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pregnancy and parenting

To the Self-Critical Parent: You’ve come so Far

I was leaving the bathroom of a busy cafe, waving my watery hands in the air rather than pausing to insert them into the dryer, when I brushed past her. Actually, knocked into her, elbowed her, buffeted by her, are probably more accurate descriptions of what took place. She was standing to the side of the toilet doorway, the generic white plastic change table extended from the wall, wrestling a tiny, red, mid-air-bicycle-pumping footed newborn out of one nappy and into another. Basically she was trying to dress a young wild bear.

Read More
Amazing Grace

Words for the Overwhelmed

A giant clock fell off our wall the other day. That’s right. You heard me correctly. I was very nearly squashed beneath the weight of time.

There I was, walking down our narrow hallway, the one always scattered with an obstacle course worth of toys, the hallway we continuously play domestic bumper cars in, the one with the school word-lists hanging precariously from the white rental walls with perspiring balls of blu tack (our kids call it ‘glue tack’) when boom! The shabby-chic aqua clock, bought for an irresistible bargain on Gumtree, fell with a thunderous bang from its single nail, narrowly missing my recently broken little toe.

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Faith

On Sea Changes and Souls at Sea

We recently made a sea-change. Sounds exciting doesn’t it, the stuff of reality TV and life adventures. Actually, it was more like a series of hiccupy jumps, gulping for air, rather than a seemless transition. Together with our three children under eight, we moved from the deep inner-city surrounds of Sydney and the bustling communal environment of Bible college, to Toowong, a Queensland suburb close to the bush, where it was rumoured a giant python regularly sunned himself on the street, and finally to the very outer-edges of Brisbane, where land bumps up against water, and every sunset demands a camera. And if you think that sentence was long to read, imagine travelling all that distance.

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writing

Some Exciting News

The sad news is, it’s the end of an era. My firstborn baby-blog, the one I called Spilled Milk and Sunsets, the one I dreamt of, nurtured, and birthed with trembling, awkward hope into the online world, has grown-up, left home, or whatever it is that firstborn blogs do when they are no longer with us.

The good and very exciting news is that it has a sibling, a big sister if you will!

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Seasonal

Adding up to 40

I am not a ‘numbers’ person. I failed my Year Twelve maths half-yearly because I preferred to read the examples rather than practice them. Then my parents hired a handsome, exceptionally tall swiss math’s tutor called Kris, and I sat down and worked. Sort of. And yet, despite my arithmetic deficiencies, for the last few weeks, I’ve found myself circling equations in my head, drawing different pathways and combinations, all with one terminus. Forty.

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anxiety

And he saw me

Late one Friday afternoon a couple of weeks ago, we went walking by the Brisbane river. Such a simple sentence, right? I have loved walking since I trailed alongside my dad as a kid on his morning suburban stretches, air infused with birdsong, drenched in fresh, untarnished light. But, in my younger years declaring ‘walking’ as my chosen sport seemed weak and non-declarative. In these later ‘mumming’  years, I’m an aspirational walker. Just leaving the house can require athletic commitment. Due to an interstate move, a new job for Dr M, a new school year, new virus’, new discoveries, not to mention the transplanting of old fragilities in new settings, and a pounding sun, well, I haven’t walked much at all so far in our time here.

Read More
Amazing Grace

How can I love you more?

It was mid-1990. I remember it, in a pleasant, hazy sort of way. The Winter Olympics played on a small square television set (who knew then that flat screens were so much cooler), I was acquainted with the thrill of my favourite books, and the secure encirclement of parents who seemed intuitively to understand how to make us their trusted friends.

Read More
Faith

A Very Restless Christmas

Our eldest comes into the kitchen, stands close beneath my chin and asks me if she can have some flour. ‘We’re not cooking now!’ I reply in my shout-speak. It’s a variation of my usual mum dialect, one I’ve developed on our recent interstate relocation in soaring summer temperatures. I like to think the new environment and pressures have made this elevated frustrated inflection in my tone and general demeanour inevitable. 

Read More
loss

Grief Seeds

And so, here we are again. You’d think, nearly two decades later, we’d know how to do this. This day. November 13.

Read More
On Waiting

Playing in the Pauses: Some words for the Simmering Seasons

We almost miss out on getting in his taxi. A girl slips in front of us in line —a single, stylish girl with just one suitcase and highly impractical shoes that do nothing to impede her swiftness. Her luggage is already suspended mid-air when one of the fluro-vested airport guys intercepts her at the last moment.

Read More
pregnancy and parenting

To the Self-Critical Parent: You’ve come so Far

I was leaving the bathroom of a busy cafe, waving my watery hands in the air rather than pausing to insert them into the dryer, when I brushed past her. Actually, knocked into her, elbowed her, buffeted by her, are probably more accurate descriptions of what took place. She was standing to the side of the toilet doorway, the generic white plastic change table extended from the wall, wrestling a tiny, red, mid-air-bicycle-pumping footed newborn out of one nappy and into another. Basically she was trying to dress a young wild bear.

Read More
Amazing Grace

Words for the Overwhelmed

A giant clock fell off our wall the other day. That’s right. You heard me correctly. I was very nearly squashed beneath the weight of time.

There I was, walking down our narrow hallway, the one always scattered with an obstacle course worth of toys, the hallway we continuously play domestic bumper cars in, the one with the school word-lists hanging precariously from the white rental walls with perspiring balls of blu tack (our kids call it ‘glue tack’) when boom! The shabby-chic aqua clock, bought for an irresistible bargain on Gumtree, fell with a thunderous bang from its single nail, narrowly missing my recently broken little toe.

Read More
Faith

On Sea Changes and Souls at Sea

We recently made a sea-change. Sounds exciting doesn’t it, the stuff of reality TV and life adventures. Actually, it was more like a series of hiccupy jumps, gulping for air, rather than a seemless transition. Together with our three children under eight, we moved from the deep inner-city surrounds of Sydney and the bustling communal environment of Bible college, to Toowong, a Queensland suburb close to the bush, where it was rumoured a giant python regularly sunned himself on the street, and finally to the very outer-edges of Brisbane, where land bumps up against water, and every sunset demands a camera. And if you think that sentence was long to read, imagine travelling all that distance.

Read More
writing

Some Exciting News

The sad news is, it’s the end of an era. My firstborn baby-blog, the one I called Spilled Milk and Sunsets, the one I dreamt of, nurtured, and birthed with trembling, awkward hope into the online world, has grown-up, left home, or whatever it is that firstborn blogs do when they are no longer with us.

The good and very exciting news is that it has a sibling, a big sister if you will!

Read More
Seasonal

Adding up to 40

I am not a ‘numbers’ person. I failed my Year Twelve maths half-yearly because I preferred to read the examples rather than practice them. Then my parents hired a handsome, exceptionally tall swiss math’s tutor called Kris, and I sat down and worked. Sort of. And yet, despite my arithmetic deficiencies, for the last few weeks, I’ve found myself circling equations in my head, drawing different pathways and combinations, all with one terminus. Forty.

Read More
anxiety

And he saw me

Late one Friday afternoon a couple of weeks ago, we went walking by the Brisbane river. Such a simple sentence, right? I have loved walking since I trailed alongside my dad as a kid on his morning suburban stretches, air infused with birdsong, drenched in fresh, untarnished light. But, in my younger years declaring ‘walking’ as my chosen sport seemed weak and non-declarative. In these later ‘mumming’  years, I’m an aspirational walker. Just leaving the house can require athletic commitment. Due to an interstate move, a new job for Dr M, a new school year, new virus’, new discoveries, not to mention the transplanting of old fragilities in new settings, and a pounding sun, well, I haven’t walked much at all so far in our time here.

Read More
Amazing Grace

How can I love you more?

It was mid-1990. I remember it, in a pleasant, hazy sort of way. The Winter Olympics played on a small square television set (who knew then that flat screens were so much cooler), I was acquainted with the thrill of my favourite books, and the secure encirclement of parents who seemed intuitively to understand how to make us their trusted friends.

Read More
Faith

A Very Restless Christmas

Our eldest comes into the kitchen, stands close beneath my chin and asks me if she can have some flour. ‘We’re not cooking now!’ I reply in my shout-speak. It’s a variation of my usual mum dialect, one I’ve developed on our recent interstate relocation in soaring summer temperatures. I like to think the new environment and pressures have made this elevated frustrated inflection in my tone and general demeanour inevitable. 

Read More
loss

Grief Seeds

And so, here we are again. You’d think, nearly two decades later, we’d know how to do this. This day. November 13.

Read More
On Waiting

Playing in the Pauses: Some words for the Simmering Seasons

We almost miss out on getting in his taxi. A girl slips in front of us in line —a single, stylish girl with just one suitcase and highly impractical shoes that do nothing to impede her swiftness. Her luggage is already suspended mid-air when one of the fluro-vested airport guys intercepts her at the last moment.

Read More


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