Fallen

My reference: Galatians 5:4

This morning I sit sipping tea, with one child opposite me. I can't know what he's thinking - his thoughts are his own - but if his face is anything to go by, he wishes I wasn't here. My other child is on a bus, travelling away from me as fast as the bus can take him.

You could say these two boys are an authority on living with me. That places them in prime position for deciding, moment by moment whether I have fallen from grace or am worthy of respect. The irony of the parent-chid relationship is that the parent is compelled to love the child even when child-like world perspectives trigger and torment the parent's wounds and weaknesses. And, similarly, the child may well (often is) continue to be haunted, tormented, blessed and shadowed by the parent's behaviour, however brief their lives together.

What will my boys remember of me, hear when my spirit no longer shares a vocal box with a physical body? What will bless or haunt their days, as the ghost of me?

I haven't experienced the loss of a parent yet during this lifetime. I have lost beloved grandparents. I wouldn't say I'm haunted by them but ever since their souls left their bodies my heart has felt a great longing... sometimes clear as crystal, sometimes dull, dark and heavy, as if my hollow stomach is housing rocks.

The ice is melting. The child opposite me is asking me questions, sharing snippets of his homework tasks. The tea I'm drinking tastes too strong, even though I removed the tea leaves early. This son is not clinging tightly on to my dramatic fall from grace half an hour ago. His more relaxed posture and ability to speak easy allows me to step, if I can forgive myself, on to the first rung, to climb the ladder of respectability yet again.

The tiresome climb, over and over again each day. There are many moments when I don't think I can face that ladder one more time. Isn't it safer to stay low? Each position comes with its risks and consequences.

God, please, let me only fall once from grace today.

Darkness

There are no street lights on this island -
only the odd light or two on each of the five public wharves.
This means that on night walks my eyes are free and welcome,
to drink in the darkness,
guzzle it - as if it was being poured directly into them,
and invited to reach with all the might of the sense of sight,
drawn to every tiny star and distant glimmer.

Blessed by island darkness.

Let's get back on this horse

and liven this baby up...

with a little Violent Femmes

on a Wednesday night.

Musings from the kitchen sink have been full of energy around here lately.

a small parenting break-through

I recently blogged about the cloud-blanket that my number one sun carries with him. We were having a particularly bleak week. He was bleak, I was bleak. Each time I went to school, teachers were bleak, lining up to speak to me about the disruptive antics of said child.

His behaviour at school wasn't making any sense to any of us (his two parents and four teachers - at least I wasn't alone) which meant that we were pretty stumped as to how to handle it.

Fast forward 2 weeks... one evening I was telling the Zimbo about my stressful afternoon and was saying that I felt so stressed by the end of it that I didn't know whether to cry or vomit. Noah piped up (quite gleefully - from where he was warming his bum near the fireplace) that that is often how he feels before a particular lesson. In his words... " you know when your spit tastes like vomit and you think you might vomit?". The sick feeling comes when he has to do a certain task (writing in his 'feelings' journal). He said nothing makes sense to him. He doesn't understand the words in the story that has been read to the class (words like 'humility') and his body starts feeling angry.

I would go so far as to add that he feels angry with himself for not understanding the words, and also think that having to write "freely" is a problem for him. At home, if he is writing something down he checks in with me for the spelling of every word. If I'm not around (or am unwilling to help) he gets very agitated, says he is stupid and will stop trying to attempt it. It now makes perfect sense to me that he would damage his book (to destroy the evidence of his "inability") in anger with himself.

So I think we have two problems... 1) comprehension and 2) spelling ability (or confidence).

Yay! Surely that gives us something to work with! We are constantly telling him that we can all work together to learn how to do this so that writing does feel ok for him.

Parenting... man, it's exhausting.

For the love of illness

A vomit bug has just arrived in our home. I was in a work meeting for an hour or two this afternoon. When the meeting ended, four calls had been missed on my phone... 2 from school, 2 from the Zimbabwean. Oh. No.

Within an hour I was home with vomiting child, guzzling wormwood & clove tincture, taking probiotics, echinacea, vitamin C, anything I could find (!) in the hope of avoiding it myself. I cooked dinner while I helped one child with maths homework, while I helped the other child with vomiting. Later I attempted to listen to an online uni lecture that I'd missed today, again while tending to retching child at the same time.

Eventually it was all too much. All activity paused. I sat on the sofa to focus on heaving child.

Secretly I don't mind a vomit bug. Well, not the bug itself but the golden moments of expanding heart that it brings. The lights are dim, the sounds of pipes, guitar and waves lull my little one, while I rub his back, when he has nothing left to eject. His body surrenders to sleep - if only for an hour - and his soul's glow simmers down, but is still present, warming his usually strong physical being. And that there is the golden grateful vomit-bug moment.

Today is Thursday. On Sunday I was the one getting the rub down. My head pounded and threatened to split, while my two little boys tucked me into bed. One lay either side of me. One stroked my hair, the other rubbed my back, and that's how we all fell asleep. My sleep was fitful. I stirred and felt the splitting still going on. I was in pain but was so very happy... bathed in the love of my children, who had stopped fighting and jumping and tackling and pushing my buttons long enough to just give me all of their goodness.

The vomiting one is lucky to have his mama loving him.
I'm blessed to have them, to be the one to rub their backs while they - the very essence of them - bring love into and out of my heart.

I give thanks and praise for the vomit bug
for stopping me in my tracks
for reminding me what's what.

Blessed be,
Amen.

What's your deepest fear?

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

Marianne Williamson

This is to mother you

"May my soul's love strive to you

May my love's meaning stream to you

May they bear you

May the hold you

In the heights of hope

In spheres of love".

Rudolf Steiner

Calm after the storm

Crescent moon

pre-dawn walk with ink-black-silver water - me and my beloved dog - 

cooling air

early morning sun over our boat ride

today was a good day.

Frogs croak inside the office at my new workplace. I'm surrounded by good people, who value health and healing in the same way that I do. Passion for natural health, integrity, respect, work-life balance, family, social responsibility... they are all up there, held as the pillars of our striving. It was so worth the wait. Thank goodness the tea shop didn't ever respond to my letter. If they had, I wouldn't be hearing the croaking frogs, coming to me live from the extensive internal gardens and external herb gardens.

Life has sent us a few curly ones this week.

Equanimity

Equanimity

Equanimity

What will you be doing this weekend?

(I'm sure that's not how I left it)

We will be going car shopping.

One little girl's Vanishing White Matter

This isn't a flippity pippit blog post. 

I have never met Chloe Saxby but I do have the pleasure of knowing her beautiful Aunt Nic. If Chloe is anything like her aunty, being a sparkling disco duck with the warmest heart and biggest sense of fun would be a piece of cake.

Chloe is a 4 year old with a rare and degenerative brain disease. It's called Vanishing White Matter Disease. Her life expectancy is now 5-10 years. 

Chloe and her family live in Wollongong, NSW Australia. If there is anyway you could help to make Chloe's life more comfortable, or assist her parents in their journey and provision of Chloe's increasing needs, please direct your energies and resources their way. You'll find more information at

www.chloesaxby.com.au

Thank you for visiting this blog today.

Not the new girl I used to be

Ahhhh, you're still here? Lovely.

She is so tired, the lady of Lazuligreen. Her arms hurt, her eyelids are droopy, her ears are ringing (what? don't yours?) but she thought she'd just pop in for a quick helloooo-o-o-o-o.

I've just been having a quick squizzy at http://philosophyoflists.blogspot.com.au/ for a little update on how Nancy is going in her new nurse life. She's reminded me of my delicious week in London, this time last year, and I'm feeling a tad nostalgic. You know, I scored that ticket because:

a) my dad is very generous, and 

b) my dad can't stand the cold. 

I'm soooo glad I could go for a little trip to London in winter. I would say YES! to just about any free trip to London (and other world cities) but the chilly air on my usually sun-kissed face, just briefly, is a treat to behold and cherish.

I can't see any little trips surprising me this year, but you never know. I like to think of myself as an optimist.

Today was the first day of my second year back at uni (6th year in total if we're tallying life years at uni, but who's counting?). It felt so different to the same day a year ago. Back then, I felt so panic-stricken about being a hated mature-age student that I thought I would vomit on the library stairs. Then I asked myself... What's the worst thing that could happen here today? Being Australian, in Australia, (rather than any nationality in an American educational institution) I decided that the worst thing that could happen on that particular day at that particular moment would be me getting my period, unexpectantly, having it run down my legs and then me falling unceremoniously down the stairs outside the library, in front of all those brand new 18 year old uni students and have everyone laugh at me. Once I'd come up with that imagery, I could logically see how unlikely that was, tuck the thought of vomit back down into my belly and march on through my day.

But today.... Oh there was none of that. The sun shone. My boots, they did march themselves right on over to the lecture theatre, quite happy and relaxed. I embraced my friend, Mary, happy to see her after the summer break. After our lecture, in we boldly went, straight into the Staff Cafe. Hilarious! As Mary assured me when we met last year: No-one is going to ask us for ID in there! 

We enjoyed a rather grown-up lunch ("You ARE a grown-up", Noah pointed out. Hmphh) with a beautiful view through leaves in a quiet spot. And with that I've ticked off one of my 2013 campus missions, on day one.

Eat in Staff Cafe.
Because I can.
Because 38 is great.

Namaste

I honour the place in you that

is the same as me.

I honour the place in you where

the whole universe resides.

I honour the place in you 

of love, of light, of peace and of truth.

I honour the place in you

that is the same in me.

There is but one.

Namaste

Days on bikes and water

Somedays, sometimes, 

"I am, I am, I am Superman, and I can do anything"

as R.E.M. so aptly sing. Well, I'm sure they do. I can't find that song now that I'm looking for it. Does anyone know which album that is on?

I recently had a day with some of those Super(wo)man moments. I carried 3 bikes in to the boat. Yes, "carried". Hitched 'em up and stepped on into it. They then needed to be off-loaded, along with the children at the Point, after 3 big hearty waves to the Water Police (in their newly decorated swish boat).

My little boys and I then rode along the shore to one of our favourite bayside parks where we played with friends. The ride took about 25 minutes and was mostly flat for my little Chooch, who hasn't mastered the hand-brake on his big bike. Oh how I wish I had a photo of those skinny legs, skinny arms, flat strong back in purple T-shirt, big head in funky helmet - so happily cruising around on his newly acquired yellow BMX. That memory is gold to me.

Children riding free. Such blissful moments. I know I've always loved the freedom I feel on a bike. My home town is very hilly. That didn't deter us though as kids... we just spent more time pushing our 'pushies' than flying down hills on them. But there was a lot of flying too.

After a few hours of sun and water play we rode back and the boys were treated to ice-blocks, hot chips and jumps off the public jetty. Oh yeah... Mama's taking all the points today as holiday Mama extraordinaire! We then brought ourselves back home for a nana-nap before packing a picnic dinner and heading back to the water. Jetty jumps, dogs chasing cockatoos, picnic dinner... today was well and truly a gold star kind of day.

 Blue-tongued lizard in our backyard.

 I am Happy Feet dangling in warm, summer waters.

 Do I look like Superwoman? Who cares! Sometimes I just am.

They really were much happier than they look. Really. It was a gold star day.

Christmas 1986

Well hello there. I won't mention my summer absence, if you don't.

Here's a story about a bike. She cost my parents around $300. She was their gift to me for Christmas, 1986. I remember the first time I sat on her. I've always thought she was a beauty.

Two years ago, I gave her away. I thought she wasn't an island girl. I was wrong.

She's come home to me. Still mine. I love her.

In her heart, she's always been an island girl. Just waiting for me to realise.

Quite a big day

Sun number one, you know... the sailor, the fisher, the boat skipper, well I've told you about him many times before. He is one cool kid. He has strength and stamina that defies his slight frame and innocent looks. This kid has known me for 9 years (maybe much much longer) and he knows that his mother will not purchase electronic goods for him, for several years to come. Nor will she allow Santa to bring such items for Christmas, or his father or any other relative to provide them (they possibly wouldn't dare). 

Two years ago, Noah's 8 year old cousin received an iPod touch. Other friends already had DS's and also received iPods. Last Christmas, a younger friend arrived on Christmas day with his new iPod touch. So, on the 25th December 2011, Noah quietly resolved to save up his pocket money and buy his own iPod. He already had around $100 so he was well on his way. I hoped it would take a year or 2 so that he would be close to 10 years old before he had enough money for this great purchase.

Last month, the 9 year old's eyes danced and sparkled, while his body wriggled with glee, as he counted $228... indeed enough for an iPod touch.

We could have gone to our local shops, to a Kmart or Office Works, or some other rather unexciting chain and Noah probably could have nabbed a bargain and 'saved' himself some money. But we wanted this longed-for day to be authentic and pure and BIG. The Zimbabwean was quite sure that Noah's first Apple product should come with an 'Apple Experience'. So off we all trotted to the big smoke, to find THE Apple Store on George St, in the centre of Sydney... the journey had several phases: we took our boat to our communal mainland wharf. We then drove for half an hour to the nearest train station, took a train into the city (another half an hour), and then walked those little boys with the big blue eyes through the beauty of the Queen Victoria Building. Some were bouncing in their sneakers more than others (some days are tougher than others for the little 6 year old brother who gets dragged along for these momentous family days).

Finally we made it. All that glass! All that steel finish! The Zimbabwean's eyes were shining as much as his son's. We looked at products for much longer than we needed to (it was difficult to keep the father focused) but eventually the time came for me to unload Noah's cash, direct from his personal piggy bank, onto the counter and have the friendly sales guy graciously accept it and count out $117.85 in coins (the rest in notes) in the middle of that big city store. His name may have been Daniel. Let's say it was. Daniel was cool, calm and collected. He didn't roll his eyes or hesitate. He was completely cool about counting out all those coins. Other Apple store punters were clearly delighted at the scene: two little kids' faces waiting eagerly for the formalities to be over. Just give me the damn iPod already, is what Noah was secretly screaming to himself.

All in good time, my little one. 

Eventually the protective sleeve came off and now Noah is the SO proud owner of an iPod touch (on weekends. I am, afterall, still his mother, and he is still 9. I know. I'm a big fat spoil sport). So far he has spent about $14 on games and app's, and is getting great pleasure out of the ability to take photos and videos. He waits patiently while the Zimbo tries to figure out the best way to share our music libraries (who would have thought that could be so complicated? It seems we have a G5, an iMac, a laptop, 2 iPhones, and iPod shuffle and a family iPod to contend with. And we don't want Noah's iPOd to have access to any credit cards or our complete music library. The whole project is approximately 15 million light years beyond my technological capability.)

I'm so proud of Noah's resolve. He earned his minimal weekend allowance of electronic device time. May it bring him great joys and other benefits which may be beyond my comprehension.

NB. As previously stated, no member of this family is employed or sponsored in any way by Apple. We are just quite big fans and some rabbit on about their gifts to the world more than others. Believe it or not, I do not do the most rabbiting on about that particular topic.

In the thick of it

I know I've been neglecting you. If I knew who you were, and why you read my blog, I might apologise to you. But as I'm a bit hazy on ultimate blog purpose and intention, for now I will simply acknowledge your potential sigh of boredom. 

I'm in the middle of exams, and we all know how seriously mature-age students take their exams... don't we?

For one subject this semester I've needed to submit posts to a weekly reflection blog (what a novel idea). Need I say that this has possibly been my favourite subject? I'm annoyingly enthusiastic about just about all subjects I choose to study so it's hard to pick a fave.

I'll give you something to read, just in case you're grappling. It was written by me, even if not written for you, specifically. Here's how my final blog post went: 

For the benefit of revision and getting my mind to think anthropologically (while the neighbourhood children are playing very loudly outside my window) I'd like to ponder some of my favourite words or topics from this unit.

My first favourite is a quote from Dr Paul Mason, guest lecturer in week 7: "Embodiment involves the ontogenetic confluence of intersubjectively experienced dynamic construal irremediably determined in time and space by socially embedded, historically insituated, culturally orchestrated, environmentally situated, embodied brains." 


While I believe the discourse used in this quote, the convoluted and alienating language, is completed unnecessary, it gave me great satisfaction to come to the point of understanding this definition of Embodiment after an hour and a half of intense concentration. "Embodiment is when culture becomes anatomy." Dr Mason's 2nd quote... So much easier to understand, after he has gone to great lengths to impart knowledge of the first one. I now feel such a rich appreciation for the word Embodiment.

My second favourite word is Enculturation... the process of embedding an individual within a culture, of steeping the individual in the language, knowledge, arts, economics, values, taboos, fetishes, music, way of moving, methods of cooking, materials of living - in order to imbue the individual with their cultural flavour. I read somewhere that enculturation happens only in an individual's culture of origin, that only a babe born into a culture may be enculturated. I disagree. I don't see why enculturation must occur only once, within one culture. Of course an individual may continue to evolve and experience life in a variety of environments and socio-cultural contexts, thereby learning new ways of being, of thinking, of moving... new perspectives. I love the word enculturation, and all that it conjures. It speaks to me of education and enriched living. It implies that every experience gives us something, teaches us something, and is therefore valuable in who we become.

"The common goal of anthropology is to advance knowledge of who we are, how we came to be that way, and where we may go in the future." (Dr Aaron Denham)

It is this goal that has brought me back to uni at the ripe old age of 37. To advance my knowledge of who we are, how we came to be that way, and how I might be able to change directions in health in the future.

Thank you lecturers and tutor. You have all inspired me.

May you too, dear blog reader, also be inspired in all that you are experiencing.

Anthropology of family life

This week's anthropology lecture topic - Anth, sex and gender - has come at a fortuitous time, the same week that my 9 and 6 year olds have asked me for the first time: "Mama, what is 'sexing' anyway?". That was an interesting discussion while we bathed our family dog!

What I found particularly interesting in this lecture, was the story of Bonobos as compared to Chimpanzees. What a fascinating example of how sex and gender are influenced by societal conditions. The Bonobos, living in areas where gorillas are scarce and food is plentiful, have ample time on their hands for socializing. This results in strong bonds and alliances being formed, especially amongst female Bonobos, allowing the females a sense of solidarity. They are able to keep the males in check and are, therefore, not dominated by the males. These conditions allow for a peaceful, loving, affectionate society. It's like they are all on holiday in some African resort.

Chimpanzees, on the other hand, are working their butts off just trying to survive... especially the females. They have to look after their energetic offspring, scrounge for food, which the males and the gorillas have usually already polished off, and then still fend for their sexual rights, being abused by aggressive, dominant males on a daily basis. I can tell you which species I'd rather belong to!

So, back to bathing the family dog... by the time I've answered the kids' questions, bathed them too, fed all living beings in the household, tucked them into bed, returned to the piles of washing and then remembered that I haven't yet completed the reading or the blog post for this week... there isn't much time left in the day for pondering sex and sexuality. Which takes me back to reminiscing about week 4 and polygamy. Perhaps if I had at least 3 sister wives to share the workload, I would be more inclined to think like a Bonobo.

Would you employ me?

Unless you haven't been listening, you are probably well aware that this year has been a big one for getting back out there. With my Choochie starting school, it was time for me to awaken my adult brain and re-establish life for myself, outside of mothering.

Continuing education: check

Attending herby derb seminars: check

Finding gainful employment: erm, no cigar.

Whilst I am loving my current volunteer role at the Cancer Council (oh, haven't told you about that one? I will... later), it is not 'gainful employment'. It doesn't help pay the mortgage. In fact it doesn't even cover the student bus fare in to the city (see the word 'volunteer'). For the first time ever, when someone asks me for spare change at Kings Cross station I don't feel guilty if I say No. I'm unemployed too, dude! I'm forking out cash to get here and borrowing fancy clothes so I can try to get work by working for nothin'!

Perhaps I'm approaching job hunting from the wrong angle. I don't know. I'm feeling too old to bullshit about what I can and can't or am willing to do. 

One of my recent job applications was to a local, rather flashy looking Tea Shoppe. Now, you know that I know tea. Oh yeah, baby. Me and tea, we go waaaay back. So here's how my letter went...

Dear Tea Shoppe,

Recently I was soaking in the smells of your shop in [an unnamed mall], NSW and thought to myself: Really, this is the place for me.

More than a Tea Shoppe, I love tea. Life is to be lived, in all of its raw and honest glory, and living is truly enhanced by tea.

Tea is medicine – medicine of both body and soul. The following aspects of tea consumption are especially important to me:

·     the active constituents of the herbal tea

·     the act of drinking tea, especially warm/hot (rather than iced)

·     the honouring of thyself in the ceremony that is tea preparation

·     the communal gift of tea, shared.

My two favourite, well-known proponents of tea are Michael Leunig and Richard Glover. Michael Leunig, cartoonist, created the 1998 stamp series for Australia Post, entitled “The Teapot of Truth” series. You may be familiar with Leunig’s character, who gets about with a teapot on his head. Richard Glover, 702 ABC Sydney radio host, writer and author, often publicly discusses the bane of the teabag and gives due respect to the pot of loose-leaf tea.

I am very experienced in dealing with the public. Previously this experience has come through working in the field of alternative and natural medicine, amongst many other pursuits. You will notice on my curriculum vitae that I have a varied employment history, in several areas. What these roles have all had in common is the imperative contact with people. I love to be part of a team and don’t particularly enjoy working alone.

Enthusiastic communication is one of my strong points, as is my solid work-ethic and reliability. My glowing references are available on request.

Please consider my application for any suitable positions that may arise in one of your stores. I am seeking part-time employment and I would cherish the opportunity to work for you. 

Thank you for your time.


Kind regards,

Lea  (rhymes with tea)

Naturopath, Medical Herbalist, tea-drinker

**********

What do you think? Did you like it? 

They didn't respond. They are not really called the Tea Shoppe. I'm just loathe to give them any positive  mumbles on my free-to-air rambling space when they didn't respond. Not that Apple have ever been grateful for the attention I've given them. I'm not that fond of them at the moment either, but that's another story. I'm not going to be able to keep including "enthusiastic, cheerful disposition" on my job applications if I do nothing but grumble on free-to-air (I suppose).

Claimer: this blogger receives no payment or compensation of any kind for any favorable, or otherwise, content on this here blog. Apart from the odd cup o' tea and slice of cake at a friend's house if I write something that brightens their day.

Don't think I forgot the second one

I wish I had a photo of the moment I'll attempt to describe.

A background picture: the boykaloiks had been very naughty. They were in BIG trouble and had been sent to bed. All was bleak and glum in the house. We were mortified at what they had done. One week later, it really wasn't that bad and I'm over it but still... we're painting a picture so to be true to that day... we were mortified. We thought we may have to disown them or, at the very least, send them to boarding school - expel them from the Island.

And then the little one lost his first tooth. He'd knocked it on his favourite 18 year old's shoulder whilst wrestling, the evening before. He'd then proceeded to wiggle it and wriggle it instead of dwelling solemnly on what he'd done (!!) and... before he knew it, there it was in his little fingers! 

The tooth fairy had to put the overdue essay and her mortified bleakness aside, find her wings and sprinkle fairy dust around his sleepy head. She found a note at the back of her wardrobe, which had been written 3 years ago, when the oldest had lost his first tooth. This note detailed just what the tooth fairy would do with this precious first tooth, how special it (and he) was and that for this tooth he would receive one angel coin. From now on, she said, he would receive one angel coin for every 4 teeth (those angel coins are pretty special). She placed the note and the angel coin where he would find them in the morning, amidst sprinkles of sparkly fairy dust.

It's no small thing that his tooth came out on that particular day. She could have cried with exhaustion and frustration and disappointment. Instead she cried at the reminder that life with them is a privilege, that they are both still small boys, and these times are precious... even when school holidays don't quite go to plan.

PS. I have heard that you can find angel coins here: at A Toy Garden. Just sayin'.

Lost... in space

Well that essay took much longer to write than expected. Not longer than it should have, just longer than I had allowed.

It is safe to say that the Spring school holidays have been semi-disastrous... for me. I say "semi" to acknowledge that I am faced with the insanity of first world problems. The term "disaster" is relative. My mental state has been messy. I've had uni work looming over me, with the uni semester recess only slightly overlapping with school holidays. So most of the time, as I've been trying to read academic journals on human geography and natural (real) disasters, I've had kids fighting/playing at my feet, making mess, requiring food, requiring taxi services etc etc etc. There's one buzzing right behind me right now. We've had friends come to stay, rugby presentations to attend, sailing days, and on and on and on and ridiculously on and on. All very full lovely living. All of which keeps me from focusing on academic work, which is becoming increasingly important to ME! For ME! 

Oh I know. Don't worry, I've been told. A family member, who shall remain nameless, pointed out to me that my sole purpose in life is to mother. Let's just call him "He of the older generation".

"Bad luck girl, you had 'em, you look after 'em." 

But I still do, I said. 

"It's not enough", he said. 

But I focused solely on them - in the home - for nearly 9 years, I said. 

"Well it wasn't long enough!" he exclaimed. And on, and on, and on.

Well, sisters and brothers. Fuck it. If this is selfish, then selfish I am. I want it! I need it! I'm going to have it! And my children will learn from it. Who knows what they will learn? That's for them to figure out as they process the world for the rest of their eternity. What do you think they will learn from me staying solely focused on them for the next ten years? Well... we're not going to find out.

Finally, after many days of headache and vomity sensations and incredible tetchiness and tension, my essay was submitted, 3 days late. It felt quite liberating really.... letting go like that and accepting my circumstances. During this school holiday period my mind has run like a mouse on a wheel. I'm not willing to let go of any of it... of my studies or of my family. In one week I'll be adding a day of work, with a 3-4 hour commute, into the mix as well. And that too shall be ok. Because it's only one day. And it will be a day of something different, something with new people, new purpose with old knowledge and re-fired up passion. A day of something different.

So, with the illumination of all that rambling... here are two stories of happy family moments. Perhaps the only happy family moments to have occurred in the last two weeks but still... they happened.

The first was my Noah-Noo's 9th birthday party. Nine! I'll save my nostalgic Oh my God, nine? Where did all those years go moment for another day. This year we opted for a party with all the boys and 3 girls from Noah's class, and all of their families, at our favourite family picnic place... a clearing surrounded by water and bush, about 10 minutes upstream from us. It feels wild and free and special. The perfect place for a celebration of 9 years of life.

I love Whole Family birthday parties. They highlight the rich community that we have around us as all of our children grow together - indeed, as we all grow (if we're lucky). Rather than being a chore, just another event to ferry our children to, the Whole Family birthday party can be a beautiful day for everyone.

Soon to come... a visit from a fairy.

please hold...

Soon to come: images from the latest birthday party.

In the meantime,  I'll leave you with this, while an essay will be written.