Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Dear Hunna. {apart for now}

Dear Hunna,


I'm still here, you're still there and that's O.K.

But I just wanted you to know; I need you.

I love you, I miss you & I need you.

Without you I find it difficult to breathe, I need you to breathe.

It's not that I can't live without you, it's just that I don't want to.

Yes, I can still breathe on my own, but it seems like such a shallow breath, one after the other, that sticks to the top of my throat and never more deep.

I don't rely on you, but I choose to. I choose not to live without you.

When I am with you, you are like my calmative, like a mersyndol on a horrid dark migraine filled day; you slow my heart and soften my thoughts, you allow me to breathe. Deep. Right down into the bottom of my lungs.

Meditative. Breathing.

I choose you.

I choose life and love and our family and us.

I choose sun and rain and hot and cold.

As long as we are together, as long as I have you and you have me.

I am whole.

I am calm.

I am me. The real me, the one that only you know.

The tender and vulnerable and scared me.

The one who weeps, at love, at death, at laughter and misfortune.

I draw my eyes to the sky and I know, even though we are apart, we sleep under the same stars and this fact makes us so very, very close.

I'll dream of you tonight.

I'll miss you all the while.


Jess x

Thursday, May 23, 2013

A break away

Boy and I are in Tasmania at the moment.

It's not as cold as I thought it would be, although it is still autumn and we are on the coast.

I'm taking lots of pictures and can't wait to upload them all.

Also, this Saturday is Collette's baby shower. I'll update on that when its over too.

For now, before I left something happened that I want to remember so I'm courier momenting it. Now...


During the week you come home from work. You are tired. You are tired of the constant battle we are in financially. Tired of the way you are treated at work. Like you aren't important or needed and with all the belittling that goes on since you wanted to be signed off early I see you losing zest.

I see that you're tired as soon as you open the door. I worry about you.

Later, I can't remember when. But it's dark outside. You are in the bathroom and putting on your jumper. The warm, woollen cable knit jumper I wish was mine.

The hallway is dark and the light from the bathroom shines all around you, like a cocoon of light in a tunnel of darkness.

I watch you from the darkness, pulling the jumper over your head, adjusting the sleeves.

You are in the light, you are my light.

I smile and step closer, the edge of the light just reaching my body.

I say " I want that jumper"

You turn and look towards me and say " You know what I want"

I laugh and throw my head back like your implication is so, just so you.

You smile, you smile with an inkling of mischief in your eyes and start towards me as you say. " No not that. "

Like I am wrong.

I side step out of the light into our dark bedroom and you follow. You bump into me and as we fall to the bed, giggling and fumbling in the dark, me to escape and you to embrace - you sigh and raise your voice over the melee.

" I want a cuddle"

I stop struggling, soaking in your words. You grab me by the hips and in the darkness I swivel, reach around and take your neck.

You surprise me. Because its the truth. You really do want a cuddle. And what I thought was an implication for.. Eh hem. Was actually wrong.

I cuddle you, breathing in the warm scent of wool and your cologne.

" I love you Mr Andrews" and I know that even if stuff at work is horrid, we are O.K. We will always be O.K.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

{Dear Boy} #6

Dear Boy,

Every morning since you were born, I have woken up amazed at how you have grown, amazed at how you are mine and amazed at how lucky I am to be your Mumma.

Your smile and your laugh and even your grumpy face makes me the happiest Mumma in the world.

Three year old you is fiercely independent, loving, caring and full of surprises.

You speak in full sentences, you jump with two feet, you run now instead of just waddling quickly.

You can pour yourself a drink and cut up your own food with a knife.

Everyday you amaze me and every day I love you more and more.


Love Mumma x

Monday, May 13, 2013

{Dear Boy} #5

 Dear Boy,

Tomorrow you turn three.

I can hear you chatting away to yourself in bed.

You should go to sleep soon, tomorrow is a big day.

I wish I could freeze time and keep you at such a precious age for a little while longer.

I've loved every minute of two year old you.

You've grown and are growing into a Boy I am very proud to be Mumma of.

See you tomorrow as a big 3 year old.

Love Mumma

Sunday, May 12, 2013

{Dear Boy} #4

*Traditionally on Mothers Day the Mothers in our church receive a flower to pin on their clothing.

Dear Boy,

On a spring day in 1902 Kathleen May Mainwaring, or Granny Steers as her grandchildren would later fondly call her, was born in Claude Rd. A small country town in the North West of Tasmania.

At the age of 16 she married David Richard Steers, a gentle soul who was 12 years her senior.

Together they had 8 children.

Before her death in 1987 she would out live three of her own children.

One of those children was Louisa Madge Steers, or Nanna Cox as she was later known.

Nanna Cox was also born in the North West of Tasmania.

Indeed, the house she was born in can still be seen from the road as you drive through the town.

Nanna Cox married Pop in the winter of 1941 and lived the harsh life of a farmers wife on a farm in Latrobe.

Together they grew their family to 7.

One of those children was my mother, your Nan.

Merilyn Ann Cox, born in Latrobe in 1948.

The thing all of these women have in common, apart from being a part of your own mothers matriarchal line, is that they all have similarities.

Indeed, for all their differences, they are also very similar.

Granny Steers, although not a member of our church, still taught each of her children great morals and values.

Morals of integrity, resilience, independence and courage.

These morals were passed down to Nanna Cox who valued kindness and education.

Your own Nan who has now been a widower for over 12 years. Has taught me all the values of Granny Steers and Nanna Cox and how to work hard and act sensibly.

Now as an adult I hope to pass on these morals and values which I know to be true.

Not just to you, but to everyone I meet.

Because motherhood is not just about maternity.

Motherhood is much, much more.

Sheri Dew said the following: ('Are we not all Mothers' Nov 2001 Ensign)

"The subject of motherhood is a very tender one, for it evokes some of our greatest joys and heartaches.

Few of us will reach our potential without the nurturing of Mothers who bore us and the Mothers who bear with us."

On a September day in 1988 my Mum was induced five weeks early with her fourth child.

She was named Jessica Mary Gibson.

I was the youngest, but I wasn't just spoilt because of my place in the family.

I was spoilt because after being introduced to the gospel almost a year earlier, my family were baptised and confirmed members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

Spoilt because I was raised among a group of women who understand their divine inheritance.

Raised valiantly, not only by my own Mum, but also by Sisters and my Mothers in the ward.

Sister Challis taught me to serve.

She was serving in my primary well into her 80's.

Later, when I was in young women's she was called as a counsellor and she served with the determination and dexterity of someone half her age.

Sister Clarke taught me the importance of an open heart and an open home.

For many years she served in Young Women's and in Young Single Adult's and she opened her home to us more times than I could ever remember, to have a safe place to learn and hang out and to eat yummy food.

Sister Reeve taught me how to clean, how to disassemble toilets and wash walls and skirting.

I swear that she could roll up her sleeves telepathically and beam sponges into her hands.

Sister Sewell taught me to volunteer.

She was constantly involving us with multiple events and charity organisations.

Sister O taught me to love the scriptures.

She would rise every morning to come teach at early morning seminary, day in and day out, filling my mind with the greatness of the gospel.

Sister Jones taught me the value of honesty.

She would never pretend that her life was perfect but would always instill stories of courage against adversity in my mind.

All of these Sisters and many more became my other Mothers, my Mothers in the ward.

A little over three years ago, just before you were born and growing very big in my tummy, I got a phone call from your Aunty Simone.

At the time she was pregnant with her fifth child.

She told me of how the heart of the little baby had stopped beating.

Soon after she was induced and gave birth to a beautiful, very tiny and very precious baby girl.

Her grief for little Charlotte was overwhelming. I felt the sorrow of our loss because little Charlotte was a part of all of us. A part of our family.

Aunty Simone tells me her definition of motherhood changed that day.

That she feels as if the veil is thinner and her family has an extra protection around them because of Charlotte.

She now has a deeper, more spiritual connection with her role in motherhood.

When she came to see you for the first time after you were born, I was worried that holding such a tiny new baby might upset her.

When I placed you in her arms and saw her gaze down at you with such loving mothering eyes, I knew you would be truly spoilt.

Spoilt because of all your other Mothers.

Just like me.

Love Mumma

Friday, May 10, 2013

{Dear Boy} #3

Dear Boy,

Music is powerful.

It can enunciate words and feelings we cannot form with speech. It can lift our spirits from our mortal bodies and allow our minds to soar.

On the battle fields of old the drums united men and gave them courage. The beats wordlessly relaying messages  for attack and retreat.

In the battlefield of today it will lift you up or it will tear you down.

Without knowing it will creep into your ears and settle in your soul and its message will become part of who you are.

Beware of music that is unsavoury.

When I was a little girl my Dad taught me to appreciate good music, the music of Chopin and Mozart, of Rachmaninov and Bach.

 He taught me how to sing, how to play and how to listen.

Use music to your advantage.

Use it to mourn in times of sorrow. Use it to buoy yourself with courage in times of conformity.

These things my Dad knew, These things I know and hopefully you know now too.

Love Mumma

Thursday, May 09, 2013

{Dear Boy} #2

Dear Boy,

I want you to remember that it's O.K not to know.

You are so young and you have so much to learn. But you have all ready learnt so much.

You have learnt to walk, to talk, to hold a cup and brush your teeth. You've learnt to sleep and eat. To grasp and jump. You have even learnt to poop in the potty.

Remember all of these things took practice, they took time. You made mistakes and you kept going. Its how we learn.

One day when you're older, you might feel awkward raising your hand and asking 'How?', you might feel pressured to know something all ready or discouraged if you try something and it doesn't work out first time.

But I want you to know, nobody knows everything. They might pretend they do, they might even lie. But I hope you'll be smarter than that.

You'll learn to question, to ask and most of all I hope you'll learn to be resilient. To have the gumption to try once, twice and as many times as it takes.

Because my dear Boy, life is not about success. Its about trying and failing and enjoying the fall just as much as the rise.

Revel in it all.

And most of all learn. If you are willing to learn you can do anything.

Love Mumma

Wednesday, May 08, 2013

{Dear Boy} #1

Dear Boy,

While you were sleeping I thought of my last post. I started thinking about all the good things we do have and best of all; I started thinking of the love we share.

I have decided to do more of the things I love. More of the things we all love.

I have decided to document a photo a day.

Of our life. Of our simple but full and beautiful life.

To capture more moments and stamp out the oppression I feel from the tight clinch of money.

In each photo I'll focus and I know I'll find the hope I am desperately trying to find.

I hope when you are older you'll remember that although life is hard, we can still choose to be happy. Through the mess of it all.

Because it's a beautiful, horrid mess. Which deserves to be lived and captured and loved and given.

To you I promise this. Until the day Dadda has overcome the obstacle of an apprenticeship- I will snap away and I will grow.

Just as you will too.

Even in darkness there can be a slither of light filled hope.

Love Mumma

& more work stuff.

There is a lot going on in our little house lately. Luckily we have had time to get off the train of life this past week and enjoy some life at walking pace.

But when we walk we can't ignore the feelings that linger in the coffers of our hearts. It has become difficult for us to focus on all that is good for us right now.

And we have so much to be thankful for.

Perhaps the fast train ride was subconsciously induced so we could crowd out the intense negativity we are feeling about Hunna's job.

But as the country side wizzed by and we sought option after option for resolution the whole plan suddenly went out the window and the train came to a grinding halt.

I was raised in a family filled with the pride of independence and self reliance.

I have always been a 'roll your sleeves up' kinda gal.

Even if sometimes I kick and scream a little along the way.

But this morning I have never felt so absolutely stuck in my whole life.

What is there to do when the entire system is created to work against you?

I know there is something to learn from this but I just can't decide on what it actually is. If I knew what the point of the whole exercise was it would be a whole lot easier to swallow the bitter pill.

Monday, May 06, 2013

Ask Mummy Gibson

Ask Mummy Gibson

Mum & Boy 2011

Can you remember the first time you ever saw/met Dad?

Yes, when Lisa was a baby he came to the door to sell Insurance.

I met him again about 5 years later at the Creche committee meeting.

When I first saw your father my heart flipped and thumped and I thought I was going to faint??? I ran a mile.

Can you remember the first time you realised you were in love?

Hmm not sure - I think it was when he came to help me put the girls Christmas toys together a couple of years after I had re-met him.

Can you remember the first time you met Kyle??

I think I can remember the first time I met Kyle, he came over for the weekend and was very quiet and shy.

With Kyle I was just worried you would not be kind to him – I’m not sure I was very good at teaching my children to be kind!

Can you remember the first time you realised we were in love/going to get married?

I think it was when he asked me could he marry you!