The distance between us

I’ve been experiencing a growing sensation that is hard to put into words. It’s very close to that leap of heart and stomach when you take a stride expecting flat ground, but there is a sudden step downwards. The stumble, flail and jolt as your foot makes contact. I guess that is my fight or flight instincts firing.

These last few weeks feel like an out of body experience, watching a moment in history unfold. The world has changed, at least for this fragile moment. Does “oh, those were simpler times” keeps bubbling up in your mind? Carefree, thoughtless moments of a few weeks ago suddenly have a Covid-19 crevasse separating then from now. I feel lucky to even have the space to ruminate on these things while there is such immense loss and fear in China, Italy, Spain… everywhere.

Suddenly, being thrust into working from home with a full-time toddler can feel a tiny bit overwhelming and isolating, but actually it’s really fine, it’s nothing considering what other people are suffering now. And let’s be honest have suffered long before this uniquely global crisis. In a way it has been a shake up and wake up to be thankful for all that is good and solid in my life.

How have you been bolstering morale during social isolation?

I’ve been making a habit of walking the Old Stock Route over the river to the wetland. There is comfort in the gentle vibration of the pram and a familiar path; I can walk it half in a dream. Seeing happy strangers walking their dogs and children, although at a respectful distance, is a comfort too. I am so thankful we have such immediate access to nature where we live.

Ember is a huge help. Her toddler innocence and her constant demands for attention, keep thoughts rooted in the present. Her struggles and triumphs are simple ones: the outrage of a snack too slow coming, the sheer overflowing of joy at a family dance session or the harvest and instant consumption of an autumn raspberry. Both can’t help but put a smile on my face. And to whoever invented toy prams (and op-shops), I am forever in their debt. This little pink number has kept Ember’s otherwise idle hands busy when out in that unsanitised world of buttons and other kid’s sticky fingers (and lunchboxes).

Keep safe and find smiles where you can.

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SUMMER HAZE

This time last year we had to prop Ember up with sand so she would stay seated, and now I can hardly keep up with this little ball of energy.

We emerged from our holiday bubble to a world on fire. We are safe where we are, but the haze blanketing the city is a reminder that so many are scared and suffering.

If you haven’t already, please donate to the Victorian Bushfire Appeal or Wildlife Victoria.

I had been feeling utterly exhausted, with an unquiet mind. On our last day I joined the family for their crack of dawn beach visit which I usually sleep through. Instead of being drained I felt a hopeful energy buzzing at the edges of my consciousness. I tried to still my mind whilst walking among the rock pools, but there was still a frenetic buzzing in my brain.

Where the river meets the sea, I looked up with surprise to see Dylan doing a Warrior II pose. “Is this right?” He asked with sincerity. I smiled and joined him in some half forgotten yoga poses on the sand. Less cliched because our lack of skill, which made it all the more fun. There was a sense of relief, and focus. Concentrating on balance, on the body, on the breath. Suddenly things seemed a lot simpler, quieter. I could see I could be happy with less clutter physically and mentally. Just my family, nature and the bare necessities.

Dylan said this was how he felt when he rode, he swam, he surfed. The physicality allowed an overactive mind to relax. I had a new appreciate for his need to be active and away, so he can replenish himself in the face of this modern world we live in. Let’s hope that by writing this here, this little flame of insight can be carried home and nurtured into something meaningful.

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Christmas morning

Ember’s second Christmas. Warm, relaxed and slightly hazy with NSW’s bush fire smoke. Life is simple and wonderful through the eyes of a toddler. Nothing more joyous than playing with new old op-shop toys whilst eating pancakes on the kitchen floor.

We gathered masses of raspberries from the garden, sticky hands matching sticky faces. This time of year even the berry patch is reveling in excess.

A Christmas BBQ at the Royal Children’s Hospital Playground with family. It was the perfect time to visit Ember’s second cousin, the wards overflowing with kind people and Christmas spirit.

Indulged with love and presents, belly full of good things, this happy toddler ran through glistening water drops. Adorable in her new bathers from Aunty and Uncle, curious and carefree.

It has become a tradition, as the day winds down, for us to visit Farnham St Community Garden. The streets are quiet and the sun in washing the food forest in a golden glow.

Ember wanted to play and play and was not interested in a photo with her mama. We had to distract her with a little red apple off one of the trees. It would have been too sour for me, but she declared it “num”. It is gorgeous acting like a kid again, being silly, carefree.

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One

I cannot recall with clarity a time before we had her. Now, our little bundle is one year old! Hopelessly smitten, we orbit around our bright star, warmed by every cheeky smile. 

The phrase “they grow up so fast” seems programmed into our DNA. Misty eyed, it springs to our lips in all its hackneyed glory, unbidden, but undeniably true. The last year is a blur and I sometimes look at her newborn photos, unable to reconcile the tiny inert little butterball with the smiling, pointing, laughing little girl who terrorises every bookshelf she meets and charms everyone in her path. What a treat to be your parents, our darling Ember Wren.

We gave her special toys for “Plastic Free July”. The preloved wooden toys have special significance because they were made by my maternal grandfather. We also found a beautifully illustrated book called “Time for bed, Miyuki” and “Little People, BIG DREAMS” learning cards. Both are from The School of Life, a bookshop stocking everything you wished you had learned in school, what a great premise. We stumbled upon it by chance, on a rainy day, jazz soundtrack on and complimentary peppermint tea provided. This is why brick and mortar bookshops are still relevant, a warm, comforting place, to disappear into for an hour or two.

We walked to the garden and met baby friend Alba on the way. We had brief fun with the garden group friends until the heavens opened, but what is a birthday without huddling in a tool shed as raindrops are devoured by thirsty soil?

Lunch with dad in the city. Both wearing matching lumberjack plaid shirts.


A summer baby myself, a wintry birthday is a new creative challenge. However, I found if you venture into the wind and showers there is immense reward in the patches of glorious sunlight that honour the brave. We enjoyed the rest of the afternoon, just the two of us, in the Royal Botanic Gardens.

Special moments, running wild, getting sandy and twirling around and around on the grass laughing. No clocks, no screens, just lengthening shadows as we enjoyed every last moment of our present.

Ember made a friend on the train. A kind woman who she bonded with whilst sardined between the commuters. They played “high five” and the woman told Ember she’d see her again next year on her birthday, same date, same time. A cute connection to close up a special day.

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