Our Whare

There’s a ribbon of salmon sky along the navy tops of the Tararua Ranges. I’m not usually up this early, but I woke to check on Willoughby. I found her in her cot last night covered in vomit – and was thankful that after a bath she went back to sleep. There was a lot of mum guilt about finding her like that – she had cried out when I was doing the dishes, but I ignored this… only to wonder what the awful smell was when I walked down the hallway an hour later. But as friends who are further down the path on the parenting journey than me said, “Motherhood is rife with guilt, so be kind to yourself.” So, for the 6am wake-up, I was just grateful for the little person, all better, sitting on my lap chewing on her gingernut biscuits.

In our farm homestead, the cold evenings have brought fires… and mice looking for comfort, too – I think I am more petrified of them than they are of me. When they arrived the other week and one found the pantry, I sent the older kids in with the promise of a dollar if they could catch it. Cue Hartley decked out in gardening gloves and armed with a wooden spoon, trying to hunt the mouse, his fearless younger sister at his side.

The homestead was built for Mike’s grandfather and grandmother in the 1940s after the war, and has been added onto over the years to create the well-loved, if slightly eccentric, home it is now. We are the third and fourth generations of the one family to live here. It’s incredible to think of the history, memories and connections this home has created. The back of one of the doors in the laundry reveals hand-drawn height markers charting the growth of aunties and uncles, cousins and second cousins… It is this family history that makes our home special.

There are a number of beautiful old huts and whare in this edition. That wasn’t intentional, but sometimes themes just emerge – and I love it when they do. From the back hut that hosted the autumn mustering crew at Ōmārama Station (page 48), to the Shepherds’ Hut on the Pahi Coastal Walk (page 60). So often, these old buildings evoke a feeling of being embraced, and invite us to dwell on the opportunities they’ve made for connection, conversation and memories. This seems so fitting at Matariki – a time when we can come together and give thanks for the special people and places that shape our lives. Often it is at home, in the mundane, that these memorable moments happen. I love how Kim Woon talks about her marae welcoming her Pākehā mother when she passed away (page 114). And Elizabeth’s reflections on the generations of whānau who have been sheltered in her family homestead over the years (page 38). There is a feeling of comfort – from the patchwork quilt on the couch on the back deck to the breakfast tray set out and aprons hanging on the door.

As I’m writing this from the couch, I can barely see over my growing belly with its many stretch marks – my body’s mementos of growing lives. Baby number four will be here any day now, and I’m not quite sure I’m prepared for what two under two is going to be like. Mike is adamant he’s getting the snip, but I think he should wait at least a few months. When I was talking about it with my lovely obstetrician after the last baby, she said, “If you’re unsure, it’s best to wait two years – by that time, you’ve got a toddler and are out of the fog and can make a considered decision.” But I think life with four children will have us knowing well before then.

As for any errors you might find in this edition, the baby has come amid our editing and proofing. If there’s one thing I have learnt, it’s the finality of a print deadline; it waits for no one – much like a baby making their way into the world.

Kristy

Glossary. Marae, sacred meeting place. Matariki, stars that represent the Māori New Year and are celebrated by tribal groups throughout Aotearoa. Whānau, family. Whare, buildings.