my children do listen.

The eternally gorgeous Miss India.

Luca, refusing to "look normal" for me. (The very reason photographers actually pay other photographers to capture their children.)

And my favourite images of the day:

Dream On.

I saw a butterfly catcher at the toystore.  

Whilst I don't really like the notion of catching butterlies, I just couldn't resist the idea of Ivy running through fields, hair blowing in the wind, playfully chasing skies full of butterlies..and of course me discreetly photographing this dreamy scene from a distance.   This was my incredibly realistic vision whilst I paid and travelled home with pink catcher.

Fast forward a day to the much anticipated butterly catching shoot...  

Ivy alternating between filling the net with stones until it was so heavy it couldn't be lifted and racing everywhere except on the grass.   Mummy huffing along behind, shouting instructions to try and catch the moths (not a flutterby in sight) whilst Ivy looked away with bemused indifference.  

Neither the butterflies nor the toddler were going to give me my photo opportunity that day. Well not the vision in my head anyway.  

Still, I had a lot of fun proofing these...I'm trying out some different processing at the moment..needs some work but I'm liking the different tones.   

I'm seeing a marketing opportunity.  If they renamed them "toddler catchers",  imagine the sales?

And these are a couple I did a little more outside the square.. What do you think? 

Beauty from afar.

I have often imagined one gigantic post where I get to show all the amazing gifts sent to us over the past year but I never seem to have a full day just to get them on here! So, I will perhaps break it down and try to show some of the little bits of beauty and joy that have arrived on our doorstep.

My amazing friend, Krysta sent the most incredible gift a little while ago..

Firstly, Krysta's aunt Sue drew this absolutely gorgeous poem and sketch of Ava.  

The poem reads:

Perhaps God is a poet

Who writes with words

Of flesh and bone and leaf and flower

Every hour of every day,

Words pour out of the Poet's heart

And every word is beautiful

And true and worth the telling.

And when each

Poem is perfect

And there is no more which ought to be said,

The Poet gently takes the words

Back into his heart, where

They are safe forever...

And then begins again. 

When Krysta first sent an email showing the illustration and the words, Crayton and I both stood staring at the screen, tears flowing. We never ever stop being amazed that strangers can be so giving and bring us comfort from so far away.

Soon after, all the way from the States, we received a very big box which the kids gleefully helped pull open only to find, along with the portrait, a collection of the most girly, tizzy, flowery bits I'd ever seen!   Here is Ivy showing off in her extra sparkly shoes, flower hem tutu (yes the hem actually has flowers sitting in it!!) and gorgeous hair clips.   

Thankyou Krysta, 1000 thankyous, for being the beautiful friend that you are and thankyou so much to Sue for such a special gift...we will forever cherish it.

S xx

Extra Special Boy. Extra Special Day.

Happiest Birthday for my Macey.  In twenty nine minutes, he's officially seven.  

I have to tell you, Mason is an amazing child.  As amazing as all my other amazing children, really :)  But he does have a special something of his own - ask anyone who knows him.  He speaks like a Shakespearean actor, and is equally as dramatic as one, falling to the floor wailing 421 times a day.  (If whining were a sport, he'd compete for Australia.)  

He is  THE most affectionate boy, demanding "HUG" every time we wander past and says he loves me "infinity times infitinty".   He's also very clever, lives on Weetbix and insists on wearing his shoes on opposite feet with shoelaces undone.

Last night, I found him fast asleep in front of the tv.  I lugged him up endless stairs, huffing and heaving and staggering the whole way.  As I broke my back gently laying him on his bed, the corners of his mouth turned up in a little grin and his eyes pop wide open.   Gobsmacked that I'd been had, I told him he was 100% brat, and he just disolved into giggles.  As I left the room he says "I'm really very sorry Mummy, I just love to be carried".    

He's such a sod and honestly, I love him to bits.  Happy Birthday Meester Macey.   

A Favour, If I May.

A confession: I have very seldomly searched the web for my name or Ava's. I am too afraid of what I could find..a confronting news story, the wrong comment on a forum, anything really..I'm just scared of the unknown. So it's only if people give me direct links that I get to see the beautiful words others have written.

I've started a project for the boys and Ivy. In years, I want to be able to let them know every thing I can about Ava's short life and try to demonstrate how many people missed her when she left. I have photographed every beautiful gift ever given to us along with all the heartfelt words and gorgeous balloon photos and cards and paintings and illustrations... I will compile them into a photobook but I also want to add whatever I can find on the Internet.

I would be so grateful if you have blogged or know of anyone else who has blogged about Ava and could leave me a link so I can add it to the book. It's only for our family but if anyone objects to having their entry included, of course just let me know in case it gets collected along the way.

Thankyou, so much :)

S xx

The Out-Takes {A Session With Ivy}

While we were away I tried to con Ivy into letting me take a few snaps.   I should have known better.  She's two and she's evil. (Did I also  mention she's LOUD?  She actually has the voice of ten toddlers).   The boys tried to assist me, giving her all sorts of threats and bribes at an attempt to get her to stay on the rug, including demonstrating where to lie.  She just saw an opportunity to jump on their backs. Hard. Pretty soon the boys were defeated, my patience was thinning and my memory card ran out.  Tell me again why I photograph children?

Pure evil, I tell you.

Both Hands Full.

I've been away for a few days.  I came home to a couple of hundred emails, so many of them beautiful comments and little anecdotes that have lifted my spirits.  One though, a comment on my blog with nothing more than a link, has taken my breath away and made my heart sing...When I saw "Super Princess" in the URL my heart began to beat a little faster while I waited for it to open...  

A while ago, I woke up to the sun tickling my face and when I opened my eyes, I saw a tiny white butterfly flutter in through the window. It inspected my room, landed on my pillow, seemingly scolding me just a little for daring to still be asleep on such a dazzlingly sunny day. I smiled and it danced out of the window as quickly as it come in. 

It reminded me of Ava. Superprincess Ava. Whose story has touched me in so ways over the past year and whose beautiful mother is hanging in there so bravely.

That butterfly made me smile for the first time in a long while, as does Ava, even though I never knew her. 

I made this picture months ago, but it never left my computer. After my little butterfly encounter, I gave the little angel white butterfly wings, but never uploaded the picture. I have become very wary of sharing things that I make, afraid of rejection and of criticism. But then I thought that's wrong. Every moment matters, we have so little time, and it is so much more important to reach out to others than to swallow things for some silly reason.

This beautiful illustration and these words are by GrueneWolken.

I feel so lucky.  I don't know how that's possible when I also feel so unlucky, but I do.  I can't quite take in the impact Ava has had on so many people.  I can't imagine how it has come about that she is loved and thought about by so many who never knew her.  How can that be?  

For a long time, it was a bittersweet thing...The knowing that it wasn't just me seeing her beauty.  It wasn't just me missing her.  That she really was that special and she WAS meant to stay here and that she is simply too missed by too many people.  I didn't want to know about fate and destiny and a time to go.  That didn't make any sense when so many people felt so deeply.   Many times I've wanted to stand up on a table in a crowded place and shout "There has  been  a terrible mistake".  I wanted to be able to go to someone.  To put it in writing and start a petition and complain to a higher being.   

This illustration was  such a lovely gift today.  I realised I was able to look at it and really, truly smile.  My heart didn't hurt.  I didn't wonder and question.  I love that strangers have come to know Ava.  I love that she has, literally, made the World a more beautiful place.  Even if it were just one other Mother out there hugging one other child a little tighter today, then the World is a better place, isn't it?  But it's so many more than one.   

I've been told of so many beautiful little moments...where little girls are allowed to wear bikinis in Winter and ponchos in Summer, where lipstick is happily applied at dawn by a sleepy eyed parent, where hallways have become beaches for the day and where mothers have crawled into their children's bed in the middle of the night to wrap them tight and thank God for their being..just because of Ava.  In February,  I wrote that I hoped for this very thing. 

Someone once said you hold the grief of your child in one hand and your joy in the other..that they never really meet.  It totally makes sense to me...nothing diminishes the sadness of missing Ava but I am so incredibly thankful that I am given little and big bits of joy every day from so many people who see Ava's beauty and light.    I struggle to fully explain just what it means.  I feel very lucky.  Thankyou.

With love.

S xx

Pull Us Apart and Put Us Back Together Right.

Just a line from a song I like but always stands out as my impossible wish.

Thankyou, from the bottom of my heart, for the support and kindness so many of you show me every single day but espescially since my last post.    I am  so grateful for all the comments and emails I get..  So many kind, beautiful people the World over - I feel very blessed to get the support I do.  Thankyou.  

Every now and then I check back over my Inbox and find messages I didn't reply to right away and then realise it's three weeks later, or three months. I'm honestly so sorry if I've missed a reply to someone - please know just how much I appreciate every email I get.   

So here are  a few randoms from yesterday:

Mister Macey and his face of a thousand expressions.  First chipper, then obviously not happy with my response then finally launching into the inevitable appeal stage.

And Ivish, all dressed up with nowhere to go except down our driveway. She is looking simply smashing in a Little Leona frock generously supplied by Carrie, teamed with an Oilily cardigan which an airhostess once asked me, quite hilariously, if I had knitted myself.  

All The Days Are Normal {A Beginning, A Middle but Never An End}

Such a normal day.   

Thought I should stay in bed and let Crayton get up with the kids, still sore from surgery. Didn't.  Thought about my new website..wrote emails..looked through toy catalogues.  Ava asked me to use the IQ and rewind the show on tv but we couldn't find the remote.  We laughed while she scrambled to find it, me winding  her up, saying that it was just about finished and it'd be too late.  She watched it three times over. 

In Grandad's study she sat on my lap while I worked until I said "Sweetie Mummy loves having you here but I can't see while your head's in the way" and I put her beside me.  She played with the beaded heart.  She pulled out my craft supplies.  She asked what something was in the catalogue.  Over and over.  The same thing.  "What's this Mummy".  And over and over, I told her.  Luca asking to rearrange beds.  He didn't want to share with his brother anymore.  I said okay. 

We left.  She wanted to go back and get something.  She yelled and cried because I wouldn't.  Ten paces from Grandads, I could have just turned around.  But I didn't.  I walked inside.  Grumpy.  She followed me, grumpier.  She yelled the house down and Daddy said to go and get it.  And she did.  She turned around and walked down that hall.  Crying and complaining.  

Re-arranging.  Getting rid of rubbish.  Making the boys rooms look so nice.  Finding Ava's missing baby doll.  Should I take it over to her at Grandads?  She'd be so happy I found it.  No, I'll just put it aside for her.  "Crayte be careful throwing things over the balcony, look out for Ava".  "Yes boys, you can swim but sunscreen first."  They laughed while I used too much and made a game of it.

Cashews.  I had a hand full of cashews.  "BOYS.  IS AVA DOWN THERE?".  What?  Ava wouldn't be down there? Why is Ava not where she should be?  Why is Crayton calling her? He's just been to Grandads. Why is she not there?  Where on Earth is she?  

No, no,  it's okay, it'll be okay..Frowning.

Walking, fast.  There's Grandad.  In front of the car.  Where's Ava?  Where did she say she was going?  What? But she's not at my house? And only ten seconds later.  There was Ava.  In an instant, a split instant, I knew.  Before I even opened the door, I knew.  The shock and the terror and the chaos and the panic and the confusion.   She was there and she was breathing but she was gone.  I knew.

And forty eight terrifying hours ticked by before our adored girl, our sweet, longed-for Ava, slipped away.

For many months I've had these words swirling around in my head.  I've pieced them together into some kind of story..a beginning, a middle and an end.  Except the ending hasn't ended.  I don't expect it ever will.  The ending is so long and painful and drawn out..I suppose it's not really an ending at all then?   

Why do I need to share Ava and espescially these moments?  I don't know.  Maybe I hope someone will come along and explain it to me?  Maybe someone has the answer as to how that perfectly ordinary, sunny day could become what it did? We adored Ava, she was so loved and protected.  It was just a normal day.  We are good parents.   How?

And there are so so many things about the 24 hours before her accident that were not normal.  Just little variations, tiny things really, but one-offs.  All piecing together to make way for our tragedy.  Lining up ready to steal our child and our joy and our vision of the future.  Just one thing...one thing different.   I can't make sense of it, it scrambles and blurs when I try to.

What has become clear to me though is that you can plan and hope all you want, you can imagine and presume and expect life to go a certain way but really, there is no watertight guarantee.   All the days are "normal".   The happy ones, the sick ones, the bored ones, the tragic ones.    I am no expert, I have less clarity than the average person but what I have found, because of One Normal Day, is this:

Live each day, every single day, with the understanding that one does not necessarily lead into the other. Hug your family.  Tight.  Put aside What Does Not Matter. Tomorrow could be a completely new kind of normal.

S xxx

  

Camera Wielding Mother Strikes Again

Yes I know it belongs with all things tasteless and tacky - photos of your offspring on the potty. BUT, we all have them.  AND, it's such a special trip to the toilet, this one.  See it's her first time.  After months of backing away emphatically repeating "no way", this is a huge achievement.  And she proves that there really is no situation where she doesn't look adorable, right?

Who knew it could be this much fun?

And so what goes where?

Love the concentration here!

Of course I'm a bit thrilled at the notion of not having to change nappies, after 9 years of doing it, but I'm also nervous.  I can't imagine no baby in the house.   Mum and I have agreed she can stay drinking out of bottles at least another twelve years but the nappy thing?  I'm not sure they'll work so well under her Seven jeans.  Oh well, at least they should keep the boys at bay.

xx