We had such a fun day yesterday celebrating the life of Davina. We attempted to fill it with things she loves. We took her on a train ride...in the freezing cold and rain! We are such committed parents! Davina was delighted as trains are still her thing. For dinner we headed for warmth into the perfect for three year old restaurant. It had floor to ceiling, wall to wall fish tanks. She received a dolly from us in which she named (all on her own) Shallana, a Harold the helicopter to add to her Tomas the Tank Engine set, and a story book of her life, made by me. Every time I attempt to be crafty I realize how little of a perfectionist I am. Though this book is completely from another planet then perfect, it made a memory and created many delighted smiles from our dear Davina. My Favorite page is the 'Daddy and Davina' page, Roger wrote Davina the most tear jerking love letter!





A lovely day starting another lovely year with our three year old.

My little sparkle and shine has turned three today. Three years ago this morning I was holding heavenly perfection in my arms. Davina is more then I could ever dream of having in a daughter. She fills are life with so much joy and fun. A perfect treasure… that little girl! I am off to celebrate!

I find it so interesting how a mother can find her life so wrapped up in a little thing called…teeth!

It starts with that first tooth painfully breaking though tender newborn gums. Mothers are elated and exhausted during this life changing transition.

As soon as those choppers make an appearance our morning and evening routine becomes slightly religious. As if the tooth fairy hangs over us chanting “Do Not Let The Sun Go Down On children With Dirty Teeth”!

And then in a blink those fine little pearls fall out. All That Mother's effort invested into those teeth and they simply fall out. You gush at your child’s excitement and cry that time passed with out your consent!

And then you take a million pictures of your toothless wonder, grinning her way through life!

Last night Roger took me to a shoe store and insisted I buy new shoes…a girls dream? Maybe, except there were two major requirements surrounding Roger’s generosity.

Stipulation # 1: They must be the right size.

Stipulation # 2: They must be comfortable…padding and all.

Here I must confess an ugly truth of mine. I am a ten dollar, Walmart shoe buyer who very rarely buys the right size of shoe for me feet (you can’t get picky with sizes and such when buying ten buck shoes!)

Roger on the other hand has ‘challenged feet’ and needs to buy high quality, extra support, fancy-dancy break the bank type of shoes. Along with his ‘specially required shoe’ he sees a foot Dr. regularly, invests in insoles the price of my right arm and exercises his feet daily!

Obviously there is a slight difference between this happily married couples feet. Roger has been trying to get me into a pair of ‘old lady’ shoes for nearly a decade. Last night we went to a discount-high end shoe store selling everything from Channel stilettos to Neutraliser pumps. Basically it was a shoe store selling quality shoes at a fraction of the price. I was overly sceptical that I would find comfy styling shoes and overly reluctant to spend more then a few bucks on a single pair. But with Roger’s won’t part with my money unless for a good cause-inspector gadget investigation of the comfort level of each shoe I touched. I managed to buy three pair of heaven on my feet! I am won over my friends…comfort shoes are where it’s at! Today my pallets, feet and mouth, are enjoying colourful comforts!

Greetings from glorious North American soil! I have never had such an urge to kiss soil before as when I emerged from our plane setting foot in America and ending our flight! It was quite the trip! Most often on this blog you get to see the captivating parts of my travels, best pictures, best stories that sort of thing. Well here comes a story about the other, nastier side of travelling.

Caution some details may gross you out...and in no way am I going to soften the story...this is my letting off steam...okay?!

All was well the day we departed. I had left our flat a bit early to say good-bye to some friends. I felt a couple waves of slight pain as we walked but I thought that was only the intense heat of the afternoon sun and my pre-flying nerves. Five minutes into the tortuously jerky bus ride I knew something funky was taking place in my tummy. Halfway to the airport I puked...half a gallon sized zip-lock bag full! The drive continued two and a half hours on the worst pothole infested road you could imagine, with a driver who drives in two speeds, accelerating and slamming on the brakes!

When we arrived at the airport I was ready to vomit again. I flew off the bus and ran to the back, sandwiched between the bus and the security truck I lost the rest of the contents of my stomach. Now when someone is vomiting, Nigerians feel the need to help out and ask you questions. As I am sick leaning up against the dirty bus in the blazing heat, our security guard feels the need to assist me by pouring water all over the vomit (while I am still vomiting) making everything splash up on to my feet and pants. Along with the ‘washing of the feet’ he keeps asking me if the ‘devil is trying to get out’?! Not only did I vomit but because of the dual pressure of babe and vomit I lost control of my bladder!

After my violent vomiting session I sat on the curb waiting for Roger to unload our luggage. With my back facing the street, head in hands, I feel a harsh thump on my back and vaguely hear a woman lipping off at me. She shouts at me telling me I was blocking her way out of her car door (I was their first). Because I was in HER way she felt the liberty to open her door slamming it into my back..I have never heard Roger raise his voice at anyone before...I felt kinda proud and protected as he growled back at that lady! Good thing I had no energy...I might have been doomed to eternal punishment if I had!

Roger had to check in our crazy amount of luggage, in an overcrowded, much too small, void of cool air and no toilet airport. I was unable to manage the courage to step foot into the place (which on the best of days freaks me out). I stayed outside sitting on the stroller in the heat, the only white women around, vomiting with no bucket or bag. It took Roger close to an hour and so there I sat, wondering what to do. It would take at least five hours to return to our compound, we would lose our flights and it was only a six-hour flight to Germany. Should I plow ahead or crawl home? Onward we marched to the airport lounge... where I vomited every fifteen minutes until our plane left at midnight. Once on the plane I was only sick three more times. On my last return from the toilets I noticed a sleeping Davina grunting and tossing. I thought she was most likely going to be sick so I prepared a barf bag for her, no less had I laid my head down and she was vomiting.

For the rest of the flight every thirty minutes or so she vomited. Not pleasant! Amazingly I did not vomit any more and was able to help my little sickling.

I was so relieved when we landed in Germany, but knew I had to find a way to get from one side of the airport to the next...and the Germany air port is not small, not organised and has very few toilets along the way! Once in the lounge I showered, washed my pants in the sink and dried them with the hair blow dryer! Feeling somewhat more human I rested and mentally prepared for the ten-hour flight ahead. Still feeling woozy with a vomiting child, a flight that long might as well have been Mount Everest! As I mentioned my apprehension Roger calmly stated that climbing Mount Everest would be quite the challenge but worth it once it’s done...spoken like a man who’s feathers never seem to get ruffled!

The latter flight went as smooth as it could. Davina recovered somewhere thirty-thousand feet above the Atlantic Ocean. I fully recovered when I settled into the hotel, showered with a clean fresh pair of LuluLemons on my bottom half.

Roger and I laughed that our journey was so long (32 hours) that two people could get the twenty-four hour flu and recover by the time you landed at your destination!

I am happy to report we are feeling better and well on the way of over coming jetlag. Roger escorted me down the lovely isles of Whole Foods Market yesterday. Wiping my tears of joy at the sight of the abundance of organic foods! And today I bought some maternity pants! I am all set and pleasantly enjoying the loveliness of North America!

Today is the big day. All things are packed, or so I hope! My life's essential are packed into a ridiculous amount of luggage. Laugh or cry for me as we embark on traveling through three continents in thirty hours with seven pieces of large luggage, four carry on bags with two little girls and a pregnant me...who is by far the worst flier in the fam!

Drug me now...knock me out now...my new life mission might be to bring back the Concord airplane!

Kid with flu & packing!

Some times life can throw you some unexpected nastiness. You know when you feel pre-pared and ready for the things ahead and then something comes out of no where and threatens to knock you out? I have had a week like that. I expected this week to be a little crazy as I am packing to be away from my home for an uncertain amount of time. Organising life for the unexpected is a tad overwhelming to begin with. I was sure that all would get done if I applied my self and worked hard and thoughtful. But this week things have come up that have sapped my focus and energy. Roger and I have been forced into late nights as we have had many decisions to make we were not prepared to be doing this week. All the extra stress has made me have mild contractions for days now and I can not seem to dam my tears. Exhaustion threatens my sanity!

Every part of me wishes to crawl into bed, cry my self to slumber and wait for the craziness to pass!

But then, my constant companion reminds me, that there is strength enough in Him to face everything life gives us. In no way do I feel the Lord taking or making things easier or even lifting the weight of the challenges I am facing. It is more that I feel his presence whispering to me to find the strength to come through this stronger. To apply attributes that do not come naturally to me (a specially when under stress)
Patients, humbleness, forgiveness, gentleness, grace and...joy!
I wish to say I was perfect and that with a resolution to act out the above was as simple making resolve. But it’s not. Today has been a second by second fight to take hold of my self and discipline it to act as my God wishes. Nothing easy or glamorous about that… today it feels more like jumping off a bridge against my desires!

During my extreme moments of weakness this morning the Lord reminded me that;

A women of gentle grace gains respect. Proverbs 11:16 (Message)

I pray that even as life is blowing me in a certain direction this challenge from heaven will seep strength enough to attempt…

To be a women of gentle grace…

We had one grand Royal Ball! All the way in Nigeria! Everything turned out sparkling and our girls were elated.

Of course the table...





Party favours, a tin filled with sweets and lace filled with chocolate kisses...



Belle's of the ball...





While in Canada last spring I found a large lace canopy at a thrift shop for 99 cents in which we hung from our cealing and put glittery balls inside, staging an area for the princess to dance. Wish I had a better lens to show you the wide angle, it looked so enchanted!

Oh they danced...






Thankfully this celebration turned out royally!

Marion's big day yesterday...

From waffles to gifts...

More play mobile and set-up...

Tap dancing finale and pizza...

Candles and cake...

What a joyous day of celebration!