Connected through cake

Last night I was a bit distracted, a bit busy, crocheting slippers for the birthday of the gorgeous boy of one of my best friends. He asked for orange and pink, which just filled me with joy, such gorgeous colours! I really wanted to get as much done as possible, to give them to him by the end of the week, so I was focussed and not really interacting with Indigo, and she didn't like it. Usually she is more than happy to play with Mat for hours and hours, but last night, even though he was right there, she kept coming up to me, bringing me books for her to read, placing toys on my lap, asking for a breastfeed when she'd only recently had one. I could tell she was a little unsettled that I was there, but not there for her.

At first I thought to myself, it's good for her to know I'm not there 100% of the time, it's good for her to realise I'm a separate person with my own desires and goals. But after a while I could tell it was getting to her, and I decided we needed a little connection. So I suggested to her that we place a tablecloth on the floor, get out the flour, eggs, sugar, vanilla, butter and coconut and make a cake together. Her whole face transformed into joy, and she clapped her hands and shouted "Yay!" So the table cloth went onto the floow, and I left her with a bowl into which I had cracked two eggs - she likes to play with the raw egg, letting it slip through her fingers and picking up the yolk, eventually piercing it and mixing the oozy contents with the white. It kept her occupied while I got everything ready. Then in another bowl we combined butter and sugar, and stopped to taste. She declared it good. You can't really go wrong with butter and sugar! Then we added coconut, and tasted again. We looked into eaah others eyes and nodded as we tasted, and Mat gave a third opinion, still really really good. Splash in the vanilla, the flour, some baking powder and the eggs, and a bit of soy milk, and now it was time to use the mixer!

A few months ago I bought a bright orange retro hand mixer on ebay and Indi and I both love it! We both hold the handle together while she switches it on, and then we watch the wonderful swirly patterns form in the cake batter as we mix away. Mesmerised, we probably mix more than we need to. Then together we poured the mixture into the lined cake tin and together we placed the tin in the oven. As we waited for the cake to cook, she played happily, her cup now filled as we had been connected through cake.

I'm so glad Indigo's old enough to get that we need to actually cook the cake - it always ended badly when she realised she wasn't getting cake right away and cried and cried as I put it into the oven. Half an hour later she came up to me just as I pulled the delicious golden dome out of the oven, and asked if it was cooked. And it was, to perfection. I smeared some butter on top, and dusted it with cinnamon and sugar, and cut us some generous wedges.

There are lots of ways that Indigo and I connect when we're in need of a bit of closeness, lying in bed and tickling, singing songs, going into the garden and searching for snails and slaters, picking vegies in the garden, crafting - the list goes on... but baking a cake together is the tastiest one for sure.

Dark dark day

The kind of day where I find myself looking at my child with such anger, with such frustration, that it scares me. The kind of day where the sound of her voice calling me, once again, yet again, causes every single teeny tiny muscle in my body to tense up. The kind of day that makes me want to disappear, or makes me want my child to disappear. Just for a bit. The kind of day I wish I could erase from my memory, and from hers.
I found myself in the late afternoon, curled on my side on the trampoline out the back, sobbing. I was hoping the neighbours weren't in their yards coz they surely would have heard me. I cried and cried and it just didn't seem to be stopping. Eventually I got it together enough to phone a couple of friends, and was lucky enough to get through to one, who listened to my sobbing with a great big open heart, who told me exactly what I needed to hear, and to whom I am so grateful. And I was also grateful that I even had friends in my life that I was prepared to call in such a state. It is actually a really hard thing to do. I suddenly had more respect and admiration for those that had called me up in tears. I never realised it was so hard, that you could feel so vulnerable. In a way, you are showing the person on the end of the line the dirtiest of your dirty laundry. You are balling it up in your fist and holding it out to them, shaking it like a pompom.
And if you are lucky your friend will stand there, they will look at that laundry being shaken in their face, unfazed. Then they will take your hand and lead you straight to the washing machine.
In my case that would involve stepping over the vacuum cleaner, the ridiculously large toolbox, the bucket with the soaking teddy bear in it that the cat peed on, and the many many other objects strewn over the floor of my miniature laundry. We may stumble, my friend and I, on our way toward that machine, we may curse and stub our toes on the way to emotional cleansing and wholeness. But as long as that friend of yours keeps a tight hold on your hand, and encourages you to keep your chin up, telling you everyone's become lost in large bundles of obscenely dirty laundry at times, all too often secret bundles which smell all the worse for being secret, that everyone's had rough times, and that we've all come through on the other side, with baskets overflowing with fresh clean laundry smelling sweetly of the sun and the grass and the spring air, that there is life beyond these dark dark days and that the sun will rise and happiness will return to hearts forlorn, if that friend can do this for you, then you are lucky, and you will be OK.
I am lucky, really lucky, and I was OK in the end. It has been a rough day but my child is asleep, I have a packet of Mint Slice biscuits handy right by my side, and a man to hug me and love me and tell me I'm a good mum.
Did I mention I was lucky?
Fuck I love my child, and fuck it is hard being a mum sometimes.

Astronauts are helping me feed my child!

It's true. And it's cute!


After a long and tedious spate of teething and illness, Indi's relationship with food had taken a backward step. While she was under the weather, we were lucky if she had five mouthfuls of food all day. Which in and of itself isn't a problem. I'm not worried she'll waste away or anything. But then she would ask for constant "meme" (Turkish for breast, kinda pronounced meh-meh with less emphasis on the 'h'). Which would drive me bananas. I have made a commitment to breastfeed my child until she is well past two, possibly three, as I really believe in the health and emotional benefits of doing so for the child. But really, personally, I'm not in love with the process. I've never been one of those women who go all doe-eyed at the sight or mention of breastfeeding, who feels physical pleasure and joy whilst nourishing their babe. I wish I was! It would make life so much easier! Maybe I would have been if Indi had fed every two to three hours like a lot of babies do (much to my amazement!). From birth Indi often fed every half hour, extending it to an hour at a long stretch. Sometimes she fed for hours on end, especially when it was hot. It was actually really hard work for me, the hardest thing I have ever had to do I think. Looking back (and really I didn't intend this post to be about breastfeeding, but here we are... ) I think that the frequency and intensity of Indi's feeding probably set the tone for my relationship to breastfeeding. Maybe if I had had a two to three hour break between feeds, I would have felt differently about it all. Who knows?


Anyway, (I've missed my long rambly blog posts!) so she was hardly eating, hardly sleeping, and breastfeeding all the time, and I was going nuts. But gradually her teething and cold subsided, and she got a bit of an appetite back, which was great. But it wasn't really where I wanted it to be. Sometimes it needed a bit of a kickstart. Sometimes she sat there, hungry, but didn't eat. It was as though she had gotten out of practice or something. One day, after preparing a healthy and delicious meal for us all, and knowing she was hungry, I was gettin' kinda frustrated when she, once again, refused to eat anything. She was excited as she saw the meal being served, and happily sat in her special chair with the cushion on it to boost her up. But nope, head turned to the side, chin up, she was not gonna be eating any of it thankyouverymuch.



After unclenching my jaw, I spotted one of her favourite toys at the moment, one which provides her with literally hours of entertainment. It was one of the many little astronauts we have about the place, from a spaceship toy collection of Mat's from when he was a teensy tiny cute little thing. These astronauts have baths with her, they get carried to the car and back when we go on trips, they get pushed around the house on her little trolley, or in her little wooden car, and of course they go on regular trips out into the cosmos on their many little spaceships of various shapes and sizes. On any given day you can look at any part of our house and see one somewhere, anywhere, as there are quite a few of them. So one happened to be on the kitchen table as we sat to eat our lunch. And I had a brainwave. I grabbed a bit of bread, impaled it on the arm of one of these astronauts, and suddenly the astronaut was asking Indigo if she wanted some bread. Well! You should have seen the look on her face. She leaned forward, eyes wide and mouth agape, and happily ate the bit of bread from off his little arm. And asked for more. And more. Success! A full tummy! A happy mama! Once again my brilliance and genius was on display for all the world to see - I love it when that happens!


So, since then, Indigo has been offered lots of food by the very generous and accommodating astronauts. Basically anything that has enough shape to be impaled onto something favoured can be guaranteed of some success consumption-wise, at least for a bit. And other toys have stepped in too, occasionally. She has had bits of tomato impaled onto the tail of one of her Siberian tiger figurines. And today she even had an astronaut straddle a spoon full of pumpkin soup, which turned it from (and I quote) "Yuk!" (this was as I was spooning it into her bowl, she hadn't even tasted it), to a silent but definite Yum.

Occasionally I wonder where this will end, whether she'll be fifteen and asking for food to be delivered on the end of her ipod or something. But for now, it's fun, it's damn cute, and it means a few less demands for the breast, which means a bit more sanity for this mama. And that's gotta be good, surely.

Thrice blessed, the return of the sun!

Happy Winter Solstice everyone!
I'm really pleased actually coz this is the first time I have actively celebrated a solstice/equinox off my own bat, in a meaningful way. I have meant to for years, but somehow never got around to it. I only remembered it was winter solstice when I logged onto facebook and saw that some friends of mine were going to CERES to the celebration being held there. I would have liked to have gone, but I'd just got back from being away for a few days with Indi and I wanted to snuggle at home with my baby and my man and my cats and not go anywhere. I still wanted to do something special. So I went about the house and gathered up a bunch of candles of all kinds, candles I've been collecting over the years but which I never really use very often. I spread them around our open plan lounge/dining/kitchen area, some in pretty coloured candle holders, hanging from cup hooks in the kitchen, sitting on top of bookshelves, on the mantlepiece, on the kitchen table, wherever there was a free surface (not an easy thing to find at our place). I lit them all and turned off the lights and instantly it was magical, a transformed space of sacred wonder. It's amazing the effect candles have, and instantly I wondered why I don't do this more often. Then the answer came to me - fire hazard! But it's nice to do it for special occasions. So there we sat, surrounded by our flickering points of brilliance and colour, pretty patterns dancing on our walls and ceiling as the light shone through the patterned coloured glass.
The lighting of the candles, to me, represents a return of the lengthening of the days, a return of the light, the return of the sun. This means a lot to me, as I'm quite solar powered and find it very easy to be joyful and happy when the sun is bright and the sky is blue. Conversely, dull overcast days are to be endured, and often leave me struggling and flat. I think this is quite common. Also, even though we really are only at the start of winter, on some level the lengthening of days tells some deep part of me that on the other side of winter is spring, my favourite time of the year, and that it's not really that far away. Winter has it's charm, to be sure - the snuggling in front of the heater, the nourishing soups and stews that one suddenly wants to cook, the chill of the cold on your cheeks on big long walks that would leave one wilted and frowny in summer, and the brilliance of cold blustery ocean power. But really, to be honest, of all the seasons it's probably my least favourite. I don't hate it, but I don't relish it either. Maybe for a few weeks in Autumn when I'm sick to death of the summer heat and the first few tendrils of cool air wrap themselves around me I enjoy it. But once the cold really sets in and gets below 15 degrees it's just drudgery for me. So raising my chin to the lengthening days and thinking of the spring to come helps me through the dark cold of winter.
So back to our little evening last night. I gazed across at the candles hanging in the kitchen from the cup hooks, congratulating myself on how beautiful it all was, and I spied the bottle of red wine sitting on the bench, three quarters full. And suddenly I thought of mulled wine. I don't know if it's a traditional winter solstice libation, but it damn well should be, and will be in our household from now on I can definitely say. I jumped online for a recipe, as I'd never had it, and was pleased to see I had most of the ingredients in my pantry. Fifteen minutes later Mat and I were sipping with wide eyed delight our first mouthfuls of mulled wine, and wondering why we'd never done this before. Indi had her stemmed brandy glass of herbal tea, which we usually give her when we're having a drink, so she doesn't feel left out, and in her usual good natured fashion she proposed a toast, and another, and another, and I thought it fitting that the Winter Solstice should be celebrated with three cheers. Hence the name of this post.
I sat on the loungeroom floor and sipped my wine, watching Mat and Indi play and laugh together, and I took a moment to harness the energy of the returning sun, to ask for it's blessing on my life and the lives of those I love, to shed it's life giving warmth on us all and help us to grow and love and laugh together, to blossom and thrive. And I felt the energy surge through me, powerfully, enhanced by the glow of the spiced wine, and it felt good.
And suddenly, with a bit of effort and attention and good spirit, we have what I would dare to call a family tradition on our hands, and it feels right. The lighting of the candles, the triple blessing with mulled wine, some time spent together feeling the specialness of it. I'm sure as the years pass, as the kids grow, other things will be added, special foods that they look forward to, special craft activities. This makes me really happy. I have felt for a while the lack of meaningful ritual and tradition in my life, never having been satisfied by those offered up my my own Turkish upbringing or those of mainstream Australian society. For a while I have had an urge to celebrate the solstices and the equinoxes, and to be more aware of the full and new moons. Gradually I'm getting there. These are the events that I feel are worth celebrating, the cosmic points of significance that move and shape us, whether we are aware of them or not. I believe that becoming more aware of them, spending some thoughful time on them, enhances their healing and invigorating power and harmonises us with our environment, with the universe within which we sit.
So here's to a future with many more celebrations, and lots more mulled wine!

Mulled Wine Recipe
1 bottle of merlot red wine
A good splash of brandy and/or whisky (I used both)
1/2 a cup of water
1 sliced orange
1/2 a sliced lemon
3/4 of a cup of sugar
5 star anise
7 cloves
1 whole nutmeg, broken into pieces
2 cinnamon sticks

Pour a bit of the wine (a third?) into a saucepan and add the rest of the ingredients. Simmer for five or so minutes, til it smells really good, but not too long. Remove from the heat and add the rest of the bottle of wine. Most recipes tell you to add all of the wine from the start but I think way to much of the good stuff must evaporate that way, so I chose this method and it worked wonderfully. Strain into a special looking jug or teapot (I used a silver one carved with swirling patterns that my mother bought me years ago from Turkey) and pour into your most special glasses. Sit back with loved ones, cheers each other three times from the heart, and enjoy!

gelati and bourbon

Today has been a mixed bag - like those old lolly bags you used to get at the milk bar, filled with stuff you loved and stuff you hated, but ate anyway.

Jeez hormones are a bitch hey? They make the mundane truly intolerable. For all concerned. I could tell today that there was a serious problem when I came back from my weekly market + supermarket shop with one green bag half full of goods. Usually I spend a lot and come back laden with delicious treats for the week. Today it was some meat for the cats, some chicken schnitzel for dinner and some juice. Even Mat looked worried as he 'unloaded' it from the car.

The day just got progressively worse. What can I say. A combination of out of whack hormones and long-standing family shit. My mum was meant to take Indi for a few hours, so that my estranged sister could bask in her glory. I actually get excited at the prospect of a few hours sans kid - to get our pigshit house in order and regain some semblance of sanity and peace. I get a call, sister has to leave, mum not taking Indi after all. My house is almost walking with all the micro-organisms that have decided it's a COOL place to live, and then she suggests that she come around. To sit in the pile of shit that has become my house. I politely (!) decline, and then begin rocking in my seat, back and forth, while silently breastfeeding, putting Indi's socks on, fighting off three boisterous kittens and trying to unload the dishwasher. Something had to give. It was a really important bit of my mind. THEN Mat bought a really big and strong bottle of scotch, and THEN we heard the beloved ice-cream man's van coming down the road. I took a really big gulp of my scotch and dry, swallowed, took another really big gulp, fished around in the beautiful red carnival glass dish Mat's mother bought me years ago, the one that holds some spare change for when the ice cream man comes around, and dashed outside, weilding child and coins, and bought Indigo a big gelati, all for herself, and managed to not sway one bit. Another scotch and a few more licks later, all was well, disastrous day turned around miraculously, and with a schnitzel dinner cooked up by my magical wondrous love, and devoured by all and sundry, the day was saved. Even the cats felt it, as they piled around us in kitteny feline love, and fell asleep, as did the aforementioned child, while mama and papa watched a bit of much needed pixelated goodness. Thank the good lord for gelati and bourbon I say.

*note - no bourbon was consumed by aforementioned child in above photo. In fact, a bit of artistic license employed as photo was taken a good six weeks ago when Indi was gifted with not one but two magical mystical icecreams (our leftovers) and rejoiced.

** geez it's hard to type when you've had that one too many scotches.

Happy Anniversary To Us!

Today is our fifteenth anniversary! Hooray!

Fifteen years ago, I was eighteen years old, just started uni, a huge new world that had me wide eyed and finally free of the cloistered life I had led previously. Within weeks Mat and I were circling each other, and after a few drunken pashes we decided to give it a go.

The funny thing is, I had already started and ended a two week relationship by that stage, with one of Mat's acquaintances, so Mat totally expected me to have my way with him and do the same. He even made a joke of it when we first decided to be an item, by celebrating our one minute anniversary. A good friend of ours, Mr Pi, bought us nachos to help commemorate the occasion. It was 7.22pm on the 21st of March 1994.

And here we are, fifteen years later, still together, and still very much in love. So much has happened, the ups and downs that you hear about but don't really understand when you are young. We have supported each other through deaths, through drug addiction and recovery, through a heartbreaking breakup and a sweet blissful reunion. We traversed the spectrum from not wanting any kids at all, to thinking OK well maybe one day, to yes we will try, and now we have our beautiful baby girl, the most gorgeous culmination of our love that I could ever imagine, even on the wildest of psychedelic trips. And we had our fair share of those as well.

In fact our cosmic union happened while high on LSD, camping in a friend's backyard, soon after we got back together. We traversed the universe together in that tent, and saw that we were indeed the true companion of the other, that no-one else could ever even hope to fill that space. It was during the come down from that trip that I doodled the design of the rings we now wear, the rings Mat's mother asked us to have made on her death bed a few days later.

So what did we do today to mark this most auspicious occasion? I suggested to Mat that we could get my mum to look after Indi for a few hours, for the first time ever, and we could go to fed square and have some Mohito's while watching the sunset, or go to Fairfield Boathouse and have a devonshire tea and row a boat down the river. He suggested we lay in bed and fuck. It didn't take me too long to realise once again that he is a wise man, a wise man indeed.

So after Indi woke up from her afternoon nap, we took her to Anne Anne's house (Turkish for mama's mama), and with trepidatious hearts we left, not knowing how she would handle a few hours away from us, albeit with her beloved grandma. I think Mat was more nervous than I was, coz I have left her with Mum before, but not for so long.

And we spent the most delicious hour and a half in bed that I can remember for a very long time! It seemed that time actually stretched out, so that it seemed we were there for hours, which was fantastic. We made love, slowly and passionately, in a way that has just not been possible for us with a small child, even while that child is asleep. She is a pretty light sleeper, so she would either wake up once we got going (even if we were in another room), or we would hear a dog bark or a bird chirp and think it was her waking, or we would have to keep quiet or be quick, and even though it's always nice when you can get some, it's just not the same as laying in bed, just the two of you, and knowing there is nothing else that will call you away, that you can take your time and focus and immerse yourself and just bliss out. Afterward we lay there and talked and laughed like we used to do when we were uni students and would spend literally all day in bed doing just that, day after day. It was SOOOO nice! I mean, we talk and laugh all the time, but it's just different when you're still tingling with the loveliness of having just made love, and all naked and intimate, and your hands are running over each other.

So after a couple of hours we called Mum and she said Indi was fine, but Mat felt he couldn't relax properly so we got dressed and drove over. As it turned out Mum called us when we were just around the corner, saying Indi was happy but getting tired, so it was good that we left when we did. We were so overjoyed to see her, like we had been gone for days. I'm gonna treasure the memory of that time we had though, just the two of us. Mama and papa got to be just Mat and Nalin for a while, and it was good.

Show us yer map o' Tassie!

Well what an awesome way to spend one's 33'rd birthday! How bloody lucky am I? Yay for cheap flights to Tassie, and yay for Mat who reluctantly agreed that even though we couldn't afford it, I really needed and deserved a holiday after what was, in many ways, a tough year.

I chose Launceston since I like to go to new places and hadn't been there before. What a gorgeous town it is! Set so beautifully in a gorgeous valley, with houses clinging up the steep slopes of the surrounding hills, I think it's the prettiest city I've ever seen. Well, apart from Venice and Florence, but that's some stiff competition! Certainly Australia's prettiest city.

On the first day there we went to Cataract Gorge, a beautiful place five minutes from the city centre, with a lake and a huge pool surrounded by gorgeous cliffs. It was hot, so Indi and I got to swim swim swim, and we had a ball splashing and giggling and buddying around. She's a lovely girl that one, we had lots of fun.

We hired a campervan, which is a great way to travel, since you can stop anywhere and you are home. But the down side was that we needed one that could accommodate a car seat for Indigo, which meant a van that was a bit weird layout-wise, and with not one but two very uncomfortable beds for us to sleep in. I must say, despite having a lovely time, it was heaven to sleep on our big, soft, luxurious bed last night when we got home. I kept waking up and being amazed at how much room we had! This was our home for four days (that's Indi asleep on my lap):


So on my birthday morning we woke up from our first night in the van, stretched out our kinks, and drove to an amazing rainforest gorge. It was GORGEous! No, really, it was. Stunning. It involved an hour's walk, down and then up a steep hill, whilst carrying a sleeping baby who weighs ten kilos. We were thoroughly put to shame by an old couple (I'm talking maybe 70's) who RAN the circuit walk three times while we trudged our one lap. Between them they had about a gram and a half of body fat, and they just exuded cardiovascular health. By the time they passed us the third time I felt like a walking chocolate eclair. Anyway, on the way down to the gorge we saw this amazing old tree.



Indigo woke up at some point, which I was really glad about, coz I really wanted her to experience the beauty we were surrounded by. It felt good to be sharing it with her, and I think she really appreciated it. It really was a magical place.








Then we had lunch at a beautiful winery overlooking the Tamar River. It was a true gourmet meal, and was my birthday present from my family. I finally got to sample some of Tasmania's much raved about food, and it certainly didn't disappoint. We were oohing and aahing our way through the whole thing. And this was the view from our table on the verandah.



We kept driving (we were able to time our drives with Indi's naps most of the time) and camped by a beach that night, and since Indi went to sleep early (she actually fell asleep during a beach walk at sunset, and then stayed asleep for the rest of the night) Mat and I got some real one on one time (both the talking and the not-so-talking kind), which was really great.

Indi did so well during the trip, in terms of driving and being happy in unfamiliar surroundings and just generally being a good sport about being carted off to way too many places per day. She's not a happy car traveller generally, but Mat and I were both so impressed with how she coped nonetheless. Here are some pics of my sweetie:



Over the next two days we drove back to Launceston and saw some sights, got caught in a storm and almost got blown off a bridge (well that's what it FELT like!), got a bit of cabin fever during a wet evening, and had a yummy chinese meal. We got to see a cuttlefish (Mat's highlight of the trip; he has a special connection with the cuttlefish. They are pretty amazing creatures.) Also went strawberry picking, and bought a yummy strawberry wine. And then on the last day we went on the most amazing bushwalk through Hollybank forest, which was really brilliant, another magically beautiful place of lush green wonder, and which had a long path called the Walk of Change that led us to the most amazing river and waterfall, totally secluded and brilliant and lovely. We all drank from the waters in a ceremonial gesture of thanks and connection, a libation to commemorate a great walk, and a great way to end a special holiday.

Thank you Mat for making it possible. I love you.

A Happy Birthday it was. Travelling with my beautiful family. I'm a lucky lass!

I like January

It's always been my favourite month. While December was a real cracker of a month, busy but very enjoyable, January has that slow post-festive feel to it, with strings of days with not much on, some extra luxuriating, and maybe even a trip away somewhere. Also it happens to have my birthday in it, late in the month, which automatically takes it up a notch special-wise. Mat's birthday is four days after mine, and each year we really like to indulge ourselves during the period between Christmas and our birthdays, which is a whole month of indulgence! Hmmm, hang on, if we add that on to the indulgence that happened throughout the whole of last December, and which seems set to repeat itself each year, that makes almost two months of indulgence. No wonder my pants are all tight! But hey, life is short, and two months of indulgence out of twelve seems alright to me. Just might mean I have to go pants shopping more often that's all.

So what am I doing for my birthday this year? Going to Tassie!! I am SO excited, seriously, like bopping in my seat excited. We are going for three nights, and hiring a campervan after flying into Launceston, which I chose simply coz last time we flew into Hobart and I'd like to see somewhere new. So three nights to take it easy and drive as we please and stop where we please, and see the north coast of Tassie, and eat yummy expensive food at fancy wineries and restaurants, woo hoo!! So the trip itself is my birthday present from Mat, and my mum and sisters are putting in to pay for some of the fancy eating I wanna do. People always rave about Tassie's food, and last time I didn't get to sample any of it coz we were doing it on the cheap and we just cooked for ourselves, but this time, I'm not going home without a couple of belly-fulls of awesome Tasmanian fare, washed down with some delicious local wines, thankyouverymuch!

And it will be our first time travelling in a plane with the wee little one. Who knows how it will go?? She has been slowly getting better at travelling in the car, which has been such an ordeal over the past year, to the point where she can now travel up to half an hour with few issues, and more if she falls asleep. Hence why the campervan is so good for us, coz we can travel in fits and spurts and not have to make our way back each night, and we can keep going the next day. Not to mention I love camping and caravans and caravan parks and all that stuff. But flying, well, it could be great, coz she will be on our laps and not strapped into a device which keeps her on her own (half the problem of the car), or it could be terrible, coz she might get restless and squirmy and start bleating her little bleat of complaint which she does when we are at a cafe or restaurant or something for too long and she wants to crawl and explore, as she is designed to do. We have bought her some new funky stuff to play with on the trip, so hopefully it will go well. And it's only an hour, at the end of the day, even if she howls the whole way, it won't be too long, for her, for us, and for the other passengers. But regardless of how the plane trip goes, me is excited....

Indigo has just been developing so much these last few weeks, it is such a joy to watch. Mat and I laugh and beam at her so often, it is such a wonderful shared bliss we have. She has learned more words (nose, frittata, banana, and of course her favourite food of all, cheeeeeeese! All said in her own unique babbly style of course, plus a bunch more but my mind is blank) and has also learned how to kiss, which just melts our hearts into little puddles of love. She kisses us on the lips unbidden, and she kisses her toys, and yesterday when she was listening to my mum speak to her on the phone, she kissed the phone! Those tiny little puckered red jubes of lips, oh my lord, does life get any sweeter than when your adorable daughter purses her lips and leans towards you and lifts her little head for a kiss??? If there is I am yet to find it.

So we pass the days in a lazy way, playing in the sandpit or the wading pool or in the outdoor spa, gardening and picking vegies for dinner, and dangling things in front of kittens and laughing as they jump around. We eat yummy organic fruit (I have just discovered the joys of organic stone fruits - WOW!!) as we lay on the trampoline, and go for walks, and hang out with family and friends. It's a damn good life I gotta say. I'm having a good year so far!

Well hello there, possums!

It's been aaaages! Dunno wot happened really, lost the blog bug for some reason. Plus the fact that I've been ridiculously but deliciously busy (ie. busy making lots of food for multiple gatherings of lovely people). December has been quite a month!

And it occurred to me, in amongst the craziness, that pretty much every year December is going to be a wild and crazy month. And I love it! There are so many gatherings in December, and just this year another three have been added to what was already a fairly busy month. We know so many people born in early December, but for our family the festivities begin with my dear mother's birth on the 12th. The family always gets together for a dinner together, either at someone's house or a restaurant. This year it was both! We converged at a very unsuitable location (family unfriendly or what?!), chosen by my sweet but misguided sister, and ordered take away gourmet pizza and took it all back to my sister's place, where we all shared and laughed and the kids jumped off the couches and it was much nicer. Then the next day was Indi's first birthday (YAY!), which I had been cooking for over the previous week, freezing stuff to be baked the day before (good plan, will continue doing this), and for which I have exactly zero photos, since my sisters took all the photos and I have yet to even see them. Will post them when I have them. And it went really really well, despite our park location being rained out and having to have it at home instead. It was crowded, but that just meant more joy per square metre really, and Indi was a star hostess! She didn't get freaked out at all, as I was fearing, but just got more and more excited, and when it came time to sing happy birthday she hunkered down in my arms and looked at every one with wide eyes til they were finished hooraying. As I cut the cake and people started milling, she suddenly clapped her hands and shouted "HRAY!", and everyone cracked up laughing, as did she, and she did it again and again and MANG it was so bloody cute, I think I will remember that for ever!

Oh I have one photo, of the cake I made, taken the night before just before I went to bed, satisfied all was as it should be:


Cute huh? I bought the icing flowers, so disregard any visions you might have conjured of me weilding the piping bag, it didn't happen. Much easier to hand over a few bucks at the cake supplies store nearby and buy some fruit mince pies to munch on at the swiss cake shop next door, yum! They were still warm too... But I digress!

OK, two birthdays down, but no rest for me, I had much cooking to do to prepare for the Christmas feast I was planning. I had to be creative and plan well since Christmas Eve my sister wanted us to gather at her place for the first of what will be our yearly tradition from now on, and on the 23rd it was Pa's 92nd birthday (go Pa!!). So three days in a row of gathering with family and wonderful food and celebrating lovely stuff. Plus a last minute invitation to a boxing day dinner at a friend's parent's place, and then tomorrow the last of the lot, a gathering at Mat's aunty's place, again the first of what she hopes will be a yearly gathering, post Christmas. Phew! Let me count them... seven events! And that's not counting the odd 'getting together with friends just coz we like em' thing too, which we also did. For kinda hermit-like peeps, that's a whole lotta socialising. And I have loved every minute of it. Six of those events will be repeated each year, each December, and I reckon it's awesome.



Here are some photos of us since my last post, just random shots of loveliness.

Me and Mat in a lovely moment.


The WHOLE kitty family, with mama top left, papa bottom right, and five kittens in between, all squished onto one armchair. How cute is that? They love each other so much. I think it was a couple of days before the first two kittens were taken to their new home, so I'm glad I took it when I did.


Kingu is the little ginger lady we will be keeping. Mat chose her, and she is most certainly the most remarkable of the kittens. She has pluck, and she purrs a lot. And her name means Chaos Dragon.
She's a TIGER! Fer-O-cious!


Yesterday I finally got my pool swimmable for the first time this summer, and Indi went into it with me! She had a great time! So much better than public indoor pools with their weird chlorine smells and echoes and freakiness, she was much more relaxed in our pool, which made me so happy. She just might be a water baby after all!

I just WISH this shot wasn't blurry, but you can see her joy through the blurriness, and it shows what a busy bee she's been sprouting all those teeth! She has four fully out, and there are two more sprouted below and another two on top. She makes the cutest teensy little bite marks in her cheese slices!

And here is the wonderful Dr Chops, my spirit cat who has gone through so much change and upheaval this past year, and who I love to bits. He is joined by Moo.

Neighbours

The three of us were sitting out on our front porch today, with Indigo playing with the remnants of our yummy lunch made by Mat (a yummy egg and fetta cheese omelette, mmmm!) when I noticed Mat looking intently just beyond our front fence, a bit I couldn't see due to the bushes threatening to engulf the chair I was sitting on. I asked him what he was looking at, and he said, quietly, "A man, right next to our fence," and kept looking. I leaned forward to catch a glimpse of this man, and heard a wizzing sound, and another, and another, and then all of a sudden a motor catching and buzzing into action. It was a wipper snipper thing. And then we both suddenly realised who it was, and what they were doing. It was dear old Barney, my favourite neighbour who lives a little down the road, and who walks past with his lovely wife Heather every day on their trip to and from the local shops. They usually walk pretty slow, as they are in their late sixties/early seventies, but Barney is still as sharp as a tack, with a cheeky glint in his eye he lets with wisecracks fly before you even realise, and giggles as you finally catch on. He's a funny man, and has a really big heart. We always have a nice chat when we see each other, and always enjoy a laugh or two together. Anyway, he has suggested more than once that I borrow his wipper snipper to trim the buffalo grass that has climbed our front picket fence, about a foot and a half high. It is a huge mass of grass that is impossible to mow, it is so thick, and we just ignore it and mow around it and it gets higher and higher. I think each time Barney walks past it it annoys him. We also have a dodgy section of fence which keeps blowing down each time there's a big wind, and each time Mat puts a few more nails into it, which holds it up until the next big wind. Well lately this big of fence has been down a lot, coz the winds have been massive, and I reckon Barney has been muttering under his breath every time he walks past at how lazy we are not trimming the grass or fixing that fence. So finally, he decided to take matters into his own hands, and so he turned up with a wheelbarrow, his wipper snipper, some nails and hammer and some wood, to bloody trim that bloody grass and fix that bloody fence himself! So he just turns up and starts doing it! Without saying anything! Hilarious! We cracked up laughing, gave him a beer, and Mat took the hammer and took over the mending of the fence, under Barney's firm and precise instruction of course. When the grass was trimmed and the fence fixed, he loaded up his tools back into his wheelbarrow, and after many thanks and laughs from us, he wheeled his stuff back home, declining our offered cup of tea but promising to come back with Heather one day to take us up on it. It was just a lovely thing to do, and both Mat and I were filled with a sense of humorous thankfulness. So thank you Barney, the grass is trimmed, and the fence fixed (ugly, but sturdy), and you can resume your daily walking in peace, not having to be irritated by those lovely but lazy people at number 81.

Big Questions

It occurred to me today, whilst changing Indigo's nappy, that I have had a very productive day, and that most of my days are in fact almost as productive. Today I planted out my whole vegie patch (Hooray! Methinks this topic deserves it's own post...), I walked for an hour with Indi in the Ergo to get her to sleep in the morning, I played with Indigo and Mat over lunch (so much fun, giggly chortles aplenty!), I watered my new garden while holding Indi (all bloody 8.5kg of her!), and for the rest of the evening I planned to chop the cat's meat (three kilo's of it), make a lentil vegie soup for our lunches for the next few days, and prepare dinner. It felt like a decent day's work! And I mentioned to Mat that we are both really quite productive in our own ways. I am used to thinking of him as productive - he is a super prolific artist, musician and writer, and the evidence of his productivity surrounds us and crowds his ever cluttered studio (and the garage!) But I am not so used to thinking of myself as overly productive. I usually think of myself as quite a leisurely sort (or at least I did before I became a mum!), who could spend a day lounging around reading quite blissfully. But these days especially I think I really do achieve quite a lot in a day, and most days, with no break at all.

But something else occured to me, standing there at the change table, as Indigo chewed on her foot. Whilst the products of Mat's creativity are visible, audible, readable, the products of my own productivity more often than not end up either on the compost heap or down the toilet! It's kinda horrifying, and a tad disappointing! Well my two main joys are gardening and cooking. So I'm either growing it, or buying it, or preparing and cooking it, or eating it. What we don't eat ends up on the compost, and what we eat, well.... ends up as poo. It's not really what I would consider a life's work. Compost and poo. I really would probably prefer to be remembered for more noble outcomes or products than compost and poo. I mean, sure, we're all kept in good health by my efforts in the kitchen, and we sure do enjoy our delectables on a daily basis (we are not the kind of household that skimps, let's put it that way!). Aesthetically I get to design and create and handle all kinds of lovely foods, and gardening wise I am kept healthy and spiritually whole by my green thumbs.

But I guess the question that inevitably ended up forming itself in my head, whilst standing there changing Indigo's nappy (which was a pooey nappy too, quite apt!), was whether all this effort, delightful and enjoyable as it is, constitutes a meaningful life. A full life. Whether it is enough?

Enough for whom? A good question. Me? Others? Is this about what I think of myself, or how others will judge me? A bit of both I guess. I wonder whether it is enough for me. But also I find myself thinking of how my child(ren?) will view me when they are teenagers. Whether they will be able to respect me, or whether they will look down on me if all I ever do is garden and cook. And occasionally dabble in something creative. While the cake bakes.

I remember a woman in a novel I read once (dunno which one?), quoting her mother, who once advised her to create something that would not be consumed or messed up each day. To not devote one's entire life to making food that would be eaten or beds that would be slept in (I don't make beds, but still). To make something each day that would last. I find this sentence ringing around in my brain after all these years, even though the names of the author and book from which it came are long gone. Clearly it struck a chord.

I think for so many years of my adult life I have struggled simply to be well and happy. I spent my twenties battling addictions of substance and soul. There was no time, or energy, for grand pursuits over and above trying to be happy and learning how to live well. It has taken me a long time to get where I am now, where I am happy with who I am and where I am at, most of the time at least. At this point in my life I scarcely have time for a shower some days, let alone time to find another meaningful pursuit to add depth to my life. But I think once the hustle and bustle of child-rearing slows a little, enough to create some space, some time to sit and think and breathe slowly (dare I say, time to be contemplative), then I think there will be something else added to this delightful mix of seeds, weeds, cakes and soups. I can feel something forming, taking shape in some way, although it is still way too embryonic and amorphous, too new and fragile just yet, to shed public light on.

But yeah, I think one day there will be more depth, and more meaning, to what I do, in a lasting way. But for now, with a baby, and possibly more on the way, I am happy in my garden and my kitchen, and consider my time spent in both as a rich and wonderful backdrop for my kids' lives. I can see that the things I love to do, as well as providing me with endless joy and satisfaction (anyone who has smelled and bitten into a sun-warmed home grown tomato knows of what I speak), as well as making me happy, I can see how these things provide a lovely environment in which my kids will grow and learn, and one that to be honest I am proud to create and provide.

My Man

Looking at this photo just now, as I've been uploading it, I am struck firstly by how much of a spunk he is, and secondly by how much sharedness we have together, Mat and I. I have looked at his face for almost half of my life. There is so much 'us-ness' between us. Fourteen years of it. It's a long time. But then again, when we are old and grey and our wrinkled toes instinctively find each other in the bed for the six billionth time, fourteen years will seem like a drop in the ocean.

This man, this brilliant, unique, spectacular man, has shaped my life in ways I could never have predicted. Somehow I knew as I looked at him across the room one day, drawing feverishly, that he was a catch. But I had no idea just what kind of crazy adventure I was embarking on by choosing him as my man. We have had the most amazing highs together, so many of them, and ridiculously high! Our feet barely touched the ground for so long. Years. Two innocent, big hearted souls bursting with joy in the presence of each other, heads shaking in disbelief at the fact that feelings this intense were even possible! A cosmic dance of connection and union, two true opposites joining to form a magical whole.

We've also had our lows, as all couples do. Our feet did touch the ground, eventually. I in particular got bogged down in some muddy ground that I spent the next decade trying to get clear of. Mat was such a complex part of it all. In some ways, he held me up and kept me from totally drowning in my self-destructive urges. He loved me through it all, and stayed by my side when many would have left. He barely wavered. And in other ways at other times he took my hand and led me in even deeper, when I was barely staying afloat as it was. Relationships are funny like that.

We are such different people, Mat and I. Really complete polar opposites in so many fundamental ways! Sometimes I don't know how it has ever worked at all! He loves black metal and breakcore and all sorts of noise "music", and I love silence. The sounds of nature. Or Radio National. I love food and cooking and love planning meals and shopping for food at markets and cooking and eating, love love love it all, and he could quite happily subsist on toast and coffee and the odd pizza. I love travelling, he hates it. Seriously. He is the only person I know who gets stressed out about going away for the weekend, and would really rather not go, thank you very much. He is a true hermit, only emerging from his cave to play the odd gig now and then. I have dreams of travelling
Australia and the world; he could think of nothing worse. I really could go on with these diametrically opposed elements of our personalities, but really, there are so many that it would become a very boring post indeed. Suffice to say, alike we are not!

But beneath and beyond all of these surface level differences, our deepest and most dearly treasured values are almost completely matched. We share philosophies on life and people and morality. We stand united on everything political, environmental, social. The same things make us angry with the world, the same things fill us with hope and joy. We agree totally and utterly about how to parent Indi, what we feel is important in shaping her environment, in order to totally support and nurture her beautiful little body and soul. And that is just so wonderful. So wonderful. All of these things which are really important to us, all of these things which are a part of a life lived thoughtfully and from the heart, we share. And for that I am so very grateful.

But for some time now I have been feeling a little lost in amongst all of our great differences. I have been lamenting the lack of shared interests, and the resulting fact that a lot of the joys we both experience in life are experienced without the presence of the other. It has made me really sad. The other day Mat told me he thought I was unhappy, or stressed, most of the time. I reacted really badly to this, because I have been feeling more like I have found my place on this earth than ever before, now that I am a mother. I have felt more fulfilled, truly, than at any other time in my life. And it made me really sad that he wasn't seeing this. And I realised that a part of the reason was that many of my joys, my daily happinesses, occur without him. They happen in my garden, on my walks, when I connected spiritually. Or in my kitchen. All without him, all private. I questioned whether this was right. Whether a truly healthy relationship can exist between two people who really are so very different in terms of what they like to do with their days. Whether the infinite love two people both share for their daughter was enough of a 'shared interest' (if you can call it that) to be enough? It has been really hard having these thoughts.

But then, when I really really think about it, in the areas that matter, in the way our hearts dance in our breasts, in the way our eyes sparkle and gleam with love and joy, we are so united. We may DO different things, without the other, but when it comes down the the important stuff, we are right there, side by side. At the end of the day, I would rather, much rather, be with a person who has interests really different to mine but who shares my deepest values, than with someone who likes to do the same things as me but doesn't agree with my core philosophies on life.

I think that relationships are complex beings, and as the old cliche goes, they are hard work. They really are. But when I look back at the relationship between Mat and I, I feel so blessed, so awesomely lucky to have found someone so caring, so loving, so passionate, and so truly unique. Anyone who knows Mat understands what I mean. He is a very special person. A real gem of a human being. I don't know anyone who lives by their morals as closely as he does, who lives so thoughtfully, so authentically, so earnestly. I don't know anyone else who has such a drive to create and be creative. And I don't know anyone else who has been so unwaveringly supportive, who has stood by my side, the whole bloody time, with love just pouring out of him. Not only am I the luckiest woman alive, to have him, to be with him, but my daughter is the luckiest girl in the world to have him as a father. He is the most loving, devoted and joyful father I have ever seen, ever!

I am crying as I write this, as I declare to the world, once again, how much I love him.

Mat, my cosmic partner, my true best friend. I love you so much! Thank you so much for every minute, my sweet one. I am truly blessed. You have shown me love beyond anything I could have even fantasised about before I met you. You have expanded my mind and my heart, and introduced me to whole new worlds. I continue to learn and be inspired by you. And I couldn't have dreamed up a better father for my child. I feel like the queen of the world, living by your side, your cosmic wife.

Strawberry Patch on Wheels

Yep, that's right, I'm currently in the middle of creating the world's first completely portable strawberry patch. How? Why? Let me explain...

A couple of weeks ago I walked to the supermarket, and I bought way too much to carry home, especially with an incredibly cute eight kilos of little girl strapped to my body, so I brought home my shopping in one of those big metal supermarket trolleys. Huge ungainly things that they are! I had such trouble bringing it all home, they are so HEAVY (I think these days trolleys are actually larger than they used to be -probably so we can be tricked by the evil supermarket tycoons into buying more - they are so deep I almost fall into them trying to get the last little packets out of the bottom. I have visions of little old ladies taking dives into them as they overbalance, their legs waving around as they wait to be helped out.) and the footpaths are all much more uneven than you would ever notice just walking along. I spent the whole walk home trying to prevent the damn thing from either rolling onto the road, the nature strips or banging into fences. Do others have this issue? Maybe it's just me. Anyway, it was annoying. So the thing has been sitting in our front yard since then, waiting for me to take it back. It just didn't seem to be happening. It wasn't that I didn't go on lots of walks, in the direction of the supermarket. I went on heaps. I could have done it multiple times. But my general inclination for some reason just didn't seem to be leaning towards hauling this massive, cumbersome, LOUD contraption back from whence it came. Especially empty. At least a full trolley represents the promise of delicious treats and wonderful ingredients to unpack at the other end. An empty trolley is just dead weight. Not appealing at all!

Strawberries, I hear you ask? Why all this faffle about trolleys? Yes, well recently some dear friends who were moving out of their rented home gifted us with about 30 strawberry plants from a wonderful patch they had created, but were now leaving. I was so stoked!! I had always dreamed of growing a whole strawberry patch, but for some reason in my mind it was placed in the category of really awesome things other people did but not me. (I really must minimise the number of things in that category, life's too short!) So anyway, I went ahead and dug out a lovely section of lawn and created my own lovely patch, and planted away. They all looked very happy in their new home, and my mouth watered as I imagined the bountiful bowlfuls of delicious homegrown organic strawberries that we would be surrounded by. Yay!

Until I did a little research (well, actually I just mentioned my new patch to Tania as we sat in the sun in her lovely backyard, sipping herbal tea) and discovered that strawberries need a raised mound to grow well, with lots of drainage. Bugger! My patch was not only un-raised, it was a kind of a ditch. Hmmm. Not good. I wanted the best for these strawberries, I wanted them to really thrive, and living in a ditch just wasn't gonna cut it for them. Also, I had recently been inspired (as per a few blog posts ago) to really devote a big area of our garden to veggies. And really, the strawberries, although lovely and wonderful and delicious and marvellous, were taking up a huge piece of prime vegie land. I knew I had to make a decision, and it wasn't gonna be easy.

And then one day, as I sat on my front porch and looked out over my garden, and pondered (as I do often) I had a brilliant idea. I could take this here godawful trolley, line it with the bit of shadecloth I had sitting in the garage, fill it with soil and compost and all manner of lovely things that strawberries love to dine on, and turn it into a planter! AND, not only could I plant them in the top, as no doubt you are imagining right now, but I could also poke holes in the shadecloth along the *vertical sides* of the trolley, and grow strawberries up the SIDES! Pure genius! I almost saw a flash of light come out my ears as this thought formed itself in my brain. The whole darned THING could be covered in lovely delicious strawberries! Yay!

So it's underway. This afternoon while Indi and Mat sat on a blanket on the grass, chatting and singing, I spent an hour lining the trolley with the shade cloth and hauling into it a bunch of home made compost, potting mix, sheep manure, blood and bone, sulphate of potash and a bit of pine mulch and mixing it all together. Dr Chops was fascinated and kept sniffing around and investigating. And then Indi got sick of it all and wanted a feed and a nap, so we left it at that, and now we have a trolley filled with soil on the lawn. My neighbours now have even more reason than before to think I am mad. But oh well. Will *they* have a strawberry patch on wheels? No, no they won't.

Chink!

Well it happens to the best of us, it happens to the worst of us, and it has finally happened to my little girl. Her first tooth (teeth?) have emerged! Just peeking outta the surface of her bottom gum. She has been showing the symptoms of teething for a good three weeks now (her first fever three weeks ago, and her first dose of panadol, nappy rash, rubbing her ears, and a bit of general grumpiness from time to time), so we knew it was imminent. I wouldn't even have known if I hadn't have given her a drink from my glass of water (she has a sippy cup but I'm teaching her to drink from a glass as well), and after some blowing of bubbles, some dribbling, a few gulping sounds (at least *some* was getting in!) I heard a definite "chink!" sound! It took me a second to realise what it meant! How exciting! I don't quite know what I am so excited about to be honest, I mean, it happens to everyone as I mentioned before, and the thought of lots of little chompers near my already overworked nipples is not too delightful! But it is a definite milestone. She's growing up, my little girl.

She's also holding herself up on her hands and knees for longer and longer. Just this last week she has developed so much, and she clearly enjoys her new superpowers of stability! Until she gets a bit tired and faceplants for a few seconds. Now this crawling thing is not a milestone I am in a huge rush for her to accomplish. I am happy for her to take her sweet old time about it, as I have been told over and over by other mums that it just takes things to another, more frenetic level, as they scurry about the place wreaking havoc. But such cute little havoc!

Well to aid her in her scurrying, and mainly coz after three years of living in this house I was just bloody sick of the lounge room arrangement which I didn't like from the beginning, we did a big shift around in there and somehow we have managed to knit some more universe or something coz now we have so much more space! It's great! Mat and I, and Dr Chops, are all loving it! Chopsy has been just uber-cute, rolling around on his back with complete and frivolous abandon, playing with his favourite toy of all time which had become lost under the couch and which emerged during the shift around. He is so happy! And this toy, it is so funny, it is a shred of plastic bag, those thin clear ones you get near the vegies at the supermarket, which I had tied a knot into a few times, back when he was a kitten, like TWO and a HALF years ago. He loved it instantly! It is now like a plastic floppy anemone, some whisps of plastic joined by the knot in the middle, and there is nothing else on this sweet sweet earth that gives him the same unbridled joy as this bit of plastic. The first night it emerged, he woke me twice in the night coz he had jumped on to our bed with it in his mouth and played with it for ages. He never does this! He sleeps on our bed when he wants to but he never plays with things on his own like that, and never in the middle of the night! Despite it being 2am, and having just been woken after getting back to sleep post feeding Indi, I smiled in the darkness at my beautiful spirit-cat's joy. He is such a special one. I love him.

Living a Simple Life, and Living it Well!

I have just been reading this great blog on living simply and being as frugal and self sufficient as possible, and I must say I am inspired and invigorated! I have been reminded of many a thing of great importance to me, such as being gentle with the earth and having minimal impact on the environment, being close to nature and growing your own food, spending less and being satisfied with what you have, and being creative with fewer resources rather than constantly buying and consuming and disposing of. These are wonderful things to be reminded of!

I have always valued these things, but over the last few years I have become rather lazy in my commitment to them. I think as our household income grew over the years, and buying things became easier and easier, I became quite the capitalist consumer. I fell a little in love with this model of living that is thrust upon us by society at large, that of working and purchasing and throwing away, a life isolated from one's environment, isolated from nature, and isolated from the effects of one's actions on the planet and it's inhabitants, such as the huge amount of resources used, natural environments spoiled by contaminants, land degraded by commercial farming methods, air polluted by factories and cars and electricity generation, and animals suffering for our pleasure. Not to mention the millions of people over the world who are affected by slave labour or who are grossly underpaid, and have awful living and working conditions. All of this is the effect of the obese capitalist Western lifestyle. Over the last few months I've had a growing awareness of the distance that has developed between my morals and the reality of my life, and I have been slowly trying to bridge that gap. Reading the blog has inspired me to make more of an effort in this area, to speed things up, to go further than I have been going lately, or ever before, and to finally put things right.

This is a very good thing. It makes me feel good in the pit of my tummy, a sure sign I am on the right path. And where does this path lead me? It leads me towards a life that sees me growing into my full potential as a human being, living in the greatest harmony with my surroundings, and with a deep sense of satisfaction and gratitude for all that I have. It leads to what I would call a bloody good life.

OK, so growing your own food is a huge part of this living simply and sustainably thing. Ever since I was a wee one I was heavily into gardening, of all kinds. I have always had a particular fondness for combining my two great loves, gardening and food, so the vegie patch has always had a very special place in my heart. The photos in this blog are of things I from my garden. (The first two photos are of three different kinds of beetroot, and the last one is a punnet of rainbow chard just before planting.)

So until now, my vegie patch has been a place of indulgence, really. I have grown vegetables, often from seed, for the sheer pleasure of gardening itself. With the exception of the amazing tomato, my favourite food plant of all time, my crops have been intermittent and sporadic, and have been secondary in importance to the process of growing, the joy of planting seeds and watching them sprout (a very special time), helping them become seedlings, planting them out and caring for them into their old age. It has given me countless hours of untold pleasure, it really has, and I imagine it always will. But something has been gnawing at the pit of my stomach for a while, and I have been ignoring it for long enough. I have never even come near to growing a decent fraction of the vegetables that we consume on a day to day basis. Like I said, the tomato is the exception to this. Each year I grow kilos and kilos of wonderful tomatoes, often five or six different varieties, and from mid-summer into autumn we are self-sufficient tomato wise, with enough for sharing (another special thing). Other than the tomato, however, and the odd crop of lettuce, silverbeet and zucchini (anyone who has ever grown them knows the feeling of a glut of zucchinis, which seem to grow an inch every time you turn around) the things that I harvest are considered special treats, things to delight in and savour. I have never planted in the numbers required to really feed us, or staggered my plantings to ensure a long harvest period, or devoted the required space for a serious kitchen garden.

But I think I've had it with this type of middle-class indulgent gardening. It's been fun, lots of fun, but I think now it's time to turn my skills and my enthusiasm into something the whole family can really, truly, tangibly benefit from, in terms of nutrition and cost. I want to grow an organic vegie garden that I can really rely on to feed us well, for most of the year.

I'm a little daunted by this task to be honest. This will need some serious garden space, and some real time and effort. But to be honest, everything that's involved is stuff I love doing, it's just that I need to do more of it than I ever have. There are harder things to swallow in life than doing more of what you love than you have ever done before. I think I'll cope!

I'm really quite excited. Spring is just around the corner so this is the perfect time to start planning what I will need and order my seeds (yay!!). I've got a compost heap just bursting with goodness, thanks to the wonderful Mat who took over maintenance duties at some stage (much to my surprise and delight) and I've got a few garden beds in mind that have a couple of straggly flowering bushes on them, and that had better get ready for a good overhaul.

There are many other things discussed on the blog such as stockpiling, making your own cleaning products and not spending unnecessarily, all of which I want to incorporate into my life, but this is the bit I'm most excited about, to be honest.

And I can't help but think this is wonderful stuff for Indi to see and be involved with as she grows older. Having her around is a real incentive for me to be really authentic to my beliefs and my ideals, and to model the things I hold dear. I can see myself really evolving into the person I have wanted to be for so long. It feels like it's time to stop dipping my toes in the waters of life and really take the plunge. As with all big jumps into the deep end, it's a bit daunting and a bit scary and threatens to challenge me more than I've been challenged in the past, but if there's one thing that new motherhood has taught me already, it's that I have more strength, endurance, patience and drive within me than I have ever given myself credit for, and I reckon it's time to put it to good use!