I want to be invisible (in the school yard)

A friend recently asked me - "What superpower would you most like to have? And why?". With less than twenty seconds thinking time I answered that I would like to be able to choose when I could be invisible. When she asked me about the "why" part, my response was swift.

"I want to choose when I can be invisible so that I can avoid all those difficult conversations with tricky people in the playground at the primary school". 

She laughed and told me it was a clever answer. Maybe she thought I was joking. But I have never been more serious. Is it just me who feels like the schoolyard is a potential minefield of exploding parental conversation grenades....or do you feel like this too?

Last week another parent shared with me her concerns that the school may not be going "to cut it" for her child in an academic sense. She shared that her child is coming home and saying things like "I'm bored" and "I learnt this last year". She also told me that she thought she would "be pulling him out for a school with higher standards". I stayed largely mute throughout the conversation. We love the school we have chosen and we are actively playing a role in helping to build the community and support the endeavours of the staff. But I felt a bit bewildered. How did she think I would respond? What did she want from the conversation? I guess she wanted me to validate her thinking....agree with her point of view....Whatever the intention of the conversation, it left me uncomfortable and yes, I wanted to be invisible.

A month ago a different parent and I were having a conversation about the Batsman and his skills particularly related to his autism diagnosis. At one point she said "but it's like that for NORMAL children too". I would have given my left arm to be invisible at that point but instead I put my big girl pants on and had a conversation about how we would never refer or imply that the Batsman is "abnormal". I talked about how we NEVER refer to autism as "the big bad thing" or "the abnormal thing" or "the thing that's wrong with him". It's just not who he is, who we are or how we want him to view himself as he grows. The conversation was successful but a little awkward and left me drained and tired. Where was that invisible superpower when I needed it?

How do you feel about the conversations in the school playground? What superpower do you wish you had?

my family and me - 6/52

our amazing big boy turned 7
we celebrated with a pool party at our local
there was swimming and shenanigans, cake and big smiles
such a special family day

this time last year

The hallway previously used for pacing up and down.

This time last year it felt hard to breathe.
Sending our big boy, the Batsman, off to primary school after 3 long years of autism early intervention work and incredible closeness felt like having a limb removed.

This time last year I watched the clock.
I paced.
I phoned friends for support.
I obsessed and worried.
I was a pain in the arse to live with and be around.
I slept poorly.
I drove past the school to see if I could glimpse him in the playground.
I cried.
I ate for comfort.
It wasn't my finest hour but it was part of what it took for me to let go of him a little, hand him over to others at his school and trust that they and he could make his prep year happen together. And they did just that. I was part of it, sure, but last year was the first time I'd had to surrender full control of supporting him and helping him learn and being there when it was hard.

What a difference a year makes.
There have been no tears from anyone and very little worrying.
I have largely sat back and marveled at him stepping back to school and grade one like the most natural thing in the world. He is truly amazing.

Today I sat in a cafe for almost two hours with a friend who is close to my heart. We didn't really have a care in the world. We weren't watching the clock. We lingered over our lunch and our coffee. It was nothing at all like "this time last year". It was great.

And it feels pretty amazing to have reached this place, at least for now.

a christmas miracle

Prologue: This post is published on both of my blogs – on The I Love You Song and here on Segovia. I would not normally do that but this post is a special one to me, part of our family “archive” and I really wanted to share it as widely as I can. As I write this post on Saturday December 15, I am all too aware that on the other side of the world, in Newtown, Connecticut, there are many families experiencing unimaginable loss in the wake of the school shooting tragedy. My heart and my sorrow is with them. 


The Batsman has never really liked Santa. Terrified is probably a better word to use. We have one poor quality photo of Santa and the Batsman together taken when our boy was just a baby. Even in that photo he looks frightened.

The Batsman’s autism diagnosis brought with it a greater understanding for me of where so much of his terror was coming from. It was then and still is now, about change to routine, feeling overwhelmed, strong sensory responses to noise, crowds and chaos and a very big fear of new or unknown things. We have tried a few times in the past to have a Santa photo taken but each time it ended in great stress, tears and meltdowns. While I would have loved a Santa photo, especially once little brother Bowler came along, there was no way I wanted to cause the Batsman distress to get it.

In the grand scheme of things, a Santa photo is probably a small thing to hanker after, but it was one of those things I felt like was a bit of a childhood rite of passage, a memory to look back upon and smile at. My little flame of longing for a photo of my boys together with Santa kept flickering but I had largely given up hope of ever getting there.

A few weeks ago our local shopping centre advertised a new initiative – “Sensitive Santa” – special booked sessions with Santa for kids on the autism spectrum. I decided that we would have one more try at it through this program and the flame burned a tiny bit brighter. As part of “Sensitive Santa” we would have a 20 minute private session with Santa in the early morning before the Christmas chaos of the shopping centre began at 9am. The shopping centre customer service team were exceptional, ringing beforehand to confirm our time and “find out a bit more about the Batsman so they could brief Santa”.

We did a little bit of preparation with the Batsman (but not so much as to overwhelm him) – we read some stories, we practised some things he might say to Santa and we watched some YouTube videos of other kids meeting Santa. The morning arrived and off we went at 8am for our “Sensitive Santa” timeslot. I could write on and on here about what happened but the pictures tell the story much better than I could.

The Batsman took his time to get used to his (quiet and calm) surroundings, he chatted to Santa and showed him his shoes with the flashing lights, he told him what he wanted for Christmas and when we said goodbye, he HUGGED him.

I cried a lot. Tears of so much happiness leaked continually from my eyes that day. And they still are. The long wished for miracle of a photo of both boys with Santa came our way along with the very grateful reflection on just how far our Batsman has come in the last three years.

In the bigger picture, I was incredibly moved by the thought and care that Highpoint Shopping Centre put into this initiative. There was sensitivity and respect and a very real commitment to putting one of those “childhood rites of passage” within reach of families who love someone on the spectrum.

Happy Christmas from my family to you and yours.

Disclaimer: This post is my own description and opinion of our “Sensitive Santa” experience at Highpoint Shopping Centre. They did not ask me to write this post. It’s just written by a happy mum.

Treasuring the moment

We had one of those cosy days here today. It's very cold and the day was just right for me and the boys to snuggle and watch ABC for Kids on the couch in between the Batsman's therapy sessions. We ate toasted cheese sandwiches, yoghurt, grapes and ANZAC biscuits. While we munched, I watched them.  I watched them in that misty, sentimental way that comes when I slow down enough to recognise it. Love, love, love my boys.

This was one of those moments. A moment to treasure.

Next year the Batsman will go to school. Our routine, our lunchtimes together will shift significantly. It will be the Bowler and me having lunch some days. And on the days the Bowler heads to kinder or child care, it will be just me.

I know this change is going to take some adjustment. Like the plan ahead girl I am, I'm preparing myself early.

But for now, on this cold day that is bringing us closer to winter with each raindrop, all I am doing is treasuring the moment.

Image via We Heart It

You never know the impact your blog post will have

I read a lot of blog posts. Loads of them.

I love being able to be a little inside the minds of others. I love to read about what happens in their worlds and draw inspiration from their insights. I hope too, that ocasionally I can offer insight back in return.

As a parent, and particularly as a parent of a child with special needs, it is an absolute gift to have access to the often wise words from our global internet village of mums and dads. Parenting can be an isolating gig and sometimes it strikes me as a wee bit sad that the actual, real life village is often not there and for many of us, there is this, blog and social media land, to make these connections. But no matter because I reckon the universe gives you what you need when you need it. Perhaps where it comes from is not important.

Every now and then, I read a blog post that literally shifts something in me. A post that connects with me, speaks to me, takes some issue I have been struggling with into a new paradigm. That happened to me the day before yesterday when I came across this post. Ruth from Gourmet Girlfriend writes sagely in the post about fussy eating and her approach to feeding her kids - and when I started to read, I sat up and really took notice. She knows stuff - she has five, yes, 5 boys. So run away now and read the post and come back if you like...

I cried when I read it because I realised just how much I have been beating myself up about what the Batsman and the Bowler will and won't eat. The Batsman's sensory sensitivities (thank you autism, not), add a layer of complication to the eating caper that at many a dinner time has figuratively brought me to my parenting knees. I'm not going to air that pain here because I just don't want to give it any more power.

So I read Ruth's post and since I did I have been:

• reading cookbooks and food magazines and getting re-inspired about things I can cook for us to eat as a family.
• consciously reminding myself to let go of the stress and self flogging that for such a long time has gone with feeding the boys.
• feeling freed up
• going back and reading the post a few more times!

Something has shifted in my mind about this whole issue. It feels great.
Tonight, for the first time ever, yes EVER, the Batsman ate pieces of chicken breast that hadn't been chopped, minced, hidden or otherwise kitchen modified. He ate beautiful, crumbed and seasoned chunks of chicken breast. He chewed and chatted and swallowed without angst or upset.

It was amazing. And I can't help but think that perhaps Ruth's post had more than a little to do with it. The universe gives you what you need.

And what I want to say most of all is that we all have this most amazing opportunity when we blog, to put words out there for others to read and be inspired by. You never know the impact your blog post will have.









Image via we heart it

Happy 5th Birthday Batsman

February 8, 2007

February 8, 2008

February 8, 2009

February 8, 2010

February 8, 2011

February 8, 2012

I am emotional and filled with nostalgia. 

I am in disbelief that I am the mum of a 5 year old.

Especially one as gorgeous as this.

This time 5 years ago, I had just given birth to a tiny but beautiful baby boy.

What a great joy and privilege the last 5 years have been with you my son.

You have already taught me more than I could ever hope to teach you in a lifetime.

Brave, determined, quirky, loving, pure of heart.

Happy 5th Birthday, our precious Batsman.

You completely rock my world.

We love you so much xoxo

Light in his eyes

Have a look at my big boy.

Pay particular attention to the light in his eyes.

Pay attention too, to the smile.

He is, for the most part, becoming more confident in himself.

He has learnt stuff, he can communicate about it, he has the capability to learn so many more things.

He KNOWS he has that capability.

That's where the light and the smile come from. The knowledge of his own potential.

This place, the Learning for Life Autism Centre have played a major role in giving our big boy that gift.

They do amazing work.

The work they do costs a fortune to deliver to children like the Batsman so Learning for Life raise funds to try to ensure that kids who need autism early intervention therapy get it.

Leonda by the Yarra is a stunning function centre by the Yarra River in Melbourne.

Next week, Learning for Life will hold their annual fundraising ball there.

Leonda have generously offered ONE DOLLAR to Learning for Life for every new Facebook "liker", Twitter follower, and LinkedIn connection for the whole of November.

So, all you have to do is click on the links above and make those social media connections and you have done something in the here and now to support children with autism to be all they can be and know it.

Thank you.

It has begun, the dance of the popit and the hipsy

They adore each other these two.
As each of their language skills develops they are beginning to have conversations with each other.
It's a whole new world for them.
Hilariously entertaining.
Most of the time, I know what they are talking about and the conversations cover topics like "how are you Batsman?, I'm good Bowler, how are you?" and "where's mummy? ummmmmm, she's in the laundry" and "can I have some of your sultanas please Bowler? nope".

These past few weeks, it has begun.
That secret language between siblings where the parents have no freaking idea what some of the words mean.
It's their code.
And it is oh so very funny. There are giggles and smiles all round when the secret words make an appearance.

So if anyone out there can help me out and tell me....

• what "popit" is and why daddy's gone to get some and....
• what it means when someone is "hipsy".

I'd be ever so grateful.

Have your children made up some great words? Share them with me!

The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, autism style

The Batsman and I were very lucky to be invited to go and see Classic Kids 3: Clowning Around with Melvin Tix on this Saturday just past. The performance was part of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra's "Family Classic Kids" program which aims to introduce kids to the delights of instruments and music. I was so very keen for us to go to the concert (and take along the Batsman's best friend in the whole wide world, the Curly Haired Girl) but I was nervous at the same time given the Batsman's fairly regular episodes of extreme sensitivity to sound. Our Batsman loves music and so this opportunity was way too good to pass up. Sometimes you have to travel through a bit of a storm to get to the really amazing experience of a rainbow on the other side.

Lasting about forty five minutes, the performance of the orchestra gave children an amazing, close up experience with a full orchestra in an acoustically perfect auditorium. Wow. The genius in the performance is that friendly clown "Melvin Tix" is also the conductor, a fellow musician, balloon artist and all round funny (but gentle) leader of the show. His presence gave the children a pathway down which they could travel to find out about all the components of an orchestra. Intelligent, Accessible. Child-friendly. Fun.

When the full orchestra first played, the Batsman said "Mummy, it's too loud for me". The music coming from the orchestra was beautiful but yes, intense. Out of my handbag came the trusty headphones which he wore faithfully for the duration. They don't block the sound, they just reduce it so he was still able to hear and participate fully in the performance, albeit with a little less intensity for his ears. This was the very first time we had used the headphones and they worked a treat. The audience size is small so it really worked for the Batsman from an autism point of view, he wasn't overwhelmed by a huge crowd and there was the option of sitting right up close or a little further away. He also had the Curly Haired Girl by his side like she has been since they were both six weeks old.

Here's us at the MSO, autism style.




We have headphones!



Melvin Tix and the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra



Conducting the orchestra with Melvin.



Bravo! Applause all round.


 I'm just so glad we took the chance (and the headphones) and did it.

Disclosure:

1) I received tickets for 2 adults and 2 kids to attend the performance as the guests of the MSO. The Batsman and the Curly Haired Girl loved the performance so I am writing about it. I also wanted families of kids with ASD to see that this is potentially an accessible, child friendly entertainment experience.

2) My photos are a little bit dodgy because I left the camera at home. Enter smartphone.

R U OK?

I am running a little bit behind schedule this week.
So at 10pm, with a couple of hours left of R U OK? day to go, here I am. Late to what would appear to have been a successful campaign. I saw yellow everywhere on my social media streams today, and that has to be a good thing.

I asked a couple of people today. And yes, I am clear that they are both ok.
A couple of my lovely friends asked me whether I am ok too.
It felt good to be asked and it felt even better to be able to answer with a clear yes.
In the last year, my answer would not always have been yes. As I have struggled with the Batsman's diagnosis and a house full of therapists nearly every day, there have been highs and some devastating lows.
I feel like I am standing a little more in the sunshine this past couple of months. I can feel it on my cheeks.

I am ok. Really. I am ok.

Grateful, happy 2nd birthday Segovia and you get to do the giving

It's two years ago today that I began to write this blog.

Happy bloggy birthday to me. Happy second birthday Segovia, my little corner of the internet where I began to write for me again, to put into words what moves and inspires me and to capture moments in the lives of our boys and the experience of being their mum. Segovia began slowly and intermittently and it has taken time to get into a blogging groove. Now, I couldn't imagine life without this little space, without my other blog, The I Love You Song where I tell the Batsman's autism story and without the amazingly gorgeous people I have connected with through blogging.
Thank you for being here. I love it.

I love it too, that people mark blogging milestones and birthdays. One year, ten years, one hundred posts or a thousand, it is a wonderful thing to mark the achievement, the words put down, the self expression, the connections - all of it. Lots of people having blog birthdays manage to arrange fabulous giveaways and the like to celebrate. I have not been anywhere near organised enough to achieve that however I want to turn the idea completely on it's head.

It's Segovia's birthday and you get to do the giving. Stay with me and I will get to the point.

I have written before of how grateful I am for this place. The Learning for Life Autism Centre provide the Batsman's home based early intervention program and have done so day in day out for almost  eighteen months. The program and therapy team have made an extraordinary difference in all aspects of the Batsman's development and Learning for Life deliver the program with compassion, expertise, grace and respect. I am just so very grateful for all they have done and continue to do to support our precious boy.

Each year in November, Learning for Life hold a huge fundraising ball to raise money. Early intervention programs of this magnitude and intensity cost big bucks and are beyond the financial reach of most families. In addition to their therapy programs, Learning for Life and their volunteers fundraise to subsidise the cost of programs for families who would otherwise be unable to provide this type of intervention for their child.

So here is where you come in.

As part of the Learning for Life Ball each year there is a live auction and a silent auction where an amazing array of donated goodies fall under the auctioneer's hammer. If you, or someone you know, is in a position to donate an item, goods or a service for the auction, then I would love to hear from you. So far, I have gathered donated items as diverse as a professional architecture service package worth $3000, a grove of semi-mature trees ready to plant, cases of wine, a hamper of deli goods and gift cards from big department stores. The only real provisos are that the item or service would need to be redeemable in Melbourne, Australia and be something that you can imagine a crowd of some 350 enthusiastic ball-goers would be willing to bid for. Think big, think small - it could be anything!

If you are able to donate an auction item and help a child with autism receive a program just like the one that is helping the Batsman be all he can be, leave me a comment below with details and I will email you.

Thanks so much for reading this and helping me celebrate Segovia's bloggy birthday.

Have an amazing weekend.

One of the sweetest moments in the day...thank you Giggle and Hoot

The end of the day for little ones is nigh.
The Batsman and the Bowler are all clean, bundled in warm pyjamas.
Faces shining, hair still a little damp.
They perch on the couch, books and favourite toys close.
Dinner hour craziness is an escaping memory.
The lure of  a peaceful house beckons.
Little boys eyes are expectant as the Captain and I join them on the couch.
And then it is upon us.
One of the sweetest moments in the day.
As Giggle and Hoot serenade my boys to bed.

Hoots Lullaby

What a day its been, What a magic day Shhhh can you hear the moon is on its way.
It's time for all the stars, that sparkle in your eyes, to fly through the night and light up the sky.
What a day its been, laughing with our friends, now that the sun has sunk into its bed.
It's time for Hoot to go and watch over you at night, fill your head with sweet dreams under soft moon light.
And soon the smiling sun will rise again... and light the way to a bright new day.
"see you in the morning"... hoot hoot

Both the Batsman and the Bowler's eyes light up when Giggle and Hoot grace the screen and especially so during the "goodnight song".

And for me, the proudest mum in the world, it's just one of those wistful, sweet, sweet moments where I receive the gift of watching my children while they are enthralled in something they love.
Sweet, sweet love.

What are the sweetest moments in your day? Do you love Giggle and Hoot?
Image

The Happiness Project and what I learnt from it

This past month I have participated in the Happiness Project, a lovely blogging for life idea hosted by the very gorgeous Naomi at Seven Cherubs. A simple project, the HP required all who participated to keep a one sentence a day journal about what made us happy on that day.

Today is the day when the posts of all those who participated link up in one very happy little gathering.

Here is mine. You can read others who have linked up here.

April 10
A half hour on a rainy Sunday afternoon curled up on the bed with the Batsman, watching the curl of his eyelashes and the delight in his eye as a new book unfolds...and the moment where the Batsman, watching the Captain planting vegetable seedlings with gardening gloves on, races with intent into the bathroom and comes out wearing a hot pink loofah glove, all ready to help with the gardening.
April 11
A half hour on the computer with no interruptions, the Bowler sleeping for almost two hours mid afternoon and a new book purchase on making preserves....jam and jelly here we come.
April 12
The rain drizzling down on the newly planted winter vegie seedlings, two little boys enjoying home made baby cinos, the arrival of beautiful pink cupcake papers, pear and cinnamon pudding baking slowly and a spontaneous rendition of "When You're Happy and You Know it".
April 13
The buzz following my 6am gym workout
April 14
Meeting an old friend and coffee, sweet coffee
April 15
Beautiful photographs hung on the wall by a professional picture hanger....I could sit and look at these photos all day.
April 16
Good coffee.....I'd like some more please.
April 17
Getting to the bottom of the washing basket - small miracle.
April 18
A trip to the gym at 6am (so proud of myself for getting out of bed) and an aquarium visit where the Batsman managed his sensory issues sooooooo well
April 19
The most divine Lebanese dinner with two lovely friends and children that go to bed peacefully on time.
April 20
A wee bit of weight loss and seeing my boy have a red hot go at learning to ride a scooter.
April 21
A little bit of me time with some music, a cup of tea and a gourmet traveller magazine.
April 22
Good Friday fish and chips with friends with chocolate in abundance and an Easter egg hunt with plenty of action
April 23
Making hot cross buns from scratch
April 24
A 12 hour roasted leg of lamb and duck fat roast potatoes.....oooo la la
April 25
A solo walk through the Fitzroy Gardens in the autumn sunshine
April 26
Watching my boys frolic among the autumn leaves and our beautiful Batsman really master his scooter riding.
April 27
Getting my over indulged Easter butt out of bed and to the gym at 6am and a friend offering to take a turn to record minutes at the kinder meeting
April 28
A sparkiling clean house - thanks Marj! - a coffee with my old boss and realising that I don't really miss work and date night with the Captain to see "I Love You Phillip Morris"
April 29
A brilliant report for the Batsman at our 6 monthly developmental paediatrician appointment and a gorgeous, sunshiney Mummy and Batsman excursion to the Queen Victoria Market which produced THE juiciest sweetest strawberries I have ever tasted, a chicken and Chinese rice wine ready for poaching and a calorie free spicy lamb borek that just oozed with flavour.
April 30
A haircut, a massage from the myotherapist and a date night to see a concert at the Melbourne Recital Centre to see these guys.
May 1
The farmers market for fresh chinese greens, a slow day for everyone, some bewdiful chocolate and a snuggle with the Batsman on the couch.
May 2
Getting motivated to do a circuit class at the gym, making it to the other end of the whole gym hour and the Batsman initiating to do a wee in the loo all by himself. Oh, and losing 2.3kg in 3 weeks makes me pretty happy too.
May 3
Ginger cake rich with golden syrup, a playdate for toddlers and a warm bath to soak away the sore muscles from yesterday's exercise class debacle achievement.
May 4
Gym work out and pilates in the one day and a total of 3.3kg dropped in 3 weeks of healthier living
May 5
Poached eggs on toast, alone, and completing the task of wrapping up home made jam and relish for the kinder Mother's Day stall
May 6
Being told by the childcare staff what a joy my Bowler is to look after and how happy and mischievious and inquisitive he is at child care
May 7
The Batsman helping himself become accustomed and less fearful of the dark by playing a lovely pre-bedtime game of "now it's light" and "now it's dark"....joy and excitement and daring are in his voice.
May 8
A mother's day sleep in, cuddles with my boys and a wintry afternoon inside at the beach house, watching the waves chop around and the dark grey clouds roll over us.
May 9
The Batsman's achievements at his OT appointment were many and varied this month and that always makes my heart sing.
May 10
I heart Pilates, stretching and learning to move my body well makes me happy.

So that was my month of happy moments.
And what did I learn from it?
Well.....
I think I already knew what makes me happy but I think what I fell in love with all over again is being present, being in the moment and being there to notice the happy moments. Not rushing so much that they pass you by in a blur. Showing up for the good stuff, trudging through the hard stuff and realising that there is "nowhere to get".

So......what makes me happy are
my kids and my man,
cooking as therapy,
blogging,
looking after myself,
small moments,
friends,
coffee.

I am fortunate. I have a great life. I'm glad I stopped to notice.

Gone fishing

The Captain's father died this morning.
Suddenly.
He had been on a little holiday. He had done a spot of fishing in a beautiful coastal spot.
He got on a bus to travel toward home. He fell asleep. And then he died. Just like that.
All the other passengers got off the bus and then someone noticed that he was still sitting in his seat. Gone fishing.


The Batsman went to kinder this morning. We had only known about Pa for half an hour. The "how do you explain death to a child"question still hanging heavy.
The Batsman headed straight for the drawing table, his usual first starter.
I watched him. A quick drawing and he was off. Scuttling over to a game he had seen in a corner of the kinder.
A fishing game. With a couple of little fishing rods with a string and magnet on the end. Fish swam in a "pond" with paper clips stuck to their backs ready to be caught.
And the Batsman, he caught fish. Just like that.
The grandchild generation. Gone fishing.
                                           --------------------------------------------


He was a gentle man, the Captain's dad. He was one of those people about whom others say 'he doesn't have a mean bone in his body'. And he didn't.
He had his problems. The grog wreaked havoc on mind and body over the years. The pokies took their toll too. He wasn't a well man.
But he was gentle and kind. He was quiet but always had a little joke to tell or a trick to show the kids.


This Christmas just gone, he did something special and unexpected for the Batsman and the Bowler. He made their Christmas gifts. A truck and a cement roller, made out of wood, crafted with his hands and tools. They came emblazoned with the boy's names and decorated with stickers from the two dollar shop. It would have taken his shaky hands hours to make them.
They are beautiful and will be treasured across lifetimes.


Farewell Pa.
We will miss you.

Lovely is simple, simple is lovely

The Batsman will turn 4 next Tuesday. My baby boy, my first born, will be 4 years old. When he turned one we had 100 people at his birthday party - he howled all the way through happy birthday singing - but nevertheless it was a joyous celebration.

Since the Batsman was diagnosed with autism, it has given us lots of insights about how to do things (and not do them) in ways that will support him to participate with the minimum of anxiety and the maximum of fun. He really struggles with big crowds of people and us having a house full of friends and outlaws relatives isn't really conducive to him (or us) having a good time. So this year for his birthday we did small and simple. Six children and seven adults. Small, manageable and intimate.

There was fairy bread

And fruit

There was a little party table with lollies and rice chips

And animal plates

There was a lion cake that I made

Lollies to take home

And he loved it, all of it.

Lovely is simple, simple is lovely.
I think all our birthday parties are going to be like this.
Love you buddy, Happy Birthday

PS: I also blog about our autism journey over here at the I Love You Song. I would love you to come along for the ride with me

On Mother's Day

I have mixed feelings about Mother’s Day. It is wonderful to have the opportunity to honour and thank my mum for who she is and all that she does. Since the Captain and I became a partnership, it has often been a tricky day with juggling both families, expectations, joint gifts and other associated kerfuffle. I really don’t like the commercialism of the day and the opportunity taken by all retailers everywhere to turn the occasion into yet another gift extravaganza on the calendar and see how many very ordinary pairs of fluffy slippers made in China can make their way into homes across Australia. Yep, mixed feelings.

However, since becoming a mum I am aware now, of what the day means to so many, not as the child, but as the mum. There is a wonderful opportunity to celebrate and be celebrated, to cherish the time spent with your children and partner...a day of love. On Mother’s Day there is sadness too. Sadness for friends who are missing their mums and sadness for those friends who are missing their babies. There is a little sadness for me too as I think of the two twinkling little stars who never quite made it into the world. Yep, more mixed feelings.


Mixed feelings aside, today has been a lovely day. Early morning cuddles from the Batsman and the Bowler and cocoa pops in bed. A bracelet and brooch made by the Batsman at kinder. A handmade card. Chocolate. Cake. More chocolate. Some time with my mum and dad. And a part of the day that is often my very favourite time...a warm, sudsy bath with both my little boys (it’s a big bath!). The warm water relaxes everyone and we spend lots of time blowing bubbles, splashing and singing. Such a lovely day.


My beautiful Batsman and my gorgeous Bowler,
Thank you for being the most lovely boys in the world.
Thank you for somehow finding your way to me and giving me the privilege of being your mum.
For the cuddles and the smiles, the tears and the tumbles, the highs and the lows, the goodnight kisses and the early morning wrestles on the bed – thankyou.
I am so proud of both of you and I know how fortunate I am to have you with me.
I love you.
Mummy xx

A lot going on

These past few weeks have felt like what I imagine it feels like to go through the extended dance mix version of a washing machine cycle. A kind of family and domestic tsunami I guess. Hot, cold, wet, dry, spinning, bubbling and being hung out to dry. So much has been going on and there has not been time to record it in any meaningful way for Segovia so I can pay only brief lip service to it by way of a list:

• storm damage (house and cars) following the almighty Melbourne deluge of March 6
• my dad having a heart valve replacement including significant post operative complications resulting in a second life-saving surgery and extended time in intensive care (he is doing well now)
• a Bowler baby who has slept little during the night (thankfully he seems to be getting his sleep groove happening now - mind you he would need to be at almost 8 months of age). Oh, and the two new teeth are through and grinning proudly.
• a domestic induced shoulder injury for me followed ever so quickly by a lower back injury (both recovering now)
• some significant (but not surprising) news about the Batsman

Just writing down that list feels exhausting and I wonder, really, and marvel, really, that we have made it into April. Amazing. I hope those of you who read here are well and happy and that your March was ever so less eventful than mine.


On the Batsman and his news - that is a rollercoaster all of its own that I will be sharing very soon by way of a new, separate blog. The I Love You Song and other adventures will record that part of our family journey. I don't want to seem too mysterious but for now TILYS will be a private, invitation only blog - at least until I get my head around where we are and what I am saying and some of the complex privacy issues involved. I would love for current readers of Segovia to become followers of The I Love You Song and other adventures so if you would like to do that, please leave me a comment below and I will send you an invitation to read.


In the meantime, I want to share a little bit of brotherly love.