Sugar and spice and all things nice.

Apparently I'm on the fast track to type 2 diabetes. We hear so much about this everyday now in the media and how it's sweeping the nation at epidemic proportions. The thing is I'm not sure if I'm worried. That really does sound ludicrous, and seeing it in black and white just seems insane. How can I possibly not be worried? It's not that I'm not worried at all, it's more because the idea of it just seems so removed from my everyday life. Occasionally I get a niggly reminder, if say I read about it in the paper, or see it on TV, or feel really bloated and not a hundred percent, my first thoughts are, oh my god, it's a diabetes thing and I'm all unhealthy.

A couple of months ago I was contacted to participate in a series of sessions called 'Life'(or something like that), that's been run through the hospital where I had my children. Since I had gestational diabetes, the government is running a program and scooping up the gestational diabetic mothers in the hope to educate and stave off this disease. I've been to two sessions so far, and I'm yet to learn something new. I don't mean to sound all arrogant and know-it-all, but I really feel as if I'm being talked at a bit - by a very lovely knowledgeable girl. I just wish it was a bit more interactive for us participants.

The other thing that I really hate is the assumption that if you're overweight - unfortunately for me this is so - you eat junk food. For the record - and because it makes me sound really good - I rarely eat junk food. I prefer to cook from scratch, and I like to use whole ingredients. I must also say that I'm no angel and there will be times when I do eat some junk, but it's not often, and I know when I'm being 'bad'.

Our takeout meals tend to be curries and thai food, or Chinese, vietnamese. We don't go to cafe's as much as we used to because of having small children.

I love salads. I love steamed vegetables. I love salad sandwiches, and I hate the taste of butter or margarine on my bread. However, if I have toast I love to put lashings of butter on it so it melts into a lovely greasy pool. But I don't have toast very often. I should eat more fruit. I try to eat low GI when possible. I don't drink soft drinks or alcohol. Having a father who was an alcoholic does something to you, and as a result I only drink water. All my friends think I'm strange for doing so, and if people who don't know me too well, see that I'm only partaking the clear stuff, give me knowing looks as though I'm pregnant and not telling.

My biggest vice is my one daily coffee (and I've blogged about the significance of my daily brew before) that I teaspoon three sugars into. Yes, three. If I'm buying a takeaway coffee and the barista asks if I want sugar, I lean over the counter conspiratorially and very quietly say, yes please, three. And then I lean back with a sheepish look on my face. My reasoning is that since I have only one coffee a day I can have three, since I'm not stacking up on the sugar intake through multiple cups throughout the day.

Now here's my downfall. Portion size. So yes, I probably do make various healthy meals, but boy do I eat large serves of the stuff. Have you seen the new government ad campaign, all about swapping it? Well I've sort of being trying to do this in the last couple of weeks, but I'm still yet to be more consistent about it. I also need to exercise more. At the moment I'm averaging only twice a week with my exercise regime and that's no where near enough.

I'm very all or nothing when it comes to exercise. I find that I have to really prioritise it for it to happen. Since my teenage years I reckon I've tried it all. I've done the high impact and low impact aerobics; the Tummy Hips and Thighs; Step (I love step but after having children find it really hard now); Pilates (boring); yoga (ditto); Spinning (a favourite!); pump (another fave!); body step (not as good as 'traditional' step classes); swimming (too time consuming with the whole taking clothes on and off); and I have done running many years ago. I've found that nothing beats walking. So that's what I've been trying now. Ideally I would like to add a spinning class and pump class a week to my walking regime, and I think I'd be on a good run (pardon the pun) with my exercise. But where to find the time?

I'm sure everyone has this problem. Where to find the time to exercise. My husband leaves for work super early in the morning and gets home around 5pm. So early morning is out. When he's home is when I'm cooking dinner for the family. This leaves all my walking to happen in my day-to-day routine. So I walk the kids to daycare and kinder. I walk to the shops. In fact I rarely use the car at all during the week. When time is permitting I do take the dog out for one hour walks, but this may happen only twice a week.

Next week a nutritionist is coming to speak to my Life group and I'm sure there will be a session on exercise as well. At our first session measurements were taken so now I need to really focus because she's going to check after five weeks and then again in six months if we've all made any progress.

A blunt pencil a day keeps writer's block away

I've always wanted to write a whodunnit novel. In fact a few years ago (before children) I even wrote out some hazy novel plots and started to write the first of a series. I wrote about fifteen thousand words and could see that my cozy mystery novel was sounding very chicklit. Now I love chicklit - and a chicklit novel with a mystery bent are great reads. But what I was finding is that my 'mystery plot', wasn't really that good. I tried all sorts of different elements to give some reason for the murder. Blackmail, a secret past, jealousy, money, but everything just seemed too wishy washy. So my mystery novel has been shelved now for a number of years.

Every now and then I get an idea for a story, and sometimes I go so far as starting to write something down. However these days I find that it just doesn't happen. I think having children saps you of all creative energy. If I do get an hour to myself to be in front of the computer it's invariably spent checking emails, facebook, different websites, writing the really fast blog post........

Last week I caught up with one of my uni friends who knew about my mystery novel. She asked what had become of it. Shamefacedly I had to admit that it had gone nowhere. I think if you like to write and your writing has gone nowhere, there is a bit of shame involved. But why is that so? Maybe it's all the time invested in the project gone to waste? Anyhow I told her that the only writing that gets done these days by me is in this blog. As her eyes lit up with interest I quickly continued that I don't like to tell friends about my blog. So much better to be mysterious about it all. Well it's not really me being mysterious because I suppose my friends would have to know that I'm writing a blog in the first place! I think that when you can write a blog with some anonymity it makes for easier writing. If I knew my audience I think I would feel really hampered in my writing. But at the same time sometimes I want to just quietly and gleefully say, to many people, that I have a blog.

I remember reading somewhere where Hemingway wrote that it was better to have a dull and blunt pencil. Something to that effect anyway. To apply this sentiment to a blog, I suppose I would have to be posting at least everyday, if not multiple times throughout the day. I don't have that sort of time. And I think my writing suffers for it. The more often you can write, the easier the words enter your head, the faster my fingers fly over the keyboard or the smoother my pen flows.

Still waiting but almost there.........

Eleven years ago my husband and I bought a Victorian single-front weatherboard in inner-city Melbourne.

Three months later we tied the knot, and this was our first home. I loved my new house, it's charm, the beautiful iron lacework out the front, the fireplaces, the high ceilings with their mouldings and roses. I took great delight in showing it off to family and friends. We were so proud of our little home. Little being the optimum word! Although our house was small, it had a fairly deep backyard, and our neighbours were presently building their extension. Of course this sent ideas off in our heads, and over the years we would delightedly fantasise to each other what sort of extension we would add to our house. My husband would cut out pictures and house plans from the newspaper and magazines I brought home. I'd day dream about the cook's kitchen I would create, the colour scheme, what my personal library would look like.

After almost seven years I was pregnant with my son and we spent two years in Queensland. Our home up there was a glorious Queenslander with wrap around verandah's and unusual architectural ceilings. Returning home (for we rented out our pride and joy), I was pregnant with my second child, and the small home that had been big enough for the two of us was just oozing from the seams with all our stuff. The children shared one of the two rooms, and my husband quickly knocked together a storage shelter on the front verandah to contain the pram/s and other paraphernalia we had gathered throughout our lives. Babies have lots of things.

I still fiercely love our home, but even I could see the woodwork at the back rotting and falling away. The windows and doors allowed draughts into our rooms and with putting up baby gates it became so much more enclosed. What was cosy before, had become pressured and almost unbearable. Where once before I took such delight in showing my home to people, I now cringed when they could see the old carpet, the shower screen that needed replacing, the smallness of it all in trying to raise two children. In addition to all this, our home in Queensland was very spacious and we had bought an immense eight seater dining table that became pivotal in our family home. Moving back the table had to go into storage, and I miss it tremendously. Presently we have to go back to our old way of dining with plates on laps. My youngest still uses a high chair, and my oldest uses a children's table and chairs from Ikea. But still, we never would give it up.

Our fantasies of a renovation and extension were now to be a reality. Eight months after returning home, we engaged an architect and spent six months devising a home that to us is the culmination of our dreams. Our application to council took almost one year for it to be approved. Yes, ONE WHOLE YEAR. It's now six months since gaining that approval, and yet I'm still waiting. We are about 75% through with the architect and will soon be ready to contract a builder. I refuse to get excited just yet. I think once I'm woken up at 7am, on that first day the builders arrive I may just allow my self a moment of tingly anticipation.

We plan to live in our house whilst the extension is happening, reluctant to release our hold on our home. The building is being staged in such a way that it should allow for us to do this. Firstly we are building two rooms, a small study and bathroom directly on top of our existing house. The builders should have the side access in order to complete this. I think when the stairs are built this may be the most intrusive part so we may have to spend that time with family.

We are keeping the existing three front rooms, all in the hope of preserving those quaint ceiling cornices, mouldings and roses. All interior walls in the three front rooms, built sometime during the 1890's will be demolished. This is our second stage. Everyone keeps telling us, why don't we just demolish the whole thing and start again. I know it's going to be changed really beyond recognition, but there is something in keeping those Victorian fireplaces and part of those ceilings and walls. So even though it is a home that is taking on an aethetic of the 21st century, there is something there of the Victorian era. Call us sentimental, for that is exactly what it is, albeit an expensive sentiment. Once the walls are gone a brand new kitchen and open plan living and dining will be created.

Our final stage is the creation of an internal courtyard, with a brand new two storey building at the back, linked to the old building by a walk way. The upper storey of the new building will be our master bedroom and bathroom. The downstairs is a changeable space. Initially it will be entirely for the children, the walls lined with shelves for their toys and books. No furniture so they can skate and tricycle to their hearts content. When they are a little older we will add a television and comfy couches. Possibly a table.

Our walkway is for my wall of books. So instead of a room for my library I have an expanse of wall to contain my literary treasures.

So that is it. I have described in words what our home will become. It is eleven years of waiting, and we are still waiting, but I know what is to come.

Choosing a school

When my son was approaching twelve months old, I had a frantic episode of researching private schools close by to our home and had them post out their school prospectus and enrolment forms. These actions were the culmination of talks I was having with other mum's who had children the same age as my son, and getting swept up in some kind of parenting vortex, I had somehow been convinced that enrolments must be done now, otherwise my son's future would be in jeopardy.

One mum was particularly smug, as she had enrolled her child at several private schools, and was even comparing which uniform would look best on her child. The prospectus' from several schools duly arrived home, and I set aside time each night to peruse each one, consequently ordering them in preference. As enrolling at each one cost $200 a pop, I then went about devising the best way to outlay this over the next few months.

For an unknown reason the enrolment forms tucked neatly in their respective prosectus folders sat on the desktop, and eventually had other things placed on top of them - as you do when you have a busy and messy desk such as mine. I didn't do any enrolments and my son is now just over four. I began to have a big long think about private school in the primary years. Was this what I wanted for my son? And now consequently my daughter? Was I going to join the parents ferrying their children to school in their four wheel drives?

In my mind's eye, I envisioned holding my children's small hands, one small figure on each side, walking to school. Looking around me, that meant a total of three primary schools that are in walking distance from my home. One is Catholic and the other two government. Anyway, it was this visual that stopped the private school enrolments in their tracks, and made me choose an alternative path. The plan now is to send them to one of these primary schools in walking distance from home and then do private schooling for their secondary years. I want them to take public transport from that time, thus ensuring some independence and new experiences.

I have now reached the time to investigate our three local primary schools. I have, what I've been describing to myself, a dual purpose in my school visits. I need to get to the Open day's, so I can hear the spiel about the school and take the tour, and then I need to make an appointment to chat about my son's special needs.

A few weeks ago, the two government primary schools held their open day's on the Tuesday and Wednesday respectively in the same week. I telephoned the Catholic primary school, to discover their Open day had been in the month earlier, so I made my appointment to discuss my Son's needs with the principal on the Monday.

Upon arriving at the Catholic primary, I was pleased to see that the Special Need's Coordinator had been alerted to the meeting and was also there. I did most of the talking, describing my son, his personality, behaviour and diagnosis. The welcoming vibe from both the Principal and Coordinator was enthusiastic and interested, and I went away feeling optimistic. I still need to get to an Open day, apparently there's another one in August, and I plan to then see the school's resources and spaces, and hopefully classes in action.

On the Tuesday I was punctual for the school tour at one of the government primary school's, and myself and a large group of parents were ushered into the Resource center, or Library. The Principal spoke for a good twenty minutes, explaining how the school worked, and about the brand spanking new building that was being built, making way for even more classrooms.

From there, three grade sixer's took myself and two other sets of parents around the school, where we saw classes in action. The students were a delight to talk to, and I came away thinking I would be happy to send my children to this school. The only thing, we're just outside of this school's zone.

I managed to catch the Principal, and he was able to set aside time there and then to talk about my son's special needs. After waiting a short ten minutes, we proceeded to his office. This is where I would describe the school as having some good things and some not so good things. I explained to the Principal about a Bridging program we were considering doing during first term of Prep, but he wasn't one bit interested in it. His biggest concern was that my son wouldn't be able to make those initial friendships in first term if he was spending that time away from the school. This of course makes ample sense. He also went on to outline how the school deals with transition for special needs children, and the different therapists they have access to etc. Basically if we were to send them to this school, we would have to rely solely on the way the school handled their special needs children, rather than have the additional outside help too.

Writing this down now I can see the merit in doing this, but I think I should point out that the Bridging program we're looking at doing is with the service that my son has been undertaking since he was two and a half. So there's a lot of trust built there, and reliance. However, as these services are early intervention, this will all end when my son turns seven and that means that all his special needs are then seen to by his school. At least that's how the government organises the funding. Overall I would describe the welcoming vibe in the Principal's office as moderate. It was also only after discussing all of the above that I said that we were just outside the zoning for the school, and it could be my imagination, but I think he was a little relieved that he's not obligated to take my son.

The final school that I saw that week was the other government primary school on Wednesday morning. I should say from the outset that at present this school is the current contender. When I arrived, there were parents everywhere! It was chaotic, it was noisy, it was disorganised. I was put into what I think was a group, but even now I'm unsure how that happened. I ended up just traipsing along behind some parents and found myself in a tour. The next thing I want to say, that although it was so crowded, and chaotic, I probably knew every third person that was there! This was parents from playgroup, parents from daycare and parents from kinder. It was such a warm, community feeling to have quick chats, smiles, knowing nods, as I was led through the school. We often bring our children to the school playground for a play on the equipment on the weekend, and the school abuts onto one of the local community centers. There is a Stephanie Alexander cooking and garden program. The size of the classrooms were massive, and I got to watch an impressive grade four maths class in action. I hated maths in school, but to me, even that looked fun! The noise level in the classrooms were extremely high, but looking around I could see that the children were 'on task' doing their work. Just like yesterday's government primary school, this one had a multi-age approach to teaching that I think will work well with my son. There were fantastic extra-curricular programs. It has a very small number of students, hence small class sizes. And lastly......As I was on my tour, I noticed another, led by a bright grade sixer - who had autism. I could tell. This boy could easily have been my son several years on. He would pause as he thought of what to say next, finger posturing as he did so, and then lead his tour group. I saw before me an articulate and confident young man. This was striking and heartening, what more could a mother with a special needs child ask for?

Anyway, after an extremely long post, I still have to tour the Catholic primary school and make an appointment to talk about my son's needs with the winning contender. I'm just hoping that conversation won't change things around. Choosing a school for any parent of any child is daunting, yet alone parents of a special needs child. Really I'd be happy for my children to go to any of these schools, but I'm so uplifted at the moment, that the school that I've found the most impressive, is my local government primary school, that we're zoned for. Oh, but the only thing, the school's uniform is just atrocious!!

Yes! 'Reading Counts' as learning!

Back in the day when I was first studying to be a Librarian, one of my classes was on the history of libraries. I remember learning about Assurbanipal's library in ancient Nineveh, the Alexandrian Library

and the Vatican Library, to name just a few. Civilisations have always had libraries. In ancient times, during warfare, when a city was defeated, to gain it's library was a major coup.

Few could argue that Libraries are not a precious resource. Anne Firor Scott, in her article, writes about women and American libraries, and the sad fact that historians have not paid attention to the part women have played in establishing them. She writes, One great gap in library history is created by the failure of historians, so far, to make a systematic analysis of the part played by women's associations in creating public libraries. Perhaps 75 percent of such libraries were initiated by women's groups, often originally for their own use. Close study of this phenomenon would reveal a good deal about the growth of self-education and adult education as significant aspects of American culture (Scott, 1986).

An article found in the American newspaper, Los Angeles Times, exposes that currently school Librarians in the Unified State District, are being interrogated about their qualifications. The district are seeking to cost-cut their state education, and it looks as if the school libraries are easy targets.

The article written by Hector Tobar, witnesses the Librarian's interrogation:

Sandra Lagasse, for 20 years the librarian at White Middle School in Carson, arrived at the temporary courtroom Wednesday with copies of her lesson plans in Greek word origins and mythology.

On the witness stand, she described tutoring students in geometry and history, including subjects like the Hammurabi Code. Her multi-subject teaching credential was entered into evidence as "Exhibit 515."

Lagasse also described the "Reading Counts" program she runs in the library, in which every student in the school is assessed for reading skills.

"This is not a class, correct?" a school district attorney asked her during cross-examination.

"No," she said. "It is part of a class."

"There is no class at your school called 'Reading Counts'? Correct."

"No."

Lagasse endured her time on the stand with quiet dignity and confidence. She described how groups of up to 75 students file into her library — and how she works individually with many students.


The reason why the Librarians are being questioned in this manner, is because all Middle and High school Librarians need to have state teaching credentials. The catch here, however, is that they must have taught students within the last five years.

This article poses many questions. What is learning? Let's just say that you can go into schools and mete out zones where learning can occur. This would mean that within a school, no learning could ever occur on the playground. Or in the cafeteria (tuckshop) line. Or, as in this case, the library. Learning can only take place in classrooms. Personally I have a problem with that.

The other problem I have is the shameful disrespect shown to these Librarians who are qualified. It takes many years to gain a Library qualification and teaching qualification. Most Librarians are Post-graduates, and yet, in this instance, it all stands for nothing.

The reason why I quoted Scott's article earlier, about the role women have played in the history of our libraries, is because the Librarians' whose jobs are currently at risk, are mainly women. On the witness stand, one librarian at a time is summoned to explain why she — the vast majority are women — should be allowed to keep her job.


And I'm going to put this out there. If Libraries were mainly run and staffed by men, would this be happening? Libraries and Teaching seem to be a 'soft' profession. What makes it so? I want you to take a look at this picture.

This is a woman's, mother's and wife's job on the line here.

As someone who is a Librarian, studying to be a teacher, I feel devalued reading an article like this. A culture that values its libraries and schools, and the people who make that happen, is, in my opinion, a very fortunate culture. The final point I want to make is that I am writing about this article from Australia. I became aware of it on Facebook. Social media has played a role in ousting this shameful debacle, the world really is watching.







Anne Firor Scott. The Journal of Library History (1974-1987)Vol. 21, No. 2, Libraries, Books, & Culture II (Spring, 1986), pp. 400-405

The week ahead.

Well Richard has flown away for two weeks for work. He will be visiting The US and Europe. I'm bracing myself for a hard week, but I'm utilising the help from my eighteen year old cousin who will stay and my father-in-law. Hopefully I won't get too overwhelmed!

This week I will be visiting three primary schools to discuss my son's enrolment in 2013. As he is special needs, high functioning autism, I'm interested to see what programs or aides they will have and discussing some of the programs that we are looking at. Hopefully I can find a good school that will be enthusiastic and helpful, and that we can strike a good balance in educating my son. I'll be visiting a different primary school on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. I'm feeling a bit apprehensive but excited as well. I'm sure all parents feel this way when their child begins school. The only thing I'm a bit disappointed over is that Richard can't be there for the open days either, but since we have a bit of time up our sleeves, I told him, I'll go check it out and then we can visit again together. I'm just hoping I don't hit a brick wall regarding the services we may need for my son. Will have to wait and see....

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Reading to children

When I was working in public libraries, particularly when I was lucky enough to conduct story time, I was often asked by parents, at what age should you start reading to children? My answer is, from the beginning. I followed my own advice and read to my son on the day I brought him home from the hospital. Beforehand I thought about what I would read. I couldn't see myself reading basic board books to him that showed shapes or letters of the alphabet or colours. I ended up deciding on the Mr Men series.

This was for three reasons. Firstly, they were small enough to hold together with a baby very comfortably. Secondly, the pictures were bright and colourful, therefore eyecatching. And thirdly, there was enough text for me to find reading these books enjoyable and it allowed for my son to listen to my voice. This is what I want to stress here to any parents reading this post. Reading to babies isn't about 'reading' to them. It is allowing for your child to listen to your voice. A baby residing in your tummy can hear at the twenty week mark. This means that he or she has been listening to your voice (and others) for a long time. There's a sense of security, it allows you to bond - and this certainly happened during our reading times, and it also exposes them to the cadence of your reading voice.

Now of course reading and writing and books are my favourite things and things to do. So I have never found reading to my babies/children a chore. It's something that I personally find exciting and enjoyable to do. When I was doing story time at public libraries, I found it very noticeable that the children who came along to these sessions and were consequently read to by library staff and parents, knew their letters, numbers and colours from a very early age. Clearly there are benefits to reading to children from a young age, but I don't want to jump on the bandwagon of this competitive pushing children along just so they can have some kind of academic advantage. My reasons for reading to babies and children is what I have already stated. It allows them to listen to you.

Presently I am reading some young adult novels for an assignment, that I intend to blog about at a later date. What I wanted to share with you today, was some picture books that we have gone on to after our My men books - and also the Little Miss series. Some favourites are:

A couple of standouts that have my son in fits of laughter are:

When I started reading to my son - and later my daughter - I never imagined that he would be diagnosed with autism. Looking back, I believe that reading to him has helped him. It calms him. It is a routine done every night after baths and just before bed, one that is looked forward to. He loves to choose what books to read, and giving him choice and teaching him to express what he wants is paramount in helping him engage with people. As part of his autism is a severe language delay, I have found some of the following titles invaluable in helping his speech. As I have been reading most of these books to him from a young age, and certainly before he was talking, it is safe to say that he knows them inside out. After some time, I realised that if I paused before saying the next word, as he knew full well what was to come, he would fill in the gaps. An example of this is with We're going on a bear hunt, by Michael Rosen and Helen Oxenbury.

Its rhythmn and repetitiveness is superb in aiding his speech. Often I would say, we're going on a.....and he would fill the gap. Eventually I was doing this for almost every line in the book. Other books that also worked well in doing this are:

I'm continually adding to our picture book library at home. I have five book boxes (they're actually the Huggies nappy boxes) that I rotate. We do one book from our collection and two books borrowed from the library. This way they're reading books and getting exposed to repetition, but they're also being exposed to new books as well. Sometimes we borrow some absolute gems from the library that I look out for to buy them as birthday gifts or christmas presents. I like to use books as rewards for good behaviour too, but as they are still so young this will probably happen more often as the years go on. The other reason why I love to read library books is that it prevents me from getting too bored as well. You see, I like to read these picture books too (just for myself) and there's nothing better than reading titles that you yourself enjoyed as a child. The very hungry caterpillar and Are you my mother are familiar favourites from my own childhood.

Great recent contemporary titles that I've found:

Out for dinner

We had a lovely dinner last night for our anniversary at Fenix. Honestly I don't know why we don't go there more often as we don't live very far away. Oh yes. I just remembered. It's because of the rug rats!! I say that with great affection.

Upon arriving there's a large display of Mehigan's and Calombaris' new cook book.

We're greeted sincerely and warmly. In fact the food was excellent but I would say that the standout of the night was the service. The staff were very friendly but were happy to joke around with you as well, so this felt very genuine and made for a more homely dining experience.

I would describe the food as rustic. Bread and butter, of course, appeared first. For entree Richard had char grilled quail with sweet and sour cannelini beans, rosemary and thyme. The beans were beautiful with an intense smoky flavour. I didn't try the quail, but Richard said he was disappointed that it wasn't falling off the bone. My entree was salt and pepper calamari with a garlic aioli. I love aioli and the calamari was lovely and crisp, nicely salted with sliced red chilli's and coriander leaves scattered over the top. The chilli's gave a nice hint of heat to the dish.

For mains Richard had grilled swordfish with fresh borlotti beans and salsa verde. I just realised how much beans Richard consumed!!..... My main was the special of the day. Slow roasted suckling pig that came with apples and a buttery-herby sauce. We had a side dish of green beans with soft homemade ricotta. My pork was lovely but very very rich. The beans were a nice addition to it.

Dessert - yes I left room - was an apple souffle with rosemary ice cream for Richard. Richard said that the ice cream was extremely unusual. He described it as having an almost 'healthy' taste. I thought it a strange combination too, a little medicinal. Being a chocaholic I couldn't go past the bitter chocolate and olive mousse. This came as a large curl on my plate, festooned with oregano leaves and underneath was this kind of set gel that must have been the coffee and licorice part of the dish. I'm not a big fan of licorice so I didn't know what to expect. It didn't really taste very licorishy to me.

It was a good night overall. It gave Richard and I a chance to spend some time together alone, and it's been a while since we've had that opportunity Oh, and I should probably also add that we had some Neighbour's stars at the next table. We watch Neighbours so they were immediately recognisable to us - of course we didn't let on, being the sophisticated couple that we are - there were about five cast members. So, I think we shall return to Fenix. I'm fortunate enough to actually have that part of the yarra river as my dog walking thoroughfare, so I was even thinking that we should stop off for a coffee too. With the rug rats of course.

Anniversary dinner

Well we're off to Fenix tonight to celebrate our eleven year wedding anniversary.

This is the restaurant owned by Gary Mehigan from Masterchef Australia. This will be our second visit, our first was many years ago to celebrate our birthdays (they're one week apart). So, the babysitter is booked and it's been absolutely ages since we've been out to dinner, yet alone fine dining, so I'm really looking forward to it.

I have a small confession to make. Last year was our ten year anniversary (obviously) and we didn't do anything!!! I hate that that happened. We always celebrate our birthdays and anniversaries etc. It was just too hard with the kids. So this year, I've made it a point to actually go somewhere. I almost felt like being lazy and just staying at home, but if I do that I think it will be the start of setting a bad precedent. So, I promise to get all glammed up, and off we go. Aaaah a night of no cooking.

Death of a troubled soul

Last year my father died exactly the way I thought he would. We had been out all day and returned home at about nine pm that evening. There was a message on the telephone from my aunt. The police had been in contact and she messaged to ask me to give them a call. My father lived in Sydney and we're in Melbourne. I called the required number. The neighbours hadn't seen my father for some time and had called the police. Upon investigating his home they found him face down on the floor of his bedroom. Later the coroner estimated that he had been there for up to three weeks.

Yes, you did read the above correctly. A phone call from the police telling me that my father had passed away was exactly how I envisaged the death of my dad. My father was an alcoholic and after twenty years of marriage my mother had had enough, divorced him and he then went to live in Sydney. He had some family up there, but after a few months even they were estranged from him. It was only after he moved there did that side of the family fully comprehend what he was like.

Do you know how sometimes in the media or in advertisements you see images of homeless people, or the jobless; down on their luck people? Or you hear stories of people dying in their homes and not being found for days - in this case weeks. I always used to look at these and think, that is my father.

As far as I know, my father always drank. During the day my brother and I learnt not to disturb him because he'd always get very annoyed. At night he was jovial and affectionate. I now know of course why my father had two sides to his personality.

As we got older our social life ground to a halt. Later my mother told me that it was too humiliating to go out and be with friends. Having to doctor a drunk home was no fun. He also felt the macho need of drink-driving us home. Insisted upon it. This was during the seventies and early eighties, so we didn't have the cautionary TAC ad campaigns back then. I'm not sure if they would have had an effect on him anyway.

I could never bring friends home. I wouldn't know what I would be walking into. When we were teenagers it was easier for my brother and I to just hang out at our friend's houses.

When I was twenty years old my mother decided enough was enough. My father wasn't a violent man, but one afternoon things did turn bad and he hit her over the head. That was literally the end. My mother had been back and forth our whole lives. Misguided relatives always thought it was better that she stay in her marriage than walk away. I try not to make her feel bad about this now - because I know she carries immense guilt for staying. She had a great job and could easily have supported us. She just found it hard emotionally and spiritually to be on her own.

When everything ended he moved to Sydney. He had a good outcome from the divorce financially, but within a handful of years all that money was completely gone. When it comes to my father my brother and I were on opposite ends of the spectrum. I always felt sorry for him and was easily manipulated. My brother despised him and at the end refused to talk to him. Thus I was always the go between.

I felt differently after I had my first child. I was much angrier with him. Feeling very vulnerable with a newborn, and able to watch my husband in awe at how he was a father to my son, I realised all the more what my brother and I had missed out on.

Towards the end I only saw him in person three or four times. He never looked well. He visited us twice after my son was born. Later both my husband and I commented that our home felt as if the life had been sucked out of it. He never got to meet my daughter. The last time I saw him I was pregnant with her and she was eighteen months old when he passed away. When I rang to speak to him on the telephone I was lucky if he was coherent. Often he would ring back the following morning. I think somewhere in his imbibed mind, it registered that I had tried to have a conversation with him. The consequent day he would deny that he had been drinking - it was on account of some medication he had been taking. I've heard many excuses over the years.

Of course we had to go to Sydney to organise the funeral. My father always harboured resentment for my husband. I think it was more a jealousy thing than anything else. A father and daughter thing. He always handled emotion in an immature fashion and this was conveyed by him entering our home and trying to be 'cock of the walk'. I always managed to keep the lid on this simmering pot between my father and husband, but looking back I wish I could tell my father, be nice, this is the person who will be paying for your funeral.

There weren't many people there. Thankfully my brother came without argument. I was bracing myself for the 'I'm not doing this on my own' speech. It was up to me to do the eulogy. There were some friends of his that he had recently re-connected with from his teenage years. I think they were a little shocked by what I said. I had to talk honestly. I said that I was angry with him for his selfishness because he was loved.

And here is the crux of the matter. No matter what, he was still my father and he was loved. When I think of my father I think of him as a troubled soul. My main emotion regarding his death is one of pity. Sadness of a life lived worthlessly. Sadness that he could not let go of his demons in life. I only hope now that where ever he is that he has found some peace.

Best of my love

On Friday it will be our eleven year wedding anniversary. Since I've blogged before about my marriage proposal I thought I'd write about our wedding. We met during high school where he went to the boy's school across the road from my all girl's school. After much checking each other out on public transport, elbows dug into friends ribs to covertly point each other out and the inevitable flirting that followed, we were finally boyfriend and girlfriend.

We had a really long courtship. Too long really. We were sixteen when we met, engaged at twenty-five and married at twenty-seven. I will say that it gave us ample time to save! Anyway, we studied, worked, travelled, my mum kept saying we lived in each other's pockets, and then finally got around to the big day.

Our wedding took place in a bluestone church where my primary school was affiliated.

It's where I had my communion and confirmation. My husband also had ties with this church so we had a lot of history there.

Our ceremony was taking place at 1pm, and I had a gorgeous couture gown made by Angelina Baccini. We had a fairly large wedding party, four bridesmaids and groomsmen, and three flower girls. After the wedding ceremony we left for our photo's and headed to a cafe on Bridge road in Richmond. Sadly this cafe is now closed - or it's changed into a completely different one to what it was. By late afternoon we got to Werribee mansion where our reception was taking place.

Together with our wedding party we roamed around the gardens and allowed the photographers to take our 'strictly commanded' candid wedding photo's. At 6.30pm the reception started, and we lucked out with a sensational DJ that brought the house down with his music. It was literally one of the best nights of my life and unforgettable. The only thing that went wrong was that I forgot my written speech at home and had to hastily write something whilst I ate dinner.

So eleven years on from that day and night have been wonderful. I am going to add a however here. The first year of our marriage was the hardest. I honestly didn't think we were going to see our first anniversary. Anyway, we kept going. We've managed to buy some properties, excel at work and travel. We held off having children, but now we have two beautiful littlies.

So now, with our eleven year anniversary upon us I can sit and reflect blog about it all. Stop and truly see that I am blessed and appreciate what I have.

Happy anniversary babe. Even after all these years you still make my heart skip a beat and my skin hum. You once told me that I am your life, you are mine also.

Guilty Viewing

My husband thinks I watch too much tv. Unfortunately I have to agree with him. I record nearly all my tv viewing digitally. This usually means that I can be as far behind as three weeks of current screenings of shows. Watching tv is my mind freeing itself. In other words, my veg out. I watch tv when the kids have gone to bed. My husband is also in bed earlier than me because he goes to work quite early in the mornings. I like to be a mindless couch potato for a minimum of one hour. Sometimes this can stretch to two or three. It depends on how tired I am. This is followed by reading in bed. Since having children this has become a typical nightly routine.

Back to my husband thinking I watch too much tv I thought I'd share some of the shows I currently have racked up waiting to watch. And at this point I'd also like to add that I love scrolling down my listed viewing options!

Brothers & Sisters

Caprica

Desperate Housewives

Grand Designs

Modern Family

Parenthood

Smallville

Spooks

Supernatural

Winners & Losers

Two shows that I do watch 'live' are:

And shows that I am eagerly awaiting:

Masterchef Australia

Offspring

Downton Abbey

Anything detective has me:

Or Period

And for now that's all I can think of. Yes, I know, that is a lot of viewing. Happily I can record my shows and watch them at my leisure.

I also have several TV DVD Box sets

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Angel

Anne of Green Gables

The Sopranos

The Gilmore Girls

Firefly

and Sex and the City