#387 MILs help

I am grateful for my MIL.

Yes, you heard that right. I am grateful for my mother-in-law.

Wait. I think the earth just shifted. MILs aren’t often high up on most women’s appreciation list.

But today, I was. And on many days, I am. There are many grandparents who are neither willing or able to babysit their grandkids. Even if they are willing, many times due to ill health, or other circumstances, they are just not able.

My MIL, is both willing and able.

Which makes us lucky indeed.

I was able to drop baby girl off at her place today, as I had a much-needed hairdresser’s appointment. It was so nice to leave baby girl in a familiar place, not have to worry about the company she was in, if she was looked after adequately, or if she would get up to mischief.

The MILs take care of all that when kids are in their care, after all.

And it was easy. It always is easy with her. She is always more than happy to look after baby girl, not only for some works shifts, but when we have appointments every now and then. Distance is clearly an issue, so I can’t get her to watch baby girl all that often, but when there is something and I really need help, I know where I can turn.

I often wonder about women whose parents live far from them, or with whom they don’t have the best relationship with, and I get sad. In a perfect world, each woman would have a safe place to leave their child when and if circumstance arose, and a grandparent is just about the best babysitting option there is. The fact that mine looks after baby girl, but also after me – as I dashed out of her house late to the hairdresser’s, she handed me a foiled packet of lunch for the road – is really, truly, a God-send.

Yes. I know I’m lucky to have a great MIL. I won’t shout it too loud though, or else the earth’s tapestry may just unravel…

#167 My special greeting

The grandparents don’t just get a special greeting when baby girl hasn’t seen them for a while. I was the recipient of a particularly warm and happy greeting today, from none other than baby girl, and the reaction I got from her was ten-fold anything I had ever seen.


I was picking her up from the MILs house after work. I walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. I peered through the glass panels of the front door to see immediate movement behind another set of doors, and then those open to a highly-animated little figure. But not just animated. Volume abounded, and I could see baby girl waving her arms wildly, skipping high, and yelling “YAY!” as she charged skipping/running towards the door.

How could I not smile? :):):)

She flung the door open, and her smile was, oh… amazing. So wide and happy and bright.

And the best part, it was all for me.

I hugged and kissed her repeatedly as she snugly took it in, looking up at me, beaming.

If I could have recorded that moment, I would have. Oh man, what a moment.

#159 She didn’t freak…

..when the MIL woke her at 6:45 this morning. She was groggy yes, sleepy of course, but as baby girl was placed in the cold car and driven to her Grandma’s house, she chatted and even laughed.

She even laughed.

While I on the other hand, was at that very time in the outskirts of the city about to have an anxiety attack over how baby girl was coping with the new babysitting arrangement.

She did so well, and I am so grateful for it. My trooper.

#142 A different candle

I’ve been posting a lot about my parents lately. It’s like some part of my subconscious knew.

The day started off with easy-going, relaxed vibes. I was making chicken soup, with plans to go to the local shopping centre with baby girl and put in a stack of $2 coins while she had the time of her life on those damn shopping centre rides.

But then Mum called. And hours later I was sitting with her and my sister at the docs.

Mum needs to have an operation. Everything is ok. WILL be ok. But in a space of a few hours, I feel like everything has changed. HAS changed.

Mum needs to take it easy. She needs to do less – both now, and after the op while she’s in recovery. Because of that, she and my Dad won’t be babysitting baby girl. There’ll be no more massive pots of food waiting for us. There won’t be last minute dashes to each other’s home while she helps me out. No, none of that.

Now big sis and I will be doing the running.

I am grateful that she is being treated for something that both can be treated, and that isn’t really serious, when you compare it to other things that ops are performed for.

But I also can’t help but think of how this affects me. She and Dad share the baby sitting duties with my MIL. If she can’t babysit, I can’t work. If I can’t work, we don’t have as much money coming in… and if we don’t have as much money coming in, how do we pay off a loan for our future house in our sea change destination?

Do I bid at the auction tomorrow?

Do we move at all?

Do we put this whole sea change of ours off indefinitely?

The questions and the indecision were making me go insane. I had to do something to break the negativity when I got home. After a further 40 minute convo with big sis on the phone, I lit this:

2016-07-15 18.07.18

There was something metaphoric about this candle shining in the dark. I was spellbound. It usually stands behind the TV, pushed far behind it from the days where baby girl’s curious hands would get into too many things. It still remains there, forgotten, pushed out of sight. Tonight I brought it forward.

And then I had my soup. I don’t know what tomorrow, the next 2 months, and the next who-knows-what will bring, but I think I’m grateful… for the change of that candle.

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#103 Mum’s food

Not only am I grateful for my Mum’s food… but it’s made WAY better when she has cooked for us, so I don’t have to.

It’s fantastic. I am so grateful for it – for her. She and my Dad babysit baby girl while I work, and on some odd occasion, more often than not, I get home from work and there will be like, one, or two pots, sitting on the stove.

“You’ve got rice, and beef, so you don’t have to cook.”

(Angels singing!)

Music to my ears.

I’ve always loved Mum’s food. Yes, sometimes she uses a bit of salt. Yes, oil is her best friend, as are butters, and other creamy additives.

But I’m so lucky, that I don’t even have to go to her place to eat it – she delivers it straight here, on top of the fact that she and my Dad are already doing me a favour and watching baby girl.

Babysitting + free food. Man, someone should start a business doing that. Oh wait, it’s called a nanny, right?

I don’t need a nanny. I’ve got my Mum.