So I'm a little angry today. Only a little, and only due to reading the Herald Sun, which is kind of like looking at a car crash - you know you shouldn't look, but find yourself unable to stay away.
I wasn't even reading Bolt's column, or Miranda Devine.

I was reading the sport section, which I get to claim for my own, given that my husband is away for the week. Sport should be pretty safe and innocuous, or so I thought as I sipped my latte at a local cafe with the little fish by my side offering up his own opinions on the world.

This does give a fake view of what my day-to-day home life is like - usually lots more opinions - accompanied by the word no, and lots less latte sipping, however the fish and I were all worn out after the photo shoot for the local paper - also not an every day event - more on that later!

So on to the article.....

Not all things can be equal - Scott Gullan, Herald Sun

I have no issue with the argument that the men's final was longer, more draining and more entertaining. Do I think they should be paid more? Maybe not more than they are at the moment - hey $6515.60 per minute isn't bad, but it would be hard to argue that Djokovic and Rafa were equal to Azarenka and Sharapova. None of that made me angry. Not close.

What infuriated me was the dismissal of any inequality of women in the workplace - just cause there is a female PM and a few scattered female CEO's of large companies. Board representation is still overall low and there are nowhere near as many female politicians, not to mention the overall salary discrepancies and lower super levels due to time out from the workforce (which although "voluntary", is under-compensated and under-recognised). Further dismissing women's tennis as a chance to discuss fashion and image over the water cooler, the author thus fails to acknowledge the skill and talent of the women in getting to their elite level. Hitting a low of referring to a supermarket worker in rural Victoria as a "girl" just consolidates the overall discriminatory tone of the piece.

Maybe that was what all the screaming on the court was about.

I feel like I've been back and forward in time over the past day. Time travel really wasn't on the agenda for a short break away, but as usual in my life, my agenda never quite balances with reality.

So, heading in to the sun, down the western highway we went. It was hot enough in the car, and I had no enthusiasm for being outside during our breaks. Initially I thought I was hallucinating in my half drowsy state (this is why I don't do the long drives!) when up popped a stormtrooper! In the middle of desert-like outback, he was quite at home, pushing along his provisions in the heat. I kept expecting to see more pop up in some kind of pre-Australia day takeover of our nation, but my husband brought me back to reality and explained that he was doing it for charity. Turns out he is doing a troopertrek from Perth to Sydney to raise money for the starlight foundation. He's hoping to get to $50 000 and is nearly at his goal with quite a lot more walking to do, so stop by his site if you feel like donating to a fabulous cause.

So now, backwards.....

I promise I'm not referring to Adelaide, or South Australia, both of which I quite like! We did have to go back in time half an hour to get here, but the thought of having half an hour less on Saturday kind of tempers my excitement about the day suddenly having more time in it.

It is more that all my first memories of South Australia are as an eight year old when we came to visit family, and so in a similar way that staying at home with my parents makes me revert to behaving like a teenager, I revert back to wanting to be a child (or possibly behaving like one). I had a pastie with sauce and an egg custard tart from a country bakery (please don't count my calories - the equations will hurt you) and had to have a banana milk to go with them 'cause that is what we did'. I bounced on a see-saw at the playground and will admit to asking more than once "are we nearly there?" - so much more grown up than "are we there yet?" - I promise!

Our motel room took me back in time to the pre-smoking ban as it appears that the room has held on to the aromas of that past endeavour, but in true 60's glam style, it has its own muzak stereo system (I haven't checked to see if it plays "the girl from ipanema"), and it was set up with its own bar, not a mini-bar, but a high bench bar that you felt you should be sipping martinis at. I would have been happier with a low bar and high door handles as Hamster the escape artist saw a chance at freedom and ran for it....

I think the best thing about having kids is the fact that occasionally, (or really quite often, but I was pretending to have some decorum), you get to behave like a child. Uninhibited joy and excitement is underrated in adult life. So today, my plans involve playing on the Milo lawn at the cricket, jumping up and down with anticipation at the zoo (in a quiet restrained manner so as not to scare the animals) and possibly a quiet glass of something cold as the day draws to a close. Ok, so that last activity may not be from my childhood, but being a kid (and a parent) is exhausting and rest is essential!

Happy Australia Day everyone!

So I have a confession to make..... I mostly like Mondays.

Not just because I don't have to leave the house to go in to the office (although that helps), but I love the fresh start that each Monday brings. It is the day to start the diet, exercise, cleaning, the day to start on sorting out bills, drawers full of paperwork and plans for the future.

I like the thought of a clean slate, but like every New Years Day, where resolutions are stored on a top shelf and forgotten about in the chaos of reality, Mondays can set you up for a fall. Today was one of those days.

I had grand plans. The house was going to be tidy, I was going to catch up on all the paperwork I had to do from home instead of in my windowless office, I was going to vacuum, go to the gym, sort out my disastrous tax stuff-ups (again), play with my son, take him swimming, cook lunch and dinner for him, freeze leftovers, do the weekly shopping and take my camera to be posted for repairs :-(.

So you can see, I may have set my goals a little higher than I could reach, even with our extendible ladder (which I must remove from outside our front door where it was left after my rooftop cat rescue (another story entirely) as I'm sure the bad luck of walking under it must be doing something awful).

I am usually a person that time matters for. I like appointments, timetables and calendars, but have not yet managed to cope with the fact that there are only so many hours in a day that can be filled with plans that expand like balloons jostling against each other. Tick for one thing today though - I did manage to while away some time playing with balloons giggling at the look on H's face as they self propelled around the room as they deflated.... and we did go swimming, and laugh a lot and chase each other, and I did manage to get him food to eat (even convinced him to eat a vege or two). The shopping got done (thanks to my lovely husband coming home at lunch) and I tidied one room, so in the scheme of things, it wasn't too bad!

My paperwork though was another matter. Documents and crayola products do not mix. Or maybe they do, it just might depend where your goals are set. Resetting that aim of organisation to one of happiness, both for me and the small one, and today was a good day.

I just hope my accountant feels the same way about the delay....

The time is coming soon where I will have to leave Hamster at home without me for the night for work. Even though I am certain the separation will be harder on him than on me, it makes you doubt what you are doing, both at home and work.


Ahh... mother guilt - endless!

Dear Hamster,

Today was shattering. Literally.

While I understand the need to explore the world around you, rampant destruction and uncontrolled chaos seem to be more your genre for the week.

I revelled in your excitement at pulling the petals off daisies (he loves me, he loves me, he loves me....) and your joy at splashing outdoors in a bucket of water as you cooled off from the heat. Your squeals of joy as you chased the cat were musical.

I felt the need to capture the moment for posterity and indeed I now have many memories fixed in static images of a life that is rarely still.

Your father and I should have known better. Sunglasses do not belong on the ground. Not even when lying on the soft grass in the botanic gardens. Apparently they inspire tap-dancing (of the variety not practised by Fred and Ginger, but more the musical 'Stomp'). Cameras do not belong on tables. 17 month olds do not belong on chairs.

My eyes in the back of my head appear to be in need of glasses. So does my camera, its body and vision shattered by a throw to the ground. Apparently the noise it created was such a good one, that it required amplification with a second throw from a greater height.

My darling boy, while you may never have a career in a bar, balancing trays of precariously placed wine glasses (you may have inherited our genetic lack of coordination there), you may go well in olympic shot-put, demolition or other noise-making industries.

But now you lie quietly asleep, with the hint of a smile on your gently pursed lips and I can take a deep breath in, laugh now you aren't looking and try and muster the same level of energy that you have for life.

I hope the insurance company will find this as amusing as we did....

xoxo