Quietly confident…

I have a just had a really lovely weekend.

I did things I’ve never done and went places I’ve never been before.

I did these things without stressing myself out of going… okay there were some concerns about how to get there and where to park and what to wear and what to pack and if I needed a jacket and if my lipstick was too red.

Saturday afternoon I went on a photo walk with strangers and I was happy, chatty, (possibly slightly silly) me.

I was confident in myself in the company of people with far superior skills to me.

I was happy to be me.

Then I surprised my husband with dinner and a show at a comedy venue.

The food was very basic, the comedians were late coming on and not entirely hilarious but we had a nice night out together doing something different.

Sunday morning we woke up late and without a harsh word spoken (have you tried to get two boys dressed lately?) got the family ready and drove to an adventure park.

I resolutely decided not to pack my swimwear as it was too cold to swim but ended up buying some shorts and going down water slides in a white singlet top.

(Yep. You’re welcome.)

I am able to do more and be more right now. I’m not worried about the small things or the big things either.

She’ll be right mate.

It’s all good.

Bring it on.


Mother/Daughter bubble…

I made friends with one of the kinder mums today.

(I’m not sure if I’m supposed to do that as the teacher but as long as I respect the privacy of everyone else I think it’s okay.)

I have a girl with special needs in my class.

And her mum worries about her all the time.

So I went and visited after class for a coffee.

She asked me how I like my coffee and I said black with no sugar.

So she said that she would try it like that too. She didn’t finish hers.

She brought me the coffee with two mini croissants, some Danish feta and three pickles.

I ate one of the croissants.

We come from different backgrounds.

She worries that people will stare at her daughter when they go to the shops.

I told her that knowing her daughter she should worry that she will stop and say hello to everyone at the shops and it will take hours to leave.

There is so much love between this mother and her special daughter.

This little girl is growing up in a bubble and her mum is in there with her.

They are often isolated together but never alone.

I asked this amazingly gorgeous mum if she has any friends and she said no. So we talked for an hour about kids and husbands and our lives.

I told her that I had taken a photo of her daughter where you can’t tell that she is different from everyone else.

She said that she would love to have a photo of her daughter that didn’t prompt people to ask her what was wrong with her.

It’s a different culture, religion and world than I’m used to but she’s my friend now so I guess I’m about to learn a lot.

Lucky me 🙂

Kindness and words…

It’s been a long, strange, caffeine free week.

Yesterday at work, a small girl with amazing dark eyes and very little English told me I was beautiful.

Except that I couldn’t really understand her so I asked my colleague what she was saying.

And then felt quite silly and embarrassed. And grateful for her kind words.

In the afternoon I had to stay back late at work as I had been asked to be part of a short video on the importance of Early Childhood Education for the local Afghani community.

It was all very professional with lots of leads and monitors and one of those clapper board thingys.

I did the same scene about 10 times so hopefully one of the angles will be flattering.

I had to walk across the room, greet a father and welcome him to the kinder.

Then I sat down with him and talked about his child.

At the end they just wanted some footage of us talking for 10 minutes.

10 minutes is quite a long time to talk to someone that you don’t know and probably wouldn’t normally get to speak to.

It turns out that when this man is not filming random videos he is studying his Masters in Internet Security. He left Afganistan at 14 because of the Taliban. His ex wife is Australian and he has an 18 year old daughter with her and now after trying for 13 years and many rounds of IVF he has a 2 month old daughter.

It’s amazing what you can find out about someone when you sit down and ask.

Not that many strangers are strange once you sit down and chat with them.

So apart from receiving a $100 voucher for my trouble I also got to know someone and show some genuine interest in them and their life.

So my advice for you today is to tell someone that they’re beautiful and talk to a person from a different culture.

We are all different but we’re all the same.

We are all the best…


Welcome one and all to Monday, The first day of my working week.

Put the kettle on, grab something to eat and come and meet me at the swings.

There are 3 boys there and 1 girl.

They appear to be playing quite nicely.

You think you hear something but you look at the kids and assume you must be mistaken.

A minute later the dulcet tones of a 4 year old boy reaches your ears.

“You’re just a f*#!ing girl”.

Now join me as we all see RED together.

My colleague who was closer to the boy pulled him aside and spoke to him.

I pulled the girl aside and asked her if she thought that boys are better than girls.

She said yes.

I told her no.

Girls can do anything that boys do.
They are just as important as boys.

I’m not sure if I was more heart broken as a woman or as a mother to two boys that are growing up with peers where this kind of thinking and sense of entitlement still happens.

Fast forward with me now to the rest of the session where I shriek in a fairly unattractive manner at the children that we are all the same.

We are all special.

We are all the best.

Boys are the best and Girls are the best.

When the boys father picked him up he was horrified when I told him what had happened. He looked shocked and apologised.

And tomorrow I get to put it behind me and continue on my “we are all special regardless of our colour, gender or race” crusade all over again.

Nautical themed entrances…

“You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht”…

Right well. I keep hearing this song on the radio which I could take either as a sign to hire a yacht with a man who chooses to wear his hat strategically dipped below one eye or alternatively I could talk about me.


It’s still all about me.

So I’ve never been on a yacht. Poor little me. I’ll do something about that one day.

But not now.

Now I will tell you the story of the time that I walked into a party like I walking onto a boat.

Well you know what I mean.

When I was growing up my family owned a boat that we would take to a lake and ski behind.

So many awesome memories.

Now if you will please imagine me wearing my grey swimsuit with my wetsuit peeled down to my waist. I’m trying desperately to look sexy and impress my then boyfriend.

I went to jump over a bar to get off the front of the boat but my foot got caught on the bar and I ended up hanging upside down before falling head first into the muddy water.

Ironically this is also how I often walk into parties. Different outfits and on land but I often fall over in spectacular fashions.

I fall upstairs.

I walk off the school bus into a wheelie bins.

I trip on things that aren’t there.

So next time you hear that song please stop and think of me briefly and how much better the song would have been if it started with “You walked into the party like you were falling right off a boat”.

But then again I know that particular song isn’t about me. xx

The emperors new dressing gown…

Yesterday I bought a beautiful dress spontaneously.

And by spontaneously I mean that I ran in and bought it without trying it on while my kids stood in front of the shop window eating cream buns.

I got home and tried it on and it looked a bit funny.

Then I tried it on with a bra.

Then realised that according to the receipt it was actually a dressing gown.

(I choose to pronounce the p in receipt.)

Having to return a dressing gown and telling the shop assistant that you thought it was a dress is embarrassing.

Thankfully there was a lady in the shop talking about her show dog and how it’s going off to have puppies soon and how much she’ll miss her so much that she’s going to go to Europe.

As you do.

Anyway this lady told me how I’m tall and lovely and slim and for a minute there I wished she loved me as much as she loves her dog or at least wanted to take me to Europe.

I digress.

As usual.

So anyway the moral of the story is try things own.

Don’t shop with small children.

And always ask if your dress is actually a dressing gown.

P.S In real life I bought a dressing gown from China on eBay for $8 and it looks smashing with my Ugg boots.

So much younger than today…

A little boy in one of my classes yesterday started several stories with “when I was young”.

He is 4.

This makes me smile so hard.

The stories he tells of his youth.

The things he used to do before he became a big boy.

Anyway just a brief reminder to all that we are privileged enough to be getting older all the time.

And further away from our youth.

And old enough to remember when we were young.