November 29, 2007
But the best part of that week 2 years ago was what happen the 2nd of December. That is the day I became Mrs Hameed. As much as I wish my family and Hameed's family could have come to our wedding, I really still loved the way our wedding turned out. We had a small ceremony in the town hall in Bendigo with only a few friends present. After the ceremony our friends came with us back to our flat for a small meal and then Hameed and I went out to a lovely dinner. I really enjoyed having a small wedding and don't think I would have had so much fun if we had 100 or so guests, which is normal for both my extended family in Norway and Hameeds family in Maldives.
There is only a few days left until we have been married for 2 years. Those 2 years feels very long in some ways, but in other ways it has gone by so quickly. I do know though that I married the right guy and I really enjoy being married.
We have decided to follow the traditional wedding symbols and buy each other gifts according to that ( really I decided this and Hameed don't seem to dare to disagree..). This year the gift has to be something cotton. I still have not come up with anything more exciting then socks... suggestions are most welcomed.
I will leave you with a picture of our wedding party.
Happy love thursday.
November 28, 2007
November 26, 2007
I wish we were able to be there and celebrate with him. Hopefully we will be there when he turns 61.
Enjoy your big day dad!
November 24, 2007
To Whom It May Concern:
I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult, in order to accept the responsibilities of a six-year-old. The tax base is lower.
I want to be six again. I want to go to McDonald's and think it's the best place in the world to eat. I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make waves with rocks. I want to think M&Ms are better than money, because you can eat them. I want to play kickball during recess and stay up on Christmas Eve waiting to hear Santa and Rudolph on the roof.
I long for the days when life was simple. When all you knew were your colors, the addition tables and simple nursery rhymes, but it didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know, and you didn't care. I want to go to school and have snack time, recess, gym and field trips. I want to be happy, because I don't know what should make me upset. I want to think the world is fair, and everyone in it is honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible.
Sometime, while I was maturing, I learned too much. I learned of nuclear weapons, prejudice, starving and abused kids, lies, unhappy marriages, illness, pain and mortality.
I want to be six again. I want to think that everyone, including myself, will live forever, because I don't know the concept of death. I want to be oblivious to the complexity of life and be overly excited by the little things again. I want television to be something I watch for fun, not something used for escape from the things I should be doing. I want to live knowing the little things that I find exciting will always make me as happy as when I first learned them.
I want to be six again. I remember not seeing the world as a whole, but rather being aware of only the things that directly concerned me. I want to be naive enough to think that if I'm happy, so is everyone else. I want to walk down the beach and think only of the sand beneath my feet and the possibility of finding that blue piece of sea glass I'm looking for. I want to spend my afternoons climbing trees and riding my bike, letting the grownups worry about time, the dentist and how to find the money to fix the car. I want to wonder what I'll do when I grow up and what I'll be, who I'll be and not worry about what I'll do if this doesn't work out.
I want that time back. I want to use it now as an escape so that when my computer crashes, or I have a mountain of paperwork, or two depressed friends, or a fight with my spouse, or bittersweet memories of times gone by, or second thoughts about so many things, I can travel back and build a snowman, without thinking about anything except whether the snow sticks together and what I can possibly use for the snowman's mouth. I want to be six again.
November 22, 2007
The biggest change after Hameed stopped working and started to study is that we get to spend more time together and that is quit nice.
He used to work Tuesday to Saturday and with me working Monday to Friday we only got Sunday to spend together. Now he is studying Monday to Friday so we get the whole weekend together. He also used to start work at 6am which meant he had to get up and leave home by 5am. Now he starts at 8.30 am so this week we have been enjoying eating breakfast together and then leave the house together.
It so much nicer going to work when you had some time in the morning for a cuddle and a kiss.
Happy love Thursday!
November 21, 2007
November 20, 2007
The biggest news around here is that I am back to being the sole income earner. Hameed left his job and have gone back to study. He has been going to school for 2 days now and so far he is enjoying it. I am so so glad that he finally has a chance to study something he really care about and of course we are counting on that he with a Master degree in IT will be able to get a much better paying job. A better job which will lead to use being able to achieve some of our plans and dreams.
I know he will do well at his study and I also know that he will get a good job after and I doubt he will have any problem getting references. Hameed's boss and colleagues at his old job could not praise him enough. They kept telling me that he has such a nice personality, a beautiful smile and is just a great guy. They really did not need to tell me that (I married him for for those reasons) but it was nice to hear it still and it made me very proud.
November 18, 2007
The Norwegian Santa (or 'Nisse') is a short guy, who likes to eat rice pudding and might bring some small gifts like socks and toothpaste.
Anyway, the point of all my ramblings is that I need to know what people want for Christmas. So if you feel like you should get a gift from me, please leave a comment and tell me what you would like to get.
November 17, 2007
To be a mother
...Last week I met a girl 21 years old, who had had three pregnancies, three deliveries, and no surviving children. Her most recent pregnancy ended with a term IUFD and she was delivered via c-section. After waiting a week in the hospital for her incision to heal, she was discharged home but soon returned with a raging infection (peritonitis and a necrotic uterus) and had a hysterectomy. I met her while she was in the ward recovering from her hysterectomy. She is a beautiful girl but her young body takes the form of an old woman when she walks - bending forward, moving slowly, each step cautious and tender. And yet, even though everything about her communicates the depth of her loss, she almost always smiles at me when I enter the ward – warm and genuine. Over the past week, I always looked for her when I came and I watched her wounds, they are healing well. One large untidy line - thick here then thin, puckering at points - stretches down from her navel and a smaller perpendicular scar marks the right side of her abdomen. There is nothing subtle in her story or in its transcription on her small body.
I was with her today when the clinical officer discovered that somehow - in the process of her illness, and healing, and illness and healing - she had developed a fistula between her urethra and her vagina. He found a hole where it shouldn’t be, but there it is, and now urine constantly runs down her legs. They can and will surgically repair the fistula, but she must wait three months before her body will be ready for the operation. Three months after losing her third baby. Three months after losing her uterus. She will wait three months smelling of urine for yet another surgery. As he explained the problem to her, tears began to silently spill from the corner of her eyes. He said she could go back to the room, to her bed, and then she could go home. Just come back in three months.
I followed her back to her bed. In the middle of the noisy room filled with mothers and guardians, visiting husbands, crying babies, nursing babies, she collapsed on her bed in a small heap and began sobbing, “Amayi, amayi, amayi.” I rubbed her back and her head. And, when I realized she was crying “Mother mother mother . . .” the tears I was holding, broke free. We are so much the same in our expressions of pure emotions. We all call for the same person when life ravishes us, the only person whose love can offer comfort in moments of utter devastation - our mothers. I also realized with a bit of tragic irony that here in Malawi where women are raised to be mothers, this small woman had tried so hard to be just that and it broke both her body and her heart. I cried. And, I prayed. I prayed that she did have a loving mother and a loving husband, that she would again find hope and strength. I stayed with her until she fell asleep.
Only once she was still and her breathing deep and regular, did I notice a small wizened woman standing near the bed. She smiled a kind sorrowful smile and said, placing her hands over her heart and nodding at the sleeping girl, “Mwana anga,” my child.
November 16, 2007
I was talking to my friend Elin on MSN the other day (something we do not do often enough) Elin lives in England and she was telling me that she was planning to go into London and visit the Norwegian church there. The Norwegian church abroad is not just a 'church' it is more like a little piece of Norway. I have visit the Norwegian church both in London and New York and both times it felt like I was back in Norway. They have Norwegian 'stuff' there - pictures from Norway on the wall. But most important for a person missing home is the food. They have Norwegian food items there.
In London they even make traditional Christmas dinner in the church. And this was what Elin was telling me about. She was going to the church to eat 'pinnakjott' (smoked lamb ribs is my best translation). I told her I was very jealous are her now, because I have not had any pinnakjott since christmas 2002 (and that is a few weeks ago..)
Yesterday I got an email from Elin. She had looked up the Norwegian church in Sydney. When she was looking at their web page she found that they are actually selling food online. I can fax them a shopping list and they will send me Norwegian food right to my mailbox - how good is that? I knew Elin was great, but I like her even more now for finding this out for me.
Happy love thursday!
November 14, 2007
UPDATE: the long version (just because I know you are dying to know it all..)
So my college and myself did go this course pretty nervous. We had heard from other people we work with (who all took the course back in August) that is was pretty hard...
The first half of the day was for CPR. The teacher went through the does and don'ts of CPR and then we all had to to a practice test. That means, we all had to try to breath and do compression on a dummy for 2 min. Which was fine - only that the teacher was not looking at all.. I could have done compression on the dummy's stomach and breath into the dummy's ears and I'm pretty sure he would still have said ' oh that is fine - good job'.
Then we had a verbal test, which I don't even want to call a test. He read the questions out loud and then the answers - so we could just write it all down.
We had lunch and then the real terror started...
He began with explaining how to put bandages on. He showed us 2 different ways and how to make one kind of sling and then he said ' I only have on more sling to show you..' A lady asked a question, started to tell a story and kept talking and talking and talking and talking some more...
2 hours later
'oki now lets get back to that last sling I was going to show you'
The clock was almost 4 pm and we had been there since 8 am. My college made it clear that she 'had' to go at 4.30 because her car would be towed if she stayed any longer. He then quickly rushed through how to deal with asthma and allergies, and to make matters worse, he did not have all his information right. I was the one that had to inform him and the rest of the class about what kind of medication children with severe allergies have to take.
I guess we should have known what we were in for before lunch when he told me he did not really care when we finish for the day as he got paid by the hour... And we did not even get a written test at the end of the day (but that I am not really complaining about).
I am very glad that this was just a refresher course for us. I also realized when I was reading the book before the course that I do remember most of what I learnt 2 years ago, so I can still say that I am certificated in first aid with confidence.
November 13, 2007
November 12, 2007
November 10, 2007
November 8, 2007
We have several push bikes outside, but not enough for all the kids to have one each so that means they have to share. Today two of the boys were running to get one of the bikes. Henry was a bit quicker and got the bike and this left Seamus very very upset. I picked Seamus up, reassured him that he could have a turn on the bike when Henry was finished and then suggested we find something else to do. Alexia had been watching the whole thing. As soon as Henry was finished with the bike Alexia got it and brought it over to Seamus and me. She patted the seat on the bike, looked a Seamus and said 'here you go'.
I think that is the cutes thing I have ever seen a 2 year old do for another child.
November 7, 2007
November 4, 2007
November 3, 2007
1. I don't like needles 50% of the time.
To explain; I do not care how often people (doctors or nurses that is) stick me with a needle as long as they do not take any blood. They can inject whatever they feel like and I will barely care. Now, if they try to take my blood on the other hand, that is a different story. Years ago, I saw the movie hot shots and one of the scenes were a blood transfusion between two people. the 'doctor' doing the procedure forgot about it and the man giving blood ended up all deflated. That is the scene I picture in my head every time I have to give up some of my precisions blood.
2. I hate tomatoes but love tomato based pasta sous.
Don't ask me to explain this because I don't know why.
3. I changed a nappy for the first time when I was about 3 1/2 years old.
The lucky 'dummy' was my sister Annette. To this day it still amazes me when I met grown people that do not know how to change a nappy.
4. I know how to stamp a pig
Or a sheep or cow for that matter. Stamping the meat after my dad and his colleges in the meat control had checked it was one of my many holiday jobs. I also worked in a chicken factory, a flower store, folding advertisement, delivering newspapers and of course babysitting.
5. I frequently make up my own words/sentences
'stop tickle my teeth' are one sentence that comes to mind right now. The fact that I do this keep my husband very much amused (and also somewhat confused). Back in Uni he started to write down my 'sayings'. Maybe it will be a book one day.
November 1, 2007
And now to the post following this picture - I was way to tired to think or write anything on Thursday night...
The picture is of the two men I hold dear in my life - my husband and my dad. Now I believe most people have heard the theory that a woman would choose a husband similar to her dad. I have given that theory some thoughts lately and it actually was a poll whether people found that this to be true or not on the morning show on TV the other day. Unfortunately I had to go to work so I was not able to see what people answered.
But back to me. Did I choose a husband that is similar to my dad? I believe the answer to that question is no. In many ways they could not be more opposite. However, having said that, they do have some similar traits.
1. They rarely get mad and when they do they just get very very quiet After sharing a house for 12 months with a man that got VERY loud, screamed and yelled when he was mad, I truly appreciate this quality. And besides bugging my husband to just.talk.to. me.already. can be fun sometimes...
2. They both love books They have very different taste in books. My dad read Christian books and books about history. My husband prefer crime and sci-fiction. But they both love books.
3. They both like to collect stuff My dad is driving my mum insane by keeping every single issue of his veterinarian magazine. I think he gets 'only' about 4 magazine a year, but then he has been getting them for about 35 years now so there is a few of them. My husband is slight worse I am afraid. He is collecting metcards. The magazines I can understand, you can read them and learn new things. But metcards?? They are used and can never be used again. Most of them are plain blue, so nothing special about them at all. Yet he insist on collecting them.
These are the things I have found to be similar between my husband and dad so far. I don't think they are to much alike. I know one thing for sure though, I love them both - a lot.