Part of me finds it fascinating that my last post was all about waiting for a baby to arrive and this very weekend was about welcoming one. But when I wrote my memories for Flashback Friday, I didn't link the two at all.
We were heading southward for a weekend conference and coming within two hours of my sister and brother-in-law's home. My sister was nine months pregnant -- but we are mature and we learn from experience and, since the last baby (otherwise known as The World's Cutest Niece) came a full two weeks after her due date, we weren't expecting any miracles. We only thought it would be a rather cool thing if baby burst into the world while we were somewhat within driving distance.
Well, I am here to tell you that Rather Cool Things do happen.
At five a.m. on the very morning of baby's due date, we got a call from my sister. "It's happening!" And at five p.m. that afternoon, I held my new nephew -- my nephew! -- in my arms when he was just three hours old. It was pretty super.
Now, my sister and her hubby are somewhat internet-shy so I can't post pictures here, but I can tell you some things:
1. His name is Mitchell and he is all-boy already.
2. He weighed the same as his big sister at birth but is actually shorter. It's muscle.
3. He's a wiggle-woo who loves to look at the world and make eye contact (what can I say? Genius springs to mind).
4. His mama is a superwoman.
5. His dad is proudness personified.
6. His big sister (world'scutestniece) is head over heels in love in a way that melts this delirious aunty's heart.
Little ones = super.
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conversations:
Amanda -- I'm so glad you enjoyed it :). I think this post should answer your other questions!
Arny -- Yes, I have a blog. Tada!
Simplythis -- thanks, Ruth. xox
Staish -- I wish I could remember more. Life is pretty adventurous with a family like mine!
Caitlin -- thank you for your congratulations!! Stay tuned for pictures in my next letter :).
Tegan -- haha!! You are so gracious to bestow the title of World's Cutest Nephew until you have one of your own to fight for the crown ;).
Abbie -- alas! I am so sorry to disappoint :D. Hopefully these details fill in a few of the blanks for you :). love!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
Flashback Friday :: the waiting
[a flashback in words, not pictures, this time]
I was six and a half, and our house was old and cold and the toilet was outside. An old-fashioned affair with a pull-chain flush and an atmosphere attractive to spiders. It was go-to-the-toilet-before-you're-in-bed-or-forever-hold-in-peace. Because no one wanted to get up and make the trek down the long hallway, out the back door, through the darkness, and into the freezing little room once they'd been held by the sweet security of the blankets. I had it down to a fine art and got so that I didn't wake in the night at all.
But I woke in the morning with a bounce, that's for sure, because Mum was having a baby soon and I was convinced that babies come in the nighttime. Every morning after I climbed down from the top bunk, even before making my way outside to the toilet, I looked in on Mum's room.
Morning after morning she was there, curled up under the blankets with the baby-shaped stomach prominent, still most certainly in one piece. That baby was never gonna come.
My grandmother came to stay, to be "available", and to iron and clean and hang washing just as she has always done for everyone. One night -- and my memory pushes all these events into the one night; whether they were so or not, I can't tell -- I was woken in the middle of my dreams by a loud knocking on the front door. I lay, huddled in my rugs, waiting for Dad to get up. He didn't.
The knocking came again, louder, so in a sort of fog I climbed down from my bunk and went to open the door. Too late, with the heavy wooden door swinging wide, I realised what I could be doing. I stopped it halfway and whispered into the darkness, "Are you a stranger danger?"
I can almost feel the terror now.
"No," came a familiar voice, hissing back through the flyscreen, "it's Ma."
She hadn't had experience enough to know not to head out to the bathroom at midnight, and she'd locked herself out of the house.
The next morning, when I climbed down from my bunk bed, I didn't bother to look in on Mum's room. I'd done it so many times and it never worked -- and besides, I could hear the lawnmower going in the back yard. Dad wouldn't be mowing the lawn if Mum had had a baby in the night, surely?
But he would, and she did, and I have always regretted not looking in on Mum's room that morning and seeing the empty space in her bed that would have told me right away that a new baby had come and was waiting in the hospital for me to meet him.
I was six and a half, and our house was old and cold and the toilet was outside. An old-fashioned affair with a pull-chain flush and an atmosphere attractive to spiders. It was go-to-the-toilet-before-you're-in-bed-or-forever-hold-in-peace. Because no one wanted to get up and make the trek down the long hallway, out the back door, through the darkness, and into the freezing little room once they'd been held by the sweet security of the blankets. I had it down to a fine art and got so that I didn't wake in the night at all.
But I woke in the morning with a bounce, that's for sure, because Mum was having a baby soon and I was convinced that babies come in the nighttime. Every morning after I climbed down from the top bunk, even before making my way outside to the toilet, I looked in on Mum's room.
Morning after morning she was there, curled up under the blankets with the baby-shaped stomach prominent, still most certainly in one piece. That baby was never gonna come.
My grandmother came to stay, to be "available", and to iron and clean and hang washing just as she has always done for everyone. One night -- and my memory pushes all these events into the one night; whether they were so or not, I can't tell -- I was woken in the middle of my dreams by a loud knocking on the front door. I lay, huddled in my rugs, waiting for Dad to get up. He didn't.
The knocking came again, louder, so in a sort of fog I climbed down from my bunk and went to open the door. Too late, with the heavy wooden door swinging wide, I realised what I could be doing. I stopped it halfway and whispered into the darkness, "Are you a stranger danger?"
I can almost feel the terror now.
"No," came a familiar voice, hissing back through the flyscreen, "it's Ma."
She hadn't had experience enough to know not to head out to the bathroom at midnight, and she'd locked herself out of the house.
The next morning, when I climbed down from my bunk bed, I didn't bother to look in on Mum's room. I'd done it so many times and it never worked -- and besides, I could hear the lawnmower going in the back yard. Dad wouldn't be mowing the lawn if Mum had had a baby in the night, surely?
But he would, and she did, and I have always regretted not looking in on Mum's room that morning and seeing the empty space in her bed that would have told me right away that a new baby had come and was waiting in the hospital for me to meet him.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Weekend IX :: all hail Spring!
Thoughts abound, but so does the flu. In place of coherency, I present some pictures of our weekend fun at the Redlands Spring Festival. More at my flickr photostream.
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conversations:
Bethany -- I can well understand why you never said that again!
Everyone else -- thanks for your thoughts and suggestions at this post. It'll be fun working through the list. New posts suggestions and ideas and questions are always welcome. This blog is a dialogue, not a monologue.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Kleenex and JJ Heller and me
Last night, I told my mother that we are both awesome for having got through the whole of winter without catching any of the insidious bugs that everyone else seems to have and wants to share around.
This morning, in glorious proof of that old proverb about pride and falls and going before, I woke up to a raw throat, eyes that will attempt to close in spite of my best efforts, and a nose that's confusing itself with a dripping tap. Hmm. And I was going to achieve so very much today.
However, there were several cheering things about today, and one of those I can share with you is news of a beautiful new album by JJ Heller, which she is giving away for free -- or a donation, if you are not a poverty-stricken writer.
I had read her blog at the recommendation of a friend, and though several people raved about her music, I hadn't had a chance to listen to any for serious until today. And though I'm only two songs into the album, I am completely enchanted. This is just the sort of music I love, produced for reasons I love, about a God I love. And I think it is amazing and super and neat that JJ Heller is giving it away. Go and check it out yourself. Bravo, JJ!
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conversations:
Beth -- you and Don: blog peeps together forever! (do you think it's a sign?) Ooh, I am so happy you brought up early Christmas shopping because I was looking at Christmas pictures and totally getting into a festive mood. You can expect a post with my thoughts soon :).
This morning, in glorious proof of that old proverb about pride and falls and going before, I woke up to a raw throat, eyes that will attempt to close in spite of my best efforts, and a nose that's confusing itself with a dripping tap. Hmm. And I was going to achieve so very much today.
However, there were several cheering things about today, and one of those I can share with you is news of a beautiful new album by JJ Heller, which she is giving away for free -- or a donation, if you are not a poverty-stricken writer.
I had read her blog at the recommendation of a friend, and though several people raved about her music, I hadn't had a chance to listen to any for serious until today. And though I'm only two songs into the album, I am completely enchanted. This is just the sort of music I love, produced for reasons I love, about a God I love. And I think it is amazing and super and neat that JJ Heller is giving it away. Go and check it out yourself. Bravo, JJ!
----------
conversations:
Beth -- you and Don: blog peeps together forever! (do you think it's a sign?) Ooh, I am so happy you brought up early Christmas shopping because I was looking at Christmas pictures and totally getting into a festive mood. You can expect a post with my thoughts soon :).
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Yo.
Ahoy, blogbuds!You may or may not have noticed the slow posting habits hereabouts over the last two weeks. The days have been busy, I can't believe it's September, and the guest minister at church today mentioned Christmas stuff already up in David Jones stores. Boy. Anyway, I'd like to be more here over the next few weeks, but I need your help. To me, a blog isn't a voice going out into a silent universe; it's a dialogue among a bunch of us. So what should we discuss? What are your favourite types of posts? What hot-button issues have got you all excited? Let's talk.
(Bethany, I have not forgotten your tag of long ago!)
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
A letter to my novel
Dear Novel,
Hello, old friend! Sorry I haven't been in touch for a while. I kind of feel as though I have been neglecting you and, well, I guess I have. Don't take offence. Please. It's just that, when you've spent eight months almost non-stop with someone, sometimes you need some personal space. And you know that when we were working towards the deadline in May, we were locked at the computer together, you and I, for many hours of every day. Once that deadline was past, I needed to get away for a while. Breathe my own air. Think my own thoughts. Not wonder how they fitted into your plot.
But that's over now. I've had my fill of fresh air, and I'm returning. I need to spend some time with you again. I feel a little like you've turned from my friend to my acquaintance, and I never wanted that to happen. Is it my fault or yours? I'm not really sure. All I know is that I think we need to spend some more time together. Are you cool with that?
Will you take me back, sweet Novel?
Ever yours,
Danielle
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conversations:
Abbie -- isn't it crazy how we can all be living in this one country and yet experience such a diversity of weather? I hope Spring floats your way soon!
Beth -- enjoy Autumn! (it's my favourite season, too) And as you don those hats and scarves, think of the wonderful Don and his gift to the world of faith and words and quirky humour. *salute*
Hello, old friend! Sorry I haven't been in touch for a while. I kind of feel as though I have been neglecting you and, well, I guess I have. Don't take offence. Please. It's just that, when you've spent eight months almost non-stop with someone, sometimes you need some personal space. And you know that when we were working towards the deadline in May, we were locked at the computer together, you and I, for many hours of every day. Once that deadline was past, I needed to get away for a while. Breathe my own air. Think my own thoughts. Not wonder how they fitted into your plot.
But that's over now. I've had my fill of fresh air, and I'm returning. I need to spend some time with you again. I feel a little like you've turned from my friend to my acquaintance, and I never wanted that to happen. Is it my fault or yours? I'm not really sure. All I know is that I think we need to spend some more time together. Are you cool with that?
Will you take me back, sweet Novel?
Ever yours,
Danielle
----------
conversations:
Abbie -- isn't it crazy how we can all be living in this one country and yet experience such a diversity of weather? I hope Spring floats your way soon!
Beth -- enjoy Autumn! (it's my favourite season, too) And as you don those hats and scarves, think of the wonderful Don and his gift to the world of faith and words and quirky humour. *salute*
Monday, September 1, 2008
1st of September
Goodbye, Winter. 
Hello, Spring!(to see pictures from Sunday, the last day of Winter, go here and keep clicking the left arrow)
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conversations:
Random spammer -- please refrain from using my blog for free advertising. It makes life more difficult for everyone else.
Staish -- Ooh, they might be special edition Moleskines. That is super!
Beth -- welcome to the Society, oh fellow fan of the Miller!
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