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{Tea with me} A loss of rhythm

The kettle has boiled and I am sipping on chamomile tea as I type. Chamomile tea is known for it’s calming effect. I need a need a big pot because; calm is something I have not been. I feel as though I have lost my rhythm.

It doesn’t seem that long ago that my days had a different beat. Days were filled with nursing our baby in our open light-filled lounge-room, where the corner of our large lounge would invite me in and I would close my eyes as the sun hit my face every morning. I had our baby in my arms and I would cuddle him, nurse him, smile at him and swoon as the minutes ticked and the hours past. The only need for us to leave the lounge was for tea and food. Mr.Kypo took care of the rest.

My days now are a fast rhythm and I can’t seem to keep up with the beat. There are some nights I rest my head on my pillow and my body seeks comfort in our bed and I dream of those slow days.

I have returned to work much earlier than I wanted. Rather than fighting the resistance I felt about this, I laid down the armour and surrendered the fight.

Before the surrender there were tears, gulping tears, screams and an outrage of anger and resentment. I didn’t want to leave our baby with Mr.Kypo. I wanted him all to myself. When the resistance past I could see clearly. I could hear reason.

We own our businesses that I run and financially we could not afford to have both Mr.Kypo and I at home.

Since returning to work a few months ago I enjoy them. I am inspired and enthused to be the best Educator I can be, however,  I feel as though I have let my family down.

There are days, I walk through the door without patience and I am exhausted. I wander our home and see mess and unfinished tasks and it consumes me that I cannot manage it all.

I snap at Mr.Kypo and the kidlets when they cannot read my mind and fear is running through my body. When I manage to breathe, I vow I won’t take it out on them again.

Some nights when I cuddle our baby before he drifts off to slumber, I look into his eyes with question and wonder. Does he know think I have left him when I leave and wait for my return? Does he miss me? I know he misses me. They all do. Their faces say all the words when I walk through the door. Their touch. The arms that wrap around my neck, the smothering of kisses and none of us want to let go first.

I am reassured that these thoughts of loss, guilt and lack of rhythm pass. They did with the other kidlets. But, for now I tell myself to continue to push down these feelings and replace them with immense gratitude. Gratitude for the businesses that allows me flexibility and for a rocking husband who is a present devoted husband and dada.

{ tea with me} memories from a cup

The kettle has whistled. Oh, I love our whistling kettle. I listen attentively as the boil gets louder and louder and when it whistles, I am overjoyed thinking about sipping the warm cup of tea.

Today I have peppermint tea in my teapot. The teapot wears a colorful cosy to keep my tea warm incase I get distracted, and this allows me to always have warm tea close by.

I pour my tea into a Peter Rabbit mug. It was purchased for Lotus when she was born. I had the same one growing up. Peter Rabbit was one of my favourite stories from my childhood that my mum read to me.

I regret leaving that mug when I left home. Whenever I drink my tea from Lotus’ mug, parts of my childhood are ignited and the memories are clear.

For today, I am remembering my Peter Rabbit mug belonged to a set and it all lived high up in the pantry, to avoid it being broken. I recall the day I was able to drink from it. To me it affirmed, I was grown up. I graduated from plastic-ware to ceramic-ware. My mum made Vegemite toast and placed in front of me on the table where we ate breakfast, along with the Peter Rabbit mug filled with orange juice. To my surprise as I drank the juice and the mug became empty, there was a little Peter Rabbit on the inside of the mug. What a delight it was for me.

So, here I am sipping my tea with memories of my mum swirling around my head, and I recall her in the kitchen filled with light and the sun against her face, looking out the window to our backyard with the swing set in the far corner, surrounded by the garden that she planted, nurtured and spent a lot of her spare time in sipping her cup of coffee.  All these memories sparked by one little cup and a pot of tea.

What are you thinking about today when you sip your tea?


“A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013.”

45 degrees here this week which meant only one thing…swim.

Lotus & Noah – Jumping off the jetty.
Parker: Sitting with Mama & Dada watching them in the shade.

To join in, please click below.


Hauntingly beautiful

I used to associate cemeteries as being a place of mourning where you felt a deep sadness and a grief that never goes away.  A lot of broken hearts rest there and hearts get reunited there.

 When I was a child my association to cemeteries was completely different. If you drove past one in the car you put your feet up. That way the ghost couldn’t get you.  Absolutely ridiculous, I know but, as a child I was completely freaked out.

 I recall being a teenager and a group of us went to a cemetery at night. It was the boy’s idea, probably to scare us and we would end up in their arms. It was dark and foggy like the scenes in a movie. The feeling of being frightened took over your body. I remember there were screams, running and when we caught our breaths once back in the car with the doors locked, the laughter could be heard.

 As an adult I have mourned in cemeteries, and even in the deep sorrow there has been an undeniable beauty.

 When Parker was only a few months old I did a photo shoot in a house near a cemetery. Mr. Kypo and Noah wandered around the local streets walking Parker, staying close in case I needed to feed him. When I finished I walked to meet them and they were at a cemetery.

 As I approached my eyes scanned abandoned plots, ruined headstones that were falling apart and amongst it all there was a charm about this particular cemetery.

 I fed Parker on the seat and in that moment I thought about coming here and taking photos.

 Months rolled over. Many car trips past it and then the prompt given for our daily photo challenge was ‘forgotten’. Immediately I thought of the cemetery.

 Mr. Kypo drove us there. It started to rain. Lotus and I ran through the cemetery to quickly take our photo. As I navigated my way around where people rested I wondered why people stop visiting and caring for where loved ones rest? And as I clicked my shutter I thought of my loved ones I rarely visit and I felt comfort. The answer I came up with was that just maybe they feel what I feel? My Grandparents bodies are rested in a cemetery, however, their soul is with me and there is no need for me to visit them.

 Lotus and I had five minutes to point and shoot due to the rain. We had a quick sip of the beauty there and agreed we needed a bigger drink and will go back again, take our time, read headstones and send love to them all.


“A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013.”

Lotus: Beauty. I can see her teenage self appearing.

Noah: Innocence. I creep into his room in the mornings to capture the little still in him while he sleeps.

Parker: Discovery. Just finished his lunch. He is loving solids and I am loving the carrot on his delicious face.


The beauty underneath it all

Note: This post was drafted for last Sunday. Our beautiful baby had other ideas for his Mama, lots of kisses, cuddles and not wanting her out of his sight.

Cicadas can be heard outside. They’re loud. The noise represents summer. There is no breeze. It is still. We close the curtains in our bedroom and I feel like I’m cocooning us in. I turn the air conditioner on. Instantly I am cooling down. I look around our bedroom surrounded by photos of our children, trinkets on my dressing table and books where there is a space. Our bed is in the centre of our room under the window. We have no door. Off our room branches three bedrooms that sleep our three kidlets. To my left is Mr. Kypo’s studio. There is one large Mac computer that my eye instantly gravitates to and guitars in stands along with Mr.Kypo’s organised mess. This is where I spent the majority of Sunday. Mr. Kypo decided to import all our home movies to his computer. I could feed our baby and watch each one as they are imported.

 Wow, tears fell as I watched us become a family of three, expanded to a family of four and a family of five.

 I didn’t know how much I needed to watch these. Of late, I have felt extremely guilty for they way my words are expressed to my loved ones. I’m not speaking viscous words; my crankiness is making the words I speak sound viscous. I am snappy. Sleep deprivation is a killer. Bad mama syndrome kicks in here from time to time.

 Watching these homes movies validated I am a great mother. It was as though I had a private screening of my life since our miracles were born. I was in the front row with love, pride and admiration of our family. Mr. Kypo and I are doing a marvelous job.  {Why is it that we remember the bad and not always the good? That is changing in 2013. See my word ‘cleanse’ has surfaced. Note to self: keep cleansing the mind}.

 Our children then and now are smiling. Their happiness is contagious. I’m realizing the guilt slowly. The lid is off and it will start pouring out. We all have bad days, we go through bad times, but my little clan is understanding, compassionate and there. We’re there.

 I have decided when it arises that I am having a bad day; I’m going to watch a home movie. It will squash the negative emotion down and bring me back to the present.

 P.s I didn’t realize just how many hairstyles I have had. Nostalgia has kicked back in, time for a change, I think dying my hair brown will make a come back.

 Since this post was drafted, I said goodbye to blonde and hello brunette.

My heart shattered

Yesterday my heart shattered into a million little pieces.
When I become a mama I didn’t know how much I’d love deeper or know when you hurt it shatters. Pieces of you ache. I mean really ache. That is how it is for me.

Noah loves football. He is a walking encyclopedia about football. He practices every afternoon and one day he is going to play for his favourite team he tells us.

Yesterday was Noah’s football presentation. The day they all get recognized for their efforts and being part of a team.

We were all very excited for him. Mr. Kypo’s Dad and my beautiful niece flew in for the weekend and it made the day extra special.

Noah went and sat at the front with his team while we sat with all the other parents waiting to hear their child’s name called out.

That’s exactly what we did. We waited and waited and waited. Noah sat there and waited and waited. He waited while members of his team misbehaved or ran off. He waited while all the other teams were called up.

Mr. Kypo and I made the eye contact with the knowing that both our hearts were breaking for the same reason. He was waiting to here his name and it wasn’t coming.

I walked over to Noah and asked him to come to me. He refused. He wanted to wait. When it became totally unbearable to watch him siting there I walked over and guided him to us. His shoulders were hunched; his big brown eyes oozed sadness and confusion. I looked over at another mama in our team. Her eyes reflected what we were feeling and her son looked just as sad and confused as ours. I couldn’t hold back the tears. I wondered if the entire mama’s feel the same way as me from our team?

I quickly composed myself and we told Noah how enormously proud we are of him. He is incredible.

I knew he was being brave and that was hard in it self.

As we all walked to the car giving him praise and encouragement we explained there must have been a mistake he looked into my eyes holding back his tears with no words.

I bent down to him and told him it was ok to cry and it was ok to be sad. His arms wrapped around my neck tightly and I held him while his tears fell. He told me he was disappointed that the children who received acknowledgment were the coach and managers sons and he felt it wasn’t fair as he named other boys in his side who had worked hard and should have been acknowledged. With his insight into that I couldn’t hold back my tears. I cried tears because he hurt and tears of pride that he was thinking of others.  ’I love you’ I kept telling him.

When we got home I found what ever scrap pieces of craft we had and without him knowing I made him a medal. I presented it to him while we were all sitting in our lounge room. He beamed. He was excited. He was appreciative.

Some may say this is good character building and they maybe right? Others may say that they can’t be acknowledged or expect to always receive. I say they are eight and there is half a team who would be feeling the same way as Noah and I think they deserve acknowledgement.

Waking up my body

Before I feel pregnant my diet was sublime. It was the first time I ever served it delicious food. I was consciously aware of everything I put in my mouth. I woke looking forward to my daily green smoothie and planning my meals. I then fell pregnant and my body seemed to reject all the good nutrition and crave anything covered in fat. I pursued making delicious food and tried extremely hard to consume but my body differed. I finally surrendered and hoped that our baby was getting the good in my body and I would miss out.

The day after our baby was born my body craved fresh mouth watering fruit and rejected fatty foods.

This week green smoothies were back on the menu. Cocktail hour was back. Mr. Kypo purchased me a new Breville Juicer and a Vitamix. They’re the bomb.

My body is waking and knows just what it needs and I am listening.