In a split second (reality)

"Because in a split second. It's gone." - Ayrton Senna


We had a bit of a close call here this afternoon.
Dont freak out. Keep reading. Everyone is ok.
But it can happen in a split second.

The Captain was mowing the lawn in our front yard this afternoon.
I was inside cooking, talking to a visiting friend and looking after the Batsman and the Bowler.
The Batsman was watching the Captain through the front window, the Bowler was there too.
I could hear them.
I heard the front security door click and assumed it was the Captain coming back inside.
Wrong.
The Batsman had opened the door to "go and see what Daddy's doing" and in the process our almost two year old Bowler had slipped out the door, off the porch, across the driveway and onto the footpath in front of our neighbour's house.
Thankfully, the Captain was still at the side of the house.
Thankfully, he heard the click of the security door.
Thankfully, he turned his head in time to see the Bowler walking away and could scoop him up before he got closer to the road.
It scared the hell out of us.

Whenever I have heard in the news of a young child being run over by a car, the thought that has often come into my head is "How can that happen?". But probably what I meant really was "How did they let that happen".
Now, that feels like a totally arrogant and judgement laiden thing to have said or thought. Because now I have seen, with my most precious almost two year old, that it can happen in a split second. A moment of inattention, circumstances aligning in a way you don't expect and it can happen so easily.
I'm beating myself up about this tonight.
I feel like I didn't do my job properly.
I know he is ok and nothing bad happened to him. He is so very peacefully asleep in his bed, oblivious.
It still feels awful that he was only a metre from the road.
I know this will feel a little better after a big sleep.
It just felt close. Too close.


Have you ever had a close call like this?


Image courtesy We Heart It

Is anyone else like me? Or how to be a bit clueless in your 99th blog post (reality)

This Saturday I will be going to Nuffnang Blogopolis.
Am I excited? I have no idea.
Am I prepared? Most definitely not.
There has been no time to think about it.
I have watched the blog posts and the status updates and the tweets float by me on the rapids and I still have not put much thought into gathering with a few hundred bloggers in my home town.
Lots of bloggers have been busily making lunch and dinner and drinks plans, shopping, chatting and drinking copious amounts of coffee. You name it they will be doing it. I have one little plan made to have a sandwich with a lovely one. And that's it.

I honestly have no idea how people fit in all the tweeting and blogging and arranging stuff. No idea. I feel utterly clueless and quite a bit out of the loop. I am too busy, most days, surviving.

Busy days filled with autism, therapy, anxiety, meetings, meltdowns, achievements and wins.

The Bowler whose favourite word right now is NO. Yes I mean "No, I don't want to", "No, it's mine", "No, don't touch it". Someone please send me some strength.

The never ending housework and piles of washing. So. Far. Behind.

Cooped up kids with winter cabin fever wrestling on the couch. I need strength for that too.

Being the kinder secretary. Enough said.

The punishing exercise schedule I have set for myself. 5 kilograms more off my bum by the first day of spring.

All of that. And when I read back over that list I know that I am doing way more than surviving. I am living a full and rich and busy and amazing life with my three boys. The sudden and devastating death of someone I knew well almost three weeks ago has been one of those perspective giving kicks up the bum about getting on with it, about being grateful and about giving it all you've got.

So, I will be literally flying by the seat of my pants all the way to Blogopolis. For the most part, clueless. Really. 


Is anyone else like me and completely unprepared for Blogopolis? Are you rocking up with your arrangements all done and dusted or are you crossing your fingers and hoping you find someone you know?

A use for your spray cleaner you may not have thought of (inspiration)

I went to a kinder committee meeting this week.
They can be a good source of inspiration, these meetings, lots of tips and tricks for all kinds of domestic bliss/mothering mayhem are spoken about in between the president's report, the supper and the general business.

This week I came home with a gem.

A few of us had a chat about weight loss, as you do. I said that one of the things I have found the hardest about weight loss is the children's food at dinner time, the leftovers going begging, a stray piece of sausage, a slice of bread, easily inhaled standing at the kitchen bench.

"Oh no, I've solved that one" boomed one in the group.
"I wait" she said, "until I am sure that the kids have finished eating. I put their plates up on a high shelf and spray the leftovers liberally with spray cleaner. Then I'm not tempted."

Cue much laughter. But I had to acknowledge that while maybe a little extreme, this method had definite potential.


What lengths do you go to to get those pesky kilos off?

Image via We Heart It

The last meal* (reality)

It has been a few weeks.
Since she was lost.
The house is more often quiet now.

The buzz of endless visitors, all searching for the right words.
Like there are any that can be said. There are none.
Deliveries of flowers, pots of tea, the sound of quiet sobbing.
The silence has settled in now, both welcome and terrifying.

They have eaten, a little, since that day.
Food has flowed like a river to their door.
From the kitchens of those who love them, those who loved her.
Desperate to offer some tiny morsel of comfort. There is none.

It's quiet now.
Casserole dishes scrubbed clean and returned.
It's the human way, it seems.
The busyness of death and in the after, the quiet, the solitude.

She was a cook. Oh my she was a cook.
Their lives full of the delights she cooked for them.
Her way of nurturing, of loving, of being.

He opens the freezer.
Already knowing what's inside.
The plastic container, frosted over.
It's like it stares back at him, unblinking.

The pain of this, for him, is almost unbearable.
He heats the food and it comes to life.
Spice and love all mixed together.
It's the last one. The last meal she will ever cook for him.
Forever.

The sound of quiet sobbing.

*This post is inspired and imagined by recent events in the life of someone I know well. Remembering you always D.

Perfect moment (dreams)

There was a perfect little moment in the day today.
Two boys who like to be together. They are mates, each delighting in the antics of the other.
There was a blanket spread on the floor, a favourite DVD playing.
There were toasted cheese sandwiches and apple juice and beautiful strawberries.
A carpet picnic. They loved it. A "nic nic", the Bowler called it.
There may have even been a little bit of carpet picnic wrestling. Boys are like that.
But I promise it never got out of hand. Not even for a second.

I am noticing the perfect little moments more these days. I reckon they are there if you look.


What perfect little moments have you had this week?

Image via We Heart It

Grateful for pen and paper

I think that with all the technology that surrounds me these days, my fingers have almost lost their intrinsic ability to write on paper. Laptops, smart phones, keyboards...all of it making life move faster than ever before. Sometimes when I sit down to write something with a pen, after a few minutes, my hand is aching, so little practice does it have at forming the words manually.

Today I had an idea in my head and I tried so hard to get it to flow out of my brain and through the keyboard. It wouldn't come. I couldn't get that momentum going and I knew that I had to change something for me to get there. I took a notebook and a pen and trundled to my favourite cafe of the moment (likely to be forever actually) and I sat, with coffee in hand, and I wrote and wrote and wrote. The rhythm of the pen back and forth was comforting as the words finally made their way forth.

The words will make their way onto here sometime soon. But until then I am grateful for a little break in the day to write and my trusty pen and paper.

Thanks Maxabella for hosting our gratitude and the image is courtesy We Heart It.

Grateful for life, just life

This post was going to be about being grateful for some time in the last couple of days. Time to tick some things off the list, pay some bills, tidy the study, clean out the pantry, play with the kids, bake cinnamon buns. Lovely domesticity.

This post was going to be about that.

And then an hour ago I received a phone call to tell me of the sudden death of the wife of a very dear work colleague. Sudden. Random. Indiscriminate. Without warning. Dead. Just like that.

I knew her too. For years.

Devastating.

So tonight I am grateful for life, just life. Everything and nothing. Living and loving. And in a few minutes I will creep into the boys' bedrooms and kiss them with a poignancy and a gratitude made all the more powerful by being reminded how fleeting it all can be, how randomly it can be over.

Hug the ones you love. Tell them. Make it count. Be grateful. Always.


Linking with Maxabella tonight xx

Image via We Heart It

Cake Creation - July

I love baking. Love it.
A couple of years ago I did a "Beginners Buttercream" cake decorating course which cemented the love completely. I haven't shared many of my cakes on here. I'm not sure why. A little shy maybe.
But I think it is time I did show you. A bit of cake and a whole lot of icing in a once a month post.
Would you like to see?

So, here is my cake creation for July, made for a thirteenth birthday.

Vanilla butter cake filled with raspberry curd and decorated with vanilla buttercream and Petite Summerberry Meringues I bought from this wonderful new providore, Provata - Urban Larder and Cafe.

Wordless Wednesday - sunset clouds

A new member of the family

There is a new member of our kitchen appliance family this month.
And I am falling swiftly, deeply, in love with this machine and what it can do.
The Thermomix has come to live at the Pavillion with us while some dear friends live in the Big Apple for seven months. I am insanely envious of their overseas sojourn but am also becoming altogether grateful that their trip has pushed the Thermomix my way.

This machine is AMAZING.
Multifunctional, sturdy, exact and timesaving, the Thermomix is the food processor that cooks as well as does all of your kitchen processing tasks.
Saute, cook and stir risotto. Tick.
Cook and blend soups and purees. Tick.
Sorbets. Tick.
Bread dough. Tick.
Lemon or passionfruit curd. Tick.
Grind coffee. Tick.
Froth milk. Tick.
Grate hard cheeses. Tick.

You name it, this machine can do it. I am still discovering its capabilities and gathering confidence in using it but in a couple of weeks I can already see that this machine is THE kitchen appliance. One of the things that appeals is the ongoing education that comes when you bring one of these babies home. Your consultant stays in contact and there are opportunities to host demonstrations to learn new skills and attend cooking classes.

Once upon a time, I would have gladly stood by the stove and stirred risotto for half an hour to end up with the coveted creamy texture. Having the Batsman and the Bowler has forced me to become less of a purist and more of a pragmatic cook. Putting the ingredients for saffron and silverbeet risotto in the Thermomix, setting the timer and walking away to go and be with my kids is a pretty appealing proposition. Trust me when I tell you that the risotto tasted as good as any I could have slaved over. At almost two thousand dollars, the Thermomix is not a walk in the park purchase but I reckon in the long run it's worth it.

Let's just say I have started saving.