Play, eat, learn, live

Planning for termtime: My Big Five - Part 5

2012-01-30T16:27:00.002+11:00

The last of the big jobs in getting ready for term to start is, unlike the other four, one I've only initiated this year, and it's this:

5. Plan out my own schedule for the first two terms, including 2 mental health days / "days off"

Yes, I live the cliche - I plan for the needs, desires and schedules of my family, but often forget about myself.

Of course this isn't 100% true, as many of the family events, activities and happenings are for me as much as for the kids and G (I am greatly looking forward to piano lessons with E, for instance, and to our mid-term beach holiday). Nonetheless, I do tend to forget about putting my own activities into the mix when planning for termtime, and in the past two years in particular, this has certainly contributed to stresspoints in the early weeks as I try to integrate them post facto into an already streamlined schedule.

The things I have tried to factor in for my term 1 & 2 plan are the known variables that I must allow time for, both in preparation and delivery, that need to be either kid-free or where I need to strategise carefully for the kids to be fully occupied. This is things such as:

- 2 x school council meetings (evenings) and 4 x half-days doing school council work
- 4 x teaching mornings at Sunday School (half-day prep, half-day delivery apiece)
- Approximately 8 days' worth of contract work (known & booked) for term 1 (of necessity this is a rubbery estimate only, as work can vaporise or blow out with very little notice)
- 1 x physio appointment per fortnight (I have found I cannot do this with the kids in tow; it is a recipe for utter disaster. I need to allow 1.5 hrs total for treatment and travel.)
- 4 x volunteer sessions in the school kitchen / cooking program
- Involvement in charity / not for profit events and activities (usually 1-3 things across the two terms)
- 1 x lunch / dinner out for G and I for our anniversary in early March

Of course, most of the things I do across a week are completely integratable with the kids, and so I haven't considered things like shopping, party planning, cooking, housework, playgroup, writing (and blogging!) in my term 1 & 2 list. I've only put in things which require me to schedule significant blocks of time alone to accomplish them.

One thing I've decided to do is to schedule 2 mental health days - 1 per term - for myself. This might seem like a bit of an indulgence, and in reality I suppose it is, but sometimes I can find the pace of my life a little tiring, especially when G travels for work (as he'll be doing quite a bit again in the coming months).

So I've decided that one Thursday per term, I'm going to use the 6.5 hours that the girls are at school and C is at creche to spend time just doing something for myself. I'm not sure yet what form that will take. I might have a massage, go shopping and lunch with a friend; I might bake something fancy, curl up with a pile of good books and a flask of tea and read, doze and dream. I might swim laps and go to a market; I might go to the movies and watch daytime TV. I might dig up the garden, play games, or visit my Mum. I might meet up with bloggy friends and go somewhere fun!

Whatever form it takes, once a term I am going to make myself have a day off, not just because I think I'll be a better parent for it (although I do), not just because I think it'll help improve my stamina and keep me going (although it will), but because I would like to, I think it will make me happier, and I think my happiness matters.

Sunday Selections: Back to the Future in the DeLorean

2012-01-29T14:23:00.007+11:00

G and I went to a friend's 4oth birthday party last night. The theme was the 80s, and the birthday boy, who's a pop culture aficionado as well as an active member of the comics / action figurine / collectibles world, had arranged for a guy he knows to come along with his fully tricked-out Back to the Future DeLorean.

!!!!!!

The photos aren't great photos - they're all phone ones - but honestly, who cares? You can see the details and that's all the counts.

The level of detail was astonishing; my mind boggles at the amount of loving work that has been put into this vehicle. Even the brand names on the parts were right, and the flux capacitor actually pulsed. A-MAZ-ING.

So i sat in the DeLorean and remembered the movies and felt like a teenager again and it was great.

Other people are sharing photos at frogpondsrock's Sunday Selections today. There are some goodies; well worth a look!

Planning for termtime: My Big Five - Part 4

2012-01-28T16:15:00.000+11:00

After we get school supplies and lunch plans worked out, extracurriculars locked in, and book our autumn holiday, the next thing I try to do is:

4. Make opportunities for special one-on-one time for each of the big girls with me and with their Dad before school goes back

I find - often - that one of my biggest challenges in parenting three children is finding opportunities to have one-on-one time with each child. Over the summer, all the kids get plenty of time with me and with G, too, but it's as a group, not, unless we specifically plan for it, one on one.

This summer each of my big girls has had a 2-night sleepover at my Mum's house by themselves, so each kid has had time just with me and C while their school-aged sibling has been away. C has been back at her Thursday creche for 2 weeks, too, which has given me two days with just the big girls and I. While they've certainly enjoyed that, it's not been quite a substitute for one-on-one activities and time.

All three of them, despite their very different personalities, crave and need this personal time with parents. C has been asking me for three weeks now, "When are the big gels going back a school?" with a plaintive note in her voice. She goes on to say, with great satisfaction, "THEN we have our Mummy an' C days!" She loves and needs the rhythm of days that can be more 3-year-old-centric (and having most of my attention without sharing!)

With the older two, I see the need for one-on-one time in increasing attention-seeking behaviours and complaints that things aren't fair / obsessing over imagined privileges that the other one has allegedly received. Both G and I have noticed that a special outing with Mum or Dad for each kid works wonders in reducing this wearing competitiveness between them. (And it is tiring to listen to over and over, as I'm sure anyone with more than one child can appreciate!)

In termtime, the structure of our activities provides regular injections of one on one time. A and G do guitar lessons together, while E and I will be doing piano. In termtime I do the groceries on Sunday afternoon and take A with me; G and E stay home and play board games while C naps.

Somehow, in summer, it seems to be harder to find the one-on-one opportunities, but I really believe it's important that we do so before school goes back. So I'm taking E out to get her hair cut and have morning tea tomorrow, and I'll take A with me to grocery shop in the afternoon (and probably take the opportunity for a cuppa again!) G is going to spend some time playing games with E while A and I shop (and C naps), and he and A are back to guitar lessons Tuesday night, which he'll follow with a visit to the ice creamery for her.

For us, this makes a lot of difference to everyone's feeling of readiness to get back into the swing of things.

Planning for termtime: My Big Five - Part 3

2012-01-26T08:34:00.001+11:00

Following on from sorting out school supplies and lunchbox contents and locking in extracurriculars, the third thing I do in these lead-up weeks that makes going back to school more pleasant is:

3. Plan and book our autumn holiday

We have a strong tradition of late summer - autumnal holidays in our family. Before G and I had kids, we travelled a few times, and all of them in the Australian autumn (granted, we travelled sometimes to places where we found spring!)

Since we've had the girls, we've holidayed five times, on all but one occasion between late February and early April (our Gippsland farm holiday, last October, being the sole exception).

There are a few reasons for this preference. Firstly, G usually finds it difficult to get time off work over the long summer break (he can, and does, take odd days here and there - like much of the nation, I expect, he's got tomorrow off to make a 4-day weekend of Australia Day - but periods of a week or longer are very hard.) Secondly, everything is more expensive travel-wise in the summer peak, and friends' holiday houses, on which we have relied twice already, are not available when the family is using them itself. Thirdly, everything is more crowded, especially at popular places, and the heat can get really uncomfortable. Fourthly, we all enjoy having the summer hanging about at home - day trips and excursions, exploring our own spaces, suit us on the long staycation.

While weather is often chancier (naturally), we've had reasonable luck with it so far - each of our autumn holidays (Mornington Peninsula, Phillip Island, Echuca and Anglesea) has had at least half the days fine and warm, and we have always been able to find fun things to do on the colder days.

Locking in our autumn holiday now allows me to:
- Book holiday houses (if available) or inexpensive paid accommodation
- Give the girls a real say in where we go - we can discuss options, make enquiries, choose somewhere together because the time is there to do so
- Get husband's leave locked in, and allows me to give plenty of notice to the companies I occasionally contract to regarding unavailability
- Build anticipation and give us something to look forward to in what can be a hectic first term

In all but one instance so far (3 out of 4), we have holidayed in a termtime week. This raised no eyebrows when it was A skipping a week of 3-year-old then 4-year-old kinder, but last year, when we took E out of Prep and A out of Grade 2 for a week, a few people questioned whether it was a wise decision. Obviously I feel it was, as we're doing it again this year, but I know there are different views on it. (Do you have a view? Tell, tell!)

Taking a week out of term one actually worked very well for us last year; the girls really benefited from the downtime, they read heaps, played maths games and Scrabble, kept holiday diaries, explored wildlife and the ocean, sent postcards to their classes, and generally, I'm quite convinced, learned every bit as much as they would have at school. The school was a little cooler on the idea initially but ended up being quite happy, as it was apparent that neither kid had lost ground in their sneaky 7 days off :-) I hope they'll see it my way again when I once again present my letters excusing both girls for a week this term, but even if they're not super keen, it's my decision to make - they are my children and it is our family needs, which are best served by this holiday pattern, that I need to consider.

Medicine

2012-01-25T09:09:00.003+11:00

it started so badly. a day
for headaches and shouting, temper and tears. so I thought.
a day to be endured, not enjoyed, this too shall pass
every little gnat bite of irritation unbearable on friable skin

the day before someone had said, come to the park with us? and I said sure
on the somewhat curmudgeonly premise
that misery loves company.

the day was bright, hot
but the park shaded, inviting. I sat under a tree
talked and ate fruit, and listened too
while children ran and laughed together
in the patchy summer grass.

market day it was, and
the pleasures of the beach stalls lay open to us. we wandered
the sky the most brilliant blue, hats at full mast
fingering stamp blocks and necklaces, books and wall hangings.
my little one fell in love with a carved wooden owl, and I
with a dragonfly painting
iridescent and inviting
in the heat of the sun.

lunch at a cafe - rarest of pleasures - and the knot
that had twisted my insides to sour ruin was unravelling

then the library, cool and calm
a middle girl lost in a book, a galaxy away
and a little girl on my knee, her head against mine
as I read her Ten Little Ducks over and over.

finally, through the park to the beach
the Police band was piping
our steps carried on a wave of Amazing Grace

to play, cool and safe, under the pier
away from the sun, immersed in the water

sandy-home to wash and eat again

and the gnats no longer sting, although I still swat at them
coated in the armour of summer and love
(and perspective)
as I am.

- Kathy, 25/1

Planning for termtime: My Big Five - Part 2

2012-01-24T10:36:00.004+11:00

The second thing I do to get ready for term going back is:

2. Make any final decisions necessary about extracurricular activities, book them in, and pay for them

The shape of a termtime week is not just determined by school and creche, but by the out-of-school / care activities that the kids do. I've always wanted the girls to be able to do things and try things that interest them, but this has to be balanced against the costliness of extracurriculars and the toll they take on the relaxed free-play time that I believe younger kids sorely need after school.

For the past two years I've said each child can do no more than two activities per term in addition to swimming (all three kids do swimming lessons on Saturday mornings - we all go and make it family time. My husband and I think swimming is a really important life skill). The big kids have dabbled in dancing, cricket, athletics and basketball, but for the last two years their constant has been gymnastics, which the toddler also started in 2011. My 8 year old started doing guitar lessons in term 4 last year and is loving that, while my 6 year old is taking up piano with me this year. The toddler and I also go to playgroup during school hours one morning a week.

This year, the big girls have expressed a very strong desire to try dancing again, and both are urging me to get them riding lessons / join a pony club. They also want to keep going with gymnastics!

Laying out the week in visual form - which I can do once all the extracurriculars are locked in - lets me see where there might be opportunities to expand activities, and also where flashpoints of pressure might lie. I can then show the girls - and have them really take in - what two MORE activities would do to our week, even supposing I could afford them :-)

By locking in and paying early, I also make sure that we get the timeslots that best suit our needs (for instance, getting simultaneous classes for the big girls at gymnastics, which makes my week so much more doable). The longer you wait, the less likely you will have your pick of times in most things.

So for our extra-activity dilemma, I've suggested, and the girls have agreed, that we take the opportunity to do trial dancing classes at a few different places in term 1, and if they are still really committed to doing it, they can swap out gymnastics for dancing in term 2. Actually - although I'm not telling them this yet! - we might be able to squeeze dancing in as an extra, as I've managed to structure the week in term 1 so we only have one afternoon where we're out from schooltime til dinnertime and Saturday mornings committed. Music lessons are in the evenings, after dinner, but as hubs will take the 8 year old to guitar and I'll remain with the others, and I will take the 6 year old to piano while he stays back, this is a lot less difficult logistically.

Working out the extracurriculars early and locking them in lets you see the shape of things to come much more clearly, and to plan your weeks accordingly. This is why it appeals to me!

Planning for termtime: My Big Five - Part 1

2012-01-23T07:35:00.000+11:00

As the end of the summer holidays approaches (too fast, too fast ... this break hasn't felt nearly long enough), I'm starting to try to work out the logistics of the first half of the year for us. I say "try to" advisedly, as nothing ever goes fully to plan, things change, people get sick, unexpected hiccups and opportunities arise, and plans have to be ditched or at least radically altered. All the same, illusory as it might be, I like to try to get a handle on how our termtime weeks are going to roll, if only because I find chaos exhausting if it goes on too long. (Yes, I might have control issues too :-)

There are five key things that I have done in these two weeks leading up to school over the past three years, that seem to have made things easier. Each day this week I'm going to post about one of them, starting with the most obvious and probably dull, but oh-so-necessary one.

1. Get all the school supplies, uniforms, books et al 100% prepared

This might sound self-evident, especially with all the Back to School advertising bombarding the airwaves; but I have found that I, at least, have a distressing tendency to overlook things, or amble along comfortably certain that all is done only to discover, 10 minutes before we have to leave on day 1, that something rather critical has been forgotten.

What I do now is to make a list of EVERYTHING that's needed for school, then literally lay it out on the lounge room floor in full daylight so I can see what's missing, what's stained or torn, what's broken, what's too small or too short to fit. My list for each child goes roughly like this -

4 x polo tops
2 x dresses
2 x shorts
4 x trackpants
1 x winter dress
2 x jumpers
1 x jacket
1 x leather school shoes
1 x sneakers
10 x school socks (white)
3 x hats
1 x lunchbox
1 x water bottle
1 x book and stationery pack (thankfully, purchased from the school as a self-contained set for a reasonable price!)
1 x tissue box
1 x set of headphones
1 x USB stick
1 x schoolbag
1 x library bag

Once I've checked all that and filled any gaps / fixed any problems, I then make a list of lunchbox foods that I'm going to rely on in term 1. This might sound incredibly dull but it has saved my bacon on numerous occasions. I only do a term list for this as kids' tastes change, but most of the term 1 lunchboxes will be filled from these options, and the components go automatically on my shopping list.

I am brutally honest on this list - I only include foods I know the kids will eat and enjoy. My children, for example, don't eat salad other than pasta or potato salad, and won't eat raw vegetables. Rather than rail against this, I figure it's their tastes, and I work with it as much as I can. I tend to offer them new taste experiences at home or in restaurants rather than in their school lunches, because, frankly, they have enough to manage in a full school day without eating unpalatable food or going hungry. Each kid gets one thing from each category per day. This term 1, the list goes like this:

Main
Sandwich - Cheese & Vegemite, Salmon, Honey, Ham, Avocado, Jam, Tomato & Cheese.
Sushi rolls (California, salmon & avocado)
Bacon & egg pies
Zucchini slice
Cold chicken legs
Hardboiled eggs
Tub of pasta or potato salad
Cold roasted veggies

Fruit
Banana, apple, strawberries, watermelon, rockmelon, pear, tubs of fruit puree.

Savoury snack
Crackers, pretzels, savoury muffins, Le Snacks, muesli bars, wedges of cheese, parboiled carrots

Sweet snack
Brownie, cupcake, slice, muffin, hot cross bun, cookies

It all helps me get prepared for the term and feel like things are a bit more manageable.

Sunday Selections: Miss A's camera

2012-01-22T09:08:00.004+11:00

My 8 year old, A, got a camera for Christmas. It's just a little point-and-shoot Olympus, but she is enjoying hugely getting to know it and its capabilities. (The trick filters have been particularly enjoyed by her).

Here is her own selection of a few favourite photos from the past three weeks. (NB There were several good shots of both her and her 6 year old sister, but they decided between them that they'd rather not be pictured full-face in this post. I absolutely respect that, and will continue to abide by their wishes in this regard.)

A particularly likes the drawing filter on her camera, and has taken some charmingly arty shots that make our house look positively pretty :-)

She also likes taking portraits and has a good eye for it.

It's a different world for young photographers these days - I remember my first camera, a little Kodak I got for my 10th birthday that took awful shots unless you were exceedingly lucky, and that you had to pay precious pocket money to develop the film. I'm sure A and her peers are going to be better, more natural photographers than my generation, because they have so many more opportunities to play with the medium.

This post is part of Sunday Selections at frogpondsrock. Check out the links over there for more photosets!

Reading Notes: The Telling

2012-01-19T16:51:00.000+11:00

(This post is part of the Once a Month Book Club link up over at A Permanent Flux. This month's theme is A favourite author).

Where my guides lead me in kindness
I follow, I follow lightly,
and there are no footprints
in the dust behind us.

The Telling by Ursula K LeGuin (2000) is the story of Sutty, a woman of a future Earth, who travels to Aka, a faraway planet, as an Observer, and is confronted, confused, hurt, but ultimately liberated by what she finds there.

Actually, that's vast over-simplification of this beautiful, strange and alien work of one of my favourite writers of the science fiction / fantasy genre - in fact, one of my favourite writers, full stop. But the thing about Ursula K LeGuin's stories is that the essential plot is almost always bare and simple to the point of austerity. I could adequately summarise the events / action of every one of her books in one Tweet apiece - 140 characters would be ample, in fact.

The depth and power of her work doesn't come from tricky, complex plotting or a vast, crowded stage of major characters chattering their way into the reader's consciousness. Rather, what Le Guin does so amazingly, heart-breakingly well is to tell stories about culture and difference, to use the POV of an outsider or a narrator to build social structures which the reader can also watch but never really join, linked as we are to the outsider consciousness of the main character. Reading Ursula LeGuin is like looking through a cracked glass at a picture of a room that you don't know - some things seem (are intended, I believe, to seem) oddly distorted, weirdly bent, inexplicable, because you are not seeing the whole picture; or rather, not seeing it from within, the way that only a person embedded in their culture can do.

In this, it's hard not to see the influence of both of LeGuin's parents - distinguished anthropologists Alfred Kroeber and Theodora Brown Kroeber, both famous, among other things, for their work with Ishi, the last of the Yahi Indians. LeGuin's deep, loving familiarity with anthropology is absolutely key to her treatment of alien cultures in all her books. The sense of loss and longing and lack of comprehension that fills Sutty on Aka, the sense that LeGuin conveys so poignantly of the observer coming late to a culture in flux and trying to understand it, is, I think, indubitably the gift of a person who has been steeped in anthropological knowledge.

One of the reasons that this book in particular is a favourite of mine (rather than the better-known The Left Hand of Darkness, or the lovely, lovely Earthsea cycle) is that it weaves Sutty's attempts to understand Old Aka - and what happened to it - into her own personal grief and misery, and her painful, bleak history informs her actions on Aka in a way that I find utterly believable and utterly sad.

Sutty is deeply flawed (aren't all non-obnoxious protagonists?) but she really has suffered and that past, invading the present, is what saves her from being merely shallow and trite in her observations. This is her journey to find, to understand, the now-banned cultural system of belief / living (which she labels, eventually, The Telling, for want of a better term, but she acknowledges, and the reader feels - with frustration - is not really an adequate descriptor). It's also her journey through the darkness of the fundamentalist planet she grew up on, and the crimes - motivated entirely differently, or are they? - committed there.

At the end of the day Sutty picks a side pretty unambiguously - another example of her flawed, fractured personality, in fact, given the distance that is an essential part of her task. The book, to be fair, certainly endorses her choice; it's impossible to get to the end and feel anything positive for New Aka and its suppression of The Telling. But there is nuance here, and understanding, and, much as Sutty herself might hate the phraseology - there is redemption. Sutty sees it herself as a price, an awful price, paid to unshackle the future:

His life, that was what underwrote her bargaining. His life, Pao's life. Those were the intangible, incalculable stakes. The money burned to ashes, the gold thrown away. Footsteps on the air.

Winners and Answers

2012-01-17T13:35:00.003+11:00

Winners

My giveaway for season passes to Adventure Park Victoria closed at 5pm yesterday. There were 6 sterling entrants and I found it difficult to choose between you (I wish I had 6 passes to give away :-( In the end, though, I've chosen the following two:

1. Grace of Lachinvasion , which is a very good blog just by the by, who gave me a fascinating picture of a very different childhood summer to my own:

I grew up in Malaysia so everyday is like summer, hot, sunny, humid... but it rains, a LOT. During the holidays, my parents pack all 3 kids at the back of a car and we drive up north to visit the grandparents. It's a 7 hour car ride! We lived in a wooden house on stilts, near the paddy fields. This is our "summer". We spend our days wading through the muddy rice fields looking for tadpoles, playing under the house on stilts with the chooks, dogs and goats, climbing trees, running barefooted, swimming in a river.... aahhh, such carefree, happy days. I wish my three kids could have the same experience. It's so different these days...

A trip to the Adventure Park would be just as awesome! :) Thank you for the opportunity...

2. MichVee, who wrote of a special summer trip to Queensland that was hard saved for and always remembered. Her comment resonated with me as I have similarly warm memories of the Queensland holiday my parents saved for after the death of my brother, which we were able to take due to the kindness of friends who lived on the Gold Coast and let us have their holiday rental unit at a peppercorn price. MichVee wrote:

For me, it would definately have to be the time my parents took us to Queensland. They had saved up for years (being on a disability pension since the passing of my brother made it so difficult to save but they were determined!) We went with a group of about 40, by bus. I remember being violently car sick on the way there. But I remember the immeasurable amount of fun I had, visiting the theme parks and swimming in the resort's swimming pool. More than twenty years later, I can still recall the sun kissing my shoulders, the sand between my toes, and the beautiful time I had.

Grace and MichVee, could you please email me at kathypllrd248 AT gmail.com (replace AT with @, just trying to minimise spam scraping!) by 5pm on Thursday 19th, providing a postal address, and I can arrange for your passes to be mailed to you.

Answers

Yesterday I asked some questions about the language of flowers, but although quite a few people read it, no-one wanted to have a guess. Anyway, as promised, here are the answers:

1. The meaning of lavender? Mistrust.
2. What white roses stand for? Infidelity.
3. Which fruit plant means "envy"? Blackberry.
4. Which herb means "good health and long life"? Sage.
5. Which beautiful flower says "truth"? Chrysanthemum.

Fun, isn't it?

Reading Notes: The Language of Flowers - A Miscellany

2012-01-16T12:41:00.008+11:00

Disclosure: I received a complimentary copy of this book for review purposes courtesy of Pan Macmillan Australia. No financial payment was offered nor accepted for this post. All opinions expressed are purely my own.

Of all the Victorian conceits, habits and fol-de-rols - romantic poetry, psychics and fortune tellers, memento mori, heavy furniture and delicate art - the one I'm most fascinated with is the language of flowers. Since first encountering the idea in Anne of Green Gables many years ago, I've been extremely taken with the idea of flowers conveying a message without words, of individual flowers representing something.

This very lovely little book, which highlights the history of 50 popular (European) flowers and their meanings, as well as providing a dictionary of moods with which to match a bloom, is a delight to someone like me, and my daughters, especially the eldest, have been enjoying it too.

While we have few representations of the flowers listed in our garden (which is predmoninantly Australian native plants!), we do have lavender, and we were all surprised (and slightly dismayed, I'll admit) to discover its customary meaning. We also have rosemary - which, as most people know, is for remembrance; pansies, which means "think of me"; geraniums in pots, which stand for true friendship; freesias, which are for "lasting friendship"; white jasmine, which is for amiability; and ivy, for fidelity. Once upon a time we had tulips, which are used as a declaration of love; and irises, which are "messengers". Isn't it lyrical?

The queen of flowers is, of course, the beautiful rose, and here each colour holds special meaning. We have a deep pink rose, which speaks of grace, and a newly-planted golden-orange standard, which is for fascination. In time we'll also have a white rose, whose message is destined to remain forever unfulfilled in this house.

So here's a game for you ... if you know the language of flowers, or just fancy a guess. (There is no prize, being right is its own reward :-) See if you can recall:

1. The meaning of lavender?
2. What white roses stand for?
3. Which fruit plant means "envy"?
4. Which herb means "good health and long life"?
5. Which beautiful flower says "truth"?

I'll post the answers tomorrow. Or, you could always buy this lovely little book and look it up yourself!

Sunday Selections: Sky

2012-01-15T08:24:00.004+11:00

Today for Sunday Selections I have dug out some of my favourite photos of the sky.

I love photographing the sky in all its moods - clouds, colour and patterns both fascinate and soothe me. In fact, I find gazing into the sky a remarkably calming activity, and often my response to being stressed out or angry is to go outside, take a deep breath or ten, and stare into the expanse above me for 5 minutes. It sure beats screaming at everyone, that is for certain.

I am also a dedicated star gazer, and one of the few times I pine for a really good camera is when I'm looking at a beautiful night sky without any way to record it.

Still, for now, I'll make do with clouds and rainbows, sunsets and storms.

Kim at frogpondsrock hosts Sunday Selections each week, a meme where people can show some of the many photos we all take that sit around mouldering on hard drives. Have a look over there for more links to photo collections.

Making music

2012-01-12T13:04:00.006+11:00

My dad is very musical. (He's also artistic - a painter - which rather begs the question as to how he ended up in a science profession). I grew up in a household where the casual making of music was normal - Dad would whip out his guitar and we'd play around with harmonies and melodies, often.

For me, I learned piano as a child. I wasn't very good, but nor was I awful, just pedestrian; able, with practice, to gain adequate competence (and to learn to read musical notation, which is a skill I happily retain to this day). I haven't played for a really long time, though, and I'm rusty.

My husband G spend a brief period in high school playing clarinet and then saxophone, but never, he tells me, attained great competence in either, and has no useful memory of them. He does, however, have a wonderful singing voice, and loves music - always has.

When I was pregnant with my youngest child, 3 years ago now, G expressed a desire to learn to play the guitar. We procured him an instrument but the year that followed C's birth was so full-on that it was pushed to the back of a cupboard for easier times. In 2010, as things started to settle down, G got out his guitar and taught himself a few basics from Internet tutorials, but it was hard for him to make real progress that way.

Then, last year, G and E, my 6 year old, started guitar lessons together. While G took to it quickly, it was a bit much for E - she found the attentiveness necessary hard to sustain and strumming guitar strings didn't satisfy her need to feel pressure under her fingers (that is, itself, a post or ten, but probably not for here, maybe for my private blog). My 8 year old took over her lesson slot in term 4 and instantly proved herself to be a fine little guitarist in the making. She and her Dad are already playing simple tunes together and it's giving them such enjoyment, I can't tell you how nice it is to see them both flourishing.

E, G and I talked about it and concluded that the instrument that would best suit her needs (and that I'd be happy to do with her) was the piano. Pianos can be rented, or keyboards purchased, of course, but to do either is an investment, and certainly buying one was out of the question for us this year (until I land my Dream Job TM, whenever that may be :-)

Then, earlier this week, a colleague of my husband's offered us a piano. For free. In perfect condition. All we had to pay was the transportation costs.

Then yesterday my friend and her daughters came for a playdate - my friend who is, by trade, a music teacher, and who has offered to teach E and I privately, at a time of mutual convenience.

Amazing how kind people are sometimes; amazing how the universe gives you a free one, sometimes.

It was delivered today and already the 6 year old is in love, and my fingers are remembering the pleasure of drawing music from a piano. I know there is work and practice ahead for us all, and that the kids will go through stages of being bored with it and wanting to chuck it.

But oh, I am happy at the thought of a housefull of music, no matter how hesistant and bumpy it is at first.

Explaining food restrictions to toddlers (or, a post on trying not to break little hearts)

2012-01-10T11:42:00.003+11:00

18 months old
At breakfast time she offers me a dripping spoonful of her Weetbix. milky and lightly sweet with a dusting of brown sugar.

"No, sweetheart, I can't," I say, regretfully. "It will make Mummy sick."

Her brow creases in concentration and puzzlement. "'Ick? Mama? No 'ick, 's yum!" She demonstrates, shoving the spoon into her mouth, smacking her lips to show me. "See, Mama. Good!"

I smile and wipe her dribbly chin, pushing my own bowl of cereal further away from the flight path of the gluten-carrying spoon.

Sharing food is the first sign of altruism humans display. I cannot receive her gift.

2 years old
"Mummy, let's 'ave a sammich fo' yunch," says the toddler firmly.

"I'll make you one, honey," I agree. "I'll have some soup."

A storm cloud begins to gather. "NO, Mummy. You 'ave sammich wi' me! We SHARE!"

I sigh. "Love, Mummy can't share your sandwich. Remember, it makes me sick? I'm sorry, honey."

She thinks on it. "Cos of gee-yuten," she announces finally, reproducing a word she's heard me, and her older sisters, say time and again when talking about food.

"Yes, because of gluten," I agree, hugging her. "Gluten is OK for you, but not for Mummy. It does bad things to my tummy."

She strokes my face gently. "Why?" she asks.

I don't know how to answer.

2 and a half years old
"Mummy, I fell over! Give me kiss!" Sniffing and dirty, she runs to me. Automatically, I reach down to wipe her face with a tissue. She turns her face away from my hand, angry.

"Kiss me now, Mummy! Clean me up later!"

I sigh. "Honey, you've been eating a bread roll ... let me just get the crumbs away, it'll only take a minute."

She submits to the wiping tissue.

Almost 3 years old
She runs to me, arms wide, giggling, and I scoop her up and cover her face with kisses. She giggles in delight, then stops, and pushes me suddenly away.

"No kissing near my mouf, Mummy," she admonishes seriously. "I was eating barbeque shapes before, an' I have gluten on my mouf." She waggles a finger at me. "You will get sick, Mummy!"

I hug her tight. She understands now. She doesn't try to share food with me, and she even thinks about her crumb-laden chin when we are playing.

I don't know whether to be glad or grieved.

Sunday Selections: Holidays

2012-01-08T08:15:00.001+11:00

Kim at frogpondsrock is running Sunday Selections today, a photography meme where people can display some of the many photos that we all take that just sit around on computers. Today, I thought I'd choose a theme of Holidays and show a couple of favourite photos from each of our family holidays: the Mornington Peninsula (2007), Phillip Island (2008), Echuca (2010), Wangaratta (2010), Anglesea (2011), the Yarra Valley (2010 & 2011) and Gippsland (2011).

This was our first family holiday, down the Mornington Peninsula. A was 3 1/2, and E was 22 months old. I love the tiny girl, giant chess photo a lot.

Our holiday the following year was in Phillip Island. The girls were fascinated with sea creatures (appropriately enough!) at the time and loved it when their Dad found them a crab to look at.

Our first holiday as a family of 5 was in March 2010, to Echuca. The big kids decided that it was the right time to introduce C (then 13 months old) to the joys of ice cream.

Wangaratta was a shorter trip (in July 2010) but great fun, especially as the eldest, then 7, was fascinated with animal skeletons, of which the bush property we stayed at provided many.

Our Anglesea holiday in March 2011 was very relaxing time for us all, and the first holiday of which C has any memory.

Staying at my aunt and uncle's vineyard in the Yarra Valley is always wonderful, and winter mists provide some spectacular morning views.

Our farm / beach holiday near Walkerville in Gippsland last October was, the kids assure me, "the best holiday yet." It certainly was full of a lot of joy and great memories for us all.

So that's my Sunday Selection for this week - family holidays. It inspires me to start thinking more seriously about scheduling the next one!

The Toilet of the Future

2012-01-07T15:38:00.002+11:00

On Thursday, I took my three girls and my friend J's daughter, M, who'd stayed overnight with us on a holiday sleepover, to a local park next to a lake. The kids played hide and seek, swung on swings, ran up and down hills, and watched people fishing the lake with great interest. We had a picnic lunch on the grass in the shade, and all was well.

After lunch we decided to walk a little along the lakeside to see if we could spot more water birds. And that's when we found what all four girls unanimously declared to be the highlight of the day:

The Toilet of the Future.

I've seen these kinds of automated public facilities before, but obviously none of the kids had. They all approached the sleek metal door with its flashing lights and buttons with caution, like a pack of timorous cats.

"What is it?" wondered E, brushing her fingers over the smooth surface.

"Press the button, let's see!" said her sister, and they all poured inside when the door opened, filled with curiosity.

As the door shut behind us, the music started playing, much to the kids' amazement and delight.

"It's like a show, while you wee!" exclaimed one gleefully.

Another had plunked herself down to avail herself of the facility. "Hey, look!" she chorused. "You don't even have to pull the loo paper - it just gives it to you by itself!" She waved the wisp of paper in the air excitedly.

The real amazement was reserved for when they discovered that the toilet flushed automatically when one placed hands under the taps (which also turned on automatically). "That is, like, super clever," breathed one child reverently. "How does it know?"

A, my 8 year old, spoke up, christening the loo: "It's as if we're in a book or a movie! Like in the future! It does everything for you - it's the Toilet of the Future!"

"Toyet of da Future! Toyet of da Future!" chortled C gleefully, jumping up and down.

"It does do everything," agreed E, eyes shining. "I bet the Queen has a toilet like this. I bet the Queen doesn't have to do anything for herself when she goes to the loo."

There was a pause.

"Well, except the actual weeing and pooing part," said A meditatively, shoving her hands under the (automatic) hand dryer.

"Yes, you can't outsource that bit," I put in, and they all giggled.

As we headed back across the lakeside path, the four girls ran ahead, singing, "Toilet-of-the-FUTURE! Toy-toy-toy-let of the FEWWWWWWWW-CHA!" at the top of their lungs.

It was a fun day :-)

Adventure Park Geelong: Review and Giveaway

2012-01-05T08:32:00.012+11:00

Disclosure: My family was provided with free entry to the Adventure Park, meal vouchers and a VIP cabana for the day of our visit, courtesy of Porter Novelli and Adventure Park Geelong. No payment was offered or accepted for this post, and all opinions expressed are my own.

Maybe it's just me, but when I think of theme parks, Queensland - and California! - are what spring immediately to mind, rather than regional Victoria. G and I had talked in a desultory sort of way about maybe doing a family holiday to the Gold Coast and doing the Dreamworld / Movieworld / Seaworld thing at some point, but, to be honest, we found the idea pretty underwhelming with three little kids and a single income; it's an expensive business, interstate vacations.

I had been vaguely aware that there was a theme park near Geelong - we've stayed in Anglesea a few times over the past three years and have been to Geelong a half dozen times, each time passing colourful billboards promoting the park. I hadn't really processed it though and if I am being frank, I imagined it to be a few waterslides and maybe some paddle boats - a low-key sort of water fun place, nice to stop at if you are staying nearby, but not necessarily worth a special trip.

After our enormous day at Adventure Park on 27 December, however, I'm revising that very mistaken impression completely. The Adventure Park is a multi-faceted, professional, and very fun place, with many more activities and options than I had imagined.

Our day at the Park was quite cool initially, although it warmed up later (and, in fact, I wasn't nearly as sun-smart with the kids and myself as I should have been, forgetting to reapply sunscreen after water play and ending up with an 8 year old with red shoulders and myself with a cherry nose. Ooooops.) Settling ourselves in our VIP cabana, we ventured into the completely awesome water play labyrinth before us, but, as I'd suspected, the chill wind, cold water and cloudiness quickly proved too much for my extremely cold sensitive 6 year old. She and I spent a fair portion of the morning sitting in the cabana sipping water, eating strawberries and watching the world go by, sometimes accompanied by the toddler, sometimes not (toddler was happy paddling a lot of the time).

My 8 year old, however, who would not be averse to skinny dipping in Antarctica, dragged her Dad around all the water attractions except the big slides. I couldn't count how many times the two of them floated down the lazy river. She thought it was the best. thing. ever.

Lunch was obtained from the park for husband and kids, but not for me - anticipating the probable lack of options, I brought rice paper rolls from home for myself, and it was lucky I did, as there were no real gluten free meals options available. This is a small point - the food quality, from what I could see, was high and the family certainly enjoyed their meals - but I think it would be ideal if venues like this maybe catered one allergy safe option (a g free, lactose free, nut free salad wrap springs to mind as something that is relatively easy to get right).

At this point, I admit, that while we were really enjoying ourselves, I wondered if it would really be worth the price of admission for a larger-than-standard family (such as ours) with most of the children under 8. This is especially true as Adventure Park doesn't do family ticket pricing, a model that serves to contain extreme costs for some other attractions we've been to. Water play is great and the water facilities are the best I've ever seen, but I worked out the maths and it would've cost us north of $120 just to get in for the day, and I couldn't see that amount of value could possibly be squeezed from the water adventures (however fun! however splashy!)

This is where Adventure Park really came into its own for us, however. I'd forgotten, or somehow neglected to take in, that there are lots of other things to do at the Park other than get hilariously wet. And it was in the "dry" afternoon that we really hit our stride, especially Miss 6.

So what did we do, from lunch til dragging ourselves car-wards at 4:30?

- We watched the Bonito Pirate Stage Show, which was light, cute, a bit cheesy, but enjoyed by all the kids
- We drove electric bumper cars. Wheeeee!
- We rode the carousel - a real, old-fashioned, beautiful one - 6 times.
- We played on the enormous air cushion (like a jumping castle on steroids)
- We took a train ride around the Park and the kids used their new cameras to take shots
- We watched paddle boats, canoes and water bikes splashing about on the water

There were other activities, too, that weren't age-appropriate for our kids but would be fun with older ones (like the tube water slides and the archery range).

All in all, I'm now completely converted to the idea that Adventure Park represents good value for a "special" family day out - as part of a staycation, perhaps (like the one we had between Christmas and New Year). The option to bring food in and the excellent BBQ and picnic facilities allows you to budget the day fairly tightly, as all the activities are included in the entry price (park food was, I thought, reasonably priced for attraction food - better than at other places I've been - but there's no doubt that with a family like ours, you wouldn't get much change from $70 if you had to buy all your food, snacks and drinks).

So would we go again? We not only would, we are - we're taking a family short-break down in Anglesea for 5 days in March and the kids have made it clear that one of the days is booked for Adventure Parking :-)

Competition

Adventure Park have kindly provided 2 season passes to be given away to readers of this blog. The passes, valued at $74.99 each, entitle the bearer to unlimited free entry to the park for the whole of this summer season (until the park closes for winter on 29 April 2012). Check out this page for full terms and conditions.

Here's how to enter:

1. Leave a comment below telling me about a summer fun special experience from your childhood - something that really sticks out in your mind, something you might have only done once or occasionally but that shines in memory. (I have such memories of going to the Penguin Parade at Phillip Island, for instance).

2. I will select the most interesting two from the entries and each will win a season pass to Adventure Park.

Entries close at 5pm AEDT on Monday 16th January. Entrants must provide a valid email address and be an Australian resident. Judges' decision is final and no correspondence will be entered into.

Good luck!

UPDATE: This competition has now closed. Winners will be notified and then announced here. Thank you for playing!

Reading Notes: History as mystery

2012-01-04T14:06:00.000+11:00

I am a fairly dyed-in-the-wool crime fiction fan. I am also, by training, a historian. Those two interests are not at all disharmonious - all history involves an element of speculation, of reconstruction, of imaginative forensics if you like. (I don't believe in the notion of objectivity in history - or, for that matter, in fiction. The subjectivity of the writer is always there and always influential in shaping the presentation of the story, whether it's factually based or not).

Aside from any methodological symmetries, history is, of course, rife with actual, literal, mysteries; crimes unsolved (or solved unsatisfactorily), secrets half-discovered, motives unexplained or bizarre. Recorded history is a rich vein for novelists and conspiracy theorists alike (hello, Dan Brown) and it is an enormously popular one at that.

When really good writers combine history and mystery, the results are, to my mind, one of the most entirely satisfying reading experiences. (I don't mean mystery novels set in historical periods here, although there are many those I love too - I mean books that take on actual historical conundra). I've read a lot of so-so books in this genre, but three of my absolute favourites are PD James and TA Critchley's The Maul and the Pear Tree; Colin Dexter's The Wench is Dead; and Josephine Tey's wonderful novel The Daughter of Time, which I read for the first time before Christmas and was left amazed (and wondering why it had taken me so long to get to it!)

The Maul and the Pear Tree (1971) is mystery author PD James and historian TA Critchley's re-examination of the 1811 Ratcliff Highway murders. Although lacking the modern fame of the Jack the Ripper killings (and oh, what an industry those crimes have spawned), the Ratcliff Highway murders were nonetheless, in their time, among the most shocking and brutal crimes on record, causing massive public outcry and panic. The crime wave came in two parts. First, a young London draper, Timothy Marr, his wife, Celia, their 3-month-old son, Timothy, and teenage shop boy, James Gowan, were murdered in a short space of time within their shop / home, while their servant, Margaret Jewell, was out seeking to buy oysters. Twelve days later, a local publican, John Williamson, his wife, Elizabeth, and their servant Bridget Harrington were slaughtered in their pub, while the Williamsons' 14 year old grand-daughter Kitty slept through the whole thing and was unscathed. There was a fifth person in the house too: a lodger, John Turner, heard the crimes in progress and escaped out a window by knotting together some sheets (a panicked reaction that strikes me, even at this remove, as entirely human and understandable, if not particularly admirable).

What I found so engrossing about this text the first time I read it was its seamless integration of the solid and detailed historical scholarship of Critchley - the research is impeccable - with the deductive and creative brilliance of James. I have read many true crime books that either are badly, sloppily researched (and usually make overdrawn claims from inadequate evidence) or which, on the other side, plod along without ever weaving a coherent narrative, not brave enough to make deductive (and, necessarily, unprovable) leaps in order to come to a conclusion. The Maul and the Pear Tree is gripping, chilling, and convincing because it is neither light on historical fact nor beholden to it.

The Wench is Dead (1989) is, in my opinion, the very best of a very good series - Colin Dexter's Inspector Morse books. Following the literary device employed so successfully by Josephine Tey thirty years earlier (see The Daughter of Time, below), the plot revolves around Dexter's detective, Morse, lying in a hospital bed, bored, and becoming intrigued with a historical mystery. (The case that Morse investigates is based on a real murder case from the 1830s, the murder of a woman named Christina Collins, but Dexter changes names, facts and details to adapt the case more fully to his plot - unlike The Maul and the Pear Tree, this is not a "straight" historical mystery investigation).

It's a reasonably little book - no chunky tome here - but it is such a gem. Morse's interrogation of documentary evidence, using his detective abilities, is a joy to read and completely satisfying in its denouement. The evocation of life on the canals is utterly wonderful. I've read this book time and again since first encountering it in the 1990s, and it never disappoints.

The best of them all, though, is the oldest - Josephine Tey's 1951 book The Daughter of Time, in which she uses her bed-bound detective, Alan Grant, to investigate, reason and argue the case for Richard III as a spectacularly maligned historical innocent, rather than the nephew-killing monster of popular (Tudor-era and modern) mythology.

What I love - adore - about this text is how Grant and his helpers come to understand and explain how history is made. Not how things happen - that's not history, that's just things happening. Rather, history, in the sense it's used here, is the authoritative account of what happened, the approved picture of events, the received wisdom, the things everyone knows about what happened (even if it didn't actually, well, happen). The title of the book is taken from a quote from Francis Bacon: "Truth is the daughter of time, not of authority." This book is the quintessential and wonderful epitome of this idea.

(As well as loving it, I'm convinced by it - unless a persuasive case is made in the other direction, I think Tey's made the default understanding to be that of Richard's innocence and quite amazing slandering, not guilt, with this effort).

So, if you are a mystery fan or a history fan (but especially if you're both), these three will all repay your time most handsomely.

Dog beach

2012-01-02T10:57:00.012+11:00

What to do to avoid:

a) heatstroke
b) cabin fever leading to high conflict
c) lack of physical activity that means poor fidgety sleep

on a day that's going to be 40 degrees or more?

Get out early and take the dog to the dog beach, that's what.

Our dog, Pokey, is still very poorly trained, but has become much better at returning to us when we call, making off-lead experiences possible. The local dog beach - which was already full of owners and dogs by the time we arrived - is a perfect place for him to have a good run, some puppy social time, and for the kids to also enjoy themselves.

Today, we left home just after 8am and the sun was already high (sunscreen and hats were not neglected), had a very pleasant hour and a half in the water, and were back in the car before 10am.

We came home to bath Pokey dog and three sandy children, eat chocolate chip cookies, fruit and chips, and now some TV time for them while I (attempt) to do some work. The house, which has had drawn curtains and is filled with wet sheets hanging up to dry, is still pleasant; we haven't even got our single air con unit on yet.

Often these half-formed little plans of mine fall over with minor or major catastrophes, but, once we actually got moving today, this was not such an occasion. (Mind you, getting out the door in the first place had its moments, as seems always to be the case these days ... that's a post for another day, or, perhaps more accurately, a rant for another day).

Once we got moving, though, it actually worked out well. Pokey was in his element, the kids splashed and shrieked and played amiably with each other, and G and I got to enjoy the cool water and the respite from hot-weather children grumps. Huzzah!

(Now it remains to be seen if I can actually push on with the work...)

Looking back, looking forward

2012-01-01T10:00:00.006+11:00

A friend and colleague said to me this week, as we were chatting about life goals and new years and deep, meaningful stuff, that she felt like this was going to be the year that we both came into our own; that something would be different, something important.

Thinking about the year that's beginning, by the calendar, today, I can't help but feel just an inkling of her conviction. Change is in the air. Forward motion. Moving to where isn't clear yet, necessarily, but I feel the potential of the new so much more strongly on this New Year's Day than I did starting 2011.

2011: A Year in Review
Last year was a lovely and needed one for me. Largely free of major griefs and serious traumas (unlike the two years that preceded it), it was my first year in adulthood of not being employed. Not working for money freed me to do a number of things - chiefly, to enjoy and embrace being able to focus on my children and our family life, but also to do more writing and more volunteering than ever before.

Highlights of the year were manifold, but our three holidays (to Anglesea in March, the Yarra Valley in July, and a farmstay in Gippsland in October) would definitely qualify, as would the three kids' birthday parties (in February, May and August respectively). The Indigo Girls concert that I attended with my eldest girl in April was wonderful, as was the kd lang concert that G and I went to in November. The three girls and I had a whale of a time at the Disney 3D Cars 2 screening in November, and we all loved the Wiggles concert we went to in March and the Scooby Doo stage show in July. Halloween and Christmas were fun for all concerned, and much less stressy than in previous years.

We had little pleasures seeded through the year, too. Watching the life cycle of our door spider, Daisy (a golden orb spinner), was amazing for us all. Baking was again a fun shared activity, a grace note in every week, as was reading, and art.

Other things were also deeply satisfying in 2011, such as seeing my second girl thrive in her first year of school, watching all three daughters gain proficiency in swimming and gymnastics, and discovering, to her and our mutual delight, that my eldest girl is a naturally talented guitarist (she's eating up her lessons). Being part of my baby's transition from toddlerdom to preschoolerdom (if that is a word) has been a privilege and a joy, and she's made me laugh almost every day with the things she comes out with.

I also greatly enjoyed having the freedom to do more volunteer things that I wanted to do - being on school council, helping to co-ordinate the community playgroup, doing school reading, school breakfast club, and school cooking, and being involved in the wonderful Community Blogging initiative. I found all these things rewarding, as I also found a small but delightful paid project that I completed in September- a bijoux little thing, engaging, challenging and enormously entertaining.

For the second year in a row, I completed NaNoWriMo in November, producing a second Frankie Loveday, Girl Detective story (aimed at 9-11 year old readers). I also did NaBloPoMo in the same month and managed that too, which was very satisfying, but also exhausting and made November quite a weird, detatched month in many ways. I lived too much of it inside my head, I think, and I won't double up the challenges that way again.

The year also had its challenges, of course, with major dental catastrophes and a run of ill-health eating up much of August and September, and a late wave of gastric trauma that interfered seriously with December. We're still coming to terms with a couple of significant behavioural curveballs that this year has intensified in two of our girls, and working out how to deal with them. Money gave us pause once or twice, and concerns about our own parents' health dramas had us worried.

All in all, though, I cannot complain. 2012 was a busy but lovely year, and it wasn't broken with painfulness. I am so grateful for that.

Goals for 2012
So what do I want 2012 to bring? Well, I want it to bring -

1. Greater mindfulness and sensitivity to my childrens' changing needs and personalities. In 2011 my goal was to be a more present parent, and I think I largely achieved that (with lapses, naturally). This year I want to work on being a more responsive parent, especially as two of my children have some quite complex and multi-faceted needs emerging.

2. A return to paid work, in some capacity, for me, but in a way that is not too disruptive to our family unit. Very part time would be ideal!

3. At least one family holiday away. We're tossing around venue ideas - so far there is a strong lobby in favour of Sydney, and another pressing the case for Merimbula, while the wildcard of returning to Phillip Island (where we holidayed, pre-C, in 2008) has also been mooted.

4. A commitment to build my skill and portfolio as a writer, and make genuine efforts, no matter how scary I find it, to get work published. I've always wanted to do this - and I do write, lots, and it's flowing better and more readily than it ever has. I don't want self esteem issues to hold me back anymore from at least trying my luck.

5. An increase in my community and volunteering work, and much greater involvement in social justice activities. It's definitely time for me to give more in this area, and I don't mean just money. I do find it very rewarding - it's by no means a martyrdom or a virtue in me to do these things; it's a hobby that feels both more meaningful and more permanent than many.

So, 2012, you can feel free to bring it on now. I feel ready; I'm poised for action.

What people read in 2011

2011-12-31T12:57:00.004+11:00

I was planning to take a more or less complete online break until tomorrow, but you know, life. We are running a dismal marathon known as the Gastro 500 around here and Twitter has been my sanity as I've comforted children and bathed them repeatedly and washed sheets and made up endless glasses of Gastrolyte. The 8 year old, first down with it (Vomit the First occurred at 11pm last night) is now pale, wan and tragic on the couch, occasionally raising a weak voice to request water or a cuddle. The 6 year old is still caught in the throes, although her dose seems a lot less severe than the 8 year old's - a half-dozen chucks, yes, but she's drinking heaps, even eating icypoles and crackers, and is still fairly perky. The toddler, the victim of a horrific gastric bug just three weeks ago, this time has miraculously escaped (THUS FAR), making me wonder if that awful week maybe gave her some useful immunity.

Today I really should have started work on the small contract job I've got in - it's due on 16 January and work opportunities will be even more constrained than usual in the coming fortnight with all three kids at home. But, as I'm on vomit patrol, clean-up crew, toddler-amusing detail, and laundry duties, plus the fact that I logged a whopping 2.5 hrs sleep (in two blocks) last night, that's just not been realistic.

Instead, in the slips and gaps of time between doing all the necessary stuff, I've been moaning on Twitter (how unusual for me!) and reading people's end-of-year blog posts. I've been particularly enjoying the list posts, where people are indicating their most-popular posts of the year (Miscellaneous Mum and Louisa Claire, I'm looking at you in particular). I've never done this before, partly because I am not very interested in or competent with stats, but I thought I'd check out Blogger's page to see what my 5 most read posts of the year turned out to be.

The results surprised me a little bit, but here they are - the top 5 read posts of 2011 on Play, Eat, Learn, Live.

1. An era is ending
This post that I wrote in July about my mixed feelings at what appeared to be the coming end of my breastfeeding of C was the most read post of the year - due, I'm sure, to being mentioned by the ever-popular Nicole in one of her round-up posts.

2. The Australian Eastern Seaboard Floods
I was a little surprised to note the ongoing reading numbers of this heartfelt but general post about the floods last January. I guess common tragedies do draw people's thoughts together.

3. We Play: Coloured Icypole Sticks
One of the last posts I did in Christie's now discontinued We Play meme, this post has had continuous trickling traffic all through the year from when it first appeared in April.

4. Cars 2: Review and Giveaway
This was probably the only one that didn't surprise me - it was a very cool prize pack :-)

5. For and against: Online grocery shopping
This one got a rush of pageviews when it first appeared in April, and again, a small but unceasing trickle ever since. (It is also, unfortunately, a comment spam-magnet; I've deleted more SPECIAL OFFER url nonsense comments on this post than any other, ever).

None of my posts this year eclipsed the two most read posts on this blog of all time: a post from September 2010 on childrens' detective series Trixie Belden and Emily Eyefinger, which is, to my bewilderment, still a total Energizer bunny in terms of pageviews; and my August 2010 post on the science-themed party that my eldest had for her 7th birthday, complete with a birthday cake composed of the periodic table of the elements in cupcakes. (Yes, all 118 of them). That post caught a lot of traffic after my cake-decorating friend K listed it on a couple of baking sites she frequents.

I guess what this tells me is something I already knew - that posts that get linked or mentioned elsewhere attract more readers (duh, you might well say, but I'm not a quick study with these things). I can also see, from the stats on the posts trailing not far behind the Big 5 (or at least what passes for "big" in terms of my very teeny weeny blog), that my wrap-up / options type posts (such as Presents for Teachers) have a steady, predictable and respectable readership; my Reading Notes posts are much more read than commented upon (7 of the 10 posts ranked 6-15 this year were Reading Notes posts); and that cooking / gluten free themed posts also have a steady readership.

(My least read category of posts? Poetry. I'm OK with that, and it won't stop me writing it, when I feel moved to do so).

I found this a really interesting exercise to do. I'm not a stats follower generally, as I don't directly monetise (although I do reviews), and I am not especially interested in writing in a way that attracts the most eyeballs per se. That said, if I didn't want to be read, I'd be scribbling away in a paper notebook rather than posting on the Internet. I blog to practice writing, to form connections, to share, to hopefully contribute in some small way to the zeitgeist of the blogosphere. For all reasons but the first, I do like to know what themes and topics are of most interest to those who read here.

(In closing, one post that I personally enjoyed creating that didn't catch many views was this one.)

Merry Christmas - An online Christmas card

2011-12-24T11:44:00.006+11:00

Dear Everyone,

From my family to yours, I wish you the festive season you're craving - be it parties, champagne and canapes, or family, roasts and afternoon naps; be it church, carols and candles, or a book, tea and solitude; be it rest, meditation and reflection, or adventures, challenges and flight.

I wish you health and happiness, freedom from pain. I wish you bodies that do your will, and spirits that are whole.

I hope that 2012 brings you things you want, and things you need, and things you didn't know you wanted or needed until they surprise you by turning up somehow.

I wish you to be not lonely, even if alone; not despairing, even if heartbroken; not afraid, even if the world is a fearsome place.

I know this isn't much of a Christmas card, but, in the words of one of my favourite poems of the season, it's got the right thought behind it.

Christmas in Envelopes
U. A. Fanthorpe

Monks are at it again, quaffing, carousing;
And stage-coaches, cantering straight out of Merrie England,
In a flurry of whips and fetlocks, sacks and Santas.

Raphael has been roped in, and Botticelli;
Experts predict a vintage year for Virgins.

From the theologically challenged, Richmond Bridge,
Giverny, a lugger by moonlight, doves. Ours

Costs less than these in money, more in time;
Like them, is hopelessly irrelevant
But brings, like them, the essential message

love.

I'll be taking an online holiday from this evening until the New Year, but will then be attempting a repeat of NaBloPoMo in January; for some reason I can't quite fathom, I feel moved to do so again. So see you bright and early in 2012!

Christmas elves and human kindness

2011-12-22T18:43:00.006+11:00

Today, one of the nicest - just plain kindest - micro-stories I have ever seen on the Internet unfolded right before my eyes.

It started with Marita and her daughter Annie. Annie, who has Aspberger's Syndrome, was struggling to understand why her younger sister Heidi, who is also autistic, had been provided with an iPad to help in her learning and development, via the FaHCSIA Helping Children with Autism Funding. Rather than trying to explain this further, I recommend you read Marita's post, and, more importantly, listen to Annie herself talk eloquently and passionately about the inequities in autism funding.

The next day, the beautiful Kim of Frogpondsrock wrote this post, drawing attention to the situation and saying simply, well, why can't Annie have an iPad? I think she can, said Kim - and if we all think so, then we can make it so.

I read Kim's post on my Android while trotting from one committment to the next, and made a mental note to come back to it once the madness of our end of school year party had subsided and I could get to my PC (I don't do financial stuff on the phone. Call me paranoid, I just don't).

But when I sat down at 4:30 to go to it, I found that it was all done and dusted. The money was raised in 4 hours flat, a discount was negotiated by the lovely Nathalie of Easy Peasy Kids, the iPad and apps had been bought, and a dream had come true, an inequity been rectified.

At that point, I had a serious case of something-in-my-eye.

There is so much I find wonderful about this story. Annie's articulate and passionate speech; Kim's simple and immediate statement of the need; the instant response and generosity of so many people; Nathalie's participation to arrange the transaction; and Annie's delight at her new tool, as shown in the photos Marita tweeted. What I found so moving about it all was how rapidly, how sweetly, how beautifully it all all came about. Just plain human lovingkindness, displayed as purely and perfectly as you'd ever want to see; no carping, no cavilling, just people seeing a need and reaching out to fill it.

This, for me, is what blogging is about when it's at its best - being part of communities (often several intersecting ones), communities that can support and grow and educate and entertain and, yes, love each other (in that peculiar, but not false, online kind of way). It's not always or even often about money, but it is about lessening each others' loads, whether it's with shared humour, venting, information, conversation, or just the acknowledgement of the voice of people who may not have another one.

The friends I have made - and I do call them friends, even though I've never met some of them IRL - through my blog and through Twitter are hugely important to me, and I care about them and their worlds. The communities I'm part of here, on the flickering screen, are none the less real for being virtual.

Enjoy your iPad, Annie. You deserve it, and we all wanted you to have it so much.

And to all my online friends - merry Christmas to you all.

Gluten free packet mixes: Sponge cake and brownies

2011-12-20T11:05:00.008+11:00

Before I was diagnosed with Coeliac disease, I admit that I was a bit of a packet mix snob. Oh, I'd buy the White Wings mixes sometimes if I was running short of time, but I'd always make them a bit surreptitiously, feeling like I was cheating. Mostly, I made cakes, muffins, pies and slices from scratch, some more successfully than others.

Now that I have lost the inestimable advantage of wheat flour in my cooking, however, I've found that some baked goods are really, really hard to get right from scratch (some almost impossible). I've worked out the right substitutions for cookies - we make gingerbread, shortbread, chocolate chip cookies, sugar cookies, sultana cookies, and a range of others from scratch and they work out well.

I've had less uniform success with cakes, though, and sponge cakes in particular have been a bugbear for me. I've tried cornflour sponges, but they just don't work (for me) as well as I'd like. Brownies, likewise, have failed to achieve the mandatory fudge gooeyness when baked gluten free.
So I have experimented with different packet mixes in an attempt to find a solution to these baking problems. Brownies were my first mission. After trying some that were, frankly, awful (tasteless, dry, altogether yuk), I gave Melinda's mix a try.

Now, I must admit that while many of my gluten free friends rave about the Melinda's range, I haven't found them universally wonderful. I made the lemon slice from that range a while back and I'm not sure if I just did it wrong, but it came out greasy and unpleasant. But I will say categorically that this brownie mix has 100% redeemed the brand in my mind, because it is AWESOME. Fudgy, rich, delicious, it's everything a good brownie should be. I make it at least once a month now and my kids are always super excited when it turns up in their lunchboxes.

The process is refreshingly straightforward, too, and only requires the addition of eggs and margarine / butter. I really like that aspect, as I get fed up with gluten free packet mixes that require half a dozen extra things to make them. Really, that is *not* the point of a packet mix!

Next up was sponge cake. I tried a few that were tasty enough but flat as pancakes, which is not the point of a sponge cake, especially if you believe (as I do) that the ability to cross-slice and add jam and cream is a mandatory component of a good sponge. Finally, on a friend's recommendation, I hit on Macro Foods' sponge mix and oh what a revelation it was :-)

Light, airy, stable enough to slice and fill, this cake mix is one of my absolute favourites now, as it just quietly works, every time, without any fuss or bother and lets me create a cake that looks (and tastes) The Business, which is what it's all about.

Of course, having my delightful assistant chef in the kitchen is the magic ingredient that brings it all together - and results in superbly licked-clean beaters, spoons and bowls :-)

On birthdays and rosebuds

2011-12-17T20:45:00.000+11:00

The people in the house behind are having a party tonight.
A 21st birthday, with marquee and balloons, laughter and those strange occasional shouts
that parties always seem to disgorge.
From here, in my darkening room, they sound like nothing so much
as a merry gaggle of geese
gathered at a waterhole as the sun sets
to cluck together and wet their feet
while flying insects are plucked from the sky by waiting beaks.

I sit,
the dull thump-thump of music buzzing gently under my feet,
the weight of the day settling over my shoulders like a bearskin
tired and old. well, old enough.
old enough to feel it, in mind and body both
the fingers of all my days, both beautiful and ungentle
lying on my line-marked skin like clay.

I remember being 21. Oh, not nostalgically
(not really).
I was equal parts uncertain and brash in that time, at once
arrogant and assured, and fearing to chance myself
in case I fell face-down.
I was not, I think, a mature 21, as 21 year olds go.
I was childish, in many ways; self-absorbed, petulant, yes, those too.
I don't think I would like that self, now, should I meet her.
(In fact I did not fully like her then. Thus the self-doubt).

I also remember, though, that at 21
I had a body that worked. Nothing was broken, nothing faltered
That 21 year old, she did not know how to value
never having to think on the energy of a thing, or weigh pain against benefit
drawing from what felt like an inexhaustible well.

They say - I've heard it said -
that youth is wasted on the young. I'm not sure if that's always so
I doubt everyone is as callow (shallow?) as I was then.
But for me, oh yes,
that girl I was
she did not understand (how could she?) what she had
she missed so many chances to see more, do more, be more
she did not gather any rosebuds

and now the roses are in full bloom, and sweet they are
but still I wonder
as I half-smile at the rise and fall of young voices
what might have come
had the buds been gleaned
while the hand was still steady for the plucking.

- Kathy, 17/12/11

Things I Know

2011-12-16T09:06:00.000+11:00

It's Friday, and the last week of Shae hosting Things I Know over at Yay for Home! So I thought I'd better know some stuff today.

I know that after a scary and sudden bout of gastro, with a prolonged period of extreme lethargy afterwards, seeing your almost-3-year-old well enough to play for a while at playgroup is a huge blessing and a massive relief.

I know that the end of the year is hitting us hard, exacerbated by C's illness but already full of overtired, overloaded behaviours from Miss 8 and Miss 6.

I know that paying special attention to making sure they all get as much outdoor time as possible, as much of me as possible, and as many opportunities to relax at home as possible is critical to getting through this next 10 days.

I know that a big part of getting through this time without major crisis is me needing to get my head in the game. And that means managing my moods better, and less online time in the day - in fact, I think, NO online time when the kids are awake for the next little while.

(I also know that in the 10 minutes I've spent thus far writing this post, C has grizzled at me nonstop and demanded my attention, and that I've said to her five times, "Just give me a minute to do this, honey." Case closed, I think).

I know that spending some money on getting our garden fixed up, and spending some family time on finishing the job with planting and weeding and cultivating, has been so worthwhile and so satisfying for us all.

And finally, I know that the summer holidays cannot come fast enough for me at this point.

For more things that people know, check out Yay for Home - for the last week!

Should I Have a Pet Goldfish? A Persuasive Text

2011-12-14T13:04:00.001+11:00

The past five days have been rough around here - C, my almost-three-year-old, has been extremely ill with a gastric upset that saw us in hospital briefly on Sunday. Thankfully she is now recovering, and today was bright enough to even get to our playgroup Christmas break-up for a while (we arrived late and left early, but she enjoyed the bubbles, the carols, the crafts, and Santa's visit, and even ate half a frankfurt and a piece of fairy bread, a major excitement for me as she's eaten effectively nothing since Saturday).

One pleasure amidst the worry and nursing has been introduced by the older girls bringing home their art, maths and essay books from school. It's been really enjoyable looking through their work for the year and noting the progression in all areas.

A, my 8 year old, fished out one of her essays (well, they call them "persuasive texts" these days) and handed it to me.

"This is for you, Mum," she said seriously. "So that you'll be persuaded."

The piece is entitled Should I Have a Pet Goldfish? and it goes a little something like this:

Impressed as I am with the maturity and rationality of her argument, the answer is still no right at the moment (in fact, her dad pulled the ol' parent trick of "when you can show us that you can keep your desk clean, THEN maybe we'll consider buying you Yet Another Object to put on it.")

Still, 10/10 for effort, I reckon.

On a sudden and serious illness

2011-12-12T13:11:00.005+11:00

in the hospital bed, you lie
your face a folded white petal
creased and pale,
the blue veins marked clearly beneath.

you want to drink, but your belly
a temporarily broken vessel
will not accept the water.
again and again you shake and heave
and I, who thought to pack fresh clothes for you
end up drenched, as you cling to me, crying, afraid
and empty your stomach down my neck.

(I spend the rest of the day in a hospital gown, provided by kindly nurses
and confusing to doctors, who come to question and poke at you, and then wonder
if I am mother, or wandering patient, as I hold you in my arms.)

you, who seem so robust to me in the everyday
so strong, so lovely
now stare at me with filmed eyes
your body at once a weight on me and curiously light
your skin soft and dry, feeling permeable
terribly so
as if a harsh wind could blow it to dust

and I am, out of all proportion, fearful of this thing
an illness, a virus, no more, yet
in a different time or different place
quite apt to steal the life of a person
especially
a person so small
so young, so tender
as you.
my beloved child
my somehow-suddenly-fragile child

and I do not think I could bear it. People do,
they do if they must, I know. my mother did. my grandmother.
friends.
in other times and other places
people must bear this again and again
and endure the scoring of the heart
again and again

please, little love.
be well again.
please.

- Kathy, 12/12/11

Human Rights Day: No more turning away

2011-12-10T16:52:00.006+11:00

Today is World Human Rights Day. This is a day to mark the anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (63 years ago now) and to reflect on how far we have - or haven't - come in recognising and realising these principles in daily life.

Yesterday I was lucky enough to be able to hear about the work of the Asylum Seeker Resource Centre and its staff and volunteers in helping asylum seekers in Australia. The ASRC is non-federal-government funded, fuelled by donations, volunteers and a small amount of state government support (95% of the funding is derived from philanthropic and community sources). Initiated 10 years ago as a student project, ASRC was originally primarily a food bank for asylum seeking refugees but is now much broader in its activities, offering asylum seekers English language services, counselling, legal aid, employment assistance, health programs, support at hearings and more. The activities of the Centre are built on 4 pillars: Aid, Justice, Empowerment and Community.

The philosophy of the Centre is this:

The ASRC recognises the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family. It is the vision of the ASRC to enact the change we want to see in the world and to build a community which defends the ideals of dignity and justice for all.

It seems to me on Human Rights Day that turning my mind towards the work of ASRC and the situation of many asylum seekers in Australia is peculiarly apt. Refugees are a group of people whose human rights are regularly, even routinely, disregarded in Australia. Asylum seekers are confined, treated as criminals, when in fact it is not illegal under international or Australian law to be a refugee. Some portions of the media and some voices in the community - often the loud ones, unfortunately - engage in awful, inhumane, selfish rhetoric in which refugees are the kicking post for larger fears and deeper prejudices.

Hearing about the work of ASRC last night reminded me sharply of the work my grandparents did in the 1970s and 1980s, helping Vietnamese and Cambodian refugees come to Australia (and be allowed to remain). I can remember, as a child, playing with the children of these families, children who had literally nothing except what they were given by aid agencies, often possessing no more than one change of clothes. I can remember, as a teenager, being numb with shock at the stories that some of them had to tell about what they had gone through to come here, and the circumstances that had driven them from their countries of birth.

Horrific circumstances. Terrors and traumas that no-one should have to live through, not a child, not a woman, not a man.

I believed then, as I believe now, that people do not choose to become refugees. It is a last-ditch decision that's made in the face of adversity so severe that most of us here are blessed to be unable to really imagine it.

I believed then, as I believe now, that our shared humanity should prompt compassion, not turning away, from suffering like this; that refugees' dignity should be respected and their hurts tended, that to do otherwise is cruelty, and is a failure to recognise the humanity in others.

I think that the work the ASRC is doing is incredibly valuable, important, life-valuing and humanity-affirming work. And on this Human Rights Day, I salute them and all their volunteers (more than 600 people in all different fields) for what they are doing. They are not turning away. None of us should.

C is for cookie (and community)

2011-12-08T12:50:00.004+11:00

It's good enough for me :-)

The inaugural Community Blogging event is on tomorrow night at the Victorian Archives Centre. This event happens to fall in the busiest week of the busiest month of the year for me (especially because of the kids' school concert yesterday, which, being on school council, meant jobs aplenty for me - but it was awesome and so much fun). I wondered if I might reach this point of the week stressed out and a bit over myself, without much verve left for the day.

Happily, the craptastic portion of my week, complete with full-scale meltdowns, seems to have discharged itself harmlessly on Tuesday afternoon, leaving yesterday as a productive and wonderful school concert day and today free for finishing Christmas shopping (done), laundry (doing), wrapping prezzies (doing), baking - so much baking! - and singing Christmas songs to myself in the quiet house. (I am still not used to not having C here on Thursdays, even after 8 months' practice).

I decided to put together a tray of gluten free cookies for tomorrow night's event. The catering, which is going to be delicious, is all savoury food, including gluten free options, but as others are bringing sweets for the "normals", I thought it would be nice if anyone with dietary issues (and - ahem - moi) could have a sweetie as well.

This kind of planning ahead is something that, frankly, I never used to do before I was diagnosed as a Coeliac. Knowing that I will need to either make & bring, carefully investigate food options, or go without has concentrated my mind wonderfully on the pre-production and stockpiling of food. As I'm sure most Coeliacs would agree, there is nothing worse than being hungry, being offered yummy-looking treats and having not one SINGLE thing you can safely eat. It's the pits. So rather than booking a table at Pity Party for One, I get around it now by baking things I like to eat and bringing them along.

(If you are going tomorrow night, allow me to beat my own drum for one second and say that if you like gingerbread, you should try mine. It's pretty good. /boast :-)

Presents for teachers

2011-12-05T11:14:00.000+11:00

It's the time of year again when most people with children are thinking about gifts to give significant adults in their children's lives - school teachers, kindergarten teachers, sports coaches, club leaders, music teachers, carers at creche, playgroup leaders, babysitters ... (The list can have infinite variations!)

There are many schools of thought about the gifts-for-teachers thing. While the majority of people of my acquaintance (both teachers and parents) seem to appreciate the notion of food gifts, some people are implacably opposed to giving or receiving food. Home-made vs store-bought is another potential minefield - home-made is personal and shows thought and effort, OR home-made is cheap and tacky and results in unreliable products. Alcohol and gift cards as presents are also contentious. How much is appropriate to spend on teacher gifts is another area of dispute, and everyone has their own ideas about it. I have been a little surprised, in the last 6 years of doing teacher gifts, exactly how deeply people hold their views on the subject and how much they believe them to be universal truth, rather than, well, their opinion, relevant to their situation.

In our case, this year we'll give gifts to:
- 7 gymnastics coaches (2 apiece for the three girls, and the director)
- 3 swimming teachers
- 2 carers at C's creche
- 4 teachers at the big kids' school (their classroom teacher, the maths coach who has done much extension work with them both this year, and the school VP, who has been super wonderful to us)
- The administration staff at school
- A and G's guitar teacher
- 7 families at playgroup
- My cake-baking friend K

(I'm tempted to add "and a partridge in a pear tree" :-)

We've varied what we give over the years, but each offering has included home-baked food. We've done chocolate truffles in the past, white Christmas, and pink fudge. One year we did meringue snowballs. Every year we make gingerbread, and last year and this, we have made shortbread. Everything I prepare in my kitchen is gluten free, so that certainly adds to the ingredient cost somewhat, but it's worth it so I can sample as we go :-)

I do check in with all the recipients before I cook whether there are any dietary or taste barriers, and I modify the gifts accordingly. Each year I do one batch of gingerbread that is dairy-free, for example, to cater to lactose intolerant people. And some people always state a preference for not eating chocolate (strange as I find this :-) so they get extra cookies and no truffles in their packs.

So this year we're sticking to gingerbread and shortbread, packaged in white noodle boxes and wrapped in ribbon, for the people on our list. The kids' classroom teachers and C's creche carers will also get a sachet of A's magical chocolate truffles and a charity gift card for buying school supplies via TEAR Australia. They will also get a bottle of wine (I've checked they're all wine drinkers - they are!)

I reckon if I worked it out fully (I haven't) that the cookie box gifts would probably cost about $5 each in terms of materials, and take maybe 20 minutes apiece prep time. The kids can all be involved in the preparation of the food and the fact that the cookies are always a bit wonky and decorated idiosyncratically is, I hope, part of the charm.

Other good ideas for teacher gifts that I have seen, but not used, are things like tree ornaments, notebook & stationery sets, tea & coffee supplies and equipment, movie cards, books and so forth. My basic barriers to choosing these kinds of gifts are a) financial and b) skill (I am a baker; I am *not* a crafter :-) We did make lavender scent bags last year that were cute, but this year we're sticking to food.

For anyone interested - and because I promised on Twitter! - here is my recipe for gluten free shortbread.

Gluten free shortbread

Ingredients
2 1/2 cups plain gf flour mix (I use Orgran All-Purpose)
1/2 cup caster sugar
1/2 cup rice flour
250g butter, chilled & cut into small cubes

Method
Sift the dry ingredients together. Add the cubed butter and, using your fingertips, rub it through the flour until it hangs together in heavy clumps. (The kids love this part!)

Knead and roll the dough into a rectangle, wrap in cling wrap and chill for 1-2 hrs.

Preheat oven to 160C. Roll out the dough a little more and cut desired shapes. (This stage can be frustrating as the dough is stiff, but don't let it warm too much or the butter gets melty and then the cookies spread).

Cook until shortbread is solid but preferably not changing colour (in my oven it takes about 10 minutes).

When the cookies are cooled, sprinkle with extra caster sugar. All done!

I'd be interested to know other people's take on the gifts-for-teachers thing. Do you do it? Do you have a set schtick that you use, or do you mix it up year to year? Enquiring minds want to know!

Unemployment

2011-12-03T07:42:00.000+11:00

This post is reproduced from a May 2009 entry on my private blog, Zucchinis in Bikinis. I've been re-travelling these thought paths recently and getting myself into a bit of a state about our decision that I will re-enter the workforce next year if I can find a suitable position.

At the time I wrote this, I was on maternity leave from my part-time job, from which I resigned in December 2010. My youngest child was 11 weeks old, I was suffering from nerve damage in my spine, I was unwell and sleep deprived. Withall, I still seemed to have a less muddy vision of my relationship to paid work than I do now.

Re-reading this piece helped me to remember the truth that was burning brightly for me 2.5 years ago, and realise that not working is neither an evil nor necessarily a problem for me. I can wait for the right job in the right time fraction, because this is not what my life is about, and the family and community and writing work I do is not marking time, it is the spirit and the core of my life. I feel a lot better now and clearer in my job-seeking paramters.

I hope you like it!

Following a link from the always-excellent Casaubon's Book, I came across this article by Barbara Ehrenreich. Drily entitled "Trying to Find a Job is Not a Job", this piece takes aim at the notion that the newly unemployed have an obligation - and indeed no other option - than to treat their job searching efforts as seriously, all-consumingly and committedly as (one presumes) they did their former careers. In the article, Ehrenreich points out the absurdities that this attitude engenders, from blue-collar workers endlessly retraining for illusory new skilled positions, to white-collar workers creating faux "bosses" to whom they "report" on their job-searching "work".

The ideas that underlie this attitude, it seems to me, are threefold:
1. Not having paid employment is the greatest evil imaginable
2. Persistence and application to the task will inevitably result in the landing of a new, desirable job
3. There are always jobs available for those with the right skills and attitude
2 and 3 are, of course, integrally linked, and are also bundled up with the cheerful and familiar age-old theme of blaming the unfortunate for their misfortune (ie. if you are unemployed for long, it must because you are doing SOMETHING wrong).

I agree with Ehrenreich that the purpose of the rhetoric around job-searching is essentially social control - creating a passive, "busy" corpus of unemployed rather than a rageful, bored army who have time and space to look up and see the writing on the wall. I also think that ideas 2 and 3 are the engine that drives this relentless personalisation - blaming the individual - for what may be, and often are, the effects of broader and more powerful trends.

However, what interests me more is unpacking the embedded notions that underlie the first idea. The concept that paid work is an ultimate good, and therefore, the lack of it an inherent evil, is one that deserves to be examined, not simply accepted. Of course people need resources to live, and in a modern capitalist economy, for "resources" you can read "money or access to it". I'm not suggesting that anyone can (or should even attempt to) live a cashless existence, although that said, I personally know of one couple that does this very thing, and two other families that are close to it. (However, in those cases, they each own another valuable resource - arable and cultivated land, and farm animals - free of debt, thanks to inheritance. Not the common scenario!)

What I'm wondering, though, is whether this global financial crisis and the resulting unemployment might not force a fruitful re-evaluation of the idea that we all need LOTS of cash, and that every adult in a household MUST aim to be part of the cash economy at all times. There are so many, many ways to be productive and contributive to the overall economy of a family, a household, a community, a society. Working for a wage is one of them, and in most cases, a necessary one for at least some of the people, some of the time. But if you are suddenly unable to bring home a wage, is running madly like a rat on a treadmill in order to obtain a job, ANY job, necessarily your only or even best option? Could the time be better spent in the extra work that you'll be freed to do in the unpaid silent economy of home, community and society, maybe reducing your need for high loads of cash along the way (ie by cooking more, growing some food, being able to shop more strategically etc). Communities and families rely anyway on unpaid labour to be sustained; it might be a gentler, kinder world if less people were juggling those tasks with the cash-based task of bringing home the bacon.

In our own case, we've given this a lot of thought of late. We are, granted, in a privileged position to be having these thoughts in the context of two stable, relatively unthreatened jobs (you never know what the future may bring, but the odds of either of us facing redundancy in the foreseeable future appear slim). Moreover, my husband is well paid, and we are relatively comfortably geared in terms of debt (carrying a very manageable mortgage and little else). But even though we have two paid jobs, I work mine in a very-much-less than fulltime arrangement, and I work from home (right now, of course, I'm on maternity leave, but won't be later in the year). At the moment, there is widespread social acceptance of this, as I have three children aged under 6, the youngest of whom is not quite 11 weeks old.

However, the prevalent impression appears to be that when my children are older, I'll work more - possibly fulltime - and what's more, that I'll want to do so, and need to do so, financially and personally. I'm starting to think, though, that I won't; that, in fact, we can live a freer and fuller life by keeping our dependence on cash at the level it's at now or even reducing it, and leaving time to build identities that aren't completely bound up with the paycheck. I salute my husband for his efforts in providing our family with a primary income, and I'll never underestimate the importance or necessity of it; but I also think that what I do, and can do, outside of the cash economy is valuable, the parenting and householding and volunteering and thinking creatively about how to live our lives. Of course, at the moment, the day to day parenting and nurturing is the overwhelming preponderance and joy of my time, but it will not ever be thus, and as the kids grow and become more independent, I want to be able to grow our family situation with them, to creatively rekey our lives every now and then, and live a life that's not in chains to the almighty dollar.

Things I Know

2011-12-02T12:04:00.004+11:00

So on 2 December, I know that completing both Nanowrimo and NaBloPoMo in November has left me exhausted but very satisfied.

I know that rewarding myself with a glass of pink champagne on Wednesday night was nice, and sharing the rest of the bottle with two friends who came over for a girls' lunch yesterday was even nicer.

I know that my roast vegetable salad is pretty much always a lunchtime hit (she says oh-so-modestly :-)

I know that I was a little sad to come the end of school reading with my second girl's prep class yesterday, but that all the kids greatly enjoyed the strawberry babycakes that I brought along to mark the occasion.

I know that Christmas is coming very quickly, and that I'm OK with that and mostly organised, which surprises me a tad.

I know that the Community Blogging Christmas event at Victorian Archives Centre next Friday is going to be fantastico and that I'm really glad to be a part of it.

And finally, I know that I'm being vague and random today, but after a month in which I wrote a total of 89,000 words (across Nano, NaBlo and other stuff), you'll have to forgive me if I lack pithiness this time :-)

It's Friday, so lots of people over at Yay for Home! know things.

On coming to an end

2011-11-30T11:15:00.000+11:00

it's time
so the calendar says, and the press of small warm bodies
the layer of dust on the benchtops
the smell of gingerbread, the happiness of tiny lights
agree.

it's time to stop, with the
daily henpecking at the keys, clickclick pause click
mind fogged in the words that are yet to fully form
a thick, sticky bear trap for minutes and hours

time to put away November things
and turn to summer with arms wide open, ready
to live embodied, not chasing wraiths through ghost halls of the subliminal
that pearl-grey place
where fictive worlds and thought-pieces (oh yes, and poems) are born.

time to live less strangely, less pellucidly
time to write less, and be more.

time to end.
(until the words' time comes again).

- Kathy, 30/11/11

This is my very last post in the NaBloPoMo challenge, to write a blog post every day in November. I also, as at 11am, have completed the NaNoWriMo challenge, hitting 50,600 words and validating my novel on the NaNo site. (Check out my sidebar button!) The book I'm writing is not completed - I estimate I have about 5-6k left to write - but it will now be shelved until January. I am really glad I did both of these challenges - I've learned enormously from them, I enjoyed the processes, and I'm mostly happy with what I produced. I am also really, really glad they're both over!

Community Blogging

2011-11-29T10:13:00.003+11:00

This has been a monumental month for me, full of words, and almost-job-offers-that-didn't-quite-come-off, and words, and concerns over aspects of one of my children's behaviours, and words, and festive activities kicking into overdrive, and words, and entering two skill-based competitions nervously but with hope, and words, and starting early pre-reading with my toddler (which involves words), and extra volunteering shifts at school, playgroup and other places ...

Also, words. Just a few :-)

One of the things that has given me the greatest satisfaction this month, though, hasn't been so much about words as action - collective action in a positive direction by a group of Melbourne bloggers. Created and directed by the ever-wonderful Nicole of Planning With Kids fame, the Community Blogging initiative is an effort by a group of bloggers to work with, support and draw much-needed attention to the needs of not for profit organisations. The idea, to use a hackneyed yet fitting expression, is to give something back, to use our blogs and our skills to create momentum and light for important organisations that are often woefully under-resourced to do the work they do.

The Christmas function, which will be held at the Victorian Archives Centre, will be on 9 December and will support the work of the Asylum Seekers Resource Centre and St Kilda Mums, two groups who are heavily engaged at this time of year in creating relief packages for people who really, really need them.

I feel really privileged to have been asked to be part of this as it's just starting; I feel energised about its potential, I feel like there is a mass of positive charge out there that can be harnessed to do something special. I have been looking for more opportunities to get involved in helping out, in ways beyond donations of money and locally-based volunteering. Being involved with something with the dynamic potential of Community Blogging is a massive step in this direction for me.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 29 down, 1 to go!

Christmas preparations

2011-11-28T06:36:00.010+11:00

Yesterday we had our now-traditional Christmas prep day. We always try to do this the Sunday closest to the start of December, and I block a day out in the calendar to make sure it's not eaten away by other seasonal busyness. The kids have been excited about it for weeks, and I was looking forward to it too - I really enjoy Christmas, even more so now I have children, and a day to get the ball rolling strikes me as a fun use of Sunday.

Christmas prep day for us includes:
- Making Christmas ornaments - this year, we made cardboard pop-up figures from books my Mum had given the girls;
- Listening to Christmas music
- Making our Christmas lists and writing letters to Santa
- Doing our first round of Christmas baking and cookie decorating (we make shortbread and gingerbread, both gluten free, as gifts for the girls' teachers and coaches across all their various activities)
- The main event: putting up and decorating the Christmas tree!

In years when I've been more organised, we've also written and addressed cards on this day, but this year, owing to my failure to procure cards last week due to a complete brain freeze at the shops, where, as well as forgetting about cards, I also neglected to buy milk, bread and bananas (but somehow remembered chocolate, olives and pork roast :-) I blame it on the Month of the Words occupying my mind, and the concomitant lack of sleep that's gone along with it. Never mind, we'll get to the cards this coming week.

Christmas prep day was, once again, enormous fun. It's become a very special day in our family year - maybe almost as much as Halloween or Easter Sunday, in terms of the kids' level of excitement and anticipation. (Nothing, naturally, gazumps Christmas Day itself!)

We started with a big clean-up of the house, on the premise that the tree takes up a lot of space and a big swathe of clean space is the best way to start. I've found that with family clean-up efforts, making a list of jobs to be done and letting everyone self-select from the list is the best and least stressful way to proceed. My list was heavily annotated by A and E, who got into the spirit of the thing and actually did a fine job.

Then it was a matter of enjoying ourselves, making cardboard decorations, mixing dough to chill, eating a scratch lunch of sausages in bread and sliced avocado (the kids thought that was hilarious), erecting and decorating the tree, and doing our lists and letters. We listened to the Crash Test Dummies' Christmas album, Colin Buchanan's Christmas album, and a rather cool collection I picked up years ago called Christmas with the Rat Pack, featuring a lot of Sinatra.

All in all, a lovely start to the festive season in all its overscheduled glory. Now it's just a matter of finishing the shopping, getting to all the events, getting Santa photos done, helping out with a few charitable endeavours (very important to us at this time of year), and shedloads more baking. (All deferred now til AFTER I hit 50,000 words on NanoWrimo :-)

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 28 down, 2 to go!

Winner: Cars 2 Giveaway

2011-11-27T07:24:00.000+11:00

Question: Is it ever going to stop raining in random and voluminous intervals in Melbourne? *Sigh*.

Yesterday we had one of Those Days that everyone had in the lead-up to Christmas, with 5 commitments scattered in a wide arc from our house throughout the day and evening. And as you already know if you live in Melbourne, yesterday it rained. And rained. AND RAINED. In copious, driving quantities.

We got wet going into swimming. (Yes, I appreciate the absurdity of that statement :-) We got wet coming back from swimming. Hubs and eldest got wet going to guitar lessons, and we all got a light soaking running into a friend's birthday party. This was all nothing compared with how wet we got getting from where we parked our car to dinner at the Southbank restaurant my mother had selected for my Dad's birthday dinner.

Damp and steaming was the order of the day, it seemed.

And today, when the furthest we have to go from home is 5 minutes, once, where we can park next to the door?

Not a raindrop in sight. Lucky we love you, Melbourne.

In other news ...

Using Random.org yesterday, I selected the winner of the Cars 2 pack giveaway ...

Random.org picked number 6, so that means FIONA is the lucky winner! Woo hoo!

Fiona, can you contact me by Wednesday with a postal addy that I can supply to Disney for the mailing of your pack. Thanks everyone for playing :-)

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 27 down, 3 to go!

1001 Books and me

2011-11-26T08:24:00.006+11:00

I'm sure everyone's seen this list, the 1001 Books to Read Before You Die thing. I saw this rendition on Miscellaneous Mum and A Permanent Flux when archive-hopping yesterday evening in a vague attempt at either inspiring myself to keep on writing on my Nanowrimo book, or at least pleasantly procrastinating some time away until it became obvious that no more writing could take place.

I copied and pasted it into Notepad, thinking I might go back to it later, but actually I find myself drawn to have a look today. I flicked my eye through the list to discover that I've read 147 of them, with a heavy emphasis on 19th century female authors (the Eyres and Austens account for over 10) and on texts I was set in high school (the Tolstoys, James, Hardy, Dickens et al all came from there). The books on the list that I've read just from sheer affection and delight are mostly modern women writers, and genre fiction (crime and sci fi / fantasy). I recently read the three Jules Verne entries for the first time and really enjoyed them all, and I have a bit of a taste for both Latin American and spy fiction, as evidenced by the Allende & Marquez and Flemming & Le Carre entries.

147 seems like a lot, and I suppose it is really, but if you included in the count the books I've started but not finished, because I found them dull, too difficult, unpalatable in some way, it'd be closer to 250, maybe more. Frankly, the three goes I've had at Ulysses are enough for any one lifetime, and unAustralian as this may make me, I cannot STAND Peter Carey's prose (I've tried, I really have, but I haven't been able to finish a single book of his. And the one I liked best and got the furthest with, The True History of the Kelly Gang, isn't even on the list!)

I'm sure people could argue until the cows come home as to what books 'belong' on such a list, what the near-exclusion of certain kinds and genres of books says about the listmaker's biases, and why some exceedingly popular and highly-regarded authors don't appear at all while others have just about everything they ever published included. I was frankly astounded to find just one Agatha Christie book on the list, and, in fact, the entire Golden Age of crime fiction represented by The Murder of Roger Ackroyd and two titles of Dorothy Sayers', and not even her best two titles at that. And where is Ray Bradbury? Ursula LeGuin? CS Lewis, for goodness' sake?

Anyway ...

I'm not going to make it my mission to chew through the 1001 list, but I might use it as a prompt to step outside my comfort zone every now and then and try something that other people have loved over time.

I won't reproduce the whole 1001 here, it'd be painfully long - check out Karen or Amanda's pages if you're interested. But anyway, for what it is (or isn't) worth, here's the list of the 147 I've read. In my opinion only, the best 10 of the lot of them are: Possession (AS Byatt); I, Robot (Isaac Asimov); Beloved (Toni Morrison); Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte); The Handmaid's Tale (Margaret Attwood); A Secret History (Donna Tartt); The Hitchhinker's Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams); The Lord of the Rings (JRR Tolkien); In Cold Blood (Truman Capote); and Smilla's Sense of Snow (Peter Hoeg). Likewise, the worst five (again, YMMV) are the tedious Captain Corelli's Mandolin, the incomprehensible Book of Laughter and Forgetting, the horrifically wordy A Tale of Two Cities, the massive and depressing War and Peace, and The Mill on the Floss, a book which I cannot comprehend the attraction of, even now (and certainly not as a 14 year old being force-fed it under threat of exam).

What I've read
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time – Mark Haddon
Fingersmith – Sarah Waters
Dead Air – Iain Banks
Atonement – Ian McEwan
The Blind Assassin – Margaret Atwood
Cryptonomicon – Neal Stephenson
Veronika Decides to Die – Paulo Coelho
The God of Small Things – Arundhati Roy
Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden
Alias Grace – Margaret Atwood
Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis de Bernieres
Trainspotting – Irvine Welsh
A Suitable Boy – Vikram Seth
The Secret History – Donna Tartt
Possessing the Secret of Joy – Alice Walker
The Crow Road – Iain Banks
Jazz – Toni Morrison
The English Patient – Michael Ondaatje
Smilla’s Sense of Snow – Peter Høeg
Wild Swans – Jung Chang
Possession – A.S. Byatt
Like Water for Chocolate – Laura Esquivel
Cat’s Eye – Margaret Atwood
The Satanic Verses – Salman Rushdie
The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul – Douglas Adams
Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency – Douglas Adams
The Bonfire of the Vanities – Tom Wolfe
Beloved – Toni Morrison
Love in the Time of Cholera – Gabriel García Márquez
Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit – Jeanette Winterson
The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood
Perfume – Patrick Süskind
Neuromancer – William Gibson
The Color Purple – Alice Walker
The House of the Spirits – Isabel Allende
Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie
The Name of the Rose – Umberto Eco
The Book of Laughter and Forgetting – Milan Kundera
Smiley’s People – John Le Carré
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams
The Virgin in the Garden – A.S. Byatt
Song of Solomon – Toni Morrison
Interview With the Vampire – Anne Rice
Autumn of the Patriarch – Gabriel García Márquez
The Lost Honor of Katharina Blum – Heinrich Böll
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy – John Le Carré
Breakfast of Champions – Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
The Book of Daniel – E.L. Doctorow
The Bluest Eye – Toni Morrison
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings – Maya Angelou
2001: A Space Odyssey – Arthur C. Clarke
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? – Philip K. Dick
The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test – Tom Wolfe
One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel García Márquez
In Cold Blood – Truman Capote
The Magus – John Fowles
Wide Sargasso Sea – Jean Rhys
The Spy Who Came in from the Cold – John Le Carré
The Bell Jar – Sylvia Plath
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest – Ken Kesey
Stranger in a Strange Land – Robert Heinlein
Catch-22 – Joseph Heller
To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
Breakfast at Tiffany’s – Truman Capote
The Leopard – Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa
The Once and Future King – T.H. White
On the Road – Jack Kerouac
Doctor Zhivago – Boris Pasternak
The Lord of the Rings – J.R.R. Tolkien
The Talented Mr. Ripley – Patricia Highsmith
The Quiet American – Graham Greene
Lord of the Flies – William Golding
Casino Royale – Ian Fleming
Foundation – Isaac Asimov
The Catcher in the Rye – J.D. Salinger
I, Robot – Isaac Asimov
Love in a Cold Climate – Nancy Mitford
Nineteen Eighty-Four – George Orwell
Animal Farm – George Orwell
Cannery Row – John Steinbeck
The Little Prince – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
The Outsider – Albert Camus
For Whom the Bell Tolls – Ernest Hemingway
The Power and the Glory – Graham Greene
The Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
The Big Sleep – Raymond Chandler
Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck
The Hobbit – J.R.R. Tolkien
The Nine Tailors – Dorothy L. Sayers
The Postman Always Rings Twice – James M. Cain
Murder Must Advertise – Dorothy L. Sayers
Brave New World – Aldous Huxley
Cold Comfort Farm – Stella Gibbons
The Maltese Falcon – Dashiell Hammett
All Quiet on the Western Front – Erich Maria Remarque
Orlando – Virginia Woolf
Lady Chatterley’s Lover – D.H. Lawrence
The Murder of Roger Ackroyd – Agatha Christie
Sons and Lovers – D.H. Lawrence
Howards End – E.M. Forster
A Room With a View – E.M. Forster
The Hound of the Baskervilles – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
The War of the Worlds – H.G. Wells
Dracula – Bram Stoker
The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Tess of the D’Urbervilles – Thomas Hardy
The Picture of Dorian Gray – Oscar Wilde
The Mayor of Casterbridge – Thomas Hardy
Kidnapped – Robert Louis Stevenson
King Solomon’s Mines – H. Rider Haggard
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn – Mark Twain
The Portrait of a Lady – Henry James
Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy
Far from the Madding Crowd – Thomas Hardy
Around the World in Eighty Days – Jules Verne
Middlemarch – George Eliot
Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There – Lewis Carroll
War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy
The Moonstone – Wilkie Collins
Little Women – Louisa May Alcott
Journey to the Centre of the Earth – Jules Verne
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll
The Water-Babies – Charles Kingsley
Great Expectations – Charles Dickens
The Mill on the Floss – George Eliot
The Woman in White – Wilkie Collins
A Tale of Two Cities – Charles Dickens
Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert
The Scarlet Letter – Nathaniel Hawthorne
Wuthering Heights – Emily Brontë
Jane Eyre – Charlotte Brontë
Vanity Fair – William Makepeace Thackeray
The Purloined Letter – Edgar Allan Poe
The Pit and the Pendulum – Edgar Allan Poe
A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens
The Fall of the House of Usher – Edgar Allan Poe
Oliver Twist – Charles Dickens
Last of the Mohicans – James Fenimore Cooper
Frankenstein – Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
Northanger Abbey – Jane Austen
Persuasion – Jane Austen
Emma – Jane Austen
Mansfield Park – Jane Austen
Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen
Gulliver’s Travels – Jonathan Swift
The Thousand and One Nights – Anonymous

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 26 down, 4 to go!

Things I Know

2011-11-25T07:54:00.004+11:00

Today I know that Christmas is only 4 weeks away... and that that makes me (mostly) smile.

I know that I have some distance to go before I perfect roast pork with crackling. (I know it tasted real good with applesauce and gravy anyway).

I know that I have had a wonderful week in terms of my self-esteem, with both extrinsic and, more importantly, intrinsic, boosts to my confidence and belief in my own competence and ability.

I know that being at 40,000 words on my NaNoWriMo novel, with the finish line achievable and in sight, is a big part of this feeling of wellbeing and self-power that I'm enjoying today. I Am Writer, Hear Me Roar :-)

I know that the Month of the Words is extracting a price, but that its price isn't being paid in less attentive time with the kids or dropping the ball on commitments. Rather, it's being paid in lost sleep, undone housework and lost reading time - which seems fair, as those sacrifices are mine to make, and it was, after all, me who wanted to do this thing.

I know that I am looking forward keenly to our Christmas prep day on Sunday, when we'll put up our tree, decorate the house, do round 1 of festive baking, sing carols, and watch a Christmas movie. (The daggy delights of suburbia, but I don't care).

For more things that people know, hop over to Yay for Home! and check out the links.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 25 down, 5 to go!

Reading Notes: RIP Anne McCaffrey

2011-11-24T07:52:00.001+11:00

Anne McCaffrey died two days ago. I imagine many (maybe even most) people have some idea who she is - a beloved, prolific and renowned science fiction / fantasy author, one of the true greats of the genre in terms of sales, spread and the affection of fans.

I first read Anne McCaffrey's Pern series, starting with Dragonflight, as a 12 year old. I used to have frequent sleepovers at the house of my best friend at my new high school (and still one of my best friends today; she's my daughters' godmother, in fact). Her house was, I will be honest, a lot cooler than mine - they had a big TV, a pool, they lived walking distance from the shops and a video store, and there was always bacon & eggs for breakfast (an unheard-of luxury at our house).

Her parents were also very relaxed and both were huge readers of all kinds of fiction, but particularly science fiction. My mother likes to read, but her tastes ran even then to Christian devotional texts and cozy crime fiction (in fact, the love that I retain for a well-written cozy or puzzle mystery comes from my Mum, and we still swap new books in this genre, and occasionally indulge ourselves with tea, chocolate and a Poirot movie :-)

My friend K's parents, though, had all sorts of adult books lying about that they were happy for me, voracious reader that I was, to pick up and flick through, and then borrow. That was how I first made the acquaintance of Anne McCaffrey.

I'd discovered most of the greats in middle-grade sci fi / fantasy independently by then - I'd done Tolkien, Lewis and Susan Cooper, I'd covered The Wizard of Earthsea, Madeleine L'Engle and Diana Wynne Jones. (One day I'll post about the vast imaginative world that they supplied me as I moved through an oftentimes lonely childhood).

Those books were part of my mental landscape, but when I started reading Dragonflight, the richness and strangeness of this adult story was something different again. I was sucked in, completely and utterly besotted, within 5 pages, and I didn't stop until I'd read all seven of the first Pern books, then-available: Dragonflight, Dragonquest, Dragonsong, Dragonsinger: Harper of Pern, Dragondrums, Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern, and The White Dragon.

Later, I'd go on to read most of McCaffrey's major series - the Ship Who Sang books, the Crystal Singer books, and the Talents books. I enjoyed all of them (and own most of them), being particularly fond of To Ride Pegasus, her 1973 exploration of a society where psionic talents are manifest and struggling to be recognised, and The Crystal Singer (mostly because I love the central character, Killashandra).

McCaffrey's non-Pern works, though, sit for me within a broader landscape of other science ficton and fantasy authors that I've come to know and love since those wide-eyed 12 year old days - Isaac Asimov, Ursula LeGuin's adult works, Frederick Pohl, Robert Heinlen, Connie Willis, CJ Cherryh, Nancy Kress, and so many others. It is to Pern that my first heart belongs, even today.

I embraced some of the later Pern books - especially 1988's Dragsonsdawn, which came out during my year 10 exams and is singlehandedly responsible for my bare C in Maths - and 1991's All the Weyrs of Pern, which I read, rapt, tucked up in the little fiction library in the Union building at Monash, a first-year student with no idea about how to navigate university life, but thrilled and relieved to sink into Pern again for a little while.

But when I think back on how I became an adult reader, and how I developed a lifelong commitment to both science fiction / fantasy and also good plotting and good storytelling, it's those first Pern books, that very first glimpse of Dragonflight, in fact, that stays with me.

Thank you, Anne McCaffrey. Your enormous talent gave me many a gift, and to millions of others too. Rest gently now you've gone between, and know that I will always treasure the fact that it was your words that led me into the readers' world that is one of my greatest delights in my life.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 24 down, 6 to go!

On drawing dubious conclusions from data (or, How to push your barrow along regardless)

2011-11-23T07:49:00.007+11:00

This article in the Sydney Morning Herald on Monday set my teeth on edge, and it's taken me until today to pin down why.

The article is, basically, reporting the results of the NSW Schools Physical Activity and Nutrition Survey, but with the inevitable glosses and essentialist positions that seem to go hand in hand with any reporting on childrens' health or activity levels. It leads off with an absolute statement and doesn't improve from there:

MANY Australian children are too inactive, with more than half of the primary students and almost three-quarters of the high school students in a survey spending more than the recommended time each day in front of a TV, computer or other screen.

My editor's eye immediately caught the phrase "too inactive" and started unpicking it. What's too inactive? I thought. According to whom? Is the only measure how much screen time children are having, or are other factors considered too?

As the article continues, it becomes clearer what the study means by "too inactive" - it means a) more time in front of screens than 'experts' think is optimal b) an asserted decline in 'basic' physical skills such as jumping and catching a ball and c) a steady rate of consumption of fat-rich foods and sugary drinks (not an increase, it is noted in small words).

The article, to do it justice, does point out that the proportion of overweight and obese children is stable at 22.8%, having shown no increase since the 2004 study despite the widespread panic about a "rising" obesity crisis in young people. However, this is presented as the 'good' news in amongst a generally dismal set of results.

However, I'll be honest; it's not the actual data or even the conclusions that the article draws from it that I find problematic. I think aggregated data about diet and habits can be useful thing to gather in terms of planning public health interventions. I think messages about nutrition and giving growing bodies the best dietary support to do their growing, as well as initiatives to positively increase activity levels (such as Victoria's Go For Your Life program) are great, especially when they are done in a way that supports and encourages achieving the best health your body is capable of, rather than focusing on dubious measures of wellbeing such as weight.

No, the part of the article that really bugged me was the conclusions voiced by some of the people involved in the study. For instance:

Dr Hardy said it was ''appalling'' that fewer than 10 per cent of girls in year 4 and 6 could throw a ball overarm correctly.

REALLY? That's your measure of the decay of modern childhood - the ability to throw a ball overarm "correctly?"

The (weak) premise behind this is that if children lack physical skills, they are less likely to enjoy physical activity and / or get picked for team sports. If the lack could be demonstrated to be global, across ALL activity types, then perhaps there might be half a leg to stand on here. But it entirely fails to consider that some children - hell, some adults - may lack ball skills but still be perfectly physically competent, and active, in other ways. My own daughters, for instance, are somewhere below mediocre in ball sports, but are great swimmers, good gymnasts (and growing those skills all the time), and love to ride their bikes and scooters everywhere.

Is this study really asserting that THE MEASURE of physical wellbeing in children is whether or not they have the capacity to be good at a limited number of ball sports? I think, actually, that the assertion arises because of the data, in that the results showed a drop in ball skills, the commentators have an interest in showing an overall picture of failure and crisis, so they seize on that element and tut-tut about how shocking it is. I agree that helping kids to acquire good ball skills is a worthwhile goal, for parents or for PE teachers - it helps hand-eye co-ordination, and it's fun to play ball games! Do I think it a universal measure, though? NO.

I guess what I find the most disappointing in these stories is their assumption that a) there IS an obesity crisis, and it's getting WORSER and WORSERER b) kids these days. They need to get outside more! Screens are bad, eleventy!!! and c) parents are to blame. (Naturellement). I think what studies like the NSW one can do, at their best, is give a statistical picture that can help focus public health messages across the board, and also, in this case, refute some folk wisdom that's actually based on erronoeous assumptions (that childhood obesity is worsening. As this data shows, it isn't). It's a shame that instead of these actually useful outcomes, the focus always springs to demonising weight, parents, and children who use technology.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 23 down, 7 to go!

Reading Notes: 5 Christmas picture books

2011-11-22T11:50:00.001+11:00

Last year I posted about 5 of our favourite Christmas picture books. With the season almost upon us again, I thought I might offer 5 different books that we're already enjoying in this pre-festive warm-up period :-)

1. The Twelve Dogs of Christmas by Kevin Whitlark
This hilarious remake of the Twelve Days of Christmas features, among other things, three French poodles, six pooches playing, ten labs a'licking, eleven puppies pooping, and a fat cat in a fur tree. The kids like it because it's amusing. I like it because I can SING it, and, tunelessness notwithstanding, I do love to sing.

Apparently there is a companion volume, The Twelve Cats of Christmas, and I'm on the hunt for it now.

2. On This Special Night by Claire Freedman and Simon Mendez
Choosing one animals'-eye nativity story out of the bunch is always tricky, as there is such a plethora of titles in this sub-genre. This one, which uses a little grey kitten's learning about the meaning of the special night as its central device, is very appealing, though, firstly because it is beautifully, almost photographically illustrated, and secondly because of the oddly touching detail of the empty manger in the final illustration, leaving the child's mind to supply the image of the infant Jesus, being gazed on by the animals.

(As with all nativity stories, I have to set aside the historical and biblical inaccuracies that go with the territory. My 2 year old really doesn't need to hear me explain that the wise men didn't visit Jesus until he was almost 2, according to the Bible, or that if there were shepherds and flocks on the hills, it sure as sugar wasn't December - midwinter - when he was born. Well, at least not EVERY time :-)

3. Zelda & Ivy: One Christmas
This extremely appealing three-part tale of the Fox sisters' preparations for Christmas has been on our bookshelf for years, but it's this year that it's really come into its own. C, my 2 year old, and E, my 6 year old, have adopted this one as a sister-story, and E's been reading it aloud to C most days. They are particularly enamoured of Chapter Three, where the girls finally get their Christmas gifts, and deliver a very special one to their widowed neighbour.

4. Magical Christmas
This is a strange little book in some ways, combining quite a teacherly-earnest tone in some parts (and useful information about various Christmas traditions around the world) with a very tongue-in-cheek manner at others.

My 6 year old adores it for the way it seems to invite the child reader into the joke, but there's also plenty of sly humour for the adults, with phrases like, "Always show letters for Santa to your parents before sending - it really helps" and "Don't open all the windows at once or the grown-ups will be cross and it is essential not to make grown-ups cross before Christmas."

5. Aussie Jingle Bells
Colin Buchanan's version of Jingle Bells for an Australian audience is famous - probably infamous - now, and needs no introduction. It's another one I can sing, too!

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 22 down, 8 to go!

Potato salad with sour cream

2011-11-21T08:24:00.000+11:00

There was a bit of a discussion on Twitter at the weekend about the problem of people who don't like condiments. Potato salad, for example, was raised as one insuperable stumbling block to the no-condiments thing, because mayonnaise is usually a component of it. And really, what's summer without potato salad?

However, you can make potato salad very deliciously without mayonnaise, and the advantage of doing so is that if you are gluten free like me, you don't need to worry about gluten in the mayo (always a concern with non-homemade mayo). The downside is that this version is very dairy-heavy and thus probably high in calories (I don't care much about fattiness per se, so it doesn't bother me, but YMMV).

Here is ... Potato Salad with Sour Cream 2 Ways.

Ingredients
8 waxy potatoes
300 - 400g sour cream
2 or 3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 - 1.5 tablespoon seeded mustard
(I suggest tasting the cream mixture after adding the first portions of vinegar and mustard, and adjusting the amounts to suit your palate)
(For variation 1) 300g bacon, diced and fried in olive oil
(For variation 2) 5 spring onions, finely chopped

Method
Boil the potatoes whole in their skins. When they are still firm, but softening, remove, drain, cool, and dice. (You can peel the skins off if you like - I do sometimes, but not always).

If making the bacon option, fry it, diced, in olive oil. If making the spring onion option, cut the spring onions finely and give them 2 mins in a frypan with a tiny bit of olive oil just to take the sting out.

Mix the sour cream, red wine vinegar and mustard in a jug. Add the cream mixture to the hot frypan (with the bacon or the spring onions), immediately removing from the heat, and mix well.

Pour the sauce over the chopped potatoes. Mix well & chill for one hour before serving.

It is very yummy, tasting sharper / less creamy / more tangy than a traditional mayo-based salad. We like it especially with fancy sausages (the pictured ones are lamb, rosemary & thyme).

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 21 down, 9 to go!

Sunday Selections

2011-11-20T07:32:00.006+11:00

Well, this is my first time joining in frogpondsrock's Sunday Selections photography meme, so please excuse me if it's a bit clunky, but like everyone, I have a massive backlog of photos that have ben neitherr printed nor displayed, and this seems like a really good way to give some of them a bit of daylight.

Today, I decided to focus on the period from April to September 2009, which, as anyone who was reading my other blog at that time might recall, was an extraordinarily difficult period for me, emotionally and physically, as I battled probable (but undiagnosed) PND, serious nerve damage in my spine from the spinal anaesthetic I had when delivering C in the February, severe anxiety about the failing health of my grandmother and my mother, and the awful news of my dear friend's terminal brain cancer.

But it was also the period where my family learned to be a family of five, and a period of huge development for all three kids.

A period of great sibling times and lovely cuddles.

I decided to revisit this period in photographs to remind me that despite it all, this was not a period of unrelieved blackness - that there was still joy in it and moments of laughter and light, almost all because of my beautiful children. Pictures help remind me of this more than words could ever do.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 20 down, 10 to go!

Cars 2: Review and Giveaway

2011-11-19T14:49:00.001+11:00

As I mentioned last week, my girls and I had a pretty excellent time at the Disney 3D Bluray Cars 2 screening at the Medina Grand penthouse on 8 December.

The food was a-MAZ-ing, and so was the venue. The kids enjoyed everything, from the activities to the eating to the running amuck to the eating to the view to the eating... I enjoyed less eating, but more atmospherics, and I learned a lot about Bluray and 3D. (I hadn't realised that 3D movies have to be presented on Bluray simply because DVDs aren't big enough to hold them, for instance, nor that 8% of Australian households already have a 3D TV, and that it's growing by 300% a month.)

For all the excitement, one thing we didn't actually do, any of us, on the day was watch the entire movie, start to finish. I watched barely any of it, to be totally honest, engaged as I was in keeping tabs on the three kids (who, naturally, scattered to the furthest corners of the penthouse from each other as if magnetically repelled) and chatting to people. C watched snippets, but was more interested in colouring in and general mayhem. E watched two large chunks before being inescapably diverted by ice-cream and dumplings. A, the 8 year old, probably watched the most, tucked up in a luxury bed, but even she lost the last 40 minutes when toddler shenanigans took over her viewing room.

So when we all sat down to watch Cars 2 (*not* in 3D!) on our home projector / screen last night, it was something of a novelty for all of us.

A, G and I had seen Cars when it came out, and A had liked, but not loved, it. She watched it maybe two or three times but then never asked for it again. My reaction was similar; it was enjoyable enough, I liked it, but it didn't completely captivate me as an adult viewer.

Based on our reactions to Cars 2 last night, I think it's safe to say that in our view at least, Cars 2 is several steps up from the first movie. Other than a slightly slowish start (quite ironic in a movie about racing cars!), the pacing, story and visuals of this film were impeccable. I loved that it was a story about friendship but also about valuing difference, and not judging people's worth on their surface behaviour. Square pegs everywhere should rejoice in Mater's triumph in this film.

My three girls all really, really liked it, too. The 6 year old was probably the most besotted, particularly enjoying the Italian sequence (that was also my favourite part. 6 year old wants us to go to Italy for hols next year now ... ahhhh, no, my love). The 2 year old wandered in and out - at just shy of 2 hours, it's not quite toddler-length - but she was very taken with the final half-hour - in fact we all were, even G.

So this isn't just a collection of my thoughts about a kids' movie (thank goodness, do I hear you say)? There's a prize on offer too!

Disney has provided me with ONE ultimate Cars 2 prize pack to offer to readers of this blog (valued at $177.95)

The Cars 2 pack includes:
- Cars 2 Blu-ray and DVD
- Invisible Pen with UV Light set
- Cars 2 watch
- Credit Card Sized USB Flash Drive
- Mini Car toolkit
- Spy Ear Phone

If you would like to be in the running to win the pack, just leave a comment by 5pm AEDT on Friday 25th November with your favourite Disney film of the last decade and why. I'll draw a winner with random.org and announce it on Sunday 27th November. The winner then has 3 days to provide me with mailing details or I will draw another winning. Only Australian addressees are eligible for this one - sorry!

Disclosure: I received complimentary tickets to the Disney 3d Bluray event in Melbourne and a Cars 2 gift pack, which included the Cars 2 DVD / Bluray, courtesy of Porter Novelli and Disney. No financial payment was offered nor accepted for this post, nor was a review of the movie required. All opinions expressed are purely my own.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 19 down, 11 to go!

Things I Know: Speak Out

2011-11-18T11:13:00.004+11:00

Today I know that speaking out against domestic violence is something that needs to happen more and more, until the chorus of voices drowns out the noise of people who say it's not a problem, or that it's somehow justified. (I know people of both these mentalities).

Today I know that I feel lucky, privileged, that my own experience of domestic violence has been limited and short-lived; but that even that brief period of emotional / social violence and manipulation was one of the darkest of my life.

Today I know that I'm thinking of three friends who've suffered enormously from domestic violence, one who had to give birth to her youngest child in a women's shelter, fleeing with her children from a violent partner. Her youngest child, that baby born in the shelter, was the child of rape, the last of many physical, emotional and social violences inflicted on her over several years.

Today I know that women and children everywhere - in my community, perhaps even in my street - are hurting from domestic violence.

(And I know that some men are victims, too. To say - and I do say this, emphatically - that women and children suffer disproportionately is not intended to erase those real and painful experiences of abused men).

Today I know that escaping domestic violence can be incredibly difficult and that judging women who stay with violent partners is not only cruel, but counter-productive.

And today I know that if you or someone close to you is in a situation of domestic violence, that I hope you are able to get help. Reach Out is one place to start.

This post is part of Wanderlust's link-up for Speak Out day. If you are posting today on this topic, please join the Mr Linky over there.)

This post is also part of NaBloPoMo. 18 down, 12 to go!

Today's post is a Public Service Announcement

2011-11-17T08:02:00.002+11:00

Here is a top parenting tip, from me to you:

If, as was the case here yesterday, your toddler has eaten an unusually heavy and sweet afternoon tea (ie pancakes with jam, and popcorn with butter);

and has then, not too long after, eaten a big bowl of pasta with a rich tomato sauce and cheese for dinner;

and has then spent a manic 15 minutes playing Duck, Duck, Goose with you and her sisters, amid much hilarity and frantic running;

it's not the world's smartest idea to then send her to play with her toy stove and plastic food in the loungeroom while you read to the big kids -

unless you want to spend 15 minutes scrubbing lurid orange-coloured upchuck off the carpet, and another 15 minutes doing this:

I'm just saying, is all. Learn from my mistakes.

You're welcome :-)

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 17 down, 13 to go!

A day in the life of us

2011-11-16T11:49:00.006+11:00

Occasionally - annually, or a little more often - I log a day of regular life for us, just as an exercise, and to track how things change over time. The last one I did was last October, so I thought it might be time to have a go again...

So this was Tuesday, in the life of us.

4am
6-year-old presents herself at my bedside, having had a nightmare. I comfort her and bring her in between G and I for the balance of the night. It takes her a while to get comfy, and when she does, it's with her limbs splayed to their furthest reaches, which includes a foot in the small of my back.

5:15am
I finally drift back to sleep, balanced on a pencil-edge of bed and slightly cramped.

6:15am
C wakes for the day. At 2 years 9 months, it's finally the norm for her to sleep through the night, albeit with an early waking time. I go fetch her from her room.

6:20am
I take C out of her night nappy, get her on the toilet, then we sit down to do her morning breastfeed.

6:45am
I head to the kitchen to make breakfasts and lunches. G and E, the 6-year-old, are still sound asleep in my bed. 8-year-old A has gotten up, however, and is curled up on the couch with a blankie and a book. C starts to play with her duplo blocks.

7am
I call A and C to the table and the three of us eat - Weetbix and fruit for the kids, gluten free muesli for me, washed down (for A and I, anyway) with hot tea.

7:30am
I send A in to wake the sleepyheads, both of whom are not enamoured of getting up, but do eventually. I finish packing the lunches and do the dishes, some left over from last night, some from A, C and my breakfast.

7:45am
A is dressed for school and back reading. G is showering, E is eating porridge, and I suddenly realise I haven't heard from C in a few minutes. This is never a good thing.

7:50am
Giggles guide me to my bathroom, where several toys are being washed in the sink, with about two-thirds of a bottle of expensive shampoo to make the "bubbles". Le sigh.

8am
G leaves to catch the bus to work, while I finish cleaning up the bathroom and chivvy E along to finish her meal and get ready. I then chase C around the house several times before I can catch and dress her. I then brush & put up everyone's hair, to the usual daily accompaniment of wailing from Miss 8, who has bum-length hair, a low pain threshhold and hates sleeping in a plait. YOU DO THE MATH.

8:30am
We do the always-ridiculously-protracted shoe-putting-on dance and finally leave the house about 8:40. On the plus side, we're not late, everyone's reasonably happy, and there have been no meltdowns. I call that V for Victory in the morning.

8:45am
C and I drop the big girls to school then proceed to our Tuesday morning kinder gym class, which she deeply, deeply loves. Class doesn't start til 9:30am and thanks to being on time at school, we're early, giving us 20 minutes to chill out in the parent room and read stories.

10:15
Kindergym class finishes and we head for the shops, after a detour to drop off a bag at the Brotherhood shop.

10:45
We arrive at the shopping centre and park. We have a monster shop to do, so C and I have a talk about how we're going to behave at the shops. She nods very seriously. We'll see. Shopping with toddlers is pretty much a crapshoot in my experience.

11:20
C is being lovely; adorable, helpful, cheerful, listening to everything I say, not grabbing at anything, and STAYING WITH ME AT ALL TIMES. In fact, she's the picture-book child that everybody vaguely assumes they're going to get when first they fall pregnant. To say this is atypical for C would be an understatement of epic proportions, but man, I'll take it.

12:00
Finally through the checkout, I sign my credit card chit, wincing slightly (it was a pig of a shop) but pleased to be finished so painlessly.

12:20
C and I arrive home. I make her lunch and turn on a Hooley Dooleys DVD for her while I unload and put away Mount Grocerymore.

1:00
Groceries are away, DVD is over, lunch is eaten, it's time for C to take a nap.

1:30
Or not. Yeah, probably not, if she's still messing about half an hour later. I lift her out of her cot.

1:45
C is being fairly high-needs (being tired will do that to you). I abandon any thought of working on my Nano book, quickly finish yesterday's blog post, and sit down with her to read stories and play with her plastic animals.

2:30
As she is happily engaged in play, I creep off quietly to put out & bring in washing from the line.

2:45
We leave to go get the big kids from school, swinging by the library to drop off books on our way.

3:30
Home with the big kids. They both decide to go to their room to engage in some kind of secret sister business, I think involving Christmas. C, at a loose end, is a bit whiney until a neighbour kid knocks on the door wanting to come in and play. The big kids decline the offer but C is enthusiastic.

4:30
The neighbour kid's hour visit has been a godsend, as she's amused C while I've prepared dinner, sorted washing, answered email, and had a cup of tea. I feel like I ought to pay this kid for babysitting services rendered :-)

4:45
C and E go outside to play with the dog and bounce on the trampoline. A hangs about in the kitchen, chatting to me as I cook and half-reading her book.

5:30
The kids and I eat. Baked salmon in lemon-lime juice, roasted potatoes, sweet potatoes and carrots, broccolini, macaroni pasta, and artichoke hearts. (Of the kids, only A attempts the artichokes; they're more an adult treat). I read Grug books (for C) and chapters of Trixie Belden (for the big kids) while we eat.

6:15
Ice cream for dessert!

6:30
Bath time. The big kids take it in turns in with C while I scrape plates and wash up.

7:00
All are scrubbed, pjed and clean-toothed. I sit down with a book to do C's bedtime feed. She is super tired. A turns on her computer to have her half-hour screen time. E reads a book.

7:15
G arrives home and heads kitchen-ward to heat his dinner.

7:30
I lift a deeply-sleeping C off the breast and into bed, and signal to the big kids that it's time to swap on the computer. E starts her half-hour while A hangs around G and I, chatting, and getting us to compile quizzes for her to do. (What can I say ... she loves it).

8:10
Big kids are finished on the computer and should be in bed. I turn on my computer and open my Nano book to start writing.

8:15
Big kids are NOT in bed. One has itchy eyes, one has a funny tummy. Claratyne and Panadol are dispensed.

8:30
I start writing, aware of how tired I am.

10:00
After a considerable amount of pissfarting, I actually finish the 1,000 words I wanted to do and hit the halfway mark at 25,000 words. I cannot possibly not tweet this, so I do.

10:05
I stumble into bed, "to read".

(I am informed) 10:15
G turns off the light and takes my book from my fingers where I've clutched it as I fell asleep.

And THAT was our day!

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 16 down, 14 to go!

To give or not to give a goat

2011-11-15T13:47:00.003+11:00

Several years ago, just before my eldest child was born, I started buying gift cards from charities as part of my Christmas present shopping.

I'm sure you know the things I'm talking about - most of the major charities offer them now, as they're so popular. They're simply little printed cards which designate a relief or aid purpose to which the donation has been ostensibly out. Depending on the amount donated, you can "give" things like seed packets, training in chicken farming, a school supplies pack, a mosquito net, a birthing kit, tree seedlings, bridges & roads, safe water systems, and livestock of various kinds.

On the very first year I decided to do this, I bought $100 worth of gift cards in relatively small amounts and included them inside the Christmas cards I gave to my colleagues at work. I was excited about this as a concept; we had a culture of small-gift-giving at work, and the years before I'd handed out things like candles, soap packs and chocolates, but this seemed like a good option to me.

Most of my colleagues seemed happy with their gift cards, several expressing their pleasure at getting them instead of another random object. One colleague, however, frowned as she opened hers, and was quite cool to me for days afterwards.

Eventually, I asked her what was bothering her.

She said, "I just find the whole charity-card thing a bit ... I dunno ... sanctimonious and self-serving."

I was rather taken aback, but this was person that I respected and liked, and I wanted to hear her opinion. So I asked her to elaborate.

She said, "Look, I know you meant it well, and I really don't want to offend you. But don't you think that when you give someone a gift, it should be for them, rather than about you and what causes you've decided to support this year? If you knew that one of us was passionate about a particular charity, then a donation in that person's name would be appropriate. But as it is, how do you know that we even agree with the work being done or value it in the same way you do? If you want to donate to charity, I am absolutely on board with that, I do it too; but aren't you confusing two things with these cards? Your donation decisions - and your tax deductions, of course! - and your gift-giving?"

I was gobsmacked by her words at the time, and I won't say they weren't hurtful or that I didn't resent them, because that would be a lie. But I did think about them more and more as time went on, and eventually I concluded that, while I didn't think she was being entirely fair, there was some truth in what she was saying.

Giving gifts and giving money to causes aren't necessarily motivated by the same impulses, and there can be something impersonal about gift cards of any kind, charity ones included. If used indiscrimminately, they can make recipients feel undervalued, and can, however unintentionally, come off as holier-than-thou showing off.

I still buy $100 worth of charity gift cards every year, despite all this - usually a mixture from Oxfam Unwrapped and TEAR Australia's Really Useful Gifts. And I still include this as part - but not all - of our Christmas giving budget. It's particularly important to me that the kids see that we budget Christmas in a way that sets aside half of the available funds for charitable giving, rather than acquiring objects (or food!) for ourselves or family & friends. Both the big kids look forward to opening their own gift cards now and seeing whether their foregoing of an extra Zhou Zhou pet has bought another child a goat, a pig or a vegetable garden.

That's my decision, but I am more aware now of how this can be received, and possibly a little more strategic about who I distribute them to. (For example, I always include a $5 school supplies card in with the teacher gifts I get for the kids' teachers, along with home-baked goodies and a bottle of wine, as I feel safe in assuming there is an appropriate thematic connection there).

Do you buy charity donation cards at Christmas? What are your views on them?

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. Halfway there - 15 down, 15 to go!

On a girl who wants to change the world

2011-11-14T13:03:00.000+11:00

my daughter has been reading a book
about women who made a difference,
some major contribution to the world.
(How to define 'major'? A story for a different day, perhaps).

She's read the lives of Florence Nightingale, Mother Theresa,
Amelia Earheart, and others,
some names known to me, some new.
A preponderence of caring professions, charitable endeavours, which, perhaps
shouldn't surprise.
(What are women allowed to be known for, mostly?)

She reads extracts to me in the kitchen, her voice filled with wonder
as I dice carrots, peel potatoes, slice meat.
propping the book at her place at the table, lost in it
sleeping with it pillow-side at night.

she is fired, now
aglow with the energy of inspiration

and she says,
"I want to change the world, too."

And I
looking at her open face and shining eyes
her child's expansive and beautiful heart
will not say, "But, perhaps, you cannot."

It would be wrong to tarnish that animal will, that hunger to be an agent
of a new world.
(Perhaps, in any case, she can. Who is to say? People do, sometimes.)

Instead, I say,
"What would you like to change in the world, my love?"
She, very serious, replies,
"I would like to help people to understand that women and children are as good as men. Everywhere."

And I, with eyes prickling with tears, stroke her hair
and think on her purity of purpose
and my sadness that she owns this knowledge, already embedded, at 8 years old,
that she
this marvellous, incandescent girl,
is part of a journey not yet finished
a song not yet sung,
a race not yet won.

- Kathy, 14/11/11

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 14 down, 16 to go!

kd lang in concert

2011-11-13T08:34:00.004+11:00

Last night G and I went to see kd lang and the Siss Boom Bang in an open air concert at the Myer Music Bowl. This was the cause of great excitement, as we both have loved kd lang long time, and it was the first live music show we've been to together since our eldest child was born over 8 years ago.

8 years is a fairly long time between drinks, especially as, before-kids, we used to go to concerts and live music in pubs fairly frequently. We often did the Saturday night at the Espy (St Kilda's Esplanade Hotel) thing. We saw bands ranging from Radiohead to Nick Cave and Billy Bragg at bigger venues, sometimes with friends, sometimes just ourselves.

In the past 8 years, if you don't count Wiggles, Kazoos and Hooley Dooleys performances that I've taken the kids to, I've been to 4 music performances - I've seen the Indigo Girls twice (once earlier this year with my Miss 8), I've been to an acoustic Deborah Conway performance at Tony & Rae's, and last night I got to go to kd lang. This means that a full 50% of my live music attending post-children has taken place in the last 8 months - perhaps this means the tide is turning?

The evening was fantastic. It was a warm day yesterday in Melbourne, so the air, as we arrived with our blanket and takeaway Thai food at 6:45, was still pleasantly warm. (By the end of the concert it was decidedly chilly and most people were wrapped up in coats or blankies, but there was no rain, and that was the main concern, as it always is with outdoor events in a Melbourne spring.)

As the sky slowly moved from light to dusk, the support act, Shane Nicholson, played his set. A friendly guy sitting next to us informed us that Nicholson, who we'd not heard play before, is actually the husband and frequent co-performer of Kasey Chambers, a singer we both like. Shane Nicholson was good - very relaxing music - but no-one got to really hear him properly because the sound system was acting up, and everyone past the seated section could only get the sound like a muted radio playing in the next room. They got it sorted out for the last two songs, which I really enjoyed, but I'm sure it would have been a better experience overall if we'd have heard it all.

The sound was perfect for kd lang, however. I have never seen her live before, and to me she seemed relaxed, happy to be in Melbourne and performing. Her set was full of little humorous and cheeky touches which really made it as a live performance. An oh, her voice ... it just soars. When she sang Constant Craving and Hallelujah, she almost brought the house down. (No mean feat given how many people there were on the hillside).

All in all, we loved it. I have not been to many outdoor music events (well, not since my teenage days of doing the Big Day Out thing) but kd lang showed how it's done last night. G and I were very happy to have chosen her concert to break the 8-year drought of shared live music.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 13 down, 17 to go!

Spring

2011-11-12T08:01:00.000+11:00

... and the lambs are here!

(I know, I know, it's minimalist. We have one heck of a day today, and this is as many words as I can manage :-)

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 12 down, 18 to go!

Things I Know

2011-11-11T07:15:00.001+11:00

This week I know that taking your kids to events, like the Disney 3D Bluray screening of Cars 2 that we attended on Tuesday, can be a great deal of fun.

I know that 3D TV is getting better and better, and that movie-makers are taking full advantage of the new technology to enhance the film experience.

(I also know that, longing sighs notwithstanding, it's not at a pricepoint where we would consider it yet, especially given our renewed commitment to live simply wherever we can. Our current smallish 10-year-old TV meets our minimal viewing requirements, so an upgrade is unnecessary and wasteful right now).

I know that I was blown away by the attention to detail in the food, decorations and activities provided, and have a whole new respect for the work and planning that goes into these things.

I know that getting to go to an event in a penthouse was a huge thrill for all my kids, and me too :-)

I know that the 8-year-old thought that being tucked up in a luxurious bed while watching a 3D movie and having people bring food and drink to her was extraordinarily good form.

I know that my 2-year-old is a social butterfly, comfortable initiating conversations with unfamiliar adults and then talking their ear off for some minutes (and that she did so, happily, on Tuesday!)

I know that mostly people find this charming in a cute curly-haired toddler, but that it might not be *quite* so adorable if she's still doing it in 10 years' time.

And I know that special events can be a great thing if they are done well and used sparingly within the tapestry of a child's days.

For more things that people know, check out the page at Shae's (Yay for Home!)

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 11 down, 19 to go!

Leggings as pants: What I want to teach my daughters

2011-11-10T12:22:00.003+11:00

I have something to say that may not sit easily with some people, but I've decided to say it anyway. (That's what the Internet is for, isn't it - at its best, it can be about being brave and speaking our truths in a somewhat less confrontational arena than the breathing world).

So what I want to say is this:

The "leggings are not pants" assertion / meme / battlecry that has been infecting Twitter lately really, really bothers me.

I was trying to pin down exactly what I dislike so much about it, and I think I've worked it out.

It's not that a lot of people seem to agree that leggings as pants are not fashionable. This may be a true statement, and as a fashion null zone myself, I am unqualified to comment on it and won't. If the assertion was "leggings as pants are not in fashion", it would not raise my hackles.

It's not that some people simply don't like leggings, and don't find them comfortable. If the assertion was "I don't really like leggings", then what could anyone object to in that? I myself do not really like high heels, but making that statement doesn't imply a universalised condemnation of high heels or other people's wearing of them.

No, what I find so uncomfortable in the "leggings are not pants!" thing is that I cannot see how it is not both deeply classist and a form of thinly-veiled body policing, especially of fat bodies.

Almost all the "leggings are not pants!" rhetoric stems back to one of two ideas: either the body-snarking idea that some bodies shouldn't be displayed or visible in the figure-hugging way that leggings enable; or the classist idea that leggings are somehow "trashy", "poor people's cheap clothes", or, as I saw one person label them, "the marker of a feral". (Don't even get me started on my utter hatred of the term "feral" to describe a human being).

If you subscribe to the view that "leggings are not pants!", on what basis other than disapproval of certain bodies being visible, or distaste at the perceived class marker inherent in this clothing choice, do you sustain this view?

For me, I think, it comes down to this: I want to teach my daughters that all bodies - ALL bodies - are acceptable. That no body should have to be hidden (or indeed displayed). That bodies are the carriers of human beings, each of whom should be treated with dignity no matter how they talk, or what they wear, or how they look to your eyes.

I never want my daughters to look at someone and dismiss them or think less of them because they are wearing leggings without a top covering of some kind. I never want them to feel humiliated by their own clothing choices, to feel judged (I know I cannot prevent this for them entirely, sadly, but I hope to set up a basis whereby they have the foundation to at least see this for what it is).

Ultimately I do not give a fig whether anyone wears leggings (as pants or under dresses) or not. I just wish it was less of a rallying point for people to express their body policing or class issues in a socially sanctioned way.

(Disclaimer - I wear leggings, sometimes, yes, as pants. And I'm fat. And middle class.)

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 10 down, 20 to go!

A day out of life

2011-11-09T10:37:00.000+11:00

Late yesterday morning, I was getting pretty frazzled as I regarded my weekly running list, which is currently more than twice the size of a "normal" week's list. We have such a lot on at the moment - so many extra events and commitments, so many obligations to fulfill and places to be.

It's normal for this time of year - the kids seem to have a preponderence of friends with November / December birthdays, and seasonal things are ramping up (we have our first Christmas do of the year this coming Sunday, in fact). I know and expect the period from late October until Christmas to be a highly socially active one for us, and much as it tires us, we also really enjoy it.

What's complicating the issue a little is the commitment I've made to do NaNoWriMo (which is intensely rewarding and pleasurable for me, but is undoubtedly taking up head room and hours that I could otherwise use elsewhere). This has coincided with a very busy period at my husband's work - he worked the entire weekend just gone, in fact, and has had several late evenings, with more to come, and an interstate business trip, in the next few weeks.

I thought I was handling all this OK, keeping all the balls in the air, until I became so stressed yesterday. I realised when I became unreasonably and disproportionately upset about the toddler's decision not to nap that the tight scheduling and rushing about, combined with the demands of NaNo, the reduced help from husband, and the increasing weight of seasonal preparations, was starting to take its toll on me mentally.

Pondering this, I picked up the big girls early from school and we went to our scheduled special event for the day - the Disney 3D Bluray screening of Cars 2 at a penthouse suite of a posh hotel in the city yesterday afternoon. It was such immense fun and so well done - but more of that later, as I'll be reviewing both the event and the movie (with a giveaway) once I've collected my thoughts.

As we were coming home though, all three kids excited but tired, I found myself thinking about all the stuff on the list for the rest of the week and feeling my heart rate starting to rise again. I made a snap decision. I looked at my C, sleepy but smiling in the back seat, and said to her, "Honey, shall we miss playgroup and forget the shopping tomorrow? And big kids, we can skip gymnastics after school? Just have a home day?"

"YES!" carrolled C is instant delight. "We have a Mummy an' C day!"

The relief I felt was immediate and immense. And already I know this was the right decision. C and I, after dropping the big kids to school at 8:45, have spent an hour painting pictures together and chatting. She's had a lengthy and enjoyable bubble bath. She's now selecting stories to read while we have our morning tea, and after that we'll do the vaccuuming together, and I'll do the bathrooms while she watches Spot the Dog on DVD. (This might sound dull but the need to do it has been itching me for days - nothing brings my house-mood down faster than a dirty floor. I can live with clutter and mess - which is lucky, as I have A LOT of it! - but too much dirt, and especially bad smells, in the house makes me feel grotty).

After lunch C will nap (I hope and expect!) and I'll get stuck back into my NaNo book, and when we get the big kids home, we'll make our Rainy Day Banana Muffins, a recipe that hasn't been used in a year thanks to the price of bananas following the Queensland floods, but now, with them reaching the depths of $5.95 / kg this week, is on the cards again.

Sometimes knowing when to hit the pause button is the greatest gift you can give yourself, and your children.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 9 down, 21 to go!

On sweetness in spring

2011-11-08T09:42:00.002+11:00

in the warm garden, they
run and harrumph and sweat and pinken.
fair skins in hot sun
hats pushed back, knees bare
and grubby.

the smallest
can't reach to the trampoline; she hops fiercely on her indignant feet, wailing
until two pairs of just-bigger arms
lift her up.

together, they rise
bouncing high, higher, higher, as if to touch the vague wisps of cloud
that trail like bolts of fine linen across the depth of the sky.

they are laughing
their voices mingling as they chortle, one over the other
as they hold hands, then circle each other, gasping between their explosions of mirth

they are joy
my three glad and fearsome answers to all pain and travail and woe

and the roses are blooming
the honeysuckle, the jasmine,
and it is sweet, so sweet, with scent and beauty

in this disorderly, weed-grown garden

on this hot, bee-rich, bright spring day.

- Kathy, 8/11/11

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 8 down, 22 to go!

The ABCs, toddler-style

2011-11-07T07:27:00.001+11:00

Miss C is 2 years 8 months old. She loves to sing, she loves Playschool, she loves the ABC song. Her rendition is somewhat idiosyncratic, but it's all her own.

This is the first time I've ever posted video to the blog, and I'm a little nervous on two scores - firstly, will it work? (I am technically partially-ept at the very best). Secondly, is it the right thing to do, posting video of my child online? Granted, it is pretty innocuous stuff, it's more voice than vision really, but all the same, that won't stop me angsting about it for a while, cos that is what I do.

But anyway ... (deep breath) ... here it is. I hope it raises a smile.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 7 down, 23 to go!

The other side of Wordy November: My NaNoWriMo project

2011-11-06T09:04:00.002+11:00

As I may have mentioned, I'm doing both NaBloPoMo and NaNoWriMo this year. In other words, I have committed to attempting a blog post per day and to writing a minimum of 50,000 words on a novel.

Although I find that I have a surprising number of things to blog about that aren't connected to my NaNo project, it's inevitable that at some point my preoccupation with the larger-loaded project will seep across to here. Against that day, I thought I might outline what I'm working on for NaNo, so it doesn't come as a complete surprise.

The book I've started (I'm at 10,300 words, a very satisfactory position to be in at the start of day 6!) is tentatively titled The Secret Admirer, the Cyber Bully and the Big Birthday - Frankie Loveday #2. It's a sequel to the one I wrote last year, which was originally called Frankie Loveday, Girl Detective, but I have retitled as The Missing Mother and the Class that Didn't Cheat - Frankie Loveday #1.

Here is a little synopsis, in case you are interested:

Frankie Loveday is enjoying the warm weather and relative calm of late spring in Melbourne, especially after all the action a month ago left her triumphant but exhausted (The Missing Mother and the Class that Didn't Cheat - Frankie Loveday #1). But serenity is overrated anyway, and Frankie and her friends are about to be catapulted into two new and engrossing investigations.

Who is leaving flowers, chocolates and love poems for Frankie's acidic school principal, Miss Radeski? Do they have an ulterior motive ... and what could it possibly be?

More disturbingly still, what lies behind the savage but anonymous cyber bullying of Frankie's classmates at school? Who's behind it, and why are they targeting specific kids? Is there another agenda at work here?

Meanwhile, preparations for Frankie's littlest sister's 2nd birthday party are accelerating, with new and grander layers being added daily.

Frankie, Seb, Jen, Egg and their friends have to race against the clock to solve these mysteries before someone really gets hurt ... and get to Vicky's Big Birthday Bash on time.

Like its predecessor, this is a middle-grade novel, aimed at readers aged 8ish to 11ish or so. My chief audience has been my own older daughter (and this year, my second daughter too) and it's their tastes, language, sensibility and interests that I am trying to keep firmly in mind as I write.

The books are written in the first-person voice of Frankie, an 11-year-old Australian girl who's intelligent, funny, fat, red-haired and self-confident. I didn't actually decide to write in the first person - I've never successfully done so before, and I had envisaged (vaguely) a third-person approach. When I started to write last year's book, though, it was honestly like the choice was taken out my hands; Frankie's voice just clamoured to be heard and once I started writing it that way, it flew. I've never experienced such a powerful example of a character coming to life, and it's Frankie's personality, born from observation and long-buried memories, that's carrying these tales forward. It's almost worrying to me that, I admit, I'm not always sure what she's going to do or say next. Automatic writing, indeed :-)

Anyway, that's what I'm up to when not living my regularly scheduled life or posting here!

(If you are also doing Nano and would like to add me as a writing buddy, I'm KathyZucchini on that site.)

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 6 down, 24 to go!

Sisters

2011-11-05T07:51:00.008+11:00

Sometimes, I know, you all wish you had more of my attention, just to yourself, not shared between you.

Sometimes each of you wishes you were an only child; you think and talk wistfully of rooms unshared, toys unbroken, quarrels unneeded.

Sometimes the pace and bustle of life with two siblings in it with is tiring, and you all get sick of being dragged around to each other's activities.

Sometimes you seem to squabble all day long, needling each other, picking fights, saying mean and hurtful things.

But then sometimes you play such endless and involved imaginative games with each other that you're reluctant to stop for food, or baths, or anything at all.

Sometimes you fall asleep in mid-sentence, chatting sleepily, in your warm shared room, comforted by each others' presence and company.

Sometimes you realise that you enjoy holidays and special activities much more for having people to share it with.

Sometimes you each display such care and protectiveness for each other that it astonishes and humbles me.

Long after your father and I are gone, my dear babies, these your sisters will, we believe and hope, remain. I wish only that the ties that bind you will be loving ones, as you grow into yourselves and move out into the world.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 5 down, 25 to go!

Things I Know

2011-11-04T08:30:00.009+11:00

This week, I know that some days are yellow, some days are blue (to quote the late, great Dr Seuss).

I know that Halloween dressing up and trick or treating might not be an Australian tradition, and that it makes a lot of people on Twitter very grumpy, but that it sure is fun for the kids, and actually really nice communal time for the kids in our street.

I know that I'm glad to have Halloween as a force with which to push back against the absurdity of Christmas marketing in September. "Nothing Christmassy til after Halloween" works!

I know that Melbourne Cup Day has an entirely different resonance for me now that I have three children, and do NaNoWriMo each year. No more champagne, chicken, strawberries and carousing, but instead I have cuddles, stories and a writing sprint :-)

I know that it's getting to be a long time since husband and I last had a few hours together without any of the kids, and the strain of that is starting to show.

I know that this makes me all the more excited about our tickets to see k d lang next Saturday night - grandparent babysitting, and 5 hours out for us!

For more things that people know, check out the post at Yay for Home!

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 4 down, 26 to go!

Seven lunch alternatives to the sandwich

2011-11-03T11:04:00.006+11:00

One of the things - actually, probably *the* thing - I miss most as a Coeliac is lovely, fresh, soft bread on sandwiches.

Gluten free breads are getting better and better, yes, to the point where several of them are somewhat palatable, even if, let's be frank, they're still at their best toasted. (I'm currently eating Black Ruby's bread and Schar's part-baked ciabattine rolls quite regularly).

I haven't yet found a real replacement, taste, texture, and sensation wise, for fresh wheat bread, though. So instead of trying to replicate my onetime fixation on sandwiches as lunch fare, I decided quite some time ago to abandon that and instead find alternatives to eat for lunch.

I have developed a few favourites! Here are my 7 best non-sandwich options for a tasty gluten free lunch.

1. Vietnamese-style rice paper rolls

These fresh-tasting, delicious uncooked spring rolls are a favourite for picnic lunches for me, as they can be prepared the day before and transport well. I don't follow a recipe as such - I just use the rice papers (you can buy them in most supermarkets these days) and some rice vermecelli noodles, and fill them with any combination of grilled chicken, prawns, cucumber, carrots, bean shoots, lettuce, shallots ... whatever takes my fancy. Mint is an essential component of these, which, thankfully, my garden provides. They're delicious with a dipping sauce - I mix rice wine vinegar with a little sweet chilli sauce.

2. Soups of all kinds

Especially in winter, I am a great fan of soup-making. The process of making mahoosive batches which can then be frozen is one I really enjoy, and the kids enjoy helping with it too. We have lots of favourite soups (I'm slurping my way through a bowl of sweet potato & leek soup as I write this!) but an all-time winner is this lamb & vegetable soup recipe, an old one of my mother's that I've adapted to be gluten free.

LAMB SHANK & VEGETABLE SOUP

2 Lamb shanks
1 stick celery
1 large carrot
1 large turnip
1 large onion
2 handfuls of yellow split peas
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon sugar
1 can tomato soup
1 heaped tablespoon gluten free all purpose flour

Dice all veges quite small, put in large pot with lamb shanks, peas, salt, sugar, soup and flour and bring to boil. Simmer for 2 hours.
Remove shanks from pot and then remove meat from shanks, cut into small bits and put meat back into pot to stir well together.

3. Frittata

If one isn't egg-allergic (I'm not) or lactose-intolerant (not that either), frittata can be a delicious, rich-tasting lunch for adults and children alike. My kids will eat frittata hot, straight from the oven, but don't fancy it cold. I, on the other hand, love it cold and it has become something of a lunchtime staple for me.

Here's the recipe I use for frittata; it's extremely simple, and it freezes really well (or keeps in the fridge for about a week). I make a frittata about once a month or so and it then provides about 10 lunch-sized portions.

FRITTATA THREE WAYS

Frittata Base
7 eggs, lightly beaten
½ cup cream
½ cup grated parmesan
Salt & pepper to taste

Topping
½ cup grated tasty cheese

Variation ingredients

Spanish frittata
1 x large red onion, sliced
2 x large potatoes, sliced and parboiled until just softening
3 x cloves of garlic, minced

Method: Layer sliced potato and red onion in frittata / quiche pan, then mix garlic into frittata mixture and pour over sliced ingredients, shaking pan to make sure it spreads out evenly over all ingredients. Sprinkle tasty cheese over top, then cover with foil. Into 180 degree oven for 25-30 mins. Remove foil and return to oven for 5 mins or so to lightly brown the top. Test centre is set with a skewer. Can be eaten hot or cold.

Frittata Lorraine
1 cup diced bacon, lightly sautéed
½ cup mushrooms, sliced and lightly sautéed
1 cup cooked spinach (I use baby spinach but I reckon the regular kind would work too)

Method: As above, but ensure there is no spinach on the top. (It burns!)

Roasted vegetable frittata
220g pumpkin
220g potato
220g sweet potato
70g mushrooms, sliced
1 brown onion, diced & lightly fried
Cup of peas (frozen are fine)

Cube & roast top three veg in a pan in the oven. When soft, add to sautéed mushies & onion and follow previous steps. (Peas can be added frozen).

4. Warm and cold salads

Salads are not just a summer food, although we do eat them more in the summer. If I have guests for lunch, I often make my roast vegetable & bacon warm salad, which is one of my husband's favourite meals of all time.

WARM ROAST VEGETABLE & BACON SALAD

Ingredients
1 lettuce (I use rocket leaves or a cos lettuce)
1 potato, 1 sweet potato, and some pumpkin (amount variable)
2 rashers of bacon
2 tomatoes
1 red capsicum (optional)
Any sharp-tasting cheese - I have used fetta, blue, or even fried haloumi
Handful of pitted kalamata olives (optional)
(For dressing) Olive oil, balsamic vinegar and seeded mustard

Method
Dice the vegetables into rough cubes, then season and roast them in an oven pan coated with olive oil.

While they are cooking, chop the lettuce and toss it with the tomatoes (cut into rough chunks), the olives if using them, and the cheese (if using haloumi, fry it first).

In a frypan, lightly fry the bacon, diced into large cubes, and the capsicum, cut into strips.

When the vegetables are cooked, add them to the lettuce with the bacon and capsicum. Dress with olie oil mixed with balsamic vinegar and a teaspoon of seeded mustard.

5. Quick curries

Sometimes I have an unconquerable urge for something a bit weighty for lunch, that will sit in my stomach for hours. In these instances, if I'm at home and the kids co-operate, I'll often spend 15 minutes cooking myself a green curry. I cheat, using the Valcom curry paste that you can buy in the shops, and tinned coconut milk. I do know how to make curry paste from scratch, but it's a safe bet that I'll have neither the time nor the ingredients to do this every time I fancy a hot lunch.

6. Leftovers!

Ahhhh, leftovers. Enough said. The salvation of many a hungry tummy at lunchtime :-)

I plan all my meals to provide at least one portion over now to build in the leftover lunch.

7. Potato pancakes with applesauce or sour cream

I recently discovered the simplicity and fried deliciousness that is potato pancakes (latkes) with applesauce or sour cream. I've been making these as a side dish for family dinners and the kids adore them, but I also really enjoy them for lunch. (I'm still fiddling around with recipes to find the perfect one, but I'll add it when I get it just right).

If you are a non-sandwich-luncher by choice or necessity, do you have go-to options to eat? I'd love any new ideas!

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 3 down, 27 to go!

Reading Notes - Eddie's Kitchen (and How to Make Good Things to Eat)

2011-11-02T09:19:00.000+11:00

One of the things I like most about being regular library visitors is the sense of discovery, of hidden treasures lying in wait just on the next shelf. All three of my girls love the ritual of choosing new books; from a young age, I've simply left it to them to select their titles, setting only a numerical limit (more for the sake of my poor groaning back than anything else). Sometimes the things they find are delightful surprises - like one of the 2 year old's current selections, Sarah Garland's Eddie's Kitchen and How to Make Good Things to Eat.

This 2007 storybook is apparently the second in a series featuring main protagonist Eddie (a boy of 7 or 8, or thereabouts), his little sister Lily (a preschooler), and their Mum. C, my 2 year old, was attracted to it by the warm and inviting picture on the cover, the fat ginger cat, and the fact that Eddie is in the act of cracking an egg into a mixing bowl (a skill that C has recently mastered and is thrilled to practice each week on our baking day).

There's such a lot we all like about this story. The gentle, soft-edged pencil illustrations, of course - C has a definite preference for softness and watery colours in book art. The characters of Eddie and Lily are nicely fleshed out; C finds Lily's antics particularly amusing. The sequencing of the plot is a familiar and tried-and-true one for picture books (Event - Minor Crisis - Resolution - Humour), and Garland carries it off with a practised flourish.

What I like most of all, though, and what's attracted my two older kids to sneaking reads of this book (and reading aloud to the toddler), is the way that Garland creates a natural, human and extremely enticing portrait of a family making food together. The discovery that they need to prepare food for Grandpa's party, forgotten about but due to start in a matter of hours, promotes a flurry of bread-making, pasta-sauce-creation, apple-stuffing, orange-cake-baking, dip-mixing and salad-preparing.

Mum, while the overseer and director of the works, doesn't do all or even most of the actual food handling - Eddie, and playful Lily, have hands in every stage of the process. Indeed, they are integral to its success, finding apples (under the apple tree), eggs (in the henhouse and the doll's pram), mixing cake and kneading bread and creating pasta sauce. They are, in age-appropriate ways, co-workers in the kitchen, and Mum not only lets them be so, she *needs* them to be so. This is a very enticing vision of shared household work commingled with teaching and fun and love.

My kids are particularly enchanted by the way that Mum, while obviously a bit harried by the demands of last-minute party prep, still makes time to admire a neighbour's new baby, to extract a thorn from an old lady's finger, to talk to a friend on the phone who's having a hard time. Mum comes through in the book as a very caring, very warm person, and her hospitality is of the very best kind - not fussy, not fancy, not concerned with appearances, but embracing with affection and good hearty food and community.

All in all, we really love this picture book, and I'm on the hunt for its prequel, Eddie's Garden and How to Make Things Grow.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 2 down, 28 to go!

On the best-laid plans

2011-11-01T07:45:00.003+11:00

Today is the start of NaBloPoMo, the month-long challenge to post to one's blog every day. I've signed up to do both NaBloPoMo and NaNoWriMo this month, which might strike some as a bit foolhardy, but here we go ...

This is not the post I intended to write today.

I thought I had everything all planned out; I was going to write a review of a picture book my kids have been loving lately. A nice, upbeat, non-confrontational start to a month of daily blogging (and not too much to contemplate on the first day of Nanowrimo, either).

I put myself to bed as early as I could after Halloween excitement had died down for my children, and the door knocking had stopped. By 10pm, I was deeply and dreamlessly asleep. I had a plan - I would sleep until the toddler woke me, around 6am usually, I would read to her, make breakfasts, play card games with the elder two, then around 8am I'd switch on the TV for them for an hour and I'd write my review. I already knew what I wanted to say, so it'd be quick, easy, leaving me plenty of time to move onto Nano.

This is what I thought. The universe did not, however, agree.

I was awoken sharply at 2:30am from a terrible dream that one of my children was sobbing inconsolably and I could not reach them to soothe them. Forcing open grainy eyes, I found my 6 year old by my bedside, tears running down her face.

"Honey, what's wrong?" I mumbled, drawing her closer to cuddle her.

"It's my ankle!" she wailed, fresh sobs exploding between the words. "It hurts so much!"

In my confused, dragged-up-from-the-deeps state, the first thought in my mind was, She's twisted it somehow with all the trick or treating shenanigans last night. Poor little duck.

My second thought was much less admirable. This is GREAT, I muttered in my head. It'll take me ages to get her back to sleep, and longer again for me. My writing plans for tomorrow - today - are stuffed now. I won't have the energy.

And I gave an exasperated sigh.

She heard, and felt the shift in my overheated body (I always sleep too warm). New tears started. "I'm sorry, Mum..." she whispered. "It just hurts a lot." Then, playing her fingers across my forehead, "Can I sleep in here for the rest of the night?"

This is the point at which I should have realised that I was behaving, and reacting, both selfishly and unreasonably. Instead, I said crossly, "I can't get any proper sleep with you and your Dad in the bed! You need to go back to your own bed!"

She just looked at me, her eyes stricken, and turned to limp away. And my heart turned over.

"Wait, E, love," I called, bringing her back to the bed. "I'm sorry, yes, you can sleep here. I'll stay til you're settled, then I'll go to the spare bed, OK?"

"OK," she agreed, nestling up to her Dad's warm back.

So I went and I got her some Panadol and an icepack. I sat beside her, stroking her forehead, until she went back to sleep. I took myself off to the toddler's room and crawled into the cold spare bed there, shivering, lying awake for a long age until sleep finally came around 5am.

This morning I am tired, grainy-eyed and headachey. I don't think I'll be able to push through my hoped-for 2,000 words on day 1 of Nano. E, and toddler C, are clingy this morning, and the 20 minutes it's taken to write this post have been composed of 5-minute intervals, slips and gaps of time between one need and the next.

Sometimes it feels suffocating, motherhood.

Sometimes the quality of infinite interruptibility, the depth and width of need, feels like more than I can bear.

Sometimes I resent that I cannot, cannot, plan anything for myself with certainty or even probability, whether it be a meal out or a writing challenge or even a haircut.

Sometimes I feel like this.

The only way I have found to alleviate these feelings and to get back to responsive parenting is to do three things:

to give myself permission to feel aggrieved (temporarily), and to not feel guilt about it.

to remind myself that life is unpredictable for everyone, and that I knew when I had children that adding more people to the circle of love simply multiplied the uncertainty by several orders of magnitude.

to let it go; to toss aside plans and expectations and simply swim in the current the day brings, allowing myself to just be where I am rather than necessarily having to deliver a schedule.

Having my three children has been the greatest learning experience of my life. Being a parent has made me grow in ways that I never knew I could. It's at their small hands that I've learned the hard lesson of letting go.

And that's what I'm being reminded of again, today, on this first day of November.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo. 1 down, 29 to go!

More injured fingers and a very injured airline

2011-10-30T11:24:00.004+11:00

C, my 2 and a half year old, got her hand stuck in a door hinge yesterday. The *whole* hand, which, as it turned out, was probably a blessing, as it diffused the pinch enough that she probably doesn't have a broken finger (although we do have an x-ray appointment tomorrow to make sure).

It does, however, look awful, is clearly very sore, and we think she's likely to shed the fingernail on her middle finger soon.
In many ways it reminds me of the Great Scissor Catastrophe of February, with all the attendant finger care and appeasing empained and cranky small people.

In an ironic twist of fate, the inadvertent injurer in this case was Miss 6, who was herself the victim of accidental finger damage in February. This time, although I devoutly wish it hadn't happened, am very sorry for both C and E (who's guilt-stricken), and will pay greater attention to door safety reinforcement in the future, I'm not beating myself up about it. It not only wasn't my fault, it wasn't even something I could have reasonably prevented. Not feeling guilty is helping me be a calmer and more soothing parent this time around, I think, and that's all to the good.

Of course, while C's poor fingers may be the biggest news in our private universe, most of the action in Australian commentary at the moment is revolving around the killing of three Australian soldiers in Afghanistan and the Qantas lock-out of staff, which has caused a fleet-wide grounding of planes and a massive tsunami of disruption, angst and trouble.

About the soldiers killed in Afghanistan I have nothing to add other than my thoughts and sympathies to the families. It's a tragedy and one that will no doubt give rise to more discussion about what Australian forces' role in Afghanistan is or should be. I have no expertise in this area and no desire to enter this debate, so I'll leave it just with that.

I do have opinions about the Qantas debacle, though. (Who doesn't? Certainly not anyone on Twitter, which has been on fire ever since Alan Joyce's presser where the lock-out was announced).

In case you're unfamiliar with it (I can't imagine anyone is, but you never know), this it the situation. Qantas, after months of sour negotiations with three of the 15 unions that cover their staff (the Transport Workers Union, the pilot's association, and the engineers' union), which have been punctuated by various kinds of industrial action on the unions' part, yesterday announced that they would be locking out the workers in all affected unions, and - this is the kicker - therefore grounding their ENTIRE air fleet. IMMEDIATELY. Until they got a guarantee that industrial action would stop - not pause, while negotiations could continue, but stop, outright.

To say that this represents an extreme measure would be the understatement of this or any other century.

In essence, this seems to me to an incredibly hard-line move on Qantas's part, one that underlines in thick red ink how utterly determined they are to get their way at any cost, and "break" the unions. The fact that this is taking place at the expense of the travelling public, business, tourism, their own employees (both involved in industrial action and those totally uninvolved) and their own brand seems irrelevant. In any other context, I'd call this behaviour a tantrum ... actually, perhaps I'd call it bullying. It is absolutely, as someone noted, a knife to the throat of the Australian government and the unions, and it makes me intensely cross that corporations can behave like this.

Bottom line is that Qantas is acting in the worst possible faith in this matter. The vote, just 24 hours earlier, to give CEO Alan Joyce a whopping payrise; the lack of a heads-up to staff, unions or the Australian government; the timing of the action to coincide with major travel events such as the Melbourne Cup and (embarassingly for Australia) the Perth CHOGM meeting; the fact that Qantas continued to this lock-out even though the unions had agreed to suspend planned industrial action for several weeks so negotiations could continue; the announcing of 1,000 Australian job losses in the same year as profits are high and while union pay negotiations are ongoing ... This smells to me like we, the Australian public, are being played. I think this is all quite deliberate, planned, intentional and harmful bludgeoning of a large Australian workforce, and I am horrified to think they may get away with it, at least in part.

I realise that it's probable that the three unions are being intransigent and aggressive in their tactics; that's not unusual, nor is it admirable. While I count myself as a firm supporter of unionism (as a concept and a force to create equitable outcomes), I don't admire or support everything that individual unions do. I don't necessarily blame Qantas management for being frustrated with the negotiations.

But to lock out your workforce? To basically say, Do it our way, no discussion, or no jobs at all for you? To do this even though it will cost you much, much cash and much more in reputational damage? To do this even though it will harm so many associated industries, and so many passengers? To do this without warning or notice?

It's bad behaviour, pure and simple. Bad, unethical, unfair, and unconscionable. And I am hoping - seriously hoping - that the Fair Work Tribunal agrees and terminates the lock out today.

Things I Know

2011-10-28T06:29:00.005+11:00

This week, I know that I am equal parts trepidatious and energised by the writing committments I've made for November. Let the words fall where they may!

I know that watching rainbow fairy princesses read rainbow fairy books makes me smile.

I know that I'm disappointed for her that my 6 year old has a bout of tonsillitis again, after just over two years clear of this bete noir of hers, but that I'm relieved that it seems to be responding well to antibiotics this time.

I know that I am wracked with ambivalence (again) about the toddler and creche, which is rotten timing as a) I will probably need to job-seek in 2012, so she'll likely be increasing her days of necessity, and b) she is well settled on her Thursdays now, so removing her would be disruptive to her routine.

I know that the interminability of housework makes me tired and cranky and stressed far more often than I'd like.

And I know that the arrival of our book package from Booktopia on Thuursday filled the girls and I with shared and untrammelled delight, and that Thursday afternoon and evening saw us all lost in a pile of good books :-)

For more things that people know, check out Yay for Home!

November - the month of the words

2011-10-26T13:07:00.006+11:00

I've been planning to do NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) again this year pretty much since I somewhat astounded myself by finishing last year's effort (a middle grade detective novel) - I wrote 51,000 words in 30 days, and have subsequently written an ending and polished that manuscript into a 55,000 word completed story. I enjoyed the experience last year so enormously, and was so satisfied with achieving the goal, that there was never any doubt that I'd have a stab again.

Then I saw that Karen at Miscellaneous Mum is going to do NaNo AND its blogly cousin, NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month)... both in November.

Holy words on fire, Batman!

But what the hey, if Karen's prepared to give it a try, so am I. Unlikely and foolhardy as it may seem, I'm going to give it a go to do both NaNoWriMo and NaBloPoMo together in November.

So that's a month where I'm going to:

- post here every day (some of them might be image-heavy, mind you)
- write at least 50,000 words on a new middle grade novel
- plan for and prepare for Christmas seasonal things
- attend at least one and usually 2 or more functions each weekend
- do about 30 hours contracting work
- as per normal, care for three children, a husband and a dog; maintain a house; shop for and prepare meals; and ferry everybody where they have to go

I might be a tiny bit over-ambitious here - how unlike me - but I'm going to try. In for a penny, in for a pound...

Scienceworks Dinosaur Day

2011-10-24T16:16:00.004+11:00

The 2 year old and I went to Scienceworks today with the lovely Shae and her girls for Dinosaur Day.

Scienceworks is running the Explore-a-Saurus exhibit until April 2012, an interactive and fascinating display featuring, among other things, animatronic dinosaurs, a sandpit for uncovering dinosaur bones and eggs, and information about how paleontologists make their discoveries and surmises about prehistoric life.

Being museum members, we were well aware of the exhibit and it was on our list, but going on Dinosaur Day meant that we got in for free, which, being a well-known cheapskate, appealed to me enormously :-) Getting to go along with Shae and her girls was a very good added incentive to today's trip.

When discussing the day with C, I told her we'd be going to a museum with some friends.

"Who?" she said with slight suspicion.

"A lady with three little girls, C," I replied, "you haven't met them yet but you'll like them."

"OK ..." she said. Then: "Will there be dinosaurs?"

Oh yes, lamb. Dinosaurs in SPADES!

C was delighted - entranced - with the moving dinosaurs (which were, I must say, exceedingly well done). She kept wanting to come back all the time to the display of the mother Maiasaurus bending over her nest of hatching eggs. She was also madly keen on brushing the sand off the eggs in the sandpit, staring at them intently in the hope that they too would hatch. (Alas, being made of plaster, they did not).

She chattered about dinosaurs all the way home and has been playing with her little tub of plastic dinos ever since, while listening to dinosaur music and having me read My Dearest Dinosaur, Harry and his Bucketful of Dinosaurs and How Do Dinosaurs Say I Love You?

I leave you with our favourite dinosaur-related song of all ... They Might Be Giants' I Am a Paleontologist.

Dinosaurs FTW!

MSO Kids: Clowning Around with Melvin Tix

2011-10-22T18:45:00.012+11:00

We had a fantastic and musical family outing this morning (ahhhh, the legitimate thee-ater, as Homer Simpson might say :-) The husband, kids and I skipped regular Saturday swimming lessons in favour of one of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra's deservedly popular and engaging MSO Kids concerts.

This performance featured Norwegian "clownductor" Peter Vabog, who performs as clown Melvin Tix. His 27 years of creating fun, interactive musical events for young children were fully on display as he led the MSO musicians through a really enjoyable program.

My children all enjoyed different aspects of the show. My 6 year old liked the parts where Melvin played his little trumpet and conducted the orchestra. My 2 year old loved it "when the clown was silly an' knocked hisself on the bottom with the stick" (a reference to an amusing section where Melvin got four adults to come up and play hollow sticks by hitting them on their body parts). My 8 year old's favourite part was the introduction of each instrument (she was fascinated hearing the instruments played individually and then together, remarking how different they sounded).

The performance went 50 minutes, which was fine for Miss 8, OK for Miss 6, and probably a touch long for Miss 2 (who, nonetheless, sat for it all and was still chirpy at the end). I think it's a perfect length of the target age range (3-8) and will satisfy them without stretching the friendship too far.

We are not an especially devoted classical music family - husband and both big girls learn guitar, but are playing folk and rock music rather than classical even in that arena. This concert, and the consummate skill of the MSO, has sparked an interest in classical music in the 8 year old (we are listening to Brahms right now) and a speculative acquisition of the 2012 program for husband and I, who are thinking we might try to get to a few performances next year.

All in all, a warm, fun, and interactive way to spend a family morning, and such a treat to hear lovely music presented unpretentiously and in an engaging way for very young children. I cannot recommend this highly enough, and I know we'll be taking the family to an MSO Kids performance again.

Disclosure: I received complimentary tickets to this performance for review purposes courtesy of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. No financial payment was offered nor accepted for this post. All opinions expressed are purely my own.

Things I Know

2011-10-21T12:22:00.006+11:00

Well, let's see what I know after a few days offline ...

I know spring has sprung, the grass is riz, and the roses are exploding with blossoms.

I know what my NaNoWriMo project for this year is going to be, and I have a title, a synopsis, and a clear idea of how to begin.

I know that morning tea with other bloggers is great fun, and that Karen is a generous and gracious hostess.

I know that giving my 8 year old a day off school to come along to the morning tea with me was the right decision and a special thing for her as she begins her blogging life.

I know that all the kids thought the Wild Action show at the morning tea was a huge hoot, and that I was as fascinated as they were with the lizards.

I know that getting stuck in execrable traffic on the way to and from the morning tea was an unexpected boon, as it gave my 8 year old girl and I a chance to have some real in depth talking time.

I know that I enjoyed the time offline and that it settled my head a lot, and gave me undistracted time to sort out several niggling household issues that had been hanging around way too long.

And I know that, much as I think #pbevent would have been fun, I'm content to be spending my day with my beautiful toddler, just baking, painting pictures, playing trains, and singing in the rain.

For more things that people know, check out Yay for Home!

On death, dying, pain, and the silence of modernity

2011-10-16T17:05:00.000+11:00

A friend of my mother's, a man she worked with years ago, died very recently from cancer. My mum was saddened by his passing, although, given the nature of his disease, not especially shocked. She did, however, express a deal of frustration with the palliative care he received, which she described as medically competent but emotionally inadequate. All that could be done to relieve his pain and make him physically comfortable had been done, but his fear, his anger, his sense of loss at the ending of his life - that had no real outlet. Nurses were incredibly kind, doctors soothing, his sisters conscientious and grieving, but he was encouraged - subtly, but surely - to die "peacefully", by which she meant to die QUIETLY, stoically, silently.

I witnessed this with the death of my friend from a brain tumour last year also. Her bravery, cheerfulness and the indomitability of her spirit was cited over and over again by friends and acquaintances, and so many people who visited her ended up being comforted by her rather than the other way around. My friend was lucky to have an awesome family around her who gave her space to express the full gamut of her fear, pain and outrage at this dreadful thing that was stealing her years. Her sister, speaking at her funeral, expressed this best when she said that the hardest thing a person can be called on to do is to stand with another in their pain - pain that can't be fixed or cured, but must be ridden to into the long dark, with no abatement or surcease.

Learning on Twitter this week of the death of Australian fantasy author Sara Douglass in September brought these musings sharply to mind, as I read her powerful post on her blog about this very point, The Silence of the Dying. Being ten times the writer that I'll ever be, and having the awful authority of terminal ovarian cancer to inform her words, Douglass's post captured everything I'd been struggling to express as I've sat by several terminal bedsides over the past years.

Douglass talks about the modern discomfort with death and disease. She speaks doubly powerfully - in the voice of a medieval historian, with the perspective of time (her other professional life, as Sara Warnecke, and where I first came across her, as I am myself a trained historian and it's a small incestuous world in Australian historical scholarship); and, of course, in the voice of a dying woman. Writing about the pre-modern experience of illness, dying and death, she wrote:

"Suffering, if not quite celebrated, was at least something to which everyone could relate, and with which everyone was at ease. People were comfortable with death and with the dying. Death was not shunted away out of sight. Grief was not subdued. Emotions were not repressed... Death and dying was familiar, and its journey’s milestones well marked and recognizable. People prepared from an early age to die, they were always prepared, for none knew when death would strike."

My grandmothers, both of them, told stories of family deathbeds not unlike this - relatives coming and going, open wailing, vast oceans of grief being voiced (including, oftentimes, by the dying themselves). My Irish grandmother told me about the release of an old-style wake - celebration and mourning in one, remembrance and acknowledgement.

It seems to me that this kind of integration of death and dying into life and living is something that we miss in modern Western society. Even illness - chronic, severe, painful illness - is something verboten for us; something we're supposed to talk about in whispers, if at all; something we're meant to endure without complaint (and, preferably, without talking about it). Pain, fear, death, is not to be cried against, for us, but to be suppressed, to be denied, to be papered over with a brave smile, because we wouldn't want other people to be made uncomfortable, would we?

Would we?

Sara Douglass expressed it thus:

"Now we ignore death. We shunt it away. Children are protected from it (and adults wish they could be protected from it). The dying are often not allowed to express what they are really feeling, but are expected (by many pressures) to be positive, bright and cheerful as ‘this will make them feel better’ (actually, it doesn’t make the dying feel better at all, it just makes them feel worse, but it does make their dying more bearable for those who have to be with them).

When it comes to death and dying, we impose a dreadful silence on the dying lest they discomfort the living too greatly."

I think this silence is suffocating and unnatural and inhuman, and I think it makes all of our passings more traumatic than nature would have them. Why must we go silently into the night? Why should we be rendered mute with embarrassment at the pain and anger of others as they die? Why is death seen as something separate to life instead of its inevitable, terrible, but rightful end?

Dylan Thomas had it when he wrote:

"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light...

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

To my friends who are suffering, and to the one who is dying (although, we believe and hope, slowly), I say: Do NOT feel pressured to go gentle into that good night. I will rage with you and grieve with you and wail for myself and for you.

No more silence.

_________________________________________________________________

I'm taking an online holiday this week, barring email. Comments will still be approved but I won't be on Twitter or posting here until the weekend. I hope you all have a good week and for those going to pbevent, I look forward to hearing about it when I'm "back".

Things I Know

2011-10-14T11:13:00.005+11:00

It's Friday, so that must mean I know things, right?

This week I know that giving a 6 year old girl a day off school to spend on her own with Mummy might be, strictly speaking, against the rules ... but that it's a rule well worth breaking every once in a while.

I know that 2.5 year olds who've not been to their Thursday creche for a couple of weeks due to holidays might be a little hesitant on arrival ...

but that the discovery that creche has acquired a goldfish called Dora and a rabbit called Boots in her absence will have her waving me off impatiently so she can join the throng of kids around the pets.

I know that the warmer weather is a double blessing, coinciding as it does with my central heating going up the putt again, and us deciding to not fix it for now based on the ridonkulous costs involved.

I know that appliance repair can be cripplingly costly, and that having less electricity-driven machines might not be the worst thing in the world anyway as power prices head north next year with carbon tax.

I know that the kids and I have witnessed two sets of solar panels being fixed to roofs this week on our school walk, and I think (I don't *know*!) that this trend will accelerate as July approaches. This can only be a good thing in my view.

And finally, I know that holidays away are wonderful, a great maker of memories and destresser of persons, but that all the same, it's nice to be back home.

For more things that people know, head over to Yay for Home!

Name That Object! #3

2011-10-10T11:16:00.003+11:00

Well, time for the Monday $2 Shop Mystery Object Guessing Game. (For an explanation and previous weeks' objects, see here and here).

I found this one in a shop in Inverloch while on holidays last week. I think we've figured out what one part of it is, but I'm at a loss for the adjunct pieces.

Here is:

Thing 3!

I await your enlightenment ;-)

Our farm-near-the-coast holiday

2011-10-09T14:48:00.020+11:00

We got back late yesterday afternoon after a week away at a farmstay holiday in South Gippsland, at a place called Boggabri, located near Walkerville.

As the person who makes the running in planning, organising, booking, and paying for our family holidays (I always put aside any contracting income I get specifically for holidays - it doesn't go into general revenue, ususally), I had decided on a farmstay near the beach a while ago. Beach holidays have a proven track record of success for us, and all of the kids would, I felt, enjoy being on a working farm and seeing animals more closely.

I picked Boggabri based on its website, just because it had a pretty garden, it was on the beautiful South Gippsland coast and reasonably close to Inverloch, a town I've always wanted to explore but have never visited until this week. These were thin enough reasons, but in this instance, my intuition did not let me down.

Our week at Boggabri was very special family time for us.

We walked the paddocks every day, strolling past mildly interested cows, skittish sheep and calm black bulls. (The bulls were behind wire, but the other animals just wandered freely with us, kept in only by cattle grates at roadways).

We visited Walkerville South beach, the beautiful, secluded little inlet that inspired one of our favourite childrens' picture books of all time - Alison Lester's Magic Beach. The kids were so thrilled to actually *be* at the place in the story. We were even lucky enough to get a warm spring day where we could paddle, build sandcastles, and in the case of the cold-impervious 8-year-old, swim.

We spent time in Inverloch, walking the Dinosaur Cove and letting the 2 year old go to town on splashing in rockpools.

We helped muster some sheep from one paddock to the next over rolling green hills, riding in (or, in the case of the fearless 6 year old), on, a farm ute.

We watched a flock get shorn and crutched, and each of the kids came away with a fistful of soft creamy wool courtesy of the friendly shearers.

We stroked and hand-fed little lambs.

We went for a beautiful drive towards Wilsons Prom and ate an astoundingly good meal in a little town called Fish Creek. (I'll be doing a post on that later this week, as it was one of the nicest gluten-free meals I've ever eaten in a restaurant, anywhere).

We did lots of holidayish, relaxing things too - reading (the big kids and I chewed through three novels apiece), drinking tea in the afternoon sun, playing Uno and Pictionary, listening to music, napping (me as well as the younger two kids). The husband and I traded sleep-ins a couple of days, and the girls got to watch a Barbie movie that I'd brought specifically for the holiday. We even got to watched a film one night, a rarity for us these days as I am usually working and / or sleeping once the kids are in bed.

The nicest part was how quiet and out-of-our-world the farm was. Things happen on farms, and people come and go, but the farm is big and wide and often you see no-one at all for hours. 3G reception was patchy, which led to an entire series of photos that we've dubbed The Things Husband Will Do to Get Internet (balancing the lappy on top of the taps in the cottage kitchen was probably the funniest). This meant there were large chunks of every day when we were happily offline and uncontactable, and it was good for all of us.

Oh, we didn't leave everyday life behind completely - people had tantrums, people melted down, people squabbled and got tired and got fed up. (And the kids did too, on occasion ;-) But the space out of life was a great boon to us and the sometimes fractious dynamics that can emerge in our little cluster of personalities.

The big kids, who can be competitive and provoking with each other, had time to play together and reconnect. I was able to go for a walk every day with just my 8 year old, who craves that one-on-one time and isn't always able to get it. The toddler got to spend much more time than usual with her daddy, which was very good for their relationship. And the 6 year old was able to run free, burning her boundless energy on hills and beaches rather than getting bored and mischievous.

One of the greatest things of all about being on the farm was the real breakthrough that we had with the 8 year old, who'd become, rather dismayingly and inexplicably, nervous of animals. (Not hysterical, just very, very cautious and a bit skittish).
Being around friendly, affectionate and well-trained kelpies, curious, calm cows, frolicking sheep, and well-trained horses, she relaxed visibly, even deciding off her own bat to trot out one morning to help groom the riding horses before a trail ride left. It was so wonderful to see her enjoying this contact rather than fearing it.

I think I've concluded a few things from this holiday, some of which I knew already, and some of which are new understandings.

- You don't have to spend a lot of money to have a good family holiday. All up, including food and petrol, this holiday cost us a long way south of $1,000. It's a truism, but the shared experience is the pearl, not the costliness of it.

-
Holidays with a single base (preferably one where you can prepare meals) are easier by far with small children and a Coeliac parent. I shudder to think of the waste and expense if we'd had to eat every meal out.

- Being near a beach = FTW. Every time. No matter what the weather.

- Family holidays are a vital part of reconnecting and rebuilding relationships in a busy, often stressful world. It's easy to plan to stop and smell the roses, to say that quality time together is a priority, to think about family things to do, but the pace of life often swallows up good intentions.

Being a stay-at-home, occasionally-contracting parent this year, I do spend a lot of *time* with my children, but the relaxing of normal expectations that a holiday can offer opens the door to a different kind of time, a different kind on conversation. For my husband, who works fulltime out of the home, this was even more true, and even more important.

We won't go away anywhere in the summer break - we never do, as my husband can't usually get leave at that time, and another kind of enjoyment is always found in 6 luxurious summer weeks of kicking back at home. (We're also lucky enough to live opposite friends with a pool, and near a lovely swimming beach).

I think, though, we're all minded to have another break away next year; perhaps not twice as we've done this year with March's Anglesea trip and this farm break, but at least once, somewhere peaceful and expansive and welcoming. I cannot think of a better reason to do the little bits and pieces of contracting that come my way, time-pressuring as they can sometimes be, than to allow us these opportunities to grow and regenerate and build shared memories.

Name That Object! #2

2011-10-03T08:30:00.000+11:00

This is the second installment of my ridiculous and pointless Monday guessing game, Name That Object! For last week's object and an introduction to the concept, see here.)

I found this in a $2 shop some time ago. I don't think it's *quite* as mysterious as last week's - well, I'm pretty sure I've worked out what it's for - but I'd have to say it's not self-evident. Naturally enough, it was unlabelled.

I'll give one clue - it was in amongst all the other kitchen utensils and doo-dads.

I present to you - Thing 2.

Thing 2 is made of white plastic and it comes apart in the middle, falling into two interlocking pieces.

The base piece has small slits cut into it.

Got any ideas? Share!

Things I Know: School Holidays edition

2011-09-30T14:02:00.004+10:00

With school holidays in full swing, I know a few things this week.

- I know that spending the first weekday of the holidays relaxing at the park and at home sets the mood just right for a happy week.

- I know that my children, who have never been camping or built / seen a campfire love nothing better than pretending to camp and build pretend campfires.

- I know that when the storms hit later in the week, you'll be glad you squeezed every ounce of outdoor play from that fine and sunny Monday!

- I know that I'm really glad my older kids can get to spend a couple of days & nights each holidays with their grandparents, who live too far away to make regular termtime visits feasible.

- I know that I'm really, really glad that my Mum was amenable to taking the girls to see the Smurfs movie while they were on their grandparent holiday, as I did not want to see it at all, and the kids were desperate to.

- I know that the Melbourne Museum is a source of pleasure and treasure for kids of all ages (38 included ;-)

- I know that even though the new Museum is bright and shiny and well-planned and inviting and interactive and fun, a part of me is nostalgic for the musty, dusty, blind-corner and hidden-mysteries charm of the old Museum, which I remember fondly from childhood.

- I know that holidays, like life, are all about balance - a quiet first day, three busy and active days, now a quiet day again, with just shopping, morning tea with friends, TV, books, and crafts at home to fill the hours.

- And I know - like I always know in school holidays - that a big part of me wishes I could home educate, and have them here all the time.

For other things that people know, check out Yay for Home!

Cooking Gluten Free for a Family: Spinach & Black Olive Soup

2011-09-29T16:22:00.001+10:00

I am a Coeliac mother cooking for a family of mostly-normals, but with three children who are quite green-vegetable-averse (the toddler eats peas, the big kids eat broccoli, but other than that, green vegetable consumption can be a struggle). I'm always looking for recipes that are gluten free (or can be made so), nutritious, tart and salty-tasting, because those are the tastes that most appeal to our family palate - barring a shared dedication to chocolate, we're none of us particularly sweet-toothed.

When I find a recipe that is gluten-free by ingredient, yummy, salty-tasting without being actually very salty, and has a green vegetable base, AND THE FAMILY EATS IT, I quietly high-five myself for weeks.

This spinach & olive soup is one such recipe. Cut from a magazine column years ago and hidden in the back of my recipe file for ages, I unearthed it last year and started making it again. It's really easy, really delicious, and really nutritious. And it's greeeeeeeen!

(It isn't, I'll concede, particularly pretty - it tastes better than it looks by several orders of magnitude :-)

Ingredients
Olive oil
1 onion, roughly chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
500g potatoes, peeled & diced
1 litre chicken or veg stock
1 large lemon, juiced
500g English spinach, stems removed, washed & chopped
¼ cup sour cream
1 cup Kalamata olives, pitted
Salt & pepper to taste

Method
Fry the onion & garlic in olive oil on low heat until onion is soft but not changing colour. Then add the stock & potatoes and bring to the boil, simmering it until potatoes are cooked. Remove from heat.

Add the lemon juice, spinach, sour cream & olives. Puree in a blender til smooth (you might have to do it in batches). Season to taste.

To serve, gently reheat. I garnish it with a teaspoon of sour cream and a few chopped olives.

On grief after the passage of time

2011-09-28T10:30:00.005+10:00

sometimes
I think I see her. out of the corner of my eye
or from the side, her face turned away
an acute angle of vision.

Often, at the shops, it happens. coming and going
from the fruiterer we used to share, meeting
with wry smiles among the sweet smells of kiwi fruit and mango
both of us marshalling multiple small people away from destruction

and she would say: Why do they leave the grapes just where little kids can get them?
and laugh
And I'd say: Ty before you buy...
and we'd stop for coffee
the kids sipping milkshakes and eating sugared donuts

sometimes I expect to see her there still. sometimes
I think I do.
a face
half-caught in the sunlight
with a look of her. a woman
walking with a stick, limping
as she did, before
she could not.

I am always surprised
how much it hurts
when my mind catches up to the error
and reminds me
that I will never see her again.

that she is gone from the earth. gone
into whatever lies beyond,
if anything.

it doesn't seem any more possible
even now,
even now.

there is no justice in this. there never was
death does not play fair.
or fate, or random blind luck, or what-have-you
that which decrees
that this one will live to dotage, and that one, oh,
consign her body to the flames
before she's 40.

knowing this
understanding this
does not make me miss her less.

- Kathy, 28/9/11

Name That Object!

2011-09-26T08:16:00.005+10:00

My kids love to visit $2 shops. With pocket money, chores money, and tooth fairy money, they've quickly worked out that the haul of junky but funky objects they can acquire is exponentially greater at these emporiums of the flotsam of capitalism than if we go somewhere like Target.

I myself find $2 shops oddly fascinating as well as vaguely repellant. They often smell odd - musty, mouldy, overscented with cheap soaps and knock-off deodorants - and they're usually stuffed to the gills with the most eclectic assortment of objects imaginable. I walked out of one local place recently with a photo frame, a canvas dog bed, coloured pencils, a plastic tiara, paper plates, a firelighter, a packet of scrubbing sponges and some spray hair colour, and that was by no means an exhaustive sample of what this shop had to offer.

Another thing that always astounds me about $2 shops is their casual approach to a) pricing and b) labelling of their merchandise. It's like haggling at a market in Hanoi sometimes; I've often gone in with a specific amount of money, say $15, and gathered up what I needed, then negotiated the price to match the available cash.

Every $2 shop I've ever been into also sports a hefty selection of Mystery Merchandise - objects, without packaging or labelling, whose purpose is obscure and in some cases intriguing. I've asked, on occasion, what a specified object might be, only to be met with a fine shrug from the staff. I get the sense that they themselves don't always know what the odder items in their stock are, or what they're for. This both puzzles and delights me.

On our last visit to the $2 shop, my 2.5 year old came racing up the aisles with a packet clutched in her hand.

"I wan' THIS!" she declared, pushing it into my hand.

I looked down at a clear plastic envelop containing 6 iterations of ...

"What ARE they?" I asked my husband in bemusement.

He examined them. He hmmmmed. "Stuffed if I know," he eventually replied.

We found the spot on the shelf that C had trawled her treasure from. It was full of unnamed objects in clear plastic packages. Some of them were obviously kitchen objects - a set of measuring cups, a sieve, a set of plastic spatulas. Some were bathroom objects - soap dishes in various lurid shades, toothbrush holders, toilet brushes. And some of them were just mysterious, their purpose unclear, left to the imagination.

C really, really wanted her "fing", and it was $1 for the packet of 6 Fings, so we bought it for her. She plays with them in her plastic-food kitchen, sitting them on her wooden stove, stuffing them with tissues to sit toy eggs inside. She loves them, but we still have absolutely no idea what they ARE.

So I present it to you:

Do you know what it is? Can you make a guess? (Funneh ideas welcome ;-)

There's no prize on offer here, just the satisfaction of knowing you can put me out of my curious misery.

I have a plethora of other $2 shop mystery objects hanging about, so until I run out (or get bored with it), I'm going to post a Monday Name That Object! for a few weeks. Hopefully some people will be able to resolve conundrums for me :-)

Things I Know

2011-09-23T09:28:00.003+10:00

There are some things I know today.

I know that 8 year old girls can find life confusing and overwhelming sometimes, and that this can make them act like hormonal teenagers years before their time.

I know that managing sibling conflict is one of the most unrelenting and wearisome parts of having more than one child.

I know that when I am off my game, whether it's due to illness, or stress, or tiredness, or whatever really, that this disproportionately impacts the whole family dynamic.

I know that I find that a bit frightening sometimes.

But...

I also know that while my children fight, they always make up, with each other and with me and with the world.

I know that my girls are learning to use an emotional vocabulary that is making it easier for them to express their feelings non-aggressively.

I know that love-notes from children are beyond sweet, especially when they are also apology notes for spouting-off that the child herself has recognised as hurtful.

I know that I love them all immensely, even when they are hurting me or each other, and that the difficult times are teaching me things about the unconditionality of love that I could not learn any other way.

I know they are beautiful people, each one of them, and that I'm privileged to be a part of their lives.

For other things that people know, check out the links at Yay for Home!

Scene from a kitchen, after a long illness

2011-09-20T14:34:00.001+10:00

(This is a vignette from late last week, when toddler had entered the highly querulous phase of her recovery from a severe flu).

Toddler, who has been grizzling and shouting alternately for past hour: "I wanna choc'lut! I wanna cuppa miiiiiiilk! I wanna yolly!"

Me, after deep breath, calmly, "No, C."

She, doing a frustrated little dance on the spot, bellows "I wanna APPLE then! APPLE! APPLE! AAAAAAAPPPPPLLLLLE!!!!!!"

Me, with sigh: "If I give you an apple, will you stop whining for 10 minutes?"

She, tipping her head to one side in contemplation: "I not sure. We 'ave to see. Won't we, Mummy?"

Me, smiling in spite of myself: "I guess we will, C."

She takes one bite of her apple, pulls a dreadful face, and shrieks: "It's YUKKY! I wanna STAWBEWWY! I wanna BIT A CHEESE! Muuuuuummmmmmeeeeee...."

I am. But are you?

2011-09-15T10:50:00.002+10:00

Today is RU OK? Day. It's a day about connections and the difference that they can make to a person who's struggling. It's about taking the time to ask, to really ask, someone if they are OK, and to be prepared to hear the answer properly, to supportively listen.

I am one of the fortunate ones. Even though I'm recovering from flu, even though I'm still battling a kidney infection, even though I have toddler tantrums and money worries and a hideously overgrown garden and a filthy house and fractious older kids to deal with, I also have no black dog on my back making it all unbearable. I get sad, mad and dangerous sometimes, life stresses me out and I crack open for a while, but it passes quickly, lightly, ultimately harmlessly. This is because I am not now depressed.

I have been in that place, though. My postpartum struggles after my first and third babies were never diagnosed, probably because I'm really good at masking (I suspect a lot of us are), but the bottom line was, for months after A was born and again after C was born, I was most certainly not OK. And I was sobbing inside for someone to ask me, to really ask me, and to give me permission to open the door to that pain.

Today I asked someone close to me if they were OK. For the first time, with tears in their eyes, this person admitted that they are not. I think it was a relief to them to speak this truth aloud.

So small a question to contain so great a thing. Ask it today.

Things I Know

2011-09-09T10:41:00.003+10:00

Today I know that I hate it when my kids are sick and suffering.

I know that when a doctor drops the phrase "glandular fever" into the mix when examining your 2 year old, your heart will turn flipflops.

I know that I worry more than I should, and that I probably lose my nerve too quickly, rushing to doctors and hospitals when bedrest is what's actually indicated.

I know, though, that I'd never forgive myself if I under-reacted, and that led to my child getting a lot sicker.

I know that when I woke this morning with a agonising cough and fever of 39.5, and ascertained that I have not one but TWO very sick kids to care for, I regretted hubs taking a Carer's Day yesterday, because, workplaces being what they are, this made it impossible for him to take another today.

I know that I am upset with myself for making questionable decisions all down the line this week, resulting in my kids probably being sicker than they needed to be, and maybe exposing other children to their lurgies.

I know that I need to get better at making the hard calls, even if it makes my children or my occasional employers unhappy sometimes. The fact that the kids wanted to go to school swimming shouldn't have outweighed my feeling that they weren't well enough to; that the fact that the big kids wanted to go to gymnastics training shouldn't have been allowed to gazump the todler's obvious need to be home in the warm; the fact that I was scheduled to work on Wednesday shouldn't have overriden my uncertainty about whether the toddler was well enough for creche.

I know that I feel like crap, and like a crap parent.

I know that my toddler and 8 year old feel awful too, and that's almost harder to bear.

For more things that people know, head over to Yay for Home!

Winner: Mickey Mouse Clubhouse Super Silly Adventures DVD

2011-09-06T13:37:00.001+10:00

The only entrant and WINNER is Megs! Onya, lady ;-)

Let me know an address via gmail and I'll get the prize sent out to you.

Reading Notes - Zoe and Beans: The Magic Hoop!

2011-09-04T01:51:00.000+10:00

Disclosure: I received a complimentary copy of this book for review purposes courtesy of Pan Macmillan Australia. No financial payment was offered nor accepted for this post. All opinions expressed are purely my own.

Chloe and Mick Inkpen's new picture book in the Zoe and Beans series arrived in our letterbox last week, and it was an instant hit with the toddler, charming her out of an overtired strop almost instantaneously. (I could stop this review *right there* and parents of toddlers would still be motivated to buy it ;-)

We'd come in the door from shopping, C in full cranky mode, me balancing parcels and muddy shoes and plastic bags. As soon as I'd thrown the cold & frozen groceries into their places, I sat C down as we opened the Pan Macmillan parcel, talking it up as I did so. "Look, C! It's a BOOK! A NEW BOOK! For you!"

C, who loves books generally, at first was not having a bar of it. "NOOOOO! I wan' to run around!" But as she caught sight of the appealing cover, with its soft-edged, pastel look, she became interested, and came to sit down with me and listen.

This is our first experience with Zoe and Beans, and we were both charmed. The text is simple enough to engage a toddler but genuinely funny enough to be enjoyable for older children and adults (my 8 year old is particularly tickled by the tiny rabbit poos - so much easier to clean up than doggy poos!)

It's a straightforward tale - Zoe finds a magic hoop, and induces her dog Beans to jump through it by dint of throwing his favorite treat (Choccy Bears) on the other side. The hoop has transformative qualities, as Zoe and Beans quickly discover. The appeal lies in the beautiful artwork and gentle humour - not that I would have expected less of a Mick Inkpen book of Wibbly Pig fame - and in the building to a conclusion that all good children's picture books must accomplish if they are to become regular reads.

This book has been on more-than-daily rotation ever since it arrived, and I've already got the forthcoming Christmas title in the series, Zoe's Christmas List, on my radar as a new holiday title for C. I highly recommend it for children over 2.

Sibling rivalry resolved: A picture book

2011-09-01T14:40:00.006+10:00

My 6 year old was set the task of writing a short story in school last week. She decided to go with a thinly-veiled autobiographical them, writing about two sisters called Lilly and A (actually, not A - her sister's real name) who are not getting along so well. It starts off promisingly:

Text: Once upon a time in a little house lived two little girls. There (sic) house was in the woods. One of them was Lilly, the other was A.

Happy faces!

Soon, the story becomes darker and conflictual:

Text: One day they had a fight. A said "You are dumb". Lilly said "No you are".

Sad faces!

But it's all OK, because there's one page left to resolve it:

Text: Mum said "Stop it" and they lived happily ever after. The end.

If only it worked like that in reality :-)

(NB: I asked E's permission to post this story and she gave it enthusiastically).

Wit and wisdom of my toddler

2011-08-30T14:06:00.003+10:00

This will come as no surprise to any of you who either have a toddler currently or have been through that phase with older kids, but man toddlers can be hilarious ;-)

Here's some gems that my 2.5 year old has come out with in the past few weeks.

Toddler the Modern Child (tweeted on 27th August)
We got Mickey Mouse Clubhouse DVD for review in the post this week. Kids watched some eps this arvo. 2 yo just said to me: "Mummy, can we write 'bout the Mickey Mouse on your glog?" #childrenoftheInternet

Toddler the Negotiator (tweeted on 26th August)
Toddler just got put into her cot because she threw a plastic toy in her 8 yo sister's face. Le sigh. Now she's calling out, "Mummeee! I wan' a Zhou Zhou pet an' 500 hunnerd dollars! An' some blackberry jam!" #whatthe

Toddler the Self-Aware
On being asked to help her sister pack up some puzzles, she replied "Nooooo!" "Why not?" demanded the exasperated 6-year-old. "Cos I being diff'cult!" shouts the toddler triumphantly.

Toddler the Toilet Trainer
To a random lady in the supermarket, "Hi! I am wearing my big girl undies! They 'ave Dora the 'Splorer on them! I show you, see ..." Then, "What is on YOUR undies?"

Toddler the Curious
"Mummy, why Daddy have no O-Os? [Her word for breastmilk]."
"Well, only women make O-Os, sweetheart. And Daddy's a man."
Frown. "He NOT a man, he a BOY!"
Then - "Will I make O-Os when I a big yady too?"
"Maybe, love. If you have babies."
Smile. "Gweat!"

Toddler the Heart-Melter
"Mummy..."
"Yes, hon?"
"Mummy, I love you. I love you very much. An' I missed you. I missed you sooooo much."
Me, accepting the hug and kisses happily, "I love you too, darling. But I was only gone one minute, you know." (I'd been out to the bin to put rubbish out).
She, sternly, "But you DID miss me, Mummy!"
Me, "Of course, love."
She, cuddling in, "I should think so!"

For all its frustrations and exhaustions, it's a phase of enormous delight, toddlerdom.

Mickey Mouse Clubhouse Super Silly Adventures: Review and Giveaway

2011-08-28T07:31:00.000+10:00

Disclosure: I received a complimentary DVD review copy courtesy of Walt Disney Studios Home Entertainment and Porter Novelli. No financial payment was offered nor accepted for this post. All opinions expressed are purely my own.

As I've written about before, my kids like Mickey Mouse Clubhouse a lot. When we were offered the chance to review a collection of episodes around the (loose) theme of Super Silly Adventures, we said, Sure, we're in!

As it turned out, my older kids had seen a couple of these episodes on TV, but they were very happy to catch them again. The toddler, for whom they were all new, was, and is, delighted with them. Her favourite is the episode where Goofy gets turned into a baby by dint of a time machine experiment gone horribly wrong (this is Mickey Mouse, not dystopian science fiction, so never fear, all ends well and everyone stays perky throughout their journey back to their proper timeline ;-)

The three things we most enjoy about Mickey Mouse Clubhouse are:

- The bright colours and eye-catching, simple graphics. My toddler in particular is drawn to bright, clear images at the moment, and enjoys Mickey Mouse visually for much the same reasons she enjoys Dora the Explorer.

- The predictable, straightforward, but (for this age group) very successful story structure of problem - questions - viewer involvement - solution. This structure isn't unique to MM, of course - I could name another half-dozen preschool shows without even trying that employ this formula to good effect - but it's common because it works in presenting entertaining material with a learning component to young children.

- The music. Gosh this show has good music - someone with a real talent for creating earworms was involved in putting together the score, I reckon. From the They Might Be Giants theme song to the chirpy, instantly identifiable background tunes that are all riffs on the theme, MM is bound together and driven forward with music.

Mickey Mouse Clubhouse Super Silly Adventures is out in shops from 14 September, but if you'd like to win a complimentary copy, just leave a comment below by 5pm AEST on Sunday 4 September. I'll randomly draw a winner on Monday 5 September and announce it here on Tuesday 6th. This giveaway is open to Australian addressees only.

Things I Know

2011-08-26T13:30:00.002+10:00

Here are a few things I know this week, still dentally-themed (it's been the node and focus on my world again as I've battled gum infection and post-extraction problems).

- I know that it's a sign of how things have changed since the olden days when I was a girl, AND how awesome my dentist is, when my kids actually look forward to going for their check-up.

- I know that oil of cloves tastes absolutely disgusting, but that it works as almost nothing else does to relieve the agony of a dry socket inflammation.

- I know that, with my eldest daughter's permanent teeth growing very crooked and with a decided overbite, orthodontia may be in our future.

- After looking at some brochures the dentist gave me from orthodontists he refers patients to, I know that we may have to (reluctantly) rethink our stance on private health insurance if this occurs, and / or remortgage the house. (And I'm not joking even a little bit).

- I know that bad teeth, as my own mum pointed out in an email recently, are nothing but trouble your whole life long - a pain to get, a pain to keep, and a pain to lose ;-)

For more things that people know, check out the link over at Yay for Home!

Blogopolis Reflections, Directions and Decisions Part 2: Purpose

2011-08-23T13:25:00.001+10:00

One of the things that I took away from Blogopolis was a rethinking of purpose in blogging for me, and the purpose of this blog in particular. Several of the speakers touched on this, but it was some of the comments made by Nikki from Styling You and Nicole from Planning with Kids that resonated the most with me. I've been mulling it over ever since, but to really show the evolution of my thoughts, you'll need to follow me Back in Time a bit.

The history

I've been blogging for quite a while now. I started my first blog, Zucchinis in Bikinis, in February 2004, when my eldest daughter (now 8) was a wee thing of 6 months. Before that, I'd been reading blogs for about 6 months, first alerted to their existence via a friend of a friend (now himself a friend ;-) who is, I venture to say, one of Melbourne's longest-running bloggers.

When I started blogging - via the at-the-time charmingly amateurish Blogger, long before it was absorbed by Google, and long before it could handle complimacated stuff like pictures and comments - I don't think I had much of a notion of purpose, or focus, or direction. I could be mistaken, but I think lots - most? - bloggers were like that back then. We're talking the days before the mighty Dooce had Leta; the days when she was just starting to feel out her readers about the possibility of maybe at some point running a teeny-weeny ad or two if anyone was interested. The blogosphere as a whole was much more of a new frontier as a popular pastime, and ideas about purposeful (let alone remunerative) blogging were very embryonic in most cases.

I drifted into blogging with a vague idea that it might be fun, that I wanted to be part of the conversation I saw happening on other blogs, and that I'd like somewhere to record things about my daughter's development in a way that could be quickly and easily shared with distant friends and relatives.

This wasn't a very specific or directional purpose, and, again like a lot of bloggers at the time, I spent quite a few months happily splashing my feet in the milieu du jour - memes in particular (oh, list memes! I'm quite nostalgic for them sometimes). It did not occur to me for quite some time that "me, on the Internet" was maybe not a sufficient purpose to carry my blog forward, in terms of sustaining my own interest as much as anything else.

The schism: One blog to two

In 2009, a lot of things happened to me, some of them wonderful, a lot of them not at all wonderful. I continued to write my life in Zucchinis in Bikinis, but, just as my life was darkened at that time, so was my writing. This led to a number of uncomfortable crossovers between with IRL and online worlds, culminating, early in 2010 in a very upsetting conversation with a co-worker who read my blog. (The blog wasn't about him or about work - I rarely blogged about work, and when I did, it was in the most elliptical and inoffensive terms. No, his views were on my LIFE, and how I was screwing it up, based on a few dark-days posts).

At that point I decided I no longer wanted to blog my life, unexpurgated, in public. I made the decision to close Zucchinis in Bikinis down to subscribers only, and to carefully screen anyone I added to the reader list. (That blog, which continues apace in the blackout of the private blog world, has just short of 40 subscribers, and that suits me just fine). I still blog my life there, still uncut.

I set up this blog at the same time as I shut down public access to Zucchinis, mostly, truth be told, so I could still play along each week with Childhood 101's We Play link-up. I must have had a glimmer of intent / purpose when I did this, as I chose a blog name that sounded purposive - Play, Eat, Learn, Live. But that purpose was loosely defined, unclear, to me, and probably to my readers as well.

Rethinking purpose

Listening to the speakers at Blogopolis helped me to really crystallise in my mind that my blogging would be more satisfying for me, a more fleshed-out hobby, if I had a clear idea of what I was doing it for (and, following on from that, who I was doing it for). I mulled this over for a long while before realising that I could coalesce my blog's purpose into three main theme areas:

1. Blogging the journey of parenting my children, and what it means to "be a family" in a postmodern world
The blog as a family record, and as a record of my growth as a parent, and of our growth as a family, has always been important to why I do this, and has not become less so with passing years.

2. Blogging the life of the mind of our family
Increasingly, I'm drawn to book blogging - not just reviews, but blogging about literacy, about how books and meaning permeate all of our lives. I'm also interested in blogging the learning / educational process my children are going through, and the things we're learning together.

3. Blogging the sustenance of the body in a food-intolerance household
I'm a Coeliac and a cook, and I have two daughters who are fascinated with food. Blogging our culinary adventures is just pure fun for me, escapism and sweetness and light. I also love taking photos of food, even though I'm not super good at it.

Wrapping around all of these was a fourth purpose, which is growing in strength all the time, and that is to have a forum where I can practice and refine my writing. I'm intending to do NaNoWriMo again this year and will probably set up a separate "writerly" blog at that time, but for now, this is a space where I can experiment with different styles, voices and themes and get feedback on it, which I value immensely.

And, of course, the uber-purpose can never be lost - connection. Being part of a community, or rather communities - sharing, interacting, developing. If I didn't want connection, if I didn't hope people would read and engage with me, I'd write an offline journal. It's as simple as that. I don't do this for the readers, but I embrace the fact that people do read, and the conversations that inspires.

So...?

Going through this mental process has really helped me to refine the purpose of this blog, and surprise, surprise, the name I thought up in 2 minutes last year is still quite apt! My purpose in this blog is to write about a family's journey through three childhoods, from the mundane to the elevated, in body, mind and soul, from different viewpoints and in different voices. I'm really happy with this as an outcome and as a statement of what this blog is about - what it's for.

As to who it's for? It is, first and foremost, for me, my partner, and our children; in time, for my grandchildren (what a rich resource for any future family historians these blogs will be!). Secondarily, it is for my extended family and friends, who can read our story here and be part of it even though far away. Thirdly, and not less importantly, it is for those who read it and enjoy, or take something away that's of value, and form a connection with me because of it. That's who it's for.

(My next post on my Blogopolis thoughts will be about Ethics / Law in blogging, but that won't be up for a week or so, as I have a book review post on Ben Goldacre's book Bad Science that I'm itching to finish and post first).