simply living: a less toxic life

I received a copy of Less Toxic Living to read prior to its publication.

Our fourth seachange anniversary is coming up early next year. I can't believe we have been here for almost four years, and yet I can. Our little man was a baby in a sling when we arrived at these sandy shores. We have changed such a lot in that time, not just our growing family and moving homes.

Living close to the sea has had a profound effect on how we see the world, and how we live in it. You can't see the rainwater wash directly into the ocean every day, and not be offended by the visible rubbish, and question the toxic things that can't be seen in the water.

And so, in those four years, we have gradually made mindful changes. Really just small things, one at a time. In a completely imperfect, trial-and-error kind of way. There has been some really simple changes, and some new things to learn, in an effort to live more simply. Remembering bags for the grocery shop. Packing school lunches in reusable containers, minus the pre-packaged snacks. Making my own laundry detergent. Growing some food. Keeping chooks. Composting.

None of these are new things, revolutionary things. But that's my point today. We can minimise toxicity in our lives in very simple, everyday ways. I recently read Less Toxic Living by Kirsten McCulloch (with a whole bunch of fantastic co-writers). You may know Kirsten from her ace blog Sustainable Suburbia. It was such a pleasure to read, full of great mini-guides for living a less toxic life. Information about toxic chemicals in common plastics, cosmetics, cleaning products, candles and toys. And information about what you can use instead. My favourite part? No panic-mongering. Just useful, sensible ways to reduce toxins. You can tap into a section that grabs your attention or interest, work on that in your life, and see what impact it has. Easy! I became quite interested in the idea of using plants inside to filter toxins in the air, so guess what my next little project is?

I would absolutely recommend Less Toxic Living as a springboard into living a greener life. If you are already a bit conscious of reducing toxins, this would be a great resource for family or friends new to these ideas.

You can download Less Toxic Living for free as an eBook. If you download before December 3rd, you can get some special bonus treats: some handy printable guides for your fridge and wallet, a free chapter and recipe from Alexx Stuart's Real Treats and a discount voucher from Queen B candles. Lovely! Just pop in the code HAPPINESS to get your free goodies. If you would like to purchase a paperback copy of the book, you can do so here. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have!

for me?

I have keenly attuned my brain to ignore any longing or desire to do stuff that is just about me for the past couple of years. With all the kid stuff happening around us, I have found it easier to be resigned to living a life around them, to avoid disappointment. I've learned a weird acceptance with a day that revolves around meals cut into small pieces and naptimes, and that's cool.

But just lately, there is a shift. I returned to work, just one day a week. I felt that clever, passionate part of my brain spark, like the engine of a car having sat idle over winter. It's creaky, and a little rusty, but it's still there!

With this change has come a side-change in me, and how I think about myself. I have suddenly realised I can do some stuff for myself! And I've been struck with an urge to make outrageous goals for myself.

For example: Swim the length of my beach point-to-point. Considering my absolute lack of fitness and skill, a one-kilometre swim is a perfectly achievable goal, right? Well, it will be, given time and some hard work. I have begun swimming lessons- they do those for adults too! Although I felt a bit silly to begin, I am really grateful to take the opportunity to get a good technique to build upon. I even hopped in the pool to do some training laps when my big boy had his lesson at the weekend. It's a little thing I guess, but I'm celebrating this change- moving my body into its next season, where it won't be used to feed or grow babies again, but is now free to do other interesting stuff.

So I'm off to my grown-up swimming lesson this morning. I am going to swim that beach. I know this because I am working towards it. And also because there are the best hot chips in the kiosk down the other end.

hi-ho, hi-ho

It's back to work I go! Actually it's been two weeks since I returned to my job. That one that I left four years ago to make a sea change. That one that I wasn't going back to because I would be embraced by my new town and would have local job offers to trip over.

The good thing is, I loved that job when I left, and I still do. I'm good at it, I like the bit where I get dressed, wear shoes the whole day and talk to grown ups. I teach small children, so there are all the obvious rewards that go along with that (there is nothing like teaching a kid right at that moment where reading kicks in, it's my absolute favourite).

After four years, though, I'm a little different. In lots of good ways, but in some ways that have me questioning things that I would have done or accepted four years ago. My first day back felt like a kick in the face. Such was the realisation that all of the relationships I had spent lots of hours, days, weeks and years building up with kids and their families had evaporated over time, and I was starting afresh. I have a lot of work to do, to build those relationships up from the ground. It will not be easy, but I know that learning won't really start to happen until I can get an 'in'. So I am drawing on the patience I have learned through yoga. I am planting that Mona Lisa smile on my face, and approaching each difficult moment with an acceptance that it will all take time. And all I really have is turning up each week.

It's fortunate timing that my school is heavily invested in building relationships with students at the moment. We were shown this video as a reminder of the importance of the relationships in a child's life. *(Trigger warning for violence, persevere if you can, there is relief at the end)

 



I am enjoying the bonuses of returning to work, that aren't directly work related. Yes, the commute is an hour and a half each way, but I get to spend that time with my hubby. Yes, I'm away from the kids and home for a day, but it means that the kids and grandparents get to spend time together (which is making everyone very happy). So although being so incredibly anxious about how on earth I would be able to balance and juggle, it turns out that things tend to balance themselves, if I just let them.

in stitches: heidi and finn chevron dress pattern review

I have been carefully looking at our consumption of clothing lately as a family. Not really doing anything about it, but feeling rather guilty about grabbing cheap, mass-manufactured garments as our kids grow (and grow and grow!). I walk a fine line, balancing precariously between what our budget allows, and the clear ethics in buying quality and taking more care of it. I have an automated response to kids clothing sale racks in large department stores: grab a couple for now, and a bunch for next year. Especially t-shirts, because knits are so difficult to sew, right?

Well sewing up this dress has proven to me the value and ease of sewing easy-to-wear, comfy play clothes for kids, using knits. The Chevron Dress pattern by Heidi and Finn is a fantastic design to cut your knit-sewing teeth on, and the instructions hold your hand right the way through.

The bodice is a simple shape, lined to avoid tricky bindings, and fits comfortably without gaping. I loved the clever way this pattern put the top together.

The skirt features a pieced chevron shape, utilising different coloured or patterned fabrics. I used a soft grey and white stripe, teamed with a rusty red and bright white. There was some very smug self-satisfaction as I pressed the centre-front seam open to reveal a perfectly-matched chevron.

The elastic in the waistband is probably the trickiest part, but once you master using a zig-zag stitch to sew elastic directly into the seam allowance, you will be able to use it in many applications. I like to use a three-step zig-zag stitch and clear elastic for this.

I added a couple of belt loops to the waist as I sewed the top and bottom together. I plaited together three strips of the knit fabrics I used in the dress to make a chunky tie belt. I love the nautical look the colours and the ropey belt give.

So now I am on the hunt for knit fabrics, so I can make all manner of play clothes for the kids. And a couple more cute chevron dresses for the little miss.

defining mothering: we're doing it wrong

One of the most fascinating things I've discovered since our sea change three years ago has been the ever-changing outlook of the beach. That girl looks different every single day. Some days are like a lake, other days are tumultuous and wild. Some days there is a vast expanse of sand to walk on, other days we scramble over a narrow stretch covered in weedy debris. I initially felt unsettled by this daily change. Nervous, because every day didn't necessarily fit my preconceived definition of 'beach'.

Whenever I try to navigate the parenting landscape, I'm struck by the need to define the indefinable. Attachment parenting, helicopter parenting, laissez-faire, retro, instinctive parenting, passive parenting, authoritative parenting: at some point, so far, I've defined my self as each of them. But there is not a single one I could pick to define our parenting choices throughout. Because, like most parents, we are of the "make the best decision we can, with the knowledge and resources we have at the time" school. Our family unit model has changed, growing over six years to include one, two, then three children. We have had combinations of full-time working mum, stay-at-home-dad, part-time working mum, full-time working dad, stay-at-home-mum, with spatterings of formalised long day care, before and after school care and grandparent and uncle care.

Today, I am letting go of the desire to define myself as a 'type' of parent. Because that inherently leans towards placing value on one type over another. It has taken me some time to accept the ebbs and flows of the beach conditions, and know that every circumstance is in some way ideal; not just the sweet, sunny days. Rugging up in warm clothes and meandering around the rocks on a windy day gives us an opportunity to see things in a different way. I never expected our circumstances to involve an extended period of full-time leave from work, but I am very grateful for the time and the lessons I have received in that time.

This parenting work is truly a task of building the plane mid-flight. Children are growing, their needs are constantly changing. Adults are evolving constantly, too. Circumstances around finances and values (and how to align the two) are always shifting, and vary wildly between families. From now on, I will stop working so hard to label what I do (and what you do, too) as a parent, and work to enjoy the connection and the ride.

waving, not drowning. ok. maybe drowning a little bit.

I knew it was coming. I had stopped sleeping at night, but falling asleep in the day. I felt sluggish, and snippy. Everything I looked at reminded me of yet another in the overwhelming basket of tasks I was yet to finish. I had a big, bad case of the I can'ts.

But most especially, was the look in my kid's eyes. That look that betrayed what he was trying to hide: a fear that the ground was shifting beneath his feet. So I pulled on my big girl pants and went to see the doctor. But there was a wait. Our waiting list is about three months the receptionist said I can give you some paperwork to take home if you like?

Sobbing on the floor of the public toilet next to the fruit shop, with two toddlers stroking my back? Not my finest hour. But an important hour, nonetheless.

The following week my mind was brimming with Christmas preparation, job applications and a couple of sick kids. When I took them to the walk-in clinic, I threw my name in, too. An ear infection and some croup were sorted out. The doctor was kind. She waited for me to talk, and she listened. She talked to me about my treatment last time. She gave me a prescription, a referral and some hope. And two weeks later, the fog really is lifting.

Sometimes, I can't do it on my own. Sometimes, I can't fix it. Now though, I know that somebody will grab my hand, I just have to stick it up to start with. I have some work to do now, starting with taking it easy on myself. I'm looking very forward to feeling deserving again! And feel very, very grateful that I can access help where I live.

How are you doing today?

The sun has gone down on the first day of a new year. A glorious day, contrasting sharply with the way I felt yesterday.

I really don't do the last day of the year well. I spent yesterday swinging between obsessive cleaning and chucking out anything in my path. Sorry kids. One shelf of the pantry is impeccably clean, but I can't find a set of house keys. I can't remember how I felt on the final day of 2011, but this time around, the end of the year filled me with nerves. Like if I get excited about the new year, it will kick me like a startled horse. It always sneaks up on me, the new year. We only waved off our final beautiful house guests on Sunday, so we decided to stay home and see the new year in. Just, together. We ate party food, watched the nine-o'clock fireworks with the kids, I made myself a vodka, lime and ginger beer and drank it in a few gulps before realising I had used alcoholic ginger beer. We went to bed and missed the whole thing. Perfect.

I woke up in the new year and baked a loaf of bread. I replanted one of my indoor pot plants. I collected some seeds from my garden. Nasturtiums and coriander. I fed my kids breakfast. And I thought, Hey, 2013, I'm not scared of you. I don't know what is around this corner, or any corner in our lives, but I do hope it's filled with more of the magic of today's ordinary. Strong, competent children splashing in the waves in the morning, a simple meal for lunch, restful afternoon naps, a late afternoon park play.

As we left the beach this morning, I saw a family of Willy Wagtails playing in the dunes. A family of five. And I know we belong here.

squirm with me, friends

as I regale you with a tale of such splendid awkwardness, that I may just resist any kind of human interaction for a little while.

I had the opportunity to meet a lovely (much admired by me) blogger in the reals, recently. It happened that the only other human I know in this place came past with her lovely little bub in pram, accompanied by her mum's group pal and pram. I was introduced to mum's group pal, polite conversation ensued.

But I didn't introduce lovely blogger and lovely friend. Because I am a dork. A dork who writes a blog. A blog that her friends and family don't know about. Because it's dorky. And I'm a dork. And I couldn't bring myself to say I met this gorgeous person through my blog. Not introducing these two lovely ladies did no justice to the amount of admiration I have for both their awesomeness, but my dorkiness won out on the day. I am better on paper.

Homobloggerus, in her natural social habitat, is less awkward.

Do your real humans read your stuff? My darling told me the other day that when he is having a rough day, he hops on the blog to look through our babies in the Portrait Project. That made me happy. But why am I hesitant to share this place with friends and family? I'm not super cagey about it, I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it once or twice, but I'm not sending them notifications either. I think maybe I feel a bit protective and precious about this space and community. You know that moment when two different circles of your friends (say, old school pals and new work mates) meet? Awkward. And dorky-awkward served with a side of stubborn-and-don't-need-anybody is quickly turning into a big plate of hermit!

Thank goodness it's summer, bringing with it the opportunity for casual get-togethers, socially drinking at sunset and public bikini wearing.

Shit.

i need a plan, stan.

I'm in the middle of one of those phases in life where I feel I'm trying to walk through molasses. We are very, very fortunate, yet there is a sense of little things being difficult, and a hesitation to start and finish little projects. Knowing full well that this is just a phase doesn't ease the feeling of itchiness and low, low self-worth.

So, I need a plan.

If I was in paid work right now, I would have handy somewhere a list of long-term and short-term goals, and be putting things in place to achieve these goals and feeling really bloody awesome when I tick one off the list. Achieved!

But in this unpaid-stay-at-home world, where tasks of cleaning, feeding and nurturing never EVER end, I rarely feel that sense of achievement. I need to bring some Achieved! back into my life.

Here is my list of things I'd like to achieve:
1. A pretty bedroom for my girl.
2. A green cleaning routine that actually happens every week (and actually works).
3. A beautiful, welcoming entrance to our home.
4. Bright, colourful flowers on the windowsill outside my kitchen.
5. Extending our kitchen garden to two more beds, plus the pallet herb garden.
6. Get chooks.
7. More efficient meal planning, preparation and storage of meals.
8. A better clothes storage system for the boys' room.
9. A handmade Christmas.
10. Establish my little at-home business, sewing vintage lovelies for little people.

I would never set that many goals at once, but I want to get all the projects that are muddling my brain out. And they all need to broken down and strategies sorted out to make them happen. Some of the goals might happen quite organically, others are going to take some serious elbow grease. They all point to one thing, though: A more efficient way of running our day-to-day life so that we can enjoy more. I want our home to be a beacon to friends and family, and a safe haven to us. I want to shed the last bits of scaly, we just moved skin, and act like we live in this home now.

Do you set goals for yourself? Have you experienced that Achieved! feeling lately?

our children in crisis: the power of we

Did your child sit down to start their final high school exams last week? What a rough week for them- all their hard work throughout school, all your support in getting assignments done, studying for tests, overcoming challenges with peers, culminating in one big pressure-point week. Were they stressed? Too nervous to eat the breakfast you prepared for them? Did they chatter too much in the car on the way to school, or not enough? Such a momentous time, one of the rites of passage into adulthood, and they will get through it because you have been there all along, you are there today, able to provide love, support and security.

image

One child didn't make it to their exams. He was arrested the night before with three other mates, on a charge of robbing buses over a period of time.

Another child sat the English exam yesterday, after an altercation with the emotionally abusive father of her six-month-old baby, from whom she had been hiding for a month.

Some of our children, our Australian, lucky country children, are living extreme lives of chaos and anxiety. Cyclical poverty is just the undercurrent, the common thread. Good people are trapped by circumstance (there, but for the grace of god, go I), beautiful children are born. Beautiful children are damaged into adulthood. The opportunities aren't the same. I have worked with lots of good people. Good parents and their good children. Little kids with blackened, or removed, front teeth from a simply lacking diet. Your diet probably would be lacking too, if your town had no food shops (unless you count the vending machine in the pub), and you had five kids to cart on public transport and extremely limited funds. Kids who found it more comfortable to sleep on the dirt under the house when mum's friends came over. Kids who could barely look at you sideways, or would erupt in the most violent outbursts imaginable, if you looked at them sideways. If you are unaware or doubtful of the shaky ground on which some of our children live, please watch the Four Corners episode about Claymore, one of Australia's concentrated social housing areas.

As I agonise over the decision to buy store brand milk or make the switch to organic-unhomogonised, I take a moment to be grateful for the luck that saw me born in the time and place where I was. To have had attention and language as a baby. To have been fed and read to as a three year old. To have been asked How was school today? To have been safe and unhurt. To have been loved and nurtured. I feel a shudder of helplessness. Or maybe it's just the cold of the milk fridge. Not very far from my privileged, but ordinary, upbringing, there are kids struggling. I don't know what the answer or solution is. Obviously, I believe education is one of the keys. The only thing I can say for sure, is that it is compassionate, empathetic people who make a real and lasting difference in the lives of kids who are struggling. Of people who are struggling.

Want to help? Withhold your judgement, but give your compassion freely. Close your eyes for a moment and really imagine, how much of a priority you would give to your child's homework if you didn't have enough money to replace the blown light bulbs. You may like to sponsor an Aussie child, through the Smith Family. A monthly donation of $39 makes sure a schoolkid in our lucky country has breakfast in his belly, pencils in his bag, the opportunity to attend excursions, and a person involved in their life to support them at school. A couple of keys, to open the door out of poverty.

(Blogging for BAD, inspired by Eden)

in the event of inclement weather

I can always...

...make plans...

...listen to the sweetest tunes ever (buy Sarah's delicious album here)...

...consume my body weight in leftover birthday cake (which turned out more of a fudge brownie- baking soda and bicarb are not the same thing)...

...watch some monsters roll in from my lounge...

...finish something...

...read and learn (last night I followed the bathroom cleaning routine in this book, so sparkly and proud!)...

...continue with this trickiness (yes, they are wine charms being used as place markers).

Lots and lots of options! What are you doing today?

making a token effort

Three hours into the hump-day of school holidays, I heard the words spew forth from my mouth;

Will you just go outside? You've been in front of a screen for hours!

You may or may not have found my incredulous tone somewhat hypocritical, considering that I was perusing blogs and texting my sister at the time. Sometimes, you've just got to drop the whole bundle so you can pick up your sticks and make a better arrangement, right?

The thing is, I really like TV. I have loved lots of series in my lifetime, particularly dramas. TV has always been part of my life, like sitting up watching black and white movies with my mum when I was sick. I like escaping at the end of the day, but at the same time resent the time sucked away, just mindlessly staring.

And the worst is watching the mindless stare in my babes. Eyes transfixed, ears unhearing. Imagination stunted. The horrific reaction of a three-year-old when it's time to pack the iPad away. I know that TV, especially children's TV, whilst being physically passive, is actually emotionally and intellectually hyper-stimulating. I don't want our routine to be dictated by the big black box, I don't want the first thing we do when we wake up or come home to be switching on the telly.

Solution? Our super-special token system. Each kid gets three tokens per day, each token is worth half-an-hour of screen time. Anal-teacher-me really wanted to crack open photoshop and make up some lovely tokens, but I ended up outsourcing the graphic design to an up-and-coming seven-year-old I know.

Whilst I seriously admire (and secretly wish for) no actual TV, I know that cold turkey wouldn't work for our addicted little gang. So this is my attempt to reign it in a little. Here's the rules:

• non-commercial channels only, and only ABC3 when the littles aren't around.
• half hour outside play between each token use
• a whole movie costs three tokens, except on Friday, which is movie and pizza night at our place
• no google or youtube on the internets. Pre-approved sited only thanks!
• tokens will be taken away for inappropriate use or chucking a tantie when time is up.
• bonus tokens may also be earned for being gorgeous/helpful/kind/just because we like you.

Today was lovely, fingers crossed it continues to work! How do you keep a handle on the screens at your place?

beach kindy:one

We have been bored, during the day, lately. The two littles have been pretty patiently waiting an end to yucky weather, colds and flu and a massive dose of laziness in their mama. The middle boy wants to go to Kindy every day (which makes me a bit sad). A couple of weeks ago, I was inspired by the idea of Bush Kinder (thanks, Kate!), and wondered how it could fit in our lives.

Throughout my career as an Early Childhood teacher, I've questioned the disparity between our cultural view of childhood and children, which is becoming increasingly complex, and our provisions for children in both educational and care settings, and family settings. On the one hand, we all (generally) agree that young children are capable and competent, able to engage actively in their own learning. That young children learn best when engaged in meaningful, purposeful play, especially when the adults around them practise sustained shared thinking.

Yet, play has becoming a sterilized version of what it once was. The gang of kids riding bikes down to the river or into the bush to spend the day, that I remember from my childhood, seem to have disappeared. Spiky plants have been removed from preschools, climbing trees banned by local councils and doing a handstand or cartwheel in some public schools will see you with a detention. How will children learn to calculate risk and choose appropriate behaviour if we adults just remove all the risk? Isn't it better to support the child to assess their own risks?

I must admit, when we moved to the beach, the difference in the way children are parented kind of scared me. My teacher brain calculated the myriad risks on the beach- large spaces for running away, rocks for banging heads, water for drowning- and I wondered if I would ever manage to be as relaxed as the other parents. My confidence grew as I watched my kids become more familiar- and therefore safer- with the beach. And today, Beach Kindy began!

We took a blanket to sit on, a basket to collect things, and some fruit, water and bikkies for morning tea.

We began with noticing: looking around and talking about what we see. The idea will be to start with this each time, so that we can think about changes over time. We noticed lots of seaweed, a bird with long legs and a long beak walking through the weed, and lots of logs, big and small.

Next we did some wandering and collecting.

Someone had been doing some building. We sat in the "little house" and had morning tea. Then we wandered some more and did some digging in the sand, making cakes and singing favourite counting songs.

A natural playground. The way it should be.

hello, sunshine!

That first day, where the warmer weather catches you by surprise. I've been waiting for that day, keeping aware, cleverly dressing in layers so as to not get caught out, sweating in a too-hot knit and long pants.

It caught me by surprise, anyway, over the weekend. Taking the kids down to the beach, and setting them free on the sand, letting them get wet carving channels in the sand and transporting water in coffee cups. Stripping them of too-warm outer layers, knowing there was enough warmth in the sun to dry the rest.

Meeting friends, old and new, chatting about this and that, marvelling over the amazing little humans around us. Feeling truly blessed in the warm sunshine. Gratitude to be in this place, by the sea.

Welcome, Spring, I've been waiting for you!

a conundrum of ethic proportions

I knew, deep down, when we made the decision to move from the suburbs to the sea, that such a move would involve big changes.

And it really has. We welcomed new life and love to our family. I started thinking about living more simply, buying more consciously, and began twelve months of meaningful giving. I even learned how to make my own deoderant.

But in the days that have followed our lovely excursion on the farm gate trail, I've been struggling to come to terms with the truth, and feasability, of ethical consumption. I finished off my shopping, as per normal today. I did the groceries at the sort-of-local BiLo. I gave myself a mental pat on the back as I popped organic raw sugar into my trolley, over my usual store-brand raw sugar. Well done me, so ethical. So mindful.

During the quiet unpacking moment in my day (OK, I haven't put the pantry stuff away yet, my attention was diverted when I smashed a jar of anchovies all over the floor), I picked up the packet of sugar. Australian Certified Organic, the front reads. Then I read the back. And got pissed off. Packaged in Australia from imported ingredients. I understand the rule of reading the fine print, I really do. But the Australian certification kind of gave me the feeling that this was a local product. I should also note that I made the choice to buy this sugar because it was only slightly more expensive that my regular buy. I didn't buy organic flour, because it was easily more than double the price.

Then we popped into the butcher. I've been shopping there weekly for about 3 months now. Every week I tell myself I am going to ask about the source of the meat I am buying. And every week I chicken out. I feel like there would be something offensive in me saying So can you tell me about where the animals are raised? What are the conditions like? And I know these are valid questions, but in my head I just sound narky. So I ended up buying way less than I normally do, as if that compensates for thrusting my head firmy into the sand.

Off to the fruit and veggie shop, which I love. A small, independently owned shop, with beautiful produce. I only needed apples and coriander after our lovely haul from the farm gates, but I grabbed a punnet of strawberries as a treat for my two smalls, who were doing a really nice job of behaving like humans. As we polished off three quarters of a punnet, I noticed that the delicious strawberries were from North Queensland. That little treat travelled (conservatively) 900kms. That's from the farm to my place, without travelling to a wholesaler or market first. Oh.

The thing is, I don't know about this stuff. I grew up in the suburbs, with parents who did their absolute best to feed, clothe, shelter and educate a large family on a limited budget. Here are some words I never heard around the dinner table growing up: ethical, organic, biodynamic, free-range, food miles. I don't recall eating a single vegetarian meal throughout my childhood. That's not to say my parents didn't do an awesome job- we were raised on simple, healthy food. Watching my mum cook gave me the gift of being able to pull a meal together using a few questionable zucchini and a packet of pasta whatever I have at hand.

Each question seems to uncover yet more questions. I don't feel like I'll ever get to the bottom of these issues, and how they relate to the choices I make. And even if I do get to the bottom of it all, what if we just can't afford to make the most ethical choice every time? If I make some ethical choices, where we can, does that just make me a 'weekend greenie'? I know that I am certainly going to keep on digging. I unearthed this article today, and it helped me focus my thinking a little. Whilst the list of things that just seem too hard seems to grow with the more I find out, there are some things I can do. The weekend's excursion showed me that we can get a good range of fruit and veg direct from the grower. It does involve an hour-and-a-half round trip, so we'll have to factor that into our week, somewhere. I can minimise the amount of meat we are eating, while I investigate ethical practices and look at where to source. I can choose organic, but I feel more inclined to buy local than to buy organic imports. I can keep reading stories from other parents asking the same questions, challenging themselves to feed their families in an ethical way. So many are so much further along this road than I am, I'm grateful to be able to follow along their journeys, too.

potential

We have moved into a new place. The process of moving just a couple of streets has taken an alarming amount of time and a difficult toll on all of our health. Cleaning two years worth of crud from the walls of our old place was quite a task- I became convinced that my children had spent the whole time walking around with a fistful of half-chewed lollies. And a permanent marker in the other hand. Sneezing, directly onto walls. But it is done, now. We no longer live in the little semi we landed in, just to try for six months. What adventures we had there! Now we seem to be fighting the uphill battle to wellness. I am sicker than I have been in years, and I'm blaming all the snot on the rather dirty reverse-cycle air conditioner we may have used a little too enthusiastically in our first week in the new place.

But despite the cleaning, lurgies and looming unpacking (I only found my shoes yesterday- amazing how versatile gumboots really are), I cannot dampen my enthusiasm about this place. We are different in this place. The boys are acting like children, pulling on their boots and playing in the yard. I am constantly scolding them for dirty hands and fingernails, but I secretly love that dirt.

Enough space for our furniture. We haven't used our dining table since we moved to the sea. If anyone came to visit, they used to sit on an esky. So people generally didn't come to visit. Looking very forward to setting this table for guests again.

A country-style kitchen that has been freshly painted white. With a brand-spanking oven. The great big window overlooks the backyard and peeks onto the 'main road' of our little village. I can watch my small people playing outside, and watch the comings and goings of the place.

A beautiful big bay window in the lounge room, and a smaller version in the master bedroom. I've thought bay windows the epitome of fanciness since I was a kid, so as far as I'm concerned, we've made it. Also, the lounge room window overlooks the ocean. In a dappled way, through some branches of gum trees. And is an awesome place for a Christmas tree, no?

In the yard, we discovered a section of the garden that must have been a successful veggie patch. Remnants of strawberries, curly parsley and rosemary are there, along with a piece of wire trellis attached to the fence- maybe for beans? I have a deep excitement about this little patch of garden, but have no idea about what to plant there. Can anyone help? We are on the central coast of NSW, no frost, morning sun. Do I plant now or wait until winter's end?

a new season

Well, in the last month we have had sickness, general glum, birthday parties-that-weren't-really, and tumultuous seas. Oh! The churning water and howling winds!

I sent out an invitation to the universe. And then I surrendered. And waited. And you know, I'm not very good at that. Asking, and waiting.

And then, as I sat watching those rough seas, waves crashing over one another, I saw my little friend, hopping about the grass. Willy Wagtail.

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In the hours before the births of each of my babies, I saw a Willy Wagtail, visiting me. I only realised afterwards, of course. The first was walking around the block, ten days past baby's due date. Willy hopped alongside me for the whole walk. The next was having tea on the veranda of my mother-in-law's house- Willy was hopping amongst the pink camellias. Then Willy visited me as I had coffee with my friend, by the beach. She had just taken photos of me and my belly, and I knew that I would meet this baby in the next day or so.

So, in the absence of any impending birth, I wondered what news Willy was bringing me.

And the phone rang. It was my darling, telling me to get packing- a house we had applied for, but had been unsuccessful, was now available. And (I'll forgive you for thinking I'm making this up, but I'm not) a rainbow appeared.

So, now I am putting our things into boxes and looking forward to stretching out a little. Having a yard for the kids to play in. A space in which to sew. Our giant table, made with my love's hands, to fit friends and family around. A bit of earth for a veggie garden.

A new season.

I'm not a religious person, but feel myself becoming more and more spiritual as I get older. I believe there are subtle ways the world speaks to me, and that Willy Wagtail is a messenger in my life, letting me know good things are coming. Do you believe in signs? In animal spirit guides or totems?

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this morning

This boy smiled a wiggly smile. I wonder if that tooth will still be there after school today?

This boy informed me that Soolky Bunny is, in fact, a girl.

And this girl, she pointed to a toy on the floor, which I picked up to pass to her. She made me kiss the little fairy first.

And I stopped at the beach between the school run and swimming lessons. I got out and let the wild, strong air invade my lungs and I invited all the good things the universe has to offer. Last night at yoga I bent and stretched as the wind howled and brought the sea crashing against the windows. And I felt more calm than I have in a long time.

I will be kind, loving and compassionate.

winter wanderings

Winter began over the weekend, here. And with a new season out there, I hope comes a new season for me, within. This sea change, it's the best thing we ever did. But it's also the hardest thing we ever did. We seem to have hit a season of challenge. I could write the list of challenges for the past two-and-a-half years, but what would be the point? They have been worth it. It's all been worth it, to live here.

But it doesn't make it less hard.

One of the tricky things is that we moved into a small house, temporarily. We are still there, two-and-a-half years later. And our family has grown. It occurred to me on Saturday, that my little boy, who was only a baby when we came here, has never played in his own yard. This place is set on a steep, steep hill. The yard is all the way down there, and comprised of construction fill, which has become more and more exposed as the heavy rain has washed soil away. And it occurred to me that I haven't made the best efforts to find alternative outdoor play solutions.

So on Saturday afternoon, we went for a little walk, just up to the corner, to collect some beautiful Autumn leaves. The walk got longer and longer, as we searched for puddles to jump in. I examined a little corner of our town with a child's-eye-view for a change, wandering slowly, careening back and forth, looking closely at droplets of water clinging to grevillia leaves. My baby girl got heavy in my arms as the rain started to fall, and the boys' gumboots filled with water as they stomped in tiny lakes.

And it didn't matter. Because it all doesn't, really. We just have to patiently wait this season out, a new one is coming. I know it.

there were five in the van: day three

Good Friday...boy, was it ever!

We discovered the true joy in camper vanning. Stopping wherever you like, and having your kitchen with you from which to prepare breakfast. Here we are on the Great Ocean Road, just out of Lorne.

It was interesting to hang out on a different coastline to our Eastern home one. The sunshine was lovely, and although the water was an inviting turquoise, it was oh-so-cold! The biggest found some very strong, very think seaweed. We went for a walk and found some amazing shells, which the middle one wanted to keep for a connection.

And then, we ventured on to fulfill the purpose of the trip: reliving hubby's youth, attending a little surfing contest at a little beach called Bells. I am not very heavily into surf culture, but I got totally swept up in the excitement and festivities. I was a bit wary of lugging all the children to the beach for a contest that can potentially run for days and days, but somewhere the gods were smiling on me. After we parked in a field in Siberia, we made the kids some lunch (because you can do that in a campervan) and meandered down to the beach. As we approached I heard the happy announcement It looks like someone will be ringing the bell this afternoon folks! Somehow, we had managed to turn up for the men's final. Ace!

We found our mates, and then proceeded to watch some awesome displays, including this guy

do this move

landing him a perfect ten. This guy was so cool with the crowd, and his very sleek and consistent rides won him the Bell on the day.

It was all rather tiring.

I really had no idea I'd have such a great time. I even bought a t-shirt.

And once we were settled in our next campsite, and the kids were asleep, you know which movie we watched in the DVD player in the Kea camper, don't you?

Thus beginning a storm of Point Break quotes for the rest of the journey.