My daughter, myself

My daughter is not me.

I know, that seems like a really obvious statement. Of course she's not me! I'm hardly one of those 'helicopter parents', that hover over their children's every move. Nor am I a 'stage parent' vicariously living through my child in an attempt to increase my value through their actions and achievements.

But as my 6 year old daughter is becoming more and more independent and secure in her own identity, she is beginning to assert her own ideas and ideals over and above my own. And so, I have had to come to the conclusion...

My daughter is not me.

I have been proactive in raising my children in as much of a gender neutral, sex positive way as I could. Both of my children are comfortable in 'boys' and 'girls' clothing and feel able to explore 'boy' and 'girl' activities. My daughter knows she is a girl, that she will become a woman, but I have tried my utmost to ensure that this doesn't influence her to restrict her behaviours or expectations of herself. As we frequently say, the only thing woman can do that men can't do is carry a baby in their uterus, and unless something is operated by a penis it's not just for boys. We notice and speak about unreal messages in the media and de-construct the way it tries to influence us. My daughter is getting to be a pretty savvy consumer!

So why does it bother me so much that she still loves to play princesses? That for a while her favourite colour was pink? That wearing a pretty dress with sparkles makes her face light up the way plain shorts and a top don't? That she loves her long blonde hair and wants to grow it so she can be a mermaid?

When I realised how much these things bothered me, I had to look deep inside to see why. Sure, I was a 'tomboy' who hated dresses and used to wish I was a boy, but did I really want her to do the same? If I really am trying not to put gender restrictions on my children, why does it distress me when my daughter embraces the 'girly'? As it so often does, it goes right back to my own childhood (thank you Dr Freud).

As I have said, I have never been one for the 'girly', either the label or the accoutrements. Growing up, my deepest desire was to be 'one of the gang'. I hated dresses and was never too fussed on dolls. I remember aged about 10 lying in the bath having bitter recriminations with God about why I had been made a girl when boys had so much more fun.

And there I think we have it. Growing up in the 1980's and 1990's, gender stereotypes were strongly enforced. Girls couldn't be superheroes, they couldn't be warriors or firefighters or chairmen of banks... or if they could, it wasn't visible to my 10 year old eyes. I wanted to feel strong and powerful too, but as I saw it this was only an option for the men. The girls I knew didn't roughhouse or wrestle – they had tea parties. They didn't play basketball or football or even handball – they danced. Or played netball. Girl sports.

They didn't do subjects like Manuel Arts or Physics or Maths C. They did Biology and Hospitality. They didn't play games at lunch time or run around with their friends – they sat. And talked to each other. About boys and clothes and stuff that I have never really cared about. Stuff that I never embraced.

Now, at 32, I am finally happy to be a woman. I love my body, the way it carried and fed my beautiful children. I love that I can be powerful and brave and strong – without having to fashion myself a penis. I can see that God really did know what She was doing when She created me – just as I am.

So I look at my sparkly princess fairy fighter superhero yellow belt daughter, and I am so pleased that she can embrace all of those parts of herself. She allows herself to be a girl because she sees no restrictions because of it. She challenges the expectations put on her by society and by me just by being authentically who she is – more than my daughter, but a child growing into a woman all on her own.

And I thank God for her every single day.

Indoctrination and Imaginings

This week I had my usual RE lessons with my Grade seven classes at the local primary school. Yes, I am one of those scary people who insidiously work our way into the secular school and try and indoctrinate the children with our fundamentalist theology - or I spend half an hour a week talking to them about God and how to live in God's creation. You know, the usual.

For the last few weeks we have been talking about the ten commandments, and this week we were speaking about those that teach us about how we live with other people - specifically the one normally translated as "You shall not commit adultery". For my teaching I use an excellent version by Ben Van Arragon, which says "We will respect our bodies and the bodies of other people."

We will respect our bodies. Fine. We spoke about eating mainly healthy food, doing plenty of fun exercise and not poisoning it with drugs, alcohol or smoking. The kids were totally with me here! Plenty of suggestions, they knew the drill. We spoke a bit about how God made us and thinks that we are perfect just the way we are, about the pressures to look a certain way and about how damaging that could be. This was a little more challenging for them, as we spoke briefly about Photoshop and social media distorting our ideas of what is 'normal'.

But then came the killer.

How do we respect the bodies of other people? We all know that's it's mean to beat people up, to push them or hurt them... but then we started to speak about progressive consent. I didn't use those words, not at first. We spoke about how sometimes I touch their shoulder as I walked past. I asked if, because they didn't seem to mind me touching their shoulders, that meant I could give them a hug. Well, they thought that was HILARIOUS! Of course I couldn't go round hugging them! Well, I said, what if they were ok with a hug - did that mean I could kiss them? Over the noise of 25 grade sevens pretending to puke I started to talk about the concept of progressive consent - that for every action I wanted to take I needed to get their clear and loud consent, and that this applied to every relationship in their lives. We spoke about 'no' or 'stop' being a clear message that meant we had to stop what we were doing immediately, even if the person seemed to be enjoying it. We talked a little about how if they were ok with a hug yesterday that didn't mean I could hug them today, and about how if they were happy to hug their friends that didn't mean they had to hug me.

When they settled down, I could see the cogs turning in their little heads. It was clear that no one had ever explained this to them so clearly before. These kids are about to go to high school. Their hormones are running wild and for some their first sexual experiences have already started. Unfortunately my time was then up, so I couldn't follow up on this the way I wanted to. But on Tuesday, 50 kids started to learn about what it means to respect their bodies - and those of other people.

Tell me again how I am damaging these kids?

ETA These lessons became even more important to me after I spent some times on the phone with a young woman who had been sexually assaulted by her boyfriend in front of another 'friend'... and who, having broken up with said boyfriend, is being harassed by other 'friends' to take him back because "he's really sorry, and he didn't mean it". When this is seen to be ok, we are doing something wrong.

The Consecration of Alison Taylor

On April 6^th 2013, I had the great honour and privilege of serving as deacon at the consecration to Bishop in the Anglican Communion of Alison Taylor. Not only was it my first time serving in this capacity at the 'mothership' (aka Cathedral), but it was also the first time a woman has been consecrated to this position in Brisbane, the 4^th in Australia and only the 34^th worldwide. This experience has touched me deeply, pulling me into the potential of the future as well as pushing me back into my own past.

I was never a particularly 'girly girl'. Growing up in the 80's,, my mum would sew me the most beautiful skirts, delicate tops, flouncy dresses. And we would have screaming, tearful arguments about why I should wear them to my friends party rather than the jeans and t shirt I had planned. I was an early female member of my local cub scout group, forcing my father to become a scout leader for three years so I could go on camps as the only girl. I remember lying in the bath at around 10 years old bitterly wondering why God had made me a girl when boys seemed to be able to run faster, climb higher, punch harder. Don't get me wrong, I was never confused as to my gender identity for a minute, but really, boys seemed to get the better deal.

Then puberty hit, and as an early bloomer I became very attractive to the boys. This changed things!I still preferred pants to skirts and would rather DO something than WATCH it, but there seemed to be some compensations for being a girl that I hadn't come across till now. And I showed some ability in science, maths and literature that helped me to see I could 'compete' with the boys on a more even footing – suddenly being a girl didn't seem so bad.

I grew up surrounded by strong women – my mother, my grandmothers and my God-mother have always been huge influences in my life. So in 1992, at 11 years old, it was a given that I would go (in a dress!) and see my beloved godmother be ordained as an Anglican priest.

To be honest I don't have many memories of this time. I remember a crowded cathedral. I remember lots of people in long white dresses, men and women, looking very formal and a bit nervous. I remember the sound of a huge organ filling all available space. And I remember a crowd of dirty, hairy old men striding down the cathedral in the middle of the ceremony, yelling and pointing at the ordinands waiting to fulfil their calling as priests in the Anglican Church. I don't remember much about what happened next, but my god-mother and her colleagues were duly ordained and took their place in the ordained ministry of the Anglican church.

Maybe I was sheltered, maybe naïve, maybe I was just a typical self centred pre teen, but I never understood the fuss over whether or not women could be priests. My parents were both teachers, so surely (in my mind) men and women could do the same job without any differentiation? I had no understanding of the exclusive 'maleship' of God or of Christ – indeed, if God and through God Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit were as integral to my being as my very breath, how could they be male? It was a no brainer – to restrict the gender of priests was to restrict God, and that can only be wrong. Until I left school however it was really a moot point – I knew female priests existed, I even knew some, but this issue was not particularly relevant to me.

Until I felt the call. It began when I was finishing grade 12, set on going to university to study music, sure that this was my path. But there was always that small voice, pushed to the side with exasperation - “what about being a priest?”.

Later, as a finished my Bachelor of Music degree, the voice got more insistent. I started talking about the idea of priests in general with those around me, testing out the thought in my brain, on my tongue. Performing in a Church one day with a group of friends, I tentatively ventured the idea that I may be back one day in a different calling. My friend collapsed in laughter - “You're a woman! Women can't be priests!”. I didn't ask why not.

My journey continued as I started studying theology, applied for discernment (which begins the process leading to ordination), was knocked back, kept studying, had a baby, applied and got into the formation program, got cancer, kept studying, had another baby, kept studying and finally was ordained as a Deacon in the Anglican Church last year.

Did being a woman hold me back? Does it still? Truthfully, I don't know. Sometimes, it was probably an advantage. Certainly as a mother with a young family I have an automatic bond with other parents. Probably some people feel more comfortable talking to me exactly BECAUSE I don't look or act like a 'typical' minister. But the kind of people I work with, minister to and are surrounded by are not the kind of people who have a problem with my ministry as an ordained woman anyway, so I wouldn't know. I know that some of the kids I teach Christian Religious Education to have never been exposed to an ordained woman before, but certainly it doesn't seem to bother them. I know that there will be times that I am not going to be the most appropriate minister for a particular circumstance, and some of that will probably be down to my gender. If someone is so uncomfortable with my position and gender that it becomes a barrier between them and God, and there is not enough time to show them how God is at work in and through me, then I hope I will be graceful in my acceptance of this. If by God's will I am ordained as a priest it breaks my heart that my ordination will not be recognised in some parts of the Anglican Church, even here in Australia. But my hope is that as women become more visible members of the body of Christ, as we minister to God's people with our special gifts as women and priests in God's Church, we can start to break through these barriers and see the Christ in all of us.

So this, this is why it was such an incredible, Spirit-full occasion to be a part of the service that tied Bishop Alison to us with bonds that can't be broken. Because in affirming her vocation we affirm that God is not limited by human boundaries or understandings, that Christ is not found exclusively in those with male genitalia, that the Spirit fills us in ways that are beyond any of our limited human understanding. And my children now have the opportunity to grow up knowing that nothing can separate them from God. Nothing.

Forgiveness

I've been very slack about posting my sermons up here, and I will (probably) get around to it at some point, really I will! But the sermon I preached on Sunday has stuck with me a little, so I think I need to explore it a little more.

The main text was taken from John, and it was based around John 20:23, If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained. Forgiveness. Peace. Reconciliation. All words meaning the same base concept, that the love of God casts out all that is evil in our hearts and replaces it with light, but what does this look like in our lives and the life of the world?

My point in my sermon... oh, stuff it, I'll chuck the whole thing in here.

There is a particular group of people in the world, many of whom are sitting in this Church today. They have experienced new life. They are filled with the joy and celebration that comes from a world of possibility. Their lives are overflowing with love, and they proclaim the good news... to the point when it sometimes seems like it is all they can speak of. We are happy for them, of course, but sometimes we worry that their new found obsession is taking over their lives, and wonder if we will ever be able to have a normal conversation with them again... of course, I am talking about Grandparents.

New life is an amazing thing. It is hard for anyone to see a new born infant sleeping with their scrunched up little faces and not feel something stir deep within. So I think the first Apostles can be forgiven for being so excited by the resurrection of Christ, so filled with the potential of the life that is to come, that despite the limits placed on them by law and society they could not help but spread the good news. Not only did they speak the words, but they felt honoured that they were able to do so, privileged to be given such a task, even when death and dishonour was to come.

We have been honoured with the charge given to us by Jesus, as described in the Gospel today - “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained”. Jesus came to the disciples, and his first and most repeated words are 'Peace be with you”. I think we can understand that they would have been quite agitated at the first appearance of the risen Christ, but why does he repeat this again and again? What is this peace he is granting? Could it be that the peace he offers has most to do with forgiveness? That playing on their minds, even as they rejoiced in his appearance of new life, was the sin and betrayal that had preceded and followed his death?

The ensuing Pentecostal commissioning would seem to support this. As God the Father has sent Jesus with the power of forgiveness, so Jesus now sends them with the power of the Holy Spirit - “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained”. A serious charge – is Jesus now saying they have the ability to send people to heaven or to hell?

I think not. How could these humans, having participated in the betrayal and death of the son of God, possibly retain the sins of any after experiencing themselves the utterly gracious presence of Jesus among them as forgiveness? Had they done anything to deserve forgiveness? They had not – and yet Jesus did not for a moment seem to retain any of their sin.

Then there's the second part of that calling. His disciples, those who had been closest to him and yet denied and betrayed him at the very end, grief stricken, frightened, and surely feeling guilty as sin...not only does he not try for retribution or revenge, not only does he share peace, grace and forgiveness, but he charges them to share his message of forgiveness in the world! Later, when Christ is looking for someone to spread this forgiveness to the ends of the world, he chooses none other but Saul, persecutor and murderer of Christ's first messengers. Is Jesus absolutely insane?

No, of course not. Jesus is the Son of God, and so he definitely does things differently than how we would do them. Who better to preach the good news of forgiveness than those who have been forgiven so much themselves? Jesus calls those, not who appear blameless or somehow worthy, but those who truly know that they have been forgiven.

You and I are called as disciples of Christ. Not because we are somehow better than others, but because we know how wrong we are, and we know how much we have been forgiven. We have experienced the life affirming gift of the resurrection, and the joy that is found in forgiveness. Our risen Lord comes to us in the Sacrament of the Eucharist, says “Peace be with you”, accepts our confession and grants us forgiveness. He calls us to spread the news, to share this healing, life changing love with all those around us. But what does this look like to those of us who don't have a captive audience every week?

Let me tell you a story about a friend of mine. Julee-anne teaches singing, and she has a new student who is a member of her church and wants to sing. At his first lesson he told her that he really wanted to glorify God through music, but that he was worried that he couldn't really sing. Now, at this first lesson Julee-anne admitted to me that he wasn't particularly tuneful, but at his second lesson the next week the change was remarkable! Not quite Australian Idol stuff, but the quality and substance of his voice had grown beyond what she thought would be possible. She asked him what the difference was, and this is what he said.

“Julee-anne, last week when I said I wanted to sing for God in Church but that I was afraid I wasn't good enough, you reminded me of the psalm “make a joyful noise unto the Lord” and that all that was required was joy, not perfection. You told me that I can sing, and so all week I just kept singing to God.” And he is singing still.

Julee-anne is one of the priesthood of believers. She risked, not death, but shame or misunderstanding by sharing her faith with her student. She let the joy of music in God bubble up out of her life into his, and what a difference it made! She treated her student with love and peace, with forgiveness. And she heard the fruits of her ministry in his voice.

We are not always fortunate enough to see the results of our ministry as quickly or as clearly. But we have been charged to get out there and share the good news, to get busy forgiving people's sins as best we can, because unless people feel the power of forgiveness in their own lives, they won't be able to extend it to others. Peace begets peace, love begets love, and forgiveness begets forgiveness. Thanks be to God. 

Anyway, the point I was making was that retaining sin, both of ourselves and others, harms no one but ourselves It is in forgiveness that we allow ourselves to grow closer to God and to each other. The thing is, this is easy for me because I've had a remarkably charmed life. I've never experienced any kind of lasting abuse, never been personally involved in anything that would make forgiveness difficult. How does forgiveness look for people who have more to forgive than I can even imagine?

So I did what any good curate should do and spoke with my rector. What does forgiveness look like, I asked, for someone who has been abused? Who IS being abused? What does it look like for the parent of an abused child? For the women who died waiting for ordination? For the man in a wheelchair because of a drunken brawl? It is clear that there are two paths after trauma - to forgive or retain the sin. But what does this look like? It can't mean putting yourself or your children back in harm's way. It can't mean ignoring the crime and letting the perpetrator be unaccountable and free to abuse again. What does it mean to forgive?

Of course there is no short and easy answer to this question. Forgiveness will express itself in different ways to different people in different circumstances. But ultimately, to forgive means not allowing the sin, or the sinner, to have any power over you. It means acknowledging the past, learning from it, but not allowing it to separate you from living the fullest life possible in the power of the Spirit. And it is important not only for those who need to forgive others, but for those who need to forgive themselves.

Pastorally, this can taken many different forms. Sacraments ("an outward and visible sign of an inner reality", for those non theologians out there: basically, a ritual or ceremony) can be written in conjunction with the person involved to allow them to acknowledge the pain and then to allow it to go - fire, burial, water are all elements that can be used to heal. Sometimes a conversation with the sinner and the sinned against can be helpful, a recognition of the suffering can take place on both parts, but repentance is not necessary for forgiveness. Retaining a sin does not hurt the sinner, only the one who can not forgive.

I think the hardest thing for me is seeing those out there, those who I love, being continually hurt by the sins they can not forgive. But forgiveness is a journey. And it's one that we must initiate for ourselves, not alone, but in the company of the God who has and always will forgiven all of out sins.

Amen.

 

Baptism: sermon base for Sunday

Who remembers their baptism? No, me neither. Who remembers their children's, or grandchildren's, or godchildren's, or other baptism? Who remembers William's baptism? Good, extra points for you. Ok, more tricky now. Who has ever thought, seeing a family in the weeks before a baptism and then at the service, “I wonder if we'll ever see them again?”. Or even, treacherously, “why are we baptising this child when we know full well they will never set foot in a church again?”. Who has ever looked at a tiny little baby and thought – what sin has she ever committed? What forgiveness could he possibly require? In our tradition we baptise infants, but why?

All very good questions. And coincidentally I wrote a 3000 word essay on this very topic a few years ago which I will now read... only joking. But if baptism is indeed fundamental to our faith, then I feel it is a topic that is worth examining.

Let's start with Jesus, like a good little reformed Catholic churchgoers. We hear today that Jesus was baptised, although Luke does not specify by whom. But if Jesus was without sin, why was his baptism necessary? I think our trouble here is with our language. We say baptism is for forgiveness of sin, but perhaps we need to say he was baptised for repentance.

We think of repentance as a sorrow, an acknowledgement of wrongdoing, but in it's purest form repentance is a turning away, setting oneself towards a new path. By all accounts, his baptism marks the beginning of Jesus adult ministry and his journey towards Jerusalem. It is mentioned as such in all 4 Gospels. Baptism is the beginning of Jesus life as an acknowledged child of God.

Baptism, for Jesus, is about identity. You are my son, the beloved; with you I am well pleased. Baptism teaches us who we are, as children of God. In a world which seems to be going through an identity crisis, once baptised we know who we are. When fractured families seem to be more common, when mid life crises are looming and career shifts are the norm, we have an identity that can not be changed. We are acknowledged children of God. We belong to a family that transcends

time and space, that can never be fractured or broken no matter how hard we try.

But does Baptism “make” us part of God’s family or does it “announce” to us that God includes us in God’s family? I think how you answer this one greatly shapes your sense of why we baptize in the first place. If it’s the former – Baptism makes us part of God’s family – then Baptism becomes a requirement of life with God now and in the life to come. At its best, this greatly stresses Baptism’s importance, but at it’s worst, it devolves into a “ticket to heaven” mentality where parents want their children “done” just to be on the safe side. I still remember lying in bed at night as a child worrying about those little children in Africa who were destined to burn in hell because they hadn't been baptised – I don't know where I got this idea, I blame the internet. If, on the other hand, it’s the latter – Baptism announces God’s inclusion of us into God’s family – then perhaps we can feel some urgency to keep reminding ourselves and each other of that tremendous gift and be willing to imagine how God might also reach out to those who have never been baptized.

But does this take away the specialness, the uniqueness of being baptised? I don't think it does. We are not better or more loved because we have been baptised, but we are different. Maybe God doesn't need the sacraments, but us humans sure do. A sacrament is defined as “as outward sign of an inner reality”, basically something tangible to show something of God's grace. The second element of the sacraments – in addition to being tangible signs for tangible people – is the reminder that God works through means. That God always comes to us in ways that are accessible to us. That is why we baptise our children in front of the congregation. That is why we promise to support and love these families, whether or not we see them again, whether or not they do what we think they should. We promise to show them God's love, that has no limits and no boundaries.

That is part of why we baptise infants. It is part of why my babies were baptised when they were far too small to remember any of it. But part of the reason too is that I think there’s something about not waiting until someone understands or can choose or participate actively that’s powerful, too. It demonstrates that God didn’t wait, that God not only loved us in general but wants us to know about it, that God actually wants us to grow up surrounded by this profession of love way before we can understand or even attempt to understand it. Could we just tell each other that and hold off on baptism. Perhaps. But there’s something about the sheer physicality of drenching a child in the waters of baptism that makes it three-dimensional. There are lots of rituals, I suspect, that we do with our children that they don’t understand and won’t remember but we do them to establish a foundation with them. First birthday parties (or second or third for that matter); celebrations over first steps, first words, first successful potty training ; huge bear hugs and more. Why wait?

If we were longing to adopt a child and that child was available to us to love even as an infant, would we wait until they were old enough to understand. I mean, we could foster the child, tell her over and over how much we love her, and then when she’s old enough to consent and remember it all better then have the formal adoption ceremony. But I’m guessing we’d want too badly to include him into our family as fully and completely as soon as possible rather than hold off.

Today we will celebrate our own baptism. Because baptism is a sacrament like all sacraments that is not limited to time and space. When we participate in the Eucharist, I believe that we are somehow joined and joining all people throughout history who have done the same. Baptism is a one off event but also a continual renewal. Knowledge of our baptism calls us to repentance each and every day, to turn away from sin and set our faces towards a new life. We live in the knowledge that we are in a relationship that can never be broken. We are the family of God. The Lord be with you.

Happy (belated) New Year!

Ok, so this is a little late but it's the first time I've had the time, the energy and the solitude to actually sit down and write in peace (or a piece of quiet as Abby used to say). I've written this post a million times in my head... I wonder how much will make it onto paper?

It is apparently popular at this time of year for bloggers to do a round up of what's been going on throughout 2012 - a kind of highlights reel, is it were. So I'm going to chuck some random memories in here, some good and some not, as a permanent reminder of 2012.

The year that was...

In January we farewelled Mick, Jason's father and Poppa to our children. It was a hard time, but made easier in a lot of ways because we had said goodbye to Grandad just a few months before. We knew the routine - lots of visits, lots of hugs, and every time you say goodbye say it is if it is the last. He died peacefully in his sleep, thank God, with Ruth there and Jason soon afterwards.

In the time leading up to his death we had a few discussions about what comes next. I think we helped each other not be afraid, although there were times he grew very frustrated because he wanted ANSWERS and I couldn't give any. But he was able to meet his grandson, William Mick, and see his story written before he died.

Mick never stopped searching, and he was always looking for the next big thing. He always threw himself whole heartedly into whatever he was doing and never let the bad times get him down. We miss him.

Abby started school this year, my precious little girl off by herself into this strange new world. She took to it with gusto, the first day she came home and said "Mummy, we played all day, we didn't have to learn ANYTHING!". We were blessed with her teacher and her teacher aide, who loved our children and devoted so much time and energy into helping them find their learnings. THey commented on Abby's compassion and lovely manners, which I take immense satisfaction from. Abby is the child who will always stop to comfort somone who is lost or crying, and she speaks confidently and articulately in front of her year level. She can even read and write! She is quite advanced with mathematical concepts (skipped a generation here I think!) and while she isn't 'gifted' (thank goodness) she is bright enough and social enough that she should never struggle too much at school.

Two things I've really noticed with Abby is that she can now swing herself on a swing and throw and catch a ball. Abd she is a confident and safe swimmer, which is a relief! Her bestest friend is a little girl called Venus, who is Thai. Venus is very bossy and likes to tell stories to make herself important, but Abby is learning how to stand up to her now. That's my girl!

Abby's favourite Christmas present is her skateboard and she is very excited about her violin - Julee-Anne asked her what she wanted for her birthday and Abby said "Well, I'm already getting the thing I want more than anything else in the world so I don't really know!" She asked Santa for a rainbow talking unicorn that could fly (her imaginary friend) but Santa brought her a letter from the unicorn's mummy saying that Rainbow was too little just yet. Abby was sad, but she is coping.

William is no longer my baby. Well, he really is, but he thinks he's a big boy! We made it to one year, although everything before his birthday is a bit of a blur, and my goodness we love that child. He has more words than Abby did: Mummy, Daddy, Abby, dog (doog), please (pizz), thank you, bic (biccie), more, and of course boob. He uis just starting to walk this week, and my heart just melts to see him. He adores his big sister and she loves him just as much, too much sometimes when we are trying to settle him down and she is making him laugh. He is at the point when giving things to people is much fun and he loves to carry around the toilet roll holder. He also loves to sing along and do anything that makes noise. Just after his 1st birthday he started sleeping through regularly. That was a happy happy day. He enjoys all the kids at kindy and has been very happy there - no seperation anxiety here!

We have put a lot of work into our children but it is a pleasure and a priviledge to watch them grow and change. I just hope they can spell better than me.

Hmm. So far I've only discussed the family. Well, stay tuned for more after these short notices...