Mothers Day

Mothers Day…starts differently for all of us. For some, it’s waiting in bed, faining sleep, whilst you can hear the pots and pans banging around in the kitchen, the smoke alarm going off with the waft of burnt toast filling the air, and your imagination going wild as to what is actually going on in there; and what awaits you afterwards! For others, it may be dinner out in a nice restaurant with roses and soft music. For some, a family picnic in the nearby park…or the hush of kid’s voices whispering the ‘surprise’, as they work hard on their hand-made cards and gifts, with ‘don’t look Mum’ and Mum trying hard not to ‘notice’ with a hidden smile on her face. Whichever way it is for us Mums, the sentiment is the same for all the mothers around the world…it’s the thought that counts.

I like Mothers Day better than my birthday, because I have a lot of kids, and as age is not a factor, no matter how old I get I will still be Mum. It's not the presents I receive that I like the most. It’s the chance to have all the kids gathered around and the sense of being appreciated. What I like also are the various expressions of this appreciation. It puts a smile on my face because each and every one from eldest to youngest, expresses it in their own unique and individual way.

My eldest daughter (18) writes a deep, meaningful letter 'reminding' me that I am appreciated and loved.

My eldest son (17) man of few words: Love ya Mum.

My second daughter (15) our ‘matter of fact – no nonsense’ teenager says:
Hey, Mum - Happy Mothers Day.

My third daughter (12) our artistic dramatist writes me a poem:

Mothers Day

Mothers are like angels that guide our way
Watching over us night and day
Her hugs are so tight, so we pull in the love
Her love is a gift from Heaven above
Her wings are like blankets that keep us warm
And has loved us all since we were born
Thank you Mum for being so great
And loving us all each and every day


My fourth daughter (10) is the all-inclusive one - she says:

Mothers Day

God made mothers to take care of their kids.
God made mothers ‘cause He loves them.
We all love our parents because they give us TLC.
God bless you Mum for we love you so much.
Happy Mothers Day to you and all the mothers in the world.
Love you.

My fifth daughter (5) painstakingly writes her name in her best handwriting, draws a love-heart and makes a card smothered in glitter, feathers and cotton balls.

Even, my toddler son (2) does his bit....a line with 3 swirly circles on it. A Wheel flower, I think. My little son loves wheels.

Thank you kids, for being YOU. I love you heaps.

And the chocolates, ah the chocolates!..... and coffee too, with hugs all round - now that’s Mothers Day. :-)

Copyright 2006. Rebecca Laklem.

Where's the Moon, Honey?

As newly-weds we arrived at our honeymoon hotel. Our friends had pooled together to give us a generous wedding gift – an all-expenses paid, one week stay at the newly opened Sheraton Hotel in Darwin. We checked in and went to go up to our room, on route we spied the restaurant and my husband suggested we check out the menu. Glancing through, I noticed the rice section, my husband being Asian, I exclaimed “Look, here’s rice, honey” But on closer inspection, all they had to offer was rice salad. “Oh boy!” was my husband’s response. We continued on to where our room was. It was the second best room in the hotel (the honeymoon suite was already taken). The room was decorated in delicate rose hues, the bed soft and ‘romantic’. Sweet.

We began to settle in for the night and when we were ready to climb into bed, we paused to pray together. This was nothing out of the ordinary for me, raised a Pastor’s daughter and a staunch Christian myself, I was glad to start this new stage of my life in prayer together with my husband. We held hands and bowed our heads, my husband, also a Pastor, then prayed. I was in full agreement with everything he said, but just as he was finishing he ‘announced’ that he was going to fast.

Now, fasting also was nothing new, but somehow fasting on my honeymoon wasn’t going down with me too well, besides it was a time of celebration, a time for feasting and enjoying yourself, right? - so, I too began to pray silently in my thoughts, asking God to make me at least willing to fast. If my husband was spiritual enough to fast at such a time, then as his wife I should too.

So fast we did.

The next morning, my husband made another ‘announcement’. He was going to sleep on the floor tonight, he had found the bed too soft and couldn’t sleep. I, on the other hand, could sleep in the bed but he was going to sleep on the floor. I was aware that my husband was accustomed to sleeping on the floor, but there was no way I was going to spend my honeymoon sleeping in the bed alone! I declared if he was to sleep on the floor, I would too – we ended up in the bed.

After 3 days of fasting and praying, we had run out of things to pray for and boredom had set in, so we resorted to staring out the window of the hotel.

“Why don’t we go out to the mall or something.”? I suggested

“Been there already.” he replied.

“How about fishing?” I continued.

“Done that” he said, already bronzed from 3 weeks of fishing on and off prior to our wedding.

After a few other ideas were tossed in with the same response, we both stared blankly out the window.

My husband broke the silence a few minutes later, “Why do we need to stay here? he asked. “It’s our honeymoon” I answered matter-of-factly.

Not knowing the tradition of honeymoons, he asked what a honeymoon was. I patiently explained, the best I knew how, why I thought it was called a honeymoon. I described a couple sitting on a park bench, in each other’s embrace, gazing up at the moon and whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ear.

There was a long pause. He was in deep thought. He glanced up at the night sky outside and said:

“Where’s the Moon, Honey?

Needless to say, we checked out the next day.

Three years down the track, I was to discover, the reason for the fast was not for ‘spiritual’ reasons at all – he just didn’t like the food. J


Copyright 2006. Rebecca Laklem.

Travel With Seasoning

I am a seasoned traveler. I have traveled on hundreds of aeroplanes, buses, and trains in the course of my lifetime so far, so much so, that I have actually stopped counting. In addition, over nearly 20 years of marriage I have also traveled quite a bit with children in tow. Filling out numerous immigration cards, I have almost memorized all the passport details. Memorising birthdates of 7 children plus that of your spouse and yourself is no easy feat for some, but from pure practice and perhaps a ‘gifting’, I now rattle it off in a breath, or more realistically two or three.

Nevertheless, travel unless totally alone and with minimal hand luggage only, is never stress-free. Bearing that in mind, on the whole, airline companies do their utmost to make your journey as comfortable as possible as it is beneficial for business.

Well, the most recent flight left me with pleading for it to be my last! I was traveling to Thailand to join my husband and 3 of our children who had gone on ahead. With me on this flight were our other 4 children, 2 being the youngest ages 5 and 2. We had 9 pieces of luggage, plus hand luggage. We checked through our check-in luggage and we still made the quota ok, without being overweight. So, I sighed with a sigh of relief but too soon to my chagrin – the check-in person asked me to weigh the hand luggage too! Never, in all of the times I have flown have I needed to weigh the hand luggage, so I hadn’t given it much thought. My yard-stick for weighing hand luggage was - if I could carry it up and down the hallway a couple of times, with toddler in arms and not bending half over when I carried it - then it wasn’t too heavy. Well, my computer bag perhaps was a bit on the ‘heavy’ side, but that was my laptop computer – an exception in this day and age surely. As it turns out the computer bag met the criteria for one person, but the check-in person said it had to be in 2 separate bags. You can’t ‘separate’ the contents of a computer bag. But insist she did. Then each of the hand luggage had to be weighed. They were all a bit over (perhaps I am not all fat after all, but there is muscle there after lifting toddlers all these years!). In the end, I had to check through all the hand luggage and leave some of the other bags in the care of family. I still had to figure out how I was to ‘separate’ the contents of my computer bag. At this point, I was near ‘losing’ it in panic. We were running late. We still had to fill out our immigration cards, to go through immigration, and find our gate in time for boarding.

We managed to do all the above and reached our gate just as people were starting to board. The little kids were hot, thirsty, hungry and tired. No time to stop for snacks, I handed over our boarding passes and the man apprehended me! Is there a problem sir? I asked. ‘We have been notified to check the weight of your hand luggage’. He checked and seeing there was no reason for concern, let us on board.

I found our seats at the very rear of the economy class cabin. They were near the toilets, (handy for the little ones, I thought optimistically). By this time, our 2 year old son, was asking for milk to drink. “We will have some as soon as the plane takes off” I assured him. The plane sat there and sat there, it was late departing. Meanwhile to add to everything, the air-conditioning in our part of the cabin wasn’t working! I called to the stewardess to perhaps allow us to have milk for the Master 2, while we were still stationary. The steward responded to my call, so I politely asked. “You will have to wait until after take-off Madam” He replied curtly. “But can’t you make an exception? My little boy is hot and thirsty, the air-conditioning is not working, the plane is late…..”. Sorry, Madam it is regulations. I try my best to soothe my child. Then the seatbelt lights come on, Master 2 is in my lap, finally content in my arms. The steward arrives at my seat “Seatbelts Madam”. “Could I please have a child belt to latch onto my own?” Your son is 2 and has his own seat. He has to be belted in his own seat”. “My son is fearful of the takeoff. Can’t I just use the child-belt?” He replied in a tone that made me feel I was criminally intent or a terrorist or something. “No, it is against regulations” I obediently but reluctantly placed my young son in the seat next to me, amidst his loud protests – ever try putting a seatbelt on a toddler who is struggling to get out of the seat?

I start making motions of an aeroplane with my hands, to bring the attention of my young son to the fact, the takeoff was not such a bad thing. His grandparents had bought him a little model aeroplane to bring with him, so he starting mimicking me. We finally took off! The crew started serving the meals. Our faithful travel agent assured me when I picked up our tickets that she had ordered 2 children’s meals. As it turned out the airline only had one left. I immediately brought it to their attention that I had ordered 2. (How can you possibly give one child a tray with special kid’s goodies on it and the other sitting right next to them not?) The steward by this stage, I’m sure, was ready to ‘turn me in’ as a threat to society! The stewardess, on the other hand, was more sympathetic, and assured me that she would try making up a tray the best she could to suit a child. I gave her a look of sheer relief and thanked her profusely. Maybe I will not be deemed a ‘terrorist’ after all!

After eating, I settled in for a long night of no sleep, ever-watching that the children did not thrash their legs and arms onto the person next to them, or cause any other disturbance. My two older children are in the row behind me, content with watching TV or listening to the funnies, or to music. (I had hoped we would be all seated in the same row, but the flights were packed and we were fortunate to get the seats we were given.)

I was tired, emotions raw. I took a deep breath. It had been a long day.

Upon landing, we had to wait until nearly all the passengers had got off before leaving our seats. It takes a bit to waken little ones and get them ready for disembarking.

We are off the plane! Yeah!

We walk the long stretch to the customs and immigration, down to the baggage conveyor belt and took our luggage one by one. One bag is missing. This was just “The icing on the cake.” Yet another incident to add to my notorious list of: How to have the worst flight ever. We wait. Still no bag, so, we then notify the airline staff, give descriptions, our address, sign papers. (We did receive our bag a few days later.)

We finally make it through the doors to the meeting point. Seeing my husband’s and our other children's smiling faces made it all worthwhile.

I’m grateful I don’t have to make another trip on a plane again for a while. I have always enjoyed traveling, but some of the ‘seasoning’ I could certainly do without. :-)

Copyright 2006. Rebecca Laklem.