It’s the end of the school day. The bell goes and little eager faces pour out the door, pointing out their mum, dad or nana, to the teacher. Yes, off you go darling. Hi there! Ah, and here is my little angel. There’s my mummy. A stern face looks down to my little angel and says, ‘Please tell your mum I need to speak to her.’ My mind turns over a few scenarios. He has a sore toe. Is it that? Have they discovered he is gifted? Has he been farting too much? Did he get up to argy bargy with his best mate? Close. But let’s stick to the facts. They were play throttling in each other during art class. Fabulous. That’s what every mother wants to hear on the third week of kindergarten. And, furthermore, it’s only that my son’s teacher knows that they are long time best friends that she didn’t give them a YELLOW CARD. If another teacher saw that in the playground it would have been a YELLOW CARD shit storm. Read more
The school warning bell goes. It’s 9.18am and I am torn away from my conversation about H&M’s homeware line by a little body hurtling itself at me at a super human speed. His eyes wide with a slight panic. Ok, keep calm my love, let’s look for the two red dots. We are K Red so we need to stand in that line. There are little people everywhere, shuffling around in their big new uniforms, and frantically searching for bags and coloured dots. We hear some muffled sobbing to the side. We have another huge hug. ‘I love you more than all the gas in the universe mummy’. ‘I love you too buddy’, the words coming out slightly strangled as they manoeuvre their way past the big lump lodged in my throat. And then the 9.20 bell goes. Suddenly the kindergarten teachers are there; calm beacons in a storm of nerves, taking the hands of teary youngsters. My son is still blowing me kisses. ‘I love you mummy, more than slugs’. ‘I love you buddy, so much. Have a great day’. And then he is gone in a swirl of grey, blue and yellow. I walk home with a wistful heart wondering where the last five years have gone. Read more
I was just on my early morning jog and I ran past two young women, sitting on their verandah. Cigarette smoke was billowing around them and they looked fabulous with effortless bed hair that had just the right amount of tousle, and unfairly radiant skin. With a flash of jealousy I thought about what I look like when I get out of bed now – something half chewed found in a dragon’s nest. They were discussing the night before. ‘I didn’t know whether to shag him’, ‘He is such an asshole’ etc. You know the big stuff. I trot past, red faced and sweaty, desperately trying to hang onto a shred of a youthful figure and burn off the two glasses of wine and a curry I had last night (before unceremoniously passing out on the sofa at 9pm). My Fitbit declares I am having a mild heart attack as I climb up the hill back home and then I got to thinking about my youth. That is, its disappearing act. Read more
Another Christmas is done and dusted. As I slowly dismantle the tree, pulling hidden sultanas, old toast and Lego bricks from its bushy branches, I can’t help think that the magic of Christmas may have eroded a little next year. Just a bit. My son is now five, starting school and therefore will be exposed to terrible rumours that Santa is in fact, NOT REAL. It pains me to write it as a passionate advocate for the magic of Christmas. What is Christmas without Santa and the magic that surrounds him? And so, to keep the magic alive for as long as possible, if not a lifetime, I have some actionable points, or suggestions, whatever, that I would like adopted globally to ensure this new generation, who grow up far too fast, can be believers for as long as possible. Read more
It’s the last day of the official Christmas and New Year break. Morning has unveiled another deliciously lazy summer day full of outdoor fun; a delightful day to wrap up the holiday time and luxuriate in the end of holiday feeling of being stress free and relaxed (apart from that annoying Minion Fart Blaster that is going off in my ear as I write. Nice one Santa). And the first Monday back at work in January is never a hard start, let’s be honest. It’s a month of skeletal staffing, long lunches and lunchtime bailing on a Friday. And we have another public holiday popping up at the end of the month to keep us buoyant. I do love a soft launch to the new working year.
I also love the fresh state of mind at this time of year. We have wrapped up the previous year, thrown ourselves in to immense pageant of over indulgence and festivity that is Christmas, and burst through the other side more relaxed and ready to face new challenges. Read more