Writing Out Loud

Autumn

2013-05-15T13:51:00.001+10:00

One of my neighbours used to spend his weekends picking up every single leaf from his yard, until eventually he got sick of it and had the offending trees cut down.

Another neighbour spends autumn with a rake in her hands. I watch with an evil delight as she finishes a long afternoon of collating the mess, only for the wind to blow another gust of reds and oranges. You'd never know the ground had been green only a minute earlier.

At our place we let the leaves lie where they fall. I love to walk through them, finding a little satisfaction in the crunch. Like a full stop to another step taken.

Today, though, I'd like those leaves in neat little piles. I'd probably even go as far as sorting them into colours, and discarding those that are shades in between the vivid.

Instead, I'll let these little feet crunch in them, and wait out the unsettled gusts.

I want to love where I live

2013-05-14T20:17:00.000+10:00

Over the weekend we visited a friend on her farm in South Gippsland. It's a beautiful spot as it is, but add to that she's just had her dream house built atop a hill that overlooks Wilson's Prom.

Seriously stunning.

As we walked around her farm I told her how much I like it there - the views, the beauty, the peace.

She nodded. "When I can't sleep I walk around here in my mind," she said, by way of explaining the calming effect this place has on her.

I've fallen out of love with the area I live in, and I'm trying to find a way to reclaim that. There are so many considerations, pros and cons about the possibility of moving - the balance between being grateful for what you have and wanting more.

Her words struck a chord beautifully. That's exactly what I'm looking for when I say I want to love where I live: a place I don't want to escape from, but rather escape to.

The rush of rock climbing

2013-05-13T08:35:00.001+10:00

There's nothing like choosing an experience from RedBalloon that teaches you a lot about yourself. When I was invited onto the #RedBalloonMums campaign, my first thought was, ROCK CLIMBING!

See, when I was pregnant last year I battled with a lot of "stuff", and all I wanted was to go and climb a cliff. The urge to do this was like the strongest craving (even worse than wanting to eat ice-cream all day and all night). I read up on it and it turns out there's this theory where taking on physical challenges - specifically those with immediate outcomes of accomplishment, like rock climbing and running - can help combat anxiety and depression. It made perfect sense, those were the exact things I was trying to get a grip on... only it was a bit hard to go rock climbing with a baby on board.

My baby girl is seven months old now, and the craving for adventure has only got stronger over time. So when #RedBalloonMums came calling I immediately searched their site for the best climbing experiences.

The weekend before last was The Day. It was the first time I'd left my baby for a whole day, so I was nervous about that - although at least it distracted me from my nerves of the climb! Once I got over that I had to face up to the big challenge...

The first hurdle for me to cross was putting my trust in strangers (not my strong point). The guide had a system in place where we didn't have to just trust one person belaying (holding the ropes), as there was another backing them up, which was intended to help the nerves of those trust issues... but really made me nervous of having to trust two strangers. When I got the highest was when I had the most trust in the main person on the ropes - it's so important to have good back-up before you can think about the task at hand.

"Just let the belayer know you're about to fall," the guide suggested, and we all laughed. It sounded silly to say you know you're about to fall. But he was serious: "It's true, you'll know you're going to fall. Most of the time it happens because you've talked yourself into it."

So, up I went. It's madness, really, trying to defy gravity and all your logic is saying this is impossible. But you keep going because you can see rocks to grab and the adrenalin starts to rush and you peek down and see you're getting higher and you get a little bit addicted to that feeling. You think, maybe just a bit higher, maybe just one more step, and then that feels so good you try again for another.

Then you reach a point where you're sure you can't go any further. There is nothing around to grab onto. Nothing. My heart raced and I'd hang there like some sort of spiderwoman, convincing myself I could go further - then I'd reach around the rocks with my hands and feet and find a spot I didn't know was grab-on-able.

(Not my best angle)

(Warning: life metaphor ahead.) The thing is you need to have a vague plan of what's coming up so you head in the right direction, but you can't think too far ahead. You really just have to focus on the next step and trust that the one after that will work itself out. Stay on track but don't get too far ahead of yourself (another of my not-so-strong points).

But I think the hardest part is actually after you reach a really stable point. It's hard to let go of that stability to the uncertainty of the next, perhaps treacherous step that might just be your undoing. (Again with the metaphors!) My big mistake was reaching those points and stopping to feel comfortable for a little while. I just couldn't get going again, couldn't convince myself to step off. The guide laughingly asked me at one point if I have commitment issues, because I'd try to step up but wouldn't fully commit myself to it. No, actually, I have issues with UNcommitting!

"I'm going to fall," I called out below. So yes, the guide was correct in his earlier prediction.

On my next attempt, I got higher. So high I was only a couple of body lengths from the top, but the same thing happened again. I found a spot that was relatively comfortable and couldn't get my head or my body to go up any more. I was happy to have gone further than before each time, but I never did reach the top and that frustrated me.

You wouldn't believe the rush of this adventure. Each climb, I was so focused and so filled with adrenalin that by the time I hit the ground again I was shaking all over. For 24 hours afterwards my head was scattered and I was sore and exhausted. Perhaps the emotion from the build up of this craving and the meaning it held for me to do this rock climbing played a big part in that feeling, and I guess it was a real life lesson for me.

I want to do more rock climbing. I want to work hard to prove that I have it in me to get better and better - and maybe even reach the top next time.

Want to learn more about yourself through an amazing experience?

RedBalloon have an offer for readers of this blog:

Spend $129 or more on any RedBalloon experience, and receive $30 off. To redeem, visit www.redballoon.com.au and enter the promotional code REDMUM04 at the checkout to receive your discount.

Terms and Conditions: Offer valid until 31/12/13. Promotional Code can only be used once per person. All purchases are subject to RedBalloon T&Cs, for full details see: www.redballoon.com.au/help/terms-conditions

Thanks to the team at Digital Parents Collective for inviting me to be a part of the RedBalloon Experience program. I will be sharing my awesome experiences with you over the next few months. As always, all opinions are my own however the experiences are complimentary.

My life list

2013-05-09T19:48:00.002+10:00

Yesterday's post about making a life list seemed to resonate with some. I think lots of us feel like we're floating a bit at the moment - questioning what's next, and what's important in this world of having access to everything and anything. I also think we spend lots of time reading others' opinions and hearing what they're doing, which can distract us from where we want to be.

Sitting down and really thinking about what you want is a worthwhile exercise.

There aren't any rules with a life list. The point is to write what comes to mind, to try to find your priorities.

Rather than being vague any longer, though, here's mine (I find there's something really grounding about a pen and paper, so I'm going with the handwritten version):

These are the things I want to focus on over the next stage of my life, and how long this stage lasts will be determined by when I next feel a bit lost.

They're the things I need to remind myself of. I find it really easy to get lost in my work and obsess over how much I'm achieving. I find it hard to slow down and realise the importance of the little things. And so my list focuses on family, wellbeing, slowing down and making life a little bit lovelier.

(The "real books" part is because I rarely read books anymore, just magazines and online articles. I miss books. Plus I feel sad that my girls don't see me enjoying books - and if plonking on the couch reading is what it takes to be a good parent, then I guess someone has to do it.)

(The "Love where I live" thing might need an explanation all of its own - and I certainly need some further clarification on it - so I might write about that further.)

What would your life list look like?

Making a life list

2013-05-08T19:24:00.000+10:00

Making mud cakes at kinder

A couple of years ago I was in the midst of a big career decision. Two paths lay ahead of me and I had to choose - and fast. It was one of those times that I didn't know which way my instinct was pointing.

My husband is a wise man - he knows never to tell me what to do - so he suggested a way for me to reach this decision by myself.

And so it was that I came to write a life list, one that set out my priorities. I love a list at the best of times, but even I snubbed the idea at the time. I mean, I know what's important to me without writing it down! Still, I went along with it because there weren't any better suggestions going around.

Writing a list can provide such clarity. I wrote down how I wanted to spend my time over the next few years, and then figured out which of my career options suited that lifestyle best.

I'm in the need of a new life list. Not a "five year plan" or anything concrete or formal, and not even one that lists any goals as such - but one that sets my priorities and reminds me to focus on what's important.

That's all it might take to clear my mind once again.

Sometimes, life is perfection

2013-05-06T14:12:00.000+10:00

Sometimes you just need to let life fall.

And the sun has the chance to shine in all the right spots.

The light shows where you're broken and why that's okay.

There's a bigger picture at play.

Like a diamond in the sky.

The confidence of running your own business

2013-04-30T09:37:00.000+10:00

There's one big difference between working for someone else and running your own business. Confidence.

The former requires turning up every day and completing - to a certain extent - a defined set of tasks. You are validated every day, perhaps by having someone agree with your decision, or even just by knowing that the outcome will be a number on your bank account balance. I'm not trying to downplay the struggles of working - for me, a decade of being a young woman pushing her way up the ladder in a male-dominated environment really required each and every bit of confidence I could muster. It's just in a different way to what I do now.

Working for myself is sometimes a bit strange, and it's actually a struggle most days - not in terms of motivation (quite the opposite, I find myself wanting to work too much), but in that confidence.

I have to front up to myself every single day with the belief not just in a job I'm doing, but in the whole business. I need to believe that what I'm doing is worthwhile, that my efforts will pay off, that I'm not wasting my time.

There is no job description, no one to say that this is an important thing to do. There are few consequences if I don't do my work, no company chain to break down if one link fails to show up. It's just me and my self-belief. (And that's the biggest ask of all.) Even if you love what you do, there's an internal battle that asks why you should get to enjoy your day while everyone else struggles away in the 9 to 5 grind.

I haven't ~~had~~ made a lot of time for my work of late. That's just life sometimes. And it kind of feels like a part of me has been chopped off. Not even in an "I'm losing my brain being with the kids all day" kind of way, but more a "Something's missing" way.

And that's how I know my little business is right for me. When it becomes a vital part of you, you know you're doing the right thing.

A little aside that's sort of related to my work (drawing a long bow there, aren't I!): remember the car fire drama? It's all sorted now, and we have a 'new-to-us' Landcruiser that's already been out camping twice. It will see us through lots of adventures over the coming years!

Connection

2013-04-23T21:17:00.000+10:00

I pulled my baby girl towards me, holding her face with my hand just as she likes me to. I looked in her eyes as I sang along: "It's just so easy when the whole world fits inside of your arms".

Later that day someone I know gave me some news. She's moving away. This is someone I've relied on to help me through this past year. She's given me the ability to stay strong.

They say people enter our lives for a reason. Over the years I've had friends who have enriched my life or taught me more about this world and myself. Some of them stick around, others drift out - maybe gone forever or perhaps one day to drift back in. Only time can tell that story.

It's like I'm losing an anchor, left to once again float by myself. I encouraged her, congratulated her, gave her the words she wanted to hear, but I don't really know what it's like. I've never moved away from these hills. Don't really want her to go. But like any change, there are lessons to be learnt.

It's time to trust in myself once again. To know that she didn't give me that strength I've been feeling - she supported me as I found it in myself. It was always there and will remain so, if I make that choice.

I've learnt that when it's all too much, when I'm overwhelmed and ready to melt down with frustration, I shouldn't run away. Those are the times I need to let others help me rejuvenate that strength.

Most importantly, I now know the value of connection. To really feel a touch, to give honestly from my depths, to make eye contact with not just a glimpse but to look. Really look.

The whole world is right here in my arms. All I have to do is hold onto it.

Lessons from a weekend away

2013-04-22T12:48:00.001+10:00

Toasting marshmallows by the campfire (on another camping trip)

As we drove towards the weekend Steve asked, "Did you pack the camera?" No, I'd forgotten. Being a writer and a blogger, I never usually leave home without a notebook and camera, so I thought about asking him to turn the car around. But I didn't.

The place we camped was nice enough, but not somewhere I'd write about, making this an actual holiday from writing. Rare for a travel writer!

What is worth writing about, though, is the time we had.

We went away with some new friends: three other families from Abbey's preschool. The eight adults set up camp, cooked together and chatted, watching the seven children play all weekend.

I learned a lot. Like...

If you choose the right people to go camping with, everything just falls into place and it's really easy - and fun.

A baby is happiest when watching others, crawling in the dirt, eating leaves and having funny faces pulled at her by other kids.

You can't hide your real self when chatting around a campfire; it removes all guards to reveal genuine souls.

Toddlers can be gentle and gorgeous and my heart has melted away from the dreading of going through that stage again.

Hanging out with people who are all about their families inspires me. We talked about the dreams we have - as individuals and as couples - and the fun times and tragedies that have passed by us. It all came back to now, to our kids, to just doing the best we can. I found that really grounding, and it refreshed how I see my little family.

Sometimes you need to stop taking photos, trust your memory, and let kids play without being the paparazzi. I soaked in the joy on Abbey's face, watched her caring nature when another child was hurt and enjoyed getting to know her friends and their families, all of whom are genuinely good people.

When no one uses technology all weekend there becomes a time to really connect and be a part of life.

And when you come home from a weekend like that, the only things that remain are those that are important. Perspective and clarity find a home and you know that where you are is exactly where you're meant to be right now.

Mums should be exempt from getting sick (plus a giveaway!)

2013-04-18T09:03:00.000+10:00

This post is sponsored by Wellwoman and Digital Parents Collective.

See below for a great giveaway!

Remember when you'd play chasing games as a kid, there would always be a zone called 'barley'? It was a safe spot that you could stop and know you couldn't be 'got' - except there was always that kid who ignored the rules and got you anyway.

Falling sick is like a game of chasey, and motherhood should be barley - but sometimes that illness comes and gets you regardless.

Yep, mums should be exempt from getting sick; all we're trying to do is look after our families and keep things running smoothly. But when an illness strikes a mum the whole 'smoothly' part of that sentence stops and instead we're left trying to look after everyone as well as find some time and space to recuperate. It's just life being mean while we're screaming, "Barley! This is meant to be BARLEY!"

During Iris's babyhood I've been struck down with a few minor things: mastitis (repeatedly), migraines, flu, gastro... even a few nightmare days with both mastitis and gastro at the same time. Totally unfair. I couldn't keep anything down, I was feverish - and yet, still had to feed a baby.

It took a while for me to find a way to look after my own wellbeing amidst the chaos of a newborn and having two kids. It's really hard to look after others, look after their health and your own, fit in everything that needs to be done plus a few things that each of you want to do, not push so far that you get run down, and stay sane at the same time. (Anyone feeling exhausted yet?)

But like I say, those are minor illnesses in the scheme of things. What happens if something worse hits - the really tough bully kid getting us in the supposed barley location?

My Mum had breast cancer many years back now. With four kids to look after, a job to hold down, bills to pay and everything else that comes with life, well, it was tough going in so many ways for her and for all of us. I don't know how she did it, but Mum pulled herself and all of us out of that hole. But these things have lasting effects.

I sat in denial for years. It was only after Abbey was born that I started checking myself regularly and agreeing to tests to gauge the genetic risk. I guess it suddenly clicked that hoping I wouldn't get breast cancer wasn't enough of an effort, and I knew I had to give my girls the information they'll need to look after themselves.

And so we hope, we cross our fingers, and then we do whatever is within our power to stay on top of our wellbeing.

It’s good to know that these days there’s an option to help out if things like that do happen. AIG Direct now has cancer insurance – they call it ‘Wellwoman’ – which covers seven types of female cancers. This means that a payment of between $25,000 and $45,000 upon diagnosis can help with your family and lifestyle and allow you to focus on getting well.

Because realising that there isn't a 'barley' on motherhood only makes you value your health more than ever.

This post is sponsored by Wellwoman - a cancer insurance aimed specifically at female cancers. Click on the image to find out more.

Giveaway: an hour all to yourself!

One reader will win a one hour full body and mind massage with thanks to RedBalloon, valued at $110.

Just leave a comment telling me: What do you love to do in your 'me time'?

The best answer wins! Click here to see the full terms and conditions of this giveaway. Competition ends at 11.59pm on 30th April 2013. Good luck!

Feeling again

2013-04-12T11:26:00.001+10:00

Numb.

Emotionally, that's how I am when I've given out too much and not taken enough space for myself. It's like I'm so drained I don't even have the energy to feel anything.

Numb.

Physically, that's how my limbs feel when I've hit that emotional point - but have ignored it.

This morning I went into the national park. Just to feel.

Feel my feet on the rough ground.

Feel the shock of the cold air as I visibly breathe it out.

Feel the certainty of a beginning and an end.

Feel my breath get faster and faster, and then settle into a rhythm.

Feel my muscles working.

Feel the sweat dripping down my face.

Feel my sure footing atop the slippery path.

Feel my heart beat faster and faster. (I'm alive!)

Feel the blood running to every part of my body.

Feel the energy of others walking past, and I soak up their enthusiasm.

Feel the adrenalin rush, the "I did it!" moment.

Feel.

The motherhood gap year

2013-04-08T11:02:00.002+10:00

I'm like a high school student wondering what to do when she grows up. Back then it was all about the gap year after high school, an acknowledgement that sometimes you need to stop and just live to gain the clarity of knowing what you want to do next.

Remember the questions people would ask to lead you to the right answer: "What do you enjoy?", "Do you want to study or work?", "What do you want to do with your life?"

Yep, I'm here again. It seems like when you've finished having kids and you can see to a future of less intensive parenting, your mind starts focusing on the "What next?" question. It's like a second chance to grasp that career you always wanted, to stop and plan the next move with a clear(ish) head.

The funny thing is, the answers to those questions are exactly the same as the answers I had back then. If I was to go to uni, I'd do the same course I started at 18. (Adult me is very frustrated that teenage me dropped out!) My instinct was right, I just hadn't learnt to trust it yet.

Back then I followed the safe path. The one that led me to money - not in a greedy way, just in an independent, realistic, "I'm 20 and I'm buying a house and getting married" kind of way.

Now I've stepped off that safe path and taken some risks, and found myself along the route less likely to pay well. But instead of leaving the fears behind me, as I thought I had, I've gained some different ones. These hold me back with a caution that comes with knowing I have limitations (time, family) and a complete drop in confidence.

I know I have strengths, still believe I can do anything I put my mind to - but just struggle to get that across. I'm aware that I've not really lived up to my potential, and that makes me sad.

Right now I have the time and space to sort out my life plans. To acknowledge that I've come part of the way but am still riddled with fears that I need to push through. To look at going back to uni, or finding other ways to skill myself and make it all happen.

I need to use my motherhood gap year wisely.

Six months

2013-04-08T06:41:00.001+10:00

6 months.

1 dramatic birth.

Countless cuddles.

1,000 feeds. (I actually calculated that, and it really is around 1,000 times!)

Rolling.

Crawling.

An estimated 60 litres of dribble.

An estimated 6,000 litres of spew.

2 teeth. (That sometimes bite unfortunate places.)

10 camping trips.

Some sleep.

Giggles.

Indescribable joy.

Providing stability in childhood

2013-04-05T14:16:00.000+11:00

Me and my girls

When I wrote a little while back about how I sometimes want to drop everything and run off on crazy adventures with my family, lots of you spoke to me about stability. You're absolutely right - it's so important for children to have a stable upbringing - but it's something I'd never given much thought to.

Stability is something that's always been in my life so I guess I've just taken it for granted. Since that post I've thought about it a lot, and wanted to delve into the topic a bit more.

To me, giving my girls a stable childhood means three things:

People. It's the old cliche, "Home is where the heart is" and I really believe that the ultimate form of a stable childhood is to be with your family. Nothing else matters in comparison, etc. - except that it isn't quite as simple as that. When you think about it you realise that the older you get the more you rely on a larger community. To put it in personal terms, my baby Iris would come anywhere with us with only the expectation that I am there. Abbey on the other hand, would be devastated to go extended periods without seeing her grandparents, aunties, cousins and friends. They have become her support network, and seeing the same people regularly is a form of stability for her.

Routine or structure. People are often surprised that someone as organised as me can be so bad with routine. I just get a bit bored with it - we'll set a bedtime routine for the kids, for example, and by the third night we'll either forget about it or feel the need to mix it up a bit. It's not all bad, though - this has tended to make our girls flexible in life. But then I think this is just a small part of the idea of routine, and the bigger picture is that our girls know roughly what each week and each day will look like. There is the certainty that there will always be time for playing, time to help around the house, time for sleep and time for a couple of set activities. Routine doesn't have to mean doing the same things at the same times; it's really about feeling certain that everything is okay.

Place. One of the things about a new place is it brings all the other components into play: a change of place means different people and new routines. Still, there's something about a place that gives it its own merit in the stability equation. Familiar surroundings bring comfort and ease, and although logically it seems to me that place is the least important aspect of stability, my heart - and the fact we've always lived in the same area - tells me otherwise.

I always want my girls to feel comfortable and confident in the life we're giving them - and I like to think that most of those ingredients will always be there for them. Stability really is important.

And so too are flexibility and a sense of adventure... and they won't be in short supply either!

I'd love to know: what does stability mean to you?

Ballarat family weekend

2013-04-03T13:09:00.000+11:00

Ballarat is the perfect spot for a weekender from Melbourne - and the kids will love it! Here are our picks for a fun family weekend:

Ballarat Wildlife Park

Feeding kangaroos, touching an emu (did you know their feathers make a bristling sound when touched?) and - a highlight - patting a koala. It's all part of the fun at the wildlife park, as well as seeing lots of other cute (and some a little more sinister) critters. A little on the pricey side but a fun couple of hours with the kiddies.

Tuki Trout Farm

Don't let those smiles fool you. I'd always wanted to try fishing but 30 seconds in I was pretty bored with it! And Abbey was taking photos of us because she'd lost interest in her fishing attempts even earlier than that. So Steve caught the fish for us all. (He doesn't like fishing either - I think as a family we're too impatient!)

Despite that, we loved the trout farm (half an hour's drive from Ballarat). Once caught, our trout were cooked up for us and we sat down to beautiful views and the freshest food possible - and it was super delicious. A really great spot for those who appreciate real food.

The Tangled Maze

Abbey loved the maze - she ran around it trying each different direction with great enthusiasm. The mini-golf, not so much (although other kids do!), but the gardens there are beautiful and this is a lovely family spot.

Lake Wendouree Playground

If you're after a freebie, head to Lake Wendouree so the little ones can run around the brilliant playground. Because sometimes the kids have to let off some excess energy while you rest! Alternatively, the Botanic Gardens are stunning.

Sovereign Hill

The perfect day out with kids in Ballarat, here you'll enjoy history and activities like gold-panning, watching old-fashioned lollies being made, horse and cart rides, gold mine tours - and the list goes on. More about that here.

My family and I were given a weekend in Ballarat with thanks to Ballarat Regional Tourism. We had a ball!

Paragliding in the clouds above Bright

2013-04-01T06:40:00.001+11:00

I ran off the side of this mountain

"RUN!" he shouted. I hesitated for a second - if someone told you to jump off a cliff, would you do it? - so he yelled it again. "RUN!" I did it. I ran.

My paragliding pilot, Fred - who I had found through RedBalloon - had downplayed this scenario when I asked him how scary it would be: "Even my mother's done it," he laughed. Yeah, but it's still scary, I insisted. He shrugged, but then again he's done this before ("five or six thousand times" was his guess). So I'm here to tell you that running towards the edge of a mountain and then jumping off and trusting a total stranger to keep you safe IS scary.

I screamed as my feet left the ground, and my legs kept moving in a step-like motion for a few seconds longer than necessary. Habit, I guess. So, now what?

"We're flying up to that cloud," he said as we whirled around and around in the thermal.

"How high is that?" I asked.

"About 14,000 feet." (That's skydiving height!)

Getting this high was a matter of luck, and if I'd hesitated any longer it wouldn't have happened this way. Fred had got us caught in the middle of this thermal, meaning we could rise higher and stay in flight for ages, while two others took off twenty seconds later and landed on the ground soon after. It's all a matter of timing in this game, and I just happened to be on the flight of my life.

But at that point I wasn't sure who I felt happier for: me, at 14,000 feet in the air with nothing between me and the ground but a harness, or those others who were safely on the ground. I smiled as Fred asked how I was - "All good!" I replied, putting on my bravest smile as I tried to forget that nothing was between me and the ground but a harness. "This is amazing!" Which it was. Terrifyingly amazing.

That green patch is the take-off point

Our shadow in Bright's pine plantations

It looks so peaceful up there. Gliders dangle in the air, creating shadows over the town of Bright in the Victorian Alps all the time, pretending gravity doesn't exist. After we'd spun around and around to get higher, we glided along and I had the chance to focus my awe at the land.

That view. Everywhere I looked were mountain ranges. Mountains Buffalo, Hotham, Feathertop, even Bogong - Victoria's highest - looked like little mounds on one of those scaled models in a tourist visitor centre. When you're in Bright you know you're in a valley surrounded by mountain ranges, but you don't really get it until you see it from up there. This place is surrounded for as far as the eye can see, and then further still.

So it was peaceful for a while, until Fred asked me if I wanted to do some spins and tricks. "Sure! Sounds fun!" said I.

He pulled a few strings, angled his body differently and within seconds we were pointing sideways, twirling around - fast. When my laughter turned to a sickened sound, he queried it: "Just scared or feeling it in your stomach?" I confirmed it was the latter and he stopped straight away. I'm tipping he's had some unfortunate experiences up there with sick passengers.

Back to peaceful gliding, except now my mind and my stomach were in overdrive. "Don't be sick, don't be sick," I chanted silently to myself over and over.

Looking down over Bright town

My nervous smile

As we were coming in to land, Fred told me to get ready to take some steps. It was odd to realise that I wasn't sure I could, and I awkwardly practiced some fake air steps in preparation for hitting the ground. As we got closer to my family, I waved and Fred asked me, "Do you want to show them another spin?" I didn't, but then again I really wanted to show off, so I said yes. He spun us around... until I made that sickened sound again...

... and then promptly fell to the ground. I tried to keep being brave and walk over to my little audience, but my legs just wouldn't hold me. I seemed to have misplaced my stomach up there, my head was spinning and I sat down on the grass in the hope that I could avoid embarrassing myself by either falling over or being sick. Or both.

It took a while for my mind to catch up with it all. I'd thought through the process of the glide, but I hadn't thought about afterwards. There was motion sickness right to the pit of my stomach - I can still feel it as I write this - mixed with the feeling that comes with having done something amazing and "Now what?" suddenly occurring to you. How does one finish off a day after that? What should you do after you've jumped off a mountain, caught a thermal 14,000 feet into the clouds and then glided down?

This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, something I'd wanted to do since I was a kid on holidays in Bright seeing the gliders dot the air. Now I've done it, and that's a brilliant feeling.

The jump itself is scary, the flight exhilarating, and the landing on my feet a shock to the system. Just like life, really.

Want to get to the edges of your comfort zone with a fun experience?

RedBalloon have an offer for readers of this blog:

The superhero

2013-03-28T14:52:00.000+11:00

Superheroes are lauded for dropping everything and saving the world, for looking out for the Greater Good. But while they're out there bragging about their goodness, there are others quietly taking care of the Smaller Good.

This morning I thought about wearing a cape, but anyone who's seen The Incredibles knows capes are just too dangerous. So no cape, not even knickers on the outside of my clothes - just jeans, a t-shirt and a raincoat - and dropped everything to be with my little girl.

She woke this morning feeling out of sorts. A nightmare about being left alone forever will do that. This girl, who is known for her super toughness, independence and resilience, let down the armour and released the tears - and even asked for a cuddle. And on the rare occasion my girl lets me in to her fragility I wrap her tightly in my arms.

The catch was, she was keen to go to her last day of kinder for the term, but teary at being away from me today.

I had plans. During that five-hour kinder session I intended to bake for the weekend, pack for camping and do some work while feeding the baby. Instead I stayed by her. Because really, does it matter if we have bought hot cross buns instead of homemade ones? Or if I'm not organised and we leave an hour later tomorrow? Does the world end because I finish an article next week instead of today? No. It does not.

This is just what any mum does, really. But today I'm a superhero because I helped for an entire five hour kinder session. FIVE HOURS. With twenty four-year-olds. That's why I'm sitting down for a few minutes now - I'm seriously not cut out for this working with kids caper. Those who are truly are superheroes.

Today is about making my girl remember that she is safe and loved.

I didn't save the world, but today I saved Her World.

Stop

2013-03-27T21:43:00.000+11:00

Sometimes I express a little hint of overwhelm.

Life is good, but every so often it's a lot. The pressure, the routine, the busyness, the lack of busyness - whatever. Everything can feel hard in a certain moment. Everyone feels overwhelmed sometimes.

The answer is often the same: "So, don't do so much." That answer isn't for everyone, no, it seems especially reserved for those whose lives are so fluid (unimportant?) that they could, it's perceived, give up everything in a flash.

The idea is that life would be far less intense if I did less stuff. Except... no. It wouldn't. The only things that could go are the very things I need - the things I love, that I do for me and no one else. These are the pieces of Joy in my mind, holding the darkness down by the throat and laughing outright at the way she can take his breath away. (Did you know Joy was so bloodthirsty?)

And so we do this little dance. The people talking about me and how I shouldn't pressure myself, me wishing that instead of being dismissed I could be offered some actual support. Neither one really understanding the other.

Both perhaps a little overwhelmed. Life does that.

Taking it all in

2013-03-27T11:57:00.000+11:00

This kid is everything.

When we're heading to her preschool she runs ahead, piggy tails batting her head and backpack rocking up and down. She looks back at me with pure joy in her eyes, just at the thought of the day ahead.

I want to feel that excitement again. So I do. I wake up and for a split second I think, oh god it's another day, how long will this one go for? And then I try again. For her. I can do this because I see in her eyes that I make her day, and I want to give her that too.

A couple of weeks ago I started a little project: taking at least one good photo of her every week. I want to do it for a year, compiling the shots into a little book. This time next year she will be at school, and I feel the need to capture this time in her life. Not for show online, not for anything other than just for us to remember.

She is everything.

What do your possessions mean to you?

2013-03-21T09:46:00.000+11:00

Last night we were out when Steve's pager (he's a volunteer at our local fire brigade) went off. "It's a car fire," he said. Then, "It's on our street." The incident had been reported as being at one of our neighbours' places. Steve's interest piqued, he used an app on his phone to listen to the radio communications.

Within a few minutes he said in shock, "They just said our house number." He grabbed the keys to my car and drove home, while the girls and I stayed and waited to hear what was happening. Which reported house number was correct?

It was Steve's car, our long planned for four-wheel-drive that we'd been kitting out for an extended trip around Australia. With no warning the engine had burst into flames - and it's likely to be a write-off.

My first thought was, thank goodness we weren't in it. A few days ago we drove home from South Australia and if it had happened then, well, that would have been pretty scary. And luckily, the two closest fire brigades stopped the fire from spreading to the carport or the house. We have a lot to he thankful for - and we are. In a shocked kind of way.

But I'm left feeling disillusioned.

I think a lot about simplifying life. Of owning less and being more. I'm fearful of debt and try to keep our possessions as few and as simple as possible. Spending big money makes me feel a bit empty and guilty, and I try not to be attached to what is just 'stuff'. I just want to be with my family, write, be a good person, enjoy life and be happy.

Problem is, sometimes happiness is tied up with possessions. Steve and I drove crappy cars for years to make sure we got ourselves set up in our own house. We dreamed of one day owning a four-wheel-drive so we could get to the places we wanted to see. Eventually we bought one and felt so proud of ourselves. The dog went in the back with the esky and a tent, and we were free. A couple of years ago we upgraded, spending what is to me a lot of money to make sure we had a good, reliable car for our future travel plans.

If instead, my car had burnt last night it would have been an annoyance, but that's it. My eight-year-old little hatchback simply gets us from point A to point B. But our four-wheel-drive was different; it got us to some amazing point Bs and was central to our plans for more trips.

Sometimes our possessions are not just things - they're tied up with dreams and plans and goals. It leaves us open to such disappointment and setback, and that worries me. I want to avoid that happening again - I mean, how stupid to be all sentimental over a bloody car - but it's symbolic of our hard work and the choices we've made. Really, my heart is still racing after hearing our own address on that fire brigade radio, too.

For now, we have a load of administrative stuff to organise. And then we'll start planning what to do next.

I'm sure we'll be back on the road in no time.

New family stories on Kangaroo Island

2013-03-20T15:30:00.001+11:00

Kangaroo Island isn't quite what I expected. The brochures made me think it would be green and lush, but of course being part of Australia's driest state means red dirt, dried up rivers, and coastal flora that can only survive low to the ground. It's like the desert with added ocean views.

You have to dig to find the treasures on Kangaroo Island at times. Vivonne Bay on the south coast, for example, is renowned as one of Australia's prettiest beaches, however the campground there is essentially a gravel car-park. We opted to search around for smaller patches of paradise. (See below.) Also, the great food for which the island wants to be known is hard to find amongst a lot of average offerings. Choose carefully.

If you're heading to Kangaroo Island, be warned that supplies are few and rather far between: if supermarkets (of which there are only a couple) haven't yet had their deliveries their shelves will be almost empty - and what they do have is very expensive. So come prepared with your basics, but support the island by spending on attractions and some extras that are unique to this spot, like local seafood.

All those learnings aside, what's important about a trip with your family is the memories. And our trip to K.I. - as the locals call it - set the scene for stories to be told in our family for years to come...

Remember the time we camped by that beach (Wheatons Beach on the south coast) and had the whole place to ourselves?

Remember when I sent you on an 80 kilometre trip to buy nappies? (I get quite disorganised when I'm relaxed!) And you found that brilliant seafood place - Ferguson's - and came back with the fresh lobster we christened 'Barry' before cracking him open for dinner?

Remember the time we saw wild dolphins lazily cruising in... where was that again? Oh, that's right - it was during that walk we did near Penneshaw!

That was the walk along the coast to Ironstone Hill where we saw those amazing old ruins of the cottage, grain threshing floor and farm equipment - Abbey was enthralled by it all, remember?

Remember when we were just standing there chatting and some lady asked us, "Are you the people waiting to see the koala?" And we shrugged and nodded and she walked us over - complete with questions like, "What country are you from?" - and pointed out that gorgeous fluffy creature, the only thing that could make a tree branch look like a comfy bed?

Those massive rocks along the ocean cliff were quite, well, Remarkable too!

Remember when we patted a wild echidna? You guys had done it before but it was the first time I'd felt those surprisingly spongy spikes!

Remember that awesome beach? The one we thought was just rocks but we climbed through a cave and found the most magical aqua lagoon? What was it called again... Stokes Bay, that's right!

Oh yeah, that was when Iris was a rolling baby and we couldn't keep her on the rug - she was covered in sand!

Remember when Abbey was seasick? And then we drove for eleven hours to get home after that? Yep, we were a bit crazy! (No photo here. You're welcome.)

But I think the best part of that trip to K.I. was the walk at Snake Lagoon. (Pretty good camping spot there, too.) Four kilometres of rock scrambling, rewarded with the most pristine beach. Just our family's footprints. Pure peace.

Have you ever been to Kangaroo Island? Want to go? What would you like to see there?

So you want to be a travel writer?

2013-03-06T08:41:00.000+11:00

At work - near Ballarat

I've long held a dream to write about travel - it's my perfect job, combining two of my favourite pastimes. But it seemed like a pipe dream. I mean, a 'normal' (stop laughing) person like me leaving a respectable corporate job to be paid to have fun? Really?

Well... yes. At least, sort of.

In my true fashion I first spent some time pining after the dream before getting sick of myself and remembering my big motto in life: not happy with something? Then change it. In this case it meant, stop waiting for opportunities and just create them.

As with all the writing goals I've kicked so far it began here on the blog. Blogging about Walhalla and Wilson's Prom for Destination Gippsland made me think I could possibly do this travel writing thing. Being asked to give Bright and Ballarat some social media coverage gave me another push in the right direction - and I've used those trips to prove that I can do it in the traditional media space too.

I know it isn't quite the Dream of jetting around the world just yet, but writing about Australia - and especially Victoria - is perfect for me right now. These are places I'm passionate about, and it fits in with my little family who need me lots.

Not that it's all fun and frivolity. Travel writing involves its own set of skills, lots of research, and plenty of active travelling as opposed to relaxing. There's certainly a 'work' element to it that can be difficult - and tiring - to juggle with young kids. (I'm not complaining - just wanted to say that it's not all 'hey I'll take a holiday and be paid for it!')

The Great Ocean Road

Later this week I'm taking a trip I've been wanting to do for ages. The Great Ocean Road - where I'll be exploring an intriguing different angle to this major tourist attraction - will lead us towards Kangaroo Island in South Australia. I have three articles to write on these destinations, ranging from history to camping and hiking.

It didn't just come about - I made it happen. I wanted to explore these places and share some interesting stories, so I pitched my ideas and hey! They said yes. It's amazing what happens when you put yourself out there and start chasing the things you really want. And let's face it, it's hard to be a travel writer without getting out there.

I may not be riding elephants around Africa or rolling in cash but I'm the happiest I've ever been with my career.

Hobby shopping on a kayak

2013-03-04T09:13:00.002+11:00

That, my friends, is the Yarra River - but not as you may know it. This isn't the city end, obviously, but up closer to its beginnings: near Warrandyte in Melbourne's east. The site of my latest hobby-shopping trip, thanks to RedBalloon.

I had been wanting to try kayaking for ages. My last attempt was ten years ago when Steve and I were on our honeymoon, but I pretty much sat in the back of it slacking off while he did all the work. (Luckily not an omen for our marriage.) (At least, I don't think so.) Since then it's been kind of annoying to have that reputation, so I wanted to prove to myself - and him - that I can do it.

I put a lot of thought into the right location for my long-awaited attempt at solo kayaking. I like to look at the ocean but I'm not too keen on being in it so decided a river would be best - I love a lazy flowing river. And the Yarra proved the perfect combination of being easy for a beginner with the challenge of a few small rapids.

First up, let's get this bit out of the way. Yes, I looked a bit weird.

Have we all had a laugh at my expense? Okay good, moving right along...

The day began as most group outings do: the early arrivers (of which I'm always one) waiting for the latecomers. I didn't mind too much this time, as it gave me time to sort out my family - feeding baby Iris before I headed out onto the water, letting Abbey have a dip in the river, and appointing Steve as Head Of Photography for the day.

I then put forward my case to have a kayak all to myself. I just didn't want to be subject to falling in unless it was my own fault - and anyone who knows the Yarra's reputation will understand why I was keen to at least keep my face afloat. And then it was time to go.

I started with an interesting paddling style, my shoulders and back wanting to do all the work, but soon realised that if I kept that up I wouldn't last the trip. When I focused on my breathing, kept my body stable and used my core strength (and quite frankly, to find I have a four-month-old and some core strength was a nice surprise!), I could have paddled all day.

Steering was the hardest part. As well as getting my paddling style right, I also learnt how to use my body to help, because the kayak responds to your hip movements as well. And it's this that can make or break your 'staying in' ability! But I managed to guide myself down the river pretty well... that is, I only crashed into a couple of rocks and branches along the way. Not too bad for a first attempt, right?

And the funnest part? The rapids! Nothing too hard, but it was fun to figure out which way to best approach each rapid, and then just relax into enjoying it once I'd committed to a decision. Our guide let us hang around a couple of the rapids to have a 'surf' in the waves and a play around with different angles and paddling styles. Some of the group hung back, keen to keep moving, but I kept playing in the rapids. Lots of fun!

I'm in the lead! (Not a race, but still...!)

Although I didn't fall in (which either means I was okay at it, or wasn't daring enough) I was soaking wet by the end of it, but I didn't mind. Each drop of water felt like a drop of the river's peacefulness; by the end of the day I was more relaxed than I'd been in ages. I think being outside, getting out of the routine that you fall into when you have young kids, and trying something on the edges of your comfort zone has that effect.

These sorts of experiences are great for hobby-shopping - and I think I've found my new favourite hobby. I can picture our family of four paddling down a river in a couple of kayaks - when the baby's a bit older, anyway.

Now, where's the nearest kayak for sale?

Want to get to the edges of your comfort zone with a fun experience?

RedBalloon have an offer for you:

The girls

2013-03-03T14:20:00.000+11:00

She is thriving on her love of life.

Starting preschool, having more independence and more responsibility, has been exactly what she's needed. She plays non-stop, talks for every minute of the day, and soaks up everything there is to learn.

There are huge meltdowns, much cheekiness, and lots and lots of fun.

This kid makes me laugh.

She is thriving on every part of life.

Giggling, rolling, dribbling, and babbling - with the occasional bit of sleep - is what makes up her day.

And I'm enjoying having some one-on-one time with her, getting to know her even better. Some days when her big sister is at preschool I just spend hours making this little one laugh, and then sit and cuddle her while she naps.

The day the words almost died

2013-02-21T11:17:00.000+11:00

When I'm overwhelmed, the words stop.

They rush into my mind but I can't get them out. Or sometimes they come out but I can't publish them, in fear of boring you all.

And so I pronounce my words Mostly Dead. Which means there's hope, because there's a big difference between Mostly Dead and All Dead. Currently, they lie listless from the torture I've inflicted upon them, and together we'll wait for our very own Miracle Max to come along and upgrade them to Alive.*

See you on the other side.

(If you're missing my words terribly (ha!) then you can read some I wrote a little while ago that have made it into the magazine world. Current issues of Go Camping, Practical Parenting and WellBeing contain stories from me - my three favourite topics all on the stands at the same time!)

* That entire paragraph is a total rip-off of The Princess Bride. If you haven't read the book and seen the movie - shame on you. Go and do it!