the write word

It's been a while since I've sat down to write professionally. For the first time in my life I've been offered work from a professional writing company - run by three passionate journalists who believe in the power of their words. I feel honored to be among them (rephrase: below them) and I know they will teach me well. Such an opportunity.

And every moment that I sit down at my desk I stand up again because I feel guilty for leaving Ché with cute softies as companions. I'm finding it so difficult to explain to these writers that I can't just drop everything to do an interview or write a quick 400-word article. Sometimes it's hard to find the write words - to say out loud that my passion is in my mothering and not making money from my sentences.

The journalism world is a patriachal one. Still. There's power in a pen, you know. I've always steered clear of conceited men (and women) in the industry. Of power plays and cutting words. My reasoning? I don't want to spend my time surrounded by arrogance and feeling shit about myself.

Because it's true - my writing is my art. Draw a line through my words and I feel it. Deep. There's a big difference between constructive criticism and blatant distaste.

So now that I've got this job I wonder if I've got the fire, the drive, the unending desire to win. In journalism you win or you get treatment from a blood red pen.

Or do I teach yoga a few times a week, spend precious time playing, puttering, exploring, finding with Ché and write because I love it. My words are habit - they should never be a chore.

happy weekend

I hope your weekend is all dreamy and carefree.

the long and the short of it

My hairdresser has been wanting to cut my locks for about a year now. And I finally decided a few weeks ago that it was high time that ponytail fell to the ground in one liberating snip. And so yesterday I sat in the chair watching my hair fall piece by piece. Floating towards the broom. And then I wondered why on earth I had waited so long. It feels so so good. There is a certain freedom that comes with a bob. I love it. Daniel's changed my name to Amelie. And I like that too.

frills

I do enjoy the light cotton of summer dresses.
I don't like my knees - I prefer frills.
I wonder if this mirror will ever get hung on the wall.
Today is our eighth day of rain.
I miss the sun.

letting go

I always tell my pre-natal students that pregnancy and motherhood is about surrender. You surrender when you conceive, you surrender to the journey of pregnancy and when your baby is ready to be born you 'let go' to birth.

Motherhood is about letting go too. It's about holding back sometimes to allow your little one to explore. Watching with eyes half-closed to see if the exploring will end in triumph or a fall. Last week I learned the subtle art of standing back and observing as Che crawled around the garage while D worked on the bike.


And I realised that a camera can be so wonderful a shield. Through the lens I saw screwdrivers, sharp metal objects, danger and blood. In photos I captured exploration, concentration, fine motor skills, delight, wonder, deep thought and connection. I let go (for a few small moments) of my maternal and instinctual need to constantly protect and I watched Che learn. It's just the beginning of his adventure. And mine.

hope

Amongst all the grief and sadness there are little bits of hope.
Like Sam, found by a CFA member, in desperate need of water. She drank 3 bottles...and has since fallen in love with a koala named Bob.
Do what I did - watch this, have a little cry, and find some hope.
Hope can also be found in the red cross tally - as of this morning $50million has been raised.

Visit handmade help too - where makers, creaters and crafters are coming together to raise much needed funds.
Think and dream that everyone affected will find their little bit of hope.

today our country isn't so lucky

image from www.smh.com.au

I remember standing in my backyard in January 1994. Our fear rose as we watched ash fall onto the grass. We had packed a few bags, we watched smoke in the sky...and lucky for us we didn't have to leave our home. The rain came, the fires were under control.

I cannot imagine the depth of the fear experienced by those Australians who were faced with a "tsunami of fire". And I cannot begin to imagine the deep aching sadness that comes with losing entire families. Or returning back to the place you called home and finding your entire town blackened - completely destroyed. I feel sick when I think of those families who tried so hard to escape in their car...but didn't make it out.

Those of us who are safe watch our televisions and see our Prime Minister in tears. And we know that this is by far the worst disaster experienced by our country. Ever.

And we wonder how we can help. What can we do?

For monetary donations please visit the red cross
If you can sew, make, create for children then please visit pip
Rach is also collecting handmade clothes and toys for children
A few lovely Melbournians have created an handmade help blog
To donate to save injured wildlife please visit wildlife victoria

As of now (Tuesday morning) the red cross have raised $13million.

x

6th folder, 6th photo

Tag. I'm it. Lovely Fliss from udder tagged me to play. The rules?

"Open the 6th picture folder on your computer, open the 6th photo and blog it. Write something about it. Then tag 6 more people to do the same."

Thank goodness I agreed to play because I don't think I've even seen this photo. I was feeding Ché stewed apple, Daniel had the camera. Excuse me while I swoon over the cuteness I've unveiled.

You know what's really scary - I don't clearly remember him being so small. I have glimpses in my mind, little moments of his lightness, his little hands, those lips. I'll tell you a little secret - I opened the space bag with all the really little baby clothes in it the other day and inhaled his newborn scent. I'm just so comforted by the fact that we took photos - lots of them. And that they're safe in our computer, on discs, in albums, on flickr. So that I can return, at any time, to when he fit snug between my hand and my elbow.

I'll leave you with one last image from that 6th folder...oh chubby, chubby cheeks.


I tag emma, amber, tori, becka, michelle and shannon. Come play girls, you don't know where this game will take you.

i deliberated

There have been so many things I've found in op-shops that have had a rather cyclical life in my hands. They come into my home, stay a while, return to the op-shop. So now I'm more disciplined with what I buy.

A few days ago I bundled Che into the car and thought I'd return to a few favourite haunts that I used to visit several times a week. It must be noted here that babies and op-shops don't mix all that well - getting C in and out of the car is not fun for me and not fair on him. Hence I haven't op-shopped for a while. But now, considering the economic crisis and my desire to find vintage pre-loved goodness, I'm at it again.

Che loves it too - lots of trucks, cars, big-ugly-bright-hideous-plastic-toys that can be admired from a distance and never brought home. And then this wooden horse rocker that made me smile as soon as I saw its red feet. Che hopped right in and started a rockin'. And what did I do? I stood there watching him and deliberating. Thought process:

• oh it's beautiful
• it needs some sandpaper and touch-up paint though
• that's ok, I can do it when I'm doing this
• but do I really have time?
• will it fit in our house?
• is it corny or is it one of those great finds
• reminds me of little community playgroup centres
• old-fashioned toys (sigh)
• but will it get used or sit in a corner?
• he seems to like it (Che is smiling)
• imagine it in a nursery when we get that cottage
• next to a bassinet, or baby hammock, or moses basket
• i like the red
• i like that it's not made in China (Brazil, actually)
• oh, it's only $10
• There'll be more babies one day
• oh gosh, imagine a few little kids in that nursery in the cottage

"C'mon Che, out you get. We have to pay for it."
"You're going to take this one love?"
"Yes, we'll take it." (Smile).

thank you...so much. for all your sweet and passionate comments that were left on the last post. Mostly I'm just thinking aloud in this space, so it's comforting to know that you read with enthusiasm and not boredom. Those comments, they inspire me...to think aloud a little more and perhaps, one day, to thread all those thoughts together and print them on paper.

to be completely honest

And honesty is a good thing, right? I received an email from a New Yorker today - a mum, yoga teacher and photographer. She reads this space often and asked me why I never really talk about the tribulations of motherhood. Is everything really so sunny in my part of the world?

Yes, sometimes it is. But sometimes it's damn hard too. Sometimes I'm completely overwhelmed by the sheer amount of washing, cleaning, cooking and chores that need to be done. Sometimes I just can't believe how quickly I turned from a single, carefree girl to a fiancee, muma, housewife, domestic goddess. Ha! It all happened really fast and I still feel like I'm catching up. I'm still learning. I'm getting into the habit of doing washing everyday to ensure it doesn't pile up around me. I'm learning how to run a house, to be a partner, and a mother, and to be myself too.

The word "reality" gets thrown around quite a bit here, in our house. Because I'm a dreamer and an idealist, my sense of reality is slightly skewed. D would argue that my reality doesn't exist. My world is a whimsical one - I like to be surrounded by beauty. But even I can accept that that isn't always possible. I still struggle with the age-old question that every mother asks herself...who am I? That little passport photo of me lives in Daniel's wallet. It was taken the first week we met. I was really young, I had graduated from uni, had started studying yoga, I had a fabulous wardrobe, beautiful friends...I lived the life of a carefree 22-year-old. I did ask for someone like D to come into my life and then he turned up and all of a sudden in an utter whirlwind of heady love I moved out of home, fell pregnant, got engaged, gave birth, fell into the beautiful haze of new motherhood. And when Che was about four months old I felt my feet on the ground. And I wondered who I was. Where did my body go? Where did my words go? What am I supposed to do now?

I still wonder how a day can go by so fast, how it can get to 10pm and I haven't read a page of a book. I always think about what I will be when I grow up.

I write here because it is an instant publication. Snippets of my little family to share with relatives and friends. Little did I know that I would connect with women across oceans and create a space to share, inspire and sometimes console. And so it is that this is the world we live in. A rather open one I think.

I could use this space to whinge, moan, complain about how tired I am, how I want just a little more time for me, but I'll leave all that to share with Daniel. Thanks baby. I doubt anyone would read this if I brought all my anguish here.

I wouldn't have all the happiness and joy without the sorrow and the hard work. Without the negatives there are no positives. There is balance in everything. Sure I feel sad that I'm not longer that girl in the photo but I made a child. A beautiful baby boy. And rather than carrying along with the slog of the every day I have chosen to wrap my arms tight around this new role and embrace everything it creates. The contagious giggles and the sleepless nights.

I still struggle with the little things too. I aim to simplify but I can't ignore my desire (translation - obsession) to have a wardrobe full of beautiful clothes. I find joy in a photo, a cup of tea, a sweet yoga practice...and Prada heels that would be oh so perfect for our wedding day. Perhaps it's the contradictions I find hardest to deal with.

Like everyone I long to just be. And one day, perhaps, I'll get there. But for now I write about my life, I dream of a cottage with a wrap-around verandah, I plan to finish a novel, teach more classes, have more babies.

And today I hope to pick up the toys, cook dinner, fold the washing, eat more watermelon, read Che a story, have another cup of tea and give D a kiss. And to be completely honest, I can't complain about that.