Maintaining the Rage Makes Me Tired

Australian Women Writers 2012 Reading and Reviewing Challenge

2012-01-27T19:24:00.003+11:00

This year I'll be tracking my reading via Goodreads again, which I found really useful last year. I love being able to look back over what I've read, or see recommendations from other people. Last year I set myself the goal of reading a book a week (which I thought I would manage easily), but I didn't come near it. I managed about 26, which I was quite shocked by. This year I have set myself the same goal again, a book a week, but I'm also really looking forward to participating in an extra challenge.

The Australian Women Writers 2012 Reading and Reviewing Challenge has been created in response to much of the conversation in 2011 about whether the publishing/writing/reading community in Australia is supportive enough of women writers. I wholeheartedly agree that we have a huge amount of work to do in this area, so I'm pleased to have something concrete to commit to in order to make sure I keep paying attention to reading and discussing the writing of women in Australia.

I'm all set to do the following:

Franklin-fantastic (read 10 and review at least 4 books)

I'm already underway, having used the recent Writers Victoria library clear-out to pick up some titles by Australian women. My first was Gaby Maher's The Undewharf. I like it a lot, and will try to get a review up for it shortly. It was published in 1995, which really surprised me as it seemed quite contemporary.

You can join in by tweeting @auswomenwriters and posting links to your reviews or discussions using the #AWW2012 hashtag.

2011 In Brief

2012-01-02T20:59:00.004+11:00

For the last few years I have completed this same set of questions...

1.What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?

Juggle parenting with working a day job (as in, not freelance work from home).

2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I wanted to "Get healthier, enjoy Avery, aim for balance, don't be harsh on myself if/when I don't achieve it." This certainly wasn't the year of health. Himself, Avery and I spent more time sick than I could have imagined. I do think I enjoyed Avery, especially after going back to work, which gave me back some space of my own aside from mum stuff. Which I guess answers the balance question. I'm not sure that I took it easy on myself when I didn't quite manage to juggle everything. I think I should keep working on that as a resolution for next year.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

My friend Katie and her partner Faith welcomed a beautiful baby girl into their family. There were also women I hadn't met yet who were giving birth to children I now know and love (the children and the women!). Finding mother friends who are very much on my page and creating a community has been pure joy.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No.

5. What countries did you visit?

None. I am heading off to the UK in March this year, so at least I will finally be able to say yes to this question for 2012!

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?

Better health. I would like to shake off this permanent aching and fatigue so I can be more present with my family, friends and work.

7. What dates from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

January 20, 2011. Celebrating my child's first birthday felt as much of a milestone for me as it did for him.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Heading back to work for another organisation (rather than freelance) part time. I love my work at Express Media and I'm so glad I found this position by serendipity. I wasn't looking for work, I happened to see the job at just the right time, I was lucky enough to get it. In many ways this job is a result of all the hard work (most of it unpaid or poorly paid) that I did in my twenties before CFS kicked my arse. At my sickest it seemed like all the networking, all the connections, all the projects had been for nothing. I'd faded from people's radars and while everyone else moved on with successful careers I was left behind. This job is my opportunity to return to the industry I love with even more purpose and hopefully a more balanced approach to my career.

9. What was your biggest failure?

If there was one, it is probably managing my health. Although honestly, I do believe that with all the bugs Avery bought home from daycare this was less to do with management and more to do with bad luck.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Yes. I would count this as another year of managing CFS, though certainly not at the same level I once had to.

11. What was the best thing you bought? (was bought for you)

Best thing I bought was lots and lots of books by Australian authors. It has been good to get stuck in to some more challenging reads.

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

Himself, without a doubt. As I've headed back to work he has taken on a massive workload with Avery, dealing with almost all night waking and early mornings by himself. Without all of the hard-slog parenting he has been doing I just wouldn't be able to work. On top of that, he has also been dragged all over town for openings, launches and various work functions despite the fact he would rather be at home on the couch. My parents have also been ace, picking up Avery from childcare at least once a week, minding him when I have work functions to attend and generally making life with a one year old much easier.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

There have been times when members of our family probably deserve to go in this category, but let's not go into that.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Childcare.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Avery learning to communicate with us, first with sign language and then with an ever-expanding list of sounds and words. It's pretty freaking awesome.

16. What songs will always remind you of 2011?

I don't know that there is one.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i) …happier or sadder?

Happier.

ii) thinner or fatter?

Fatter. CFS and my own poor health management are to blame.

iii) richer or poorer?

Probably about the same.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Sleep.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Lying awake at night unable to sleep while my child and partner slept soundly around me.

20. How did you spend Christmas?

Christmas Eve Eve with dear friends celebrating the festive season and Himself's 30th birthday. Christmas Eve cooking and dropping food to Himself's family in preparation for the next day, then eating dinner and watching Christmas movies with Clare and Holly (Avery's non-godparents). Christmas morning at our house with my parents watching Avery enjoy opening his presents and playing with new toys. Late morning at my great aunt's house with some family, the rest of the day with Himself's family. I did fall asleep late afternoon and wake up in the early evening to find I had missed most of the day, but it was still lovely.

22. Did you fall in love in 2010?

Yes. With wonderful women and their children, who I am lucky enough to consider my village.

23. How many one night stands?

None.

24. What were your favourite TV programs?

It was such a good year for TV. There was Game of Thrones, Downton Abbey, more Doctor Who, a lot more Midsomer Murders, We Can Be Heroes, Treme, Friday Night Lights, Misfits, Fringe. So good.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

No.

26. What was the best book you read?

Collectively, A Song of Ice and Fire. Individually, A Pocketful of Eyes by Australian author Lili Wilkinson. I just love her writing. Highly rated were also The Hunger Games trilogy, Truth by Peter Temple (another Aussie) and Berlin Syndrome by Melanie Joosten (yet another Aussie).

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Oh dear. This question brings home the woeful lack of new music I have welcomed into my life. I think my greatest musical discoveries were actually rediscoveries. Things I have loved for a long time and now share with Avery. We sing a lot of Queen (especially Bohemian Rhapsody), The Ramones, lots of Muppets songs (particularly Mnah Mnah) and plenty of Beatles.

28. What did you want and get?

A fulfilling job that didn't take me away from Avery too much.

29. What did you want and not get?

Nothing really... if I had to find something I guess it would be travel.

30. What was your favourite film of this year?

It was pleasing to see the conclusion of Harry Potter, but the one that will really stay with me is Black Swan. I didn't understand why people were talking about leaving the cinema feeling so overwrought. Then I saw it. I get it now.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I don't remember! Ah crap. I turned 31 and I think I was too distracted getting ready for Avery's 1st birthday to really care about mine.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

An extra day in the week. Or more sleep. Yeah, actually, more sleep would be like an extra day in the week.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?

Try not to get food/dirt/mystery objects smeared all over yourself before you leave the house for work.

34. What kept you sane?

My mum. Himself doing so much to keep us floating while I got back into the working grove.

35.Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

I managed to tick one thing off my Bucket List this year by seeing Alan Davies perform stand up live. He is still top of my list for potential future husbands.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?

Apathy. I saw a lot of it this year and it makes me as annoyed as ever.

37. Who did you miss?

Lots of friends from other states and countries visited Melbourne this year, so there has been a lot less missing than most years.

38. Who was the best new person you met?

A group of women I now meet weekly that I didn't know this time last year.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011

The work you put into your career will pay off, even if it takes a while.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:

There are times life will rattle your bones

And will bend your limbs

But you're still far and away the boy you've ever been

So you bend back and shake at the frame

Of the frame you made

(But you don't shake alone)

Dear Avery - The Decemberists

Even thought this is a song about a parent watching their son, Avery, head off to war (something I never want to do with my own Avery) it is essentially about watching your children grow up and away from you. This year has been one where I've had to take some of those first steps in letting go. It seems too soon.

41. What was your favorite moment of the year?

Hearing Avery say 'Mumma'.

42. What was your least favourite moment of the year?

Probably one of the many nights I realised it was only a couple of hours until I was due at work and I hadn't slept yet.

57. If you could go back in time to any moment of 2011 and change what?

Nothing.

58. What are your plans for 2011?

Travel to London, spend time in my excellent communities (both the writing/arts one and the natural parenting one), improve my current health situation, enjoy our home life more with the dogs, puppies, chickens, veggies, native garden and family.

What does co-parenting look like?

2011-11-07T22:16:00.005+11:00

I've been having a number of interesting conversations lately about the difficulties of co-parenting. I define co-parenting in our household as being the commitment to both sharing the responsibilities of parenting relatively equally. That is to say, while we don't methodically divide tasks down an invisible middle line, we do aim to divvy up the work of raising our child so that there is a shared approach to the overall tasks required to raise him. It is also our desire not to fall back on the usual gender divides when allocating or assuming responsibilities.

The conversations have revolved around how difficult it can be to aim for a co-parenting model. How much discussion, negotiation, arguing and confusion it can lead to. Sometimes, some fellow crunchy parents and I wondered, wouldn't it be easier to have simple boundaries to follow? To accept that there was a set of tasks (in most cases probably defined by gender norms) that fell to one or the other of you, and that was that. Well, yes and no. Perhaps it would define things more easily, but would we like the division?

Here's what the split of parenting/household responsibilities looks like at our house. It should be noted that some of these tasks are undertaken by the other person (sometimes quite often), but that around 80% of the time the person listed is the default person for this task. Also, this isn't how things have always been divided. The lists looked quite different pre-Avery, and certainly they looked nothing like this when he was under one.

Himself:

Daily morning routine, including getting up to Avery, feeding him breakfast and getting him ready for daycare
Packing and unpacking daycare bag
Walking Avery in and out of daycare from the car
Attending to Avery during night waking
Market shopping every fortnight
Preparing food for us and Avery
Washing nappies and laundry, hanging/drying/folding
Packing/unpacking dishwasher and hand-washing dishes
Vacuuming house
Daily cleaning routines (after Avery's meals, food preparation etc)
Putting out rubbish, recycling and compost scraps
Mowing lawns and general house maintenance
Attending to Avery's needs when we are out and about

Me:

Being a stay-at-home parent two days per week
Breastfeeding
Arranging who is picking up/dropping off Avery from daycare
Making sure we have milk, baby-wipes, nappies and other assorted baby supplies
Creating a household budget
Tracking and managing finances including paying bills, setting aside savings and managing insurance/rates/registration/mortgage/tax
Arranging assistance when we need babysitting and/or time out
Making doctor's appointments and taking Avery to doctor/maternal child health nurse
Manage calendar, including arranging social outings and organising various appointments for family or Avery (car services, birthday parties)
Plan holidays and/or family outings
Manage family/friends birthdays including buying presents
Reading up on Avery's milestones, stages and development, then attempting to apply appropriate parenting techniques and ideas for our family unit
Researching decisions on childcare, schooling, extra activities (music classes, baby gym, swimming etc)
Initiating discussions and negotiating decisions on feeding/sleep/behaviour boundaries and routines for Avery, then policing said routines
Finding and maintaining relationships with a group of like-minded parents and children to provide Avery with a positive community to grow up within
Major household item purchasing
Purchasing clothes/shoes/sundry for Avery
Bathroom/toilet cleaning
Spring cleaning

Roughly put, I would say I'm responsible for the research, planning and 'big picture' stuff. Himself is responsible for the implementation of the day-to-day stuff. He gets sh*t done. When I'm stressed or tired I find it very difficult to push through, where Himself can go on and on and on despite his own exhaustion or workload. We're a good team that way.

Unfortunately this partnership can sometimes feel like Himself is doing everything, because the things he does are visual, obvious and easily recognisable. The stuff I do often happens behind the scenes, and can be easily missed if you're not looking for it. It feels like I carry the weight of our responsibilities on my shoulders alone sometimes. I feel like I need to always be 'on', or something will fall through the cracks. As Blue Milk so eloquently (as always) put it

All the work of getting it to happen, getting it to work, and keeping it running smoothly is done by mothers. It seems ridiculous – two people working, two people are parents – the organisational workload should be shared, but that isn’t how it happens. I am torn between fighting to get some equality and conserving my energy to deal with making what actually happens work.

If Himself needs a break, he can get out of the house for the day and leave all of it behind (perhaps this is not how he feels, but it is how it seems to me). I carry the worries with me. Have we got milk for Avery to take to daycare the next day? Did I remember to buy my mother-in-law a birthday present? Have we paid our bills? It's hard to turn off my mind and escape from these things. I feel like I need to be thinking ahead at all times, ready for what is coming next. If I don't, we'll fall in a hole or miss something vitally important.

And is it all worth it? Yes. Although sometimes, particularly in the early days of Avery's life, it didn't feel that way. It is hard to constantly negotiate, and to consider who is doing too much/too little. I often find myself feeling ripped off, but wondering where exactly this dissatisfaction comes from. I also find myself feeling vaguely guilty that I don't pull my weight more around the house. When we sit down and discuss the balance between us, we usually realise that I don't want to do any more of the day-to-day cleaning and household tasks, and Himself sure as hell doesn't want to be responsible for budgeting and scheduling our life. These tasks are allotted in ways that play to our strengths. So why do I feel that way?

The upsides of all this negotiation are clear, though. Himself has a great relationship with Avery. The only thing I do for Avery that Himself cannot is breastfeed. He comes to each of us equally for comfort, or to play. Their relationship is one of the most wonderful things to witness. If I need time out there is no need to explain Avery's routines, Himself has it covered. If I want a bag packed for Avery when we are going away, Himself knows what clothes fit and what he will need away from home. I don't worry when I walk out of the door, I always know Avery is in good hands. All these things make it abundantly clear that we are managing, for the most part, to co-parent and both take relatively equal responsibility for Avery and our family life together. Which matters because I want Avery to see that this is possible, that it is worthwhile. Looking back on thoughts on this issue from before Avery was born, I'm happy to see that we are on the right track. He deserves two parents who are equally involved in raising him.

Maternal desire

2011-11-06T13:29:00.003+11:00

There are so many things that have astonished me about my body since becoming pregnant, right through to having an almost two year old that I am still breastfeeding. Right up there is the fact that my idea of maternal desire, that is, the biological and hormonal longing that I experienced before Avery was born, doesn't abate after you have had a child.

For many years, as I have discussed previously, I wanted to have a child. Intellectually, it was a choice I made for my own life that felt right for me. Luckily, the person I fell in love with felt the same way. That all sounds simple and logical, doesn't it? Perhaps, but below that level of rational thought was another driver. One I could recognise as hormonally and biologically driven. I wanted to have a child. I ached to. At various points in my life, regardless of the suitability of time/place/partner/situation, I wished I could fall pregnant and have a baby. The logical part of me would recognise that the answer to this desire was "not now", but that didn't take the ache away. I used logic to bury it, and hoped that the time/place/partner/situation would be right soon.

I suppose I always assumed that the conclusion to this desire was having a child. There you go, you've done it, you have a child and the biological need is fulfilled. Realising mere months after Avery was born that this wasn't the case was a shock. I found that even through my initial horror at the idea of having another child, some days I would find the familiar emotion creep up at me from nowhere. Rather than the answer to this desire being "not now", it was "but we already did that!" Unfortunately that didn't stop the existence of said emotion.

And no, this isn't a convoluted way of telling you I'm having another baby, or even contemplating it. It's just something I haven't heard discussed before. I suppose when I heard women talk about wanting other babies I thought they meant it was something they had decided on a logical level. I didn't realise that they were talking about this desire being as strong for the idea of having another baby as it was for having the first baby. Our biology is a source of constant fascination to me. As is the idea that we think we have moved past these primary urges.

Football and feminist parenting

2011-09-18T15:12:00.006+10:00

"You get the sense that in football women are service providers, you've got your mum who drives you to and from training...you've got physios...you've got PR, who are moulding their image, you've got dietitians...everyone's working for them, so when you go to a bar they're still providing a service. They provide sex, they provide one-upmanship for each other for bonding" - Anna Krien in an interview for SlowTV.

I have been having an ongoing conversation with a group of fantastic women about the double edged sword of being a feminist mother and a football fan. Here in Melbourne having a footy team (particularly for boys) is given a lot of attention. In my family, recruiting children to become supporters of your own team is a sport unto itself.

Chris Judd was lambasted when he dared to say that footballers should not be role models, that they are just athletes. This cuts to the core of my current concern about football creeping into our life. If I could just take my child to the football, play football with him/her and walk away from the sport there, I would be happy. But along with supporting a team and letting the game into your family life comes the not-so pleasant reality of the world of AFL.

Like it or not, the game has serious issues in regards to its treatment of women. From the blatantly sexist (Sam Newman stating that there is no place for a woman on the board of AFL clubs), to the uncomfortable (the ongoing undermining of football commentator Caroline Wilson) to the out-and-out wrong (sexual assaults and rapes), there seems to be no end to the ways in which the sport (and the men who run it) malign and disrespect the women who play any role in 'their' world.

Since the last few very public incidents of sexual assault and/or torrid affairs, the AFL claims it is attempting to address these issues with specific training programs and other pro-active measures. But what's new about that? This document from 2005 shows that the AFL has protected itself by putting acceptable codes of conduct on paper for a long time. It's hard to see how another round of 'education programs' aimed at bored, disinterested players will make any difference. Isn't it just like being made to go to any training in your workplace? We all suffer through OH&S training, taking in nothing and wondering what we will have for dinner.

And while this fundamental misogyny is probably my greatest point of discomfort with the AFL, it's certainly not the only issue I have. The outspoken homophobia, which goes seemingly unchecked, the incidents of violence that seem to follow players around like a bad smell, and the cult of celebrity and fame that seems to be celebrated in a way most other sports don't fall into also bother me.

So how to I tackle this issue as a parent? How do I encourage Avery to enjoy the spectacle of a good footy match without buying into the marketing machine that surrounds the AFL? What should I do if he decides he actually wants to play football? Is there a way to play the game without buying into the culture of misogyny and hate? I don't want my son to become part of a machine that, as Anna Krien so aptly sums up, treats women as service providers.

I don't have the answers, but I have a feeling I'm going to need to find them. After taking Averyto his first local footy match it's clear he has a soft spot for the sport. Or at least the cheering.

Aberry

2011-08-24T14:01:00.003+10:00

After toying with (and abandoning) a few almost-words here and there, Avery is talking. And the all important first word? Avery. It seems to be a possessive term. See a banana you want? Avery. Want someone to get you a toy from on a shelf? Avery. In an effort to make my ovaries explode from cute-overload, he pronounces it "Aberry". He is very proud of knowing his own name. Yesterday he sat on my lap, pointed to himself and solemnly said "Aberry", nodding sagely.

In typical Avery style, he has followed up the use of Avery with other important words like "iskit" (biscuit), "shit" (given he's pointing at the dogs, I'm going to assume he's trying for sit with this one) and "nabby" (nappy, his dreaded arch-nemesis).

I've been in no hurry to hear Avery talk. He's been communicating with everyone around him for a long time, both in the general sense that babies do (with cries and non-verbal cues) and also because we've been using sign language with him since he was about four months old.

I remember how exciting it was, after months of using sign language with him, the first time he signed "milk" to tell me he was hungry. He had understood plenty of signs, as evidenced by his affirmative responses when I would ask him if he was hungry or his delight when I would sign that it was time to go in the car, but he hadn't shown the desire to sign back at all.

After the first "milk" hand sign though, he seemed to take to sign language communication with gusto. It would take only one or two demonstrations of a new sign before he would be parroting it back to me, using it in context and delighting in the chance to show off his new word. At this stage he regularly uses the signs for milk, hungry, more, car, outside, drink, bed, shower. He understands quite a few more, but those are our everyday staples.

Most babies who use sign language tend to have early verbal language acquisition, but that hasn't been the case for Avery. He has a distinct babble language all of his own, with repetitive sounds and intonations, which he practises all day long. He also has strange little affirmative/negative sounds which are close to yes/no but more like "yis" and "nah". He uses "mama" and "dada" interchangeably and with little discrimination (he seems to use them to get attention, not really to address us individually). It hasn't worried me at all, because using sign language means he isn't frustrated or hampered by his inability to communicate.

I'm quite zen about the whole hitting milestones thing. I didn't do anything to encourage Avery to walk, or crawl. I wanted to use sign language to help with his frustration at not being understood, not to push him along developmentally. I know that it matters to some parents, but to me it just always seemed like all kids will crawl/walk/talk sooner or later, what does it change when it happens.

Which is why it's so strange that I'm excited to bursting point about his sudden decision to use words. I suppose it's because it is a whole new frontier, and one that means I can get more insight into what is going on in that beautiful head of his. I haven't been pining for him to talk, but now that's he's started I'm keen to hear what he will come up with next.

Indigenous Australians

2011-07-19T10:55:00.002+10:00

While I was living in Perth, it genuinely shocked me to see the casual, inherent racism that was so prevalent towards Aboriginal people. I sometimes think that in Victoria, where Indigenous Australians are often less visible in a day-to-day sense, it can be easy to underestimate the racism towards this section of the population.

Here, there are fewer places where Indigenous Australians are seen congregating in public, and those places are rarely suburban enclaves. In the west, it was more common to see small groups of Indigenous people sitting in parks or gathering out front of houses. Partly this is probably due to the fact that all people are more commonly seen congregating outside, thanks to the nicer weather and abundant sunshine. Then there's the fact that there is a much higher Indigenous population in WA. Whatever the reason, it seemed to me that with greater visibility came greater comment and criticism, by which I really mean racism.

When I heard John Elliott's comments during Can of Worms, it reminded me that now I am home in Victoria, I am sheltered from this racism again. It's still there, it still exists, it is still just as toxic, but I see it less. Just because I'm not hearing the disgusting comments as people pass Indigenous Australians on the street, doesn't mean they're not thinking them or saying them in the spaces they feel safe to do so. It's a timely reminder given NAIDOC week was only earlier this month, that we have a long way to go towards reconciliation.

Stuff I never want to hear again...

2011-06-02T22:09:00.000+10:00

When are you having another one?

Get. Fracked. Someone actually asked me this when Avery was two weeks old.

I read somewhere...

Oh really? Well in the nine months I have been preparing to have my child it never occurred to me to open a book and read about sleep/feeding/settling...

How is s/he sleeping?

Anything that puts pressure on parents to get back to 'normal' by having a baby who sleeps the whole night is just awful. Ask if someone is getting enough sleep if you really must ask something, but never ask if a baby is sleeping "well". Babies sleep as well as babies should, and there's nothing you can do about it, so don't make them feel bad about it. This however, is nowhere near as bad as the cardinal sin committed predominantly by parents with children aged 2+, which is

I bet you're not getting much sleep huh? Well, get used to it, it doesn't get better EVER...

Well that's sure to make us feel better! Thanks for sharing. This is part of the subset of behaviour whereby people with children can barely contain their joy that somebody else is joining them in the trench-warfare of parenting, and seem delighted that you too will share their pain. It often seems that they believe the more pain you go through it will somehow magically lessen theirs. Evil bastards. I don't advocate sugar-coating, but do you really need to be so filled with glee about other people struggling? Perhaps you could, instead, offer to help out by babysitting, or cooking some food, or a ray of hope?

Oh, so you're bottle/breastfeeding? I think...
Any mother, no matter if she is bottle or breastfeeding, is subject to completely unwanted opinions at every turn. In my mother's group, the breastfeeders feel judged in public. The bottle feeders (who are both incredibly disappointed breastfeeding hasn't worked for them) feel judged in public. Do not offer an opinion. Your opinion is irrelevant. Trust me when I tell you I have heard it all. I do not need to hear it again.

Oh, so you're STILL breastfeeding...
Breastfeeding at 17 months is not extended breastfeeding. If this is the level of comment breastfeeding a child of this age gets, I'm surprised women who continue breastfeeding to the recommended two years (and beyond) don't go postal when confronted with this crap. When people say "if they can ask for it, they're too old", I don't know how much longer I can keep responding with "he's been using sign language to 'ask' for it since he was eight months old, so I don't really see the difference now" and smile serenely.

Little boys are just like that, aren't they?
No, little children are just like that. Avery, as an individual, is just like that. Your desire to attribute every little thing he does to his gender is about you, not about him.

What is interesting, is how different the comments made to Himself are. I'll share more about that in another post.

It's all about work...

2011-05-04T15:26:00.003+10:00

Lately life has been all about work. And I'm not complaining.

I'm loving working at Express Media, where things are fast-paced and ever changing. The organisation has so many opportunities for young writers it sometimes feels impossible to keep up.

The Pun has finally finished up for the year, with Melbourne International Comedy Festival sadly over. Well, I say sadly, but really it comes as a relief after such a hectic period. Any and all success for our publication this year is due to our editor, Rose Press, and the amazing team of writers who contributed. They did an awesome job.

Another edition of Green magazine has gone to print. I had the pleasure of working with a new designer this edition, rather than doing it all in-house. Libby Henstock made it very purty indeed, and I think the content was all incredibly timely and relevant. Mostly discussing political language and behaviour in the public sphere, there was a lot of fodder thanks to the recent anti-carbon tax rallies.

I'm madly preparing for National Young Writers' Month at Express Media. It takes place in June, and is an opportunity for young writers to set their own goals, which the NYWM team will help them to meet. I'm yet to set my own goal, but I have a feeling it will be something to do with updating this blog more recently. I need the pressure to get me back into a regular writing practice. It's easy to tweet away and forget to delve into issues more substantively.

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Hyperventilating

2011-03-01T10:43:00.004+11:00

Okay, okay, okay... way too much going on. Here's a round-up.

I have a one year old. Holy crap. In fact, he's already 13 months old. My little midget is almost walking and babbling his little words (which he says once or twice, then abandons as if he is done with them).

The Pun is full steam ahead for Melbourne International Comedy Festival, and I'm so pleased with how our team is shaping up in 2011. Lots of new faces, some of my favourite former writers. Very happy.

My last edition of Green magazine has been out for a little while, and I liked it a lot. I think it had a great mix of content and it's sparked a lot of responses which is a good sign.

I have a new job! Last week I started as the Program Manager of Express Media. I'm beyond excited about this. I wasn't looking for work, but I saw the advertisement and within a week I was employed. It's three days per week, which means Avery is in childcare those days (thank god we had already started him one day a week towards the end of last year) but I still have four days a week home with him. My office is in the Wheeler Centre, which is inside the State Library building. So beautiful. I have great projects to work on, the organisation does exactly what I'm passionate about (youth arts and media projects) and my workmates seem brilliant. All WIN.

Wow, it reads like such a short list but I am filling every moment of every day just trying to keep up with Ave and work. My social life does not exist (save for the never-ending first birthday parties that have begun), but I'm happier than I've been in forever. It feels so good to be engaged with my work. Next week my editor for The Pun will be on board, another Green magazine is already underway and I'll have settled into my new job properly.

2010 In Brief

2011-01-01T13:46:00.001+11:00

Last year I completed this same set of questions...

1.What did you do in 2010 that you’d never done before?

Have a baby. Become a mother.

2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I wanted to "try not to let it fly past too fast, and to find some enjoyment in the soon-to-begin chaos". I think I managed this, particularly in the first six months. Although having said that, I did go back to work when Ave was two months old. That made it go a little quicker.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

A bunch of women I didn't know this time last year, but whom I now rely on for support and sanity. I was so scared of going to a mothers group, but it has turned out to be a wonderful gift.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No.

5. What countries did you visit?

None. I hope to remedy that this year.

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010?

More planned time with friends (it's my own disorganisation that meant I didn't manage that this year), more direction in my work.

7. What dates from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

January 20, 2010. It's hard to forget your only child's birthday.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Being a mother. Getting through the daily grind of caring for a little person, plus learning how I wanted to parent. Not giving up on shared parenting. Striving for equality in the way that Himself and I take care of Avery.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Staying well. I loved how alive I felt during Avery's first six months. I cannot describe how devastated I am to be back feeling as unwell as I did two years ago. It is sucking the joy from my life.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Yes. My CFS has returned in all its glory and I hate it.

11. What was the best thing you bought? (was bought for you)

Best thing I bought was a Jolly Jumper. It enabled me to get dressed, eat or even look at my emails some days. Best thing bought for me was my brand new computer (a 30th birthday present from my darling mother). I didn't realise how slow and dysfunctional my old one was until I started using this one. It has made my life so much easier.

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

Steve, as always, this time for taking to the role of non-god parent with such joy. Holly and Clare for being the first to babysit Avery, and for being such an important part of our little family (okay, most importantly for their decision to move to Melbourne in 2011). Both my mother and my mother-in-law for the never ending support they have given us this year.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

I won't go into it here, but a member of my family's attitude to Avery cut very deeply. I don't think I'll ever get over it.

14. Where did most of your money go?

The midget. Although having said that, it wasn't anywhere near as bad as I expected. I suppose just the cost of having Himself home with us for the first few months.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Meeting my son.

16. What songs will always remind you of 2010?

Didn't Leave Nobody but the Baby - O Brother, Whereart Thou Soundtrack. It's the song I sing Avery to sleep with every nap time and every night. I can't believe I don't hate it yet.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i) …happier or sadder?

Happier.

ii) thinner or fatter?

Fatter. I lost an astounding amount of weight while pregnant and in the month following Avery's birth. I've now put it all back on in a stunningly short time. Did I mention I hate CFS?

iii) richer or poorer?

Poorer.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Connected with other mothers. Spent more baby-free time.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Taking on the stresses of my family situation.

20. How did you spend Christmas?

Christmas morning at home introducing Avery to the concept of Christmas. Late morning at my great aunt's house with some family, the rest of the day with Himself's family eating a beautiful feast and trying to survive a very cranky child.

22. Did you fall in love in 2010?

Yes.

23. How many one night stands?

None.

24. What were your favourite TV programs?

My love affair with Midsomer Murders continues unabated, as always. Also Friday Night Lights (thanks Ebony), Toddlers and Tiaras, True Blood, Tangle, Glee and so many more. It was the year we returned to Foxtel, so television has kept us sane during all the late night feedings.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

My dislike for some has grown, but hate is a pretty strong word.

26. What was the best book you read?

That's tough. Probably Jasper Jones.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?

It was a year of returning to old favourites. I listened to a lot of classical, trying to keep Avery calm or asleep (especially in the car). I did love Jordie Lane's albums, which I finally got around to buying all of.

28. What did you want and get?

Avery.

29. What did you want and not get?

A stronger connection with Himself. A return to good health.

30. What was your favourite film of this year?

I haven't been struck by anything in particular, which is more to do with how few movies I've seen than anything else.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I spent my 30th birthday in hospital with my two-day-old baby.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Freedom from the stress that accompanies my family dynamics.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?

Nothing fits. For a while it was all waaay too big, then just when I got myself together to purchase new clothes for my much smaller body, I started putting weight back on again. Therefore making my wardrobe waaay too small.

34. What kept you sane?

My mum.

35.Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Lauren Graham. I love her.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?

Asylum seekers. Our lack of compassion, even in the face of such tragic and awful happenings, makes me ashamed.

37. Who did you miss?

Everybody, I suppose. As is to be expected, the first year of motherhood doesn't leave much time/room for people as you would like. Although, having said that, the first six months were damn sociable. It was only once the CFS stuff started raising its head again that I had to retreat back to home.

38. Who was the best new person you met?

Avery.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010

I'm not sure I really have perspective on the enormity of change that has happened and what I have learned from that. Certainly that it's worth fighting for equal parenting, that it's hard and sometimes it feels easier to just give up and do it yourself in that moment, but in the long run both of you reap the benefits of persevering.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:

Looking out on the morning rain
I used to feel uninspired
And when I knew I had to face another day
Lord, it made me feel so tired
Before the day I met you, life was so unkind
But your love was the key to peace my mind

Having Avery woke me up, gave me a new perspective, made me happy.

41. What was your favorite moment of the year?

The first time Avery smiled at me.

42. What was your least favourite moment of the year?

The first morning I woke up and realised that my tiredness wasn't due to the lack of sleep and the baby, it was CFS.

57. If you could go back in time to any moment of 2010 and change what?

Nothing.

58. What are your plans for 2011?

Get healthier, enjoy Avery, aim for balance, don't be harsh on myself if/when I don't achieve it.

Signs your baby may be a little too Melbourne for their own good

2010-12-29T14:09:00.001+11:00

Your child wears black. A lot.
She/he dresses in layers at all times.
They were signed up for a Triple R subscription before they turn one.
You order baby 'chinos for her/him so often you no longer feel like a self-conscious wanker.
They wear baby clothes from Beci Orpin.
Lullabies for your baby consist of a collection of Claire Bowditch, Jordie Lane, Julie O'Hara, New Buffalo, Sophie Koh, Michelle Nicolle, Mark Fitzgibbon and Missy Higgins.
A large section of her/his wardrobe has been purchased from markets or op-shops.
You've had family outings to the Coburg drive-in.
They have badges on their winter jacket lapel.
She/he loves trams.

Merry Christmas

2010-12-24T17:22:00.003+11:00

This Christmas is a pretty special time for our family. It's Avery's first one, and it marks a whole new era of festive celebrations for us. It's been so much fun to think about what to get him, enjoy wrapping presents and getting excited to share our traditions with him. Mind you, he has no idea what is going on, and will be more amused by the wrapping paper than by the presents, that's for sure. It will be a few years before he really gets what Christmas is supposed to be about, but knowing that each year we'll get to make our own celebrations as a family is really excellent.

More importantly, he met Santa this year. As you can see, they aren't exactly friends. This is the look of panic (heading towards meltdown) that rightly occurred when we dumped him on a brightly dressed, beard-laden, overly jolly, strange man's lap. I laughed so hard at his confusion. Probably not my most sympathetic mother moment, but heck, it was pretty funny.

I hope this finds you all celebrating with your family, friends, loved ones (or the people who make you least unhappy, whoever they may be). May your hangovers be gentle and your stomachs uncomfortably full.

The day I dreaded has arrived.

2010-12-13T19:23:00.002+11:00

I'm scared. Scared, scared, scared. Today I woke up and I couldn't pass off how I felt as tired. It was more than that. For months my general health and energy levels have been going downhill. I kept trying to stay calm, think of all the reasons I am tired and think of my energy levels as a natural part of being a new parent. All new parents are tired. All new parents have good months and bad months. As of today I can't pretend that this is a new-parent kind of tired. This is exhaustion. This is fatigue. This is CFS. Welcome back old friend!

When I was pregnant, I kept telling people it was like my body had been kick-started. From just after my (very short lived) morning sickness left I was more energised, more focused, more alive than I had been in about three years. After Avery was born it was more of the same. I found the first four or five months after his birth fantastic. Yes there was very little sleep, yes I had no idea what I was doing, yes my life changed... but I felt great. Not just happy, because yeah, having a great little baby will make you happy, but I felt well. For the first time in years I felt normal. I got out of bed willingly. I wanted to do things. I liked interacting with the world.

The last six months or so I have felt that slip away. It's been harder to get out of bed, to do the things that were coming so naturally. And now I know without a doubt that this is Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I'm forgetful, vague, lethargic. I dread getting out of bed no matter how many hours sleep I've had. Making it anywhere (let alone on time) seems an insurmountable task. My insomnia is back. My joints feel like they are grinding together every time I move. My arms and legs feel alternatively like they are dead weight, or wasting away. I'm so tired that the word tired seems pathetic when used to describe this giant monolith of aching physical sensation.

So what do I do now? I used to shut down, go to bed, try the little things that sometimes lead to improvements. That's a luxury I don't have. Now there is this little person who relies on me. I'm his primary caregiver five days a week. I have no idea how I can do this. I'm so scared.

Highs and Lows: 6 months

2010-11-27T00:31:00.005+11:00

So obviously I've been putting together a monthly recap of what Avery gets up to, which have been going up in a somewhat haphazard fashion. The purpose is mostly to chronicle the amazingly fast changes that occur with a really little munchkin (don't worry, they will be sixmonthly from age one). While it didn't seem like I would ever forget what he was like at that age when I wrote his one-month summary, I can't remember a thing from back then without prompting so I'm damn glad I started doing it.

This, on the other hand, is inspired by Blue Milk's always insightful posts about what her and Mr Milk enjoy most/least about their children as they grow. There is a big difference between the achievements and highlights of a particular stage, and what you feel about the process as a parent. I admire the honesty it takes to talk about the good and the bad, and I like the balance that this approach offers. So in that spirit, I want to do my own list of the high points and low points of being Avery's mother. Not his highs and lows, mine. Sometimes those things have nothing to do with him as a person, other times they are directly related to who he is and how we relate. So, here is my first installment.

Highs of parenting: 6 months

the first six months have been so much smoother than I imagined. My own energy, focus and ability is so much more than I imagined it could be. It's like my pregnancy rebooted my whole body, and I feel better than I have in years
I didn't fall in love with Avery at first sight, I fell in love in a gradual way, and it feels like that is still changing and growing all the time
I'm so proud of how patient I can be when I need to. I was genuinely worried about this, and while I have my moments, most of the time I can draw on a calm-ness I really didn't know I would have to get through the tough bits
How good it feels when we get to a point where our parenting is shared relatively equally (as it can be when one of you is breastfeeding). How all the negotiation feels worthwhile and we both reap the huge benefits of this
Getting to know my little person. He is starting to show hints of who he might grow up to be, and it's so exciting

Lows of parenting: 6 months

I didn't realise that the struggle to keep Ave free from being gendered in a myriad of ways would start almost straight away. Which has made me face the fact that I find it difficult to stand up for my politics in vocal ways when I know it will make waves. I need to work on this.
I hate that I was able to take care of my body when it was Avery's home, but now I'm slipping back to old unhealthy habits. My lack of respect for my own health and body is tied strongly to my own self-esteem and I need to deal with it.
The afternoons, when I wonder how I will last until Himself makes it home, and I'm desperate to to get away from my child.
The constant negotiation it takes to try to achieve this shared parenting. I feel constantly on watch, and just when we seem to have one thing right we find another area where we are failing. Sometimes it feels like it would just be easier to give in and go with the easy option.
I'm irritated that I've fallen back into the habit of having the television on in the background. Ave is riveted by it, which annoys me even more, and I'd rather it wasn't a daily part of our lives.
I wish I could be one of those women who doesn't notice the sideways looks and the unwanted advice. Being a parent, no, being a mother, is being constantly judged. I try not to let other people influence what I do, but I still feel the anxiety of being assessed. It's uncomfortable and I want to let go but don't know how.
I hate that my family relationships are so complicated, and that this has taken away from the pure joy of having this little person in my life. I'm bitter, angry and most of all hurt. There are so many times when we, as a family, have to compromise what we want to do, or how we approach things because of these complications, and it's just not fair. I feel like sometimes I'm almost hiding you away because I want to shelter you from these complications, when I should be able to share you with your whole extended family and having nothing but happiness about it.
Some days breastfeeding is just not fun. I feel like the constant schedule of feeding and/or pumping is endless drudge and I just want to escape it.

Top 5 things about Avery at 6 months

There is nothing sweeter than your little man smile and your old man chuckle
You're becoming more aware of me as a person, and you show genuine affection for me as something more than just a milk bottle (finally)
You already joke with me, and you delight in being able to make me or your dad laugh
I'm so proud of how laid back you are. Stress, tension and social anxiety are such a huge part of my existence and seeing you so comfortable with other people, let alone how much you like to interact and smile and make friends wherever you go is awesome
The way you read along with me or your dad, making sounds along with us and responding to the story. Or just the fact that you already love books.

Low 5 things about Avery at 6 months

Your resistance to day-time sleep. You clearly need it, but you just won't settle and you fight it so hard every time.
The way you treat tummy time like it is a form of torture that you are being submitted to.
Your sudden refusal to take a bottle of expressed milk. It used to be fine, but now apparently it's just not good enough, which is driving me insane as it means I have even less freedom.
Watching your mood swings and your meltdowns, worrying that the medication I take for depression is effecting your brain chemistry.
How unpredictable your breastfeeding needs are. Just when I think we've got it figured out you want a lot more, or a lot less, and I can't settle into a routine with you.

Celebrating milestones

2010-10-11T18:44:00.002+11:00

Having a child is one of the most joyous occasions in our lives. It's something we want to share with our family and friends, something we hope means as much to them as it does to us. There are many traditional celebrations we use to mark their entry into the world, or their first milestones. We have baby showers, christenings, first birthdays, name days. But when is enough... well, enough?

Mia Freedman raised this question, wondering if the proliferation of new milestone celebrations are nothing but millstones around the necks of those expected to attend. Sure, your wedding or new baby might be the centre of your universe, but do they really warrant not one, but a series of events? In the case of weddings, there are often engagement parties, kitchen teas, hen's nights... and that's not counting the wedding itself, which may take place over multiple locations or even multiple days. With babies there are showers, baby-moons, christenings, name days. Some of these celebrations cost guests often substantial amounts of money. Presents, outfits (especially for bridal parties), travel (to sometimes exotic locations), accommodation, hosting parties on the celebrators behalf, expensive gifts. So how do you celebrate anything without feeling like you are participating in a gift-grabbing circus?

My own wedding was straightforward. No engagement party, no kitchen tea, a joint hens/bucks night with the wedding and reception in one place over a few hours. We were uncomfortable with events that traditionally require a gift, so they were automatically out, except the wedding itself where we requested that people purchase carbon offsets rather than gifts if they were comfortable to do so. When we were expecting Avery, I craved a celebration that would let me share my overwhelming excitement over his impending arrival. In the end, I didn't like the rather naff traditional baby showers, and certainly wasn't comfortable with the central gift-giving aspect of the event, so we skipped it. After he was born, we started wondering about a name-giving ceremony, a meet-your-loved-ones celebration... it never ends.

Right now we're considering his first birthday party. In an effort to avoid a never-ending rotation of 'events' that we would be asking people to attend (especially given we were only married a few years ago) we decided to save his name-giving ceremony until his first birthday and combine both events. But here's the rub. In all this effort to avoid the crazy me-me-me circus, what if we've missed the chance to celebrate this amazing part of our life? What if we've been so busy trying to avoid the commercialisation of the gift-giving that we've prevented our family and friends being able to share our happiness, and the joy that comes from them having a new grandchild, niece or nephew?

These moments in our life are supposed to be about taking the time to celebrate the occasions that most matter with the people that most matter. They're not about the official photographs in multiple locations, or the latest gadget gifts. Having said that, they are about that special something. A prettier outfit than your regular day-to-day clothes, food you don't cook for a regular Saturday afternoon, more ceremony than your average get-together. There are items from my childhood that I treasure which were gifts for a birthday, or from my christening. I love them because they came from my family and I've cherished them my whole life. I have photographs I love of my childhood from birthdays, weddings, christenings... they show myself, my family and my friends dressed up in our best clothes, excited to be at a special event. I want Avery to have that too.

While we aren't naturally formal people, I want Avery to know that we made the effort to welcome him into his family in a deliberate way. I want him to look back and see how happy his family and friends were to be with him on his special days, the effort that they went to to participate in his life. I don't want his birthday to be about expensive presents, but I do want him to have items in his life imbued with a sense of history and love. I didn't want loads of presents at a baby shower, but I do regret that I won't have photographs of me, heavily pregnant and showing my excitement that I will soon get to meet him. And this is what it's really about. Avoiding commercialism and extreme parties doesn't mean we should forget to share special occasions, create memories and celebrate. Life shouldn't be a series of forgettable days.

Now we are six months...

2010-08-15T19:29:00.003+10:00

I have eaten so many foods. Now added to the list are mango, potato, passionfruit, hummus, lentils, dumplings, tomato, yoghurt, spinach, baked beans, olives, corn, beetroot, pasta, lemon, tangelo, watermelon, broccoli, cauliflower, capsicum, cucumber, pumpkin, apricot, prunes and kiwifruit.

Last month I was crabby and cranky and refusing to sleep. The day I turned six months I turned back into the smiling, happy, easy-going little person I was in the beginning.

At the beginning of the month I had no teeth. Now I have two! Both my front bottom teeth have erupted through my gums and I delight in using them to bite anything (or anyone) who dares to come near my mouth.

I still love my Jolly Jumper beyond belief.

My favourite toy at the moment is a spoon. As much as I love to eat, the next best thing is when I have finished a meal and I have my spoon handed to me to play with... until I throw it on the floor.

Even though I have resisted tummy time, I've somehow developed ninja-style rolling skills which I employ to get me closer to anything I've got my eye on.

We go swimming every Thursday and it is beyond ace. I love splashing the water, flirting with the teacher, staring at the other babies, staring when a school group comes in, kicking up and down the pool, blowing bubbles and playing with the floating toys.

I'm now in only a few items of 00 clothing. Ma's broken out all the 0 clothes, and it's pretty funny to see how big they look on me.

My love affair with the dogs continues. I now attempt to grab their ears to eat, pat them, poke them, watch them play, coo at them, sit on them, drool over them. The love affair is mutual.

Now we are five months...

2010-07-22T22:56:00.014+10:00

I've started eating food!

I love, love, love food and have happily chowed down on everything I've tried thus far. I started on rice cereal and have now tried sweet potato, carrot, apple, peas, banana, peaches, eggplant, zucchini, pear and nashi.

Did I mention I like food?

No seriously, I really like it.

We celebrated Aunty Katie's birthday with afternoon tea at Double Grandma's house. Guess what we did? Ate some food.

This was the month where my happy-go-lucky attitude disappeared. I don't want to sleep at night, I don't want to play with my toys, I don't want to sit down, I don't want to bounce, I don't want to nap, I don't want my nappy changed, I don't want to go out, I don't want to stay at home. I am irritable and I will let you know about it.

Uncle Fail came to visit from Canberra. Love that guy.

We've finally gotten somewhere with the daytime sleep thing. I now nap for around an hour at a time (nothing short of a miracle). I have, however, given up sleeping for long periods at night. Suddenly we're all feeling what it's like to experience that sleep deprivation other families have been complaining about.

Given how much I like our little fish tank at home, Ma and Grammy decided to take me to the aquarium. I liked the fish but I totally lost my mind over the penguins when we watched them feeding.

I am teething (thus the irritability) and along with the grumpiness has come drool. So much drool. Rivers and rivers of it. I have to wear little drool bibs (that make me look like a cowboy) just so I don't have to change my shirt three times a day.

I've taken the Jolly Jumper to the next level. Now I bounce along with music. I go crazy to lots of stuff, but especially love anything 80s. Spandau Ballet has been my favourite so far.

Most of this month has been consumed with us being sick. Ma, Pa and I have all done two rounds of a horrible flu-like thing one after the other. Not fun.

I wore my first batman outfit! Very proud moment for all.

We're reading more and more now. As well as all the old favourites I'm also loving the Dwell Studio board books, Not A Box by Antoinette Portis and Why I Love Australia by Bronwyn Bancroft.

I went Geocaching.I'm enthralled with television. I don't care if it's the news, music videos or the Foxtel menu screen I will stare at it. For hours.

My general unhappiness has had me craving to be held 24 hours a day. Anytime Ma and/or Pa try to put me down for longer than a minute I amp up the crankiness.

Geocaching adventures begin

2010-05-30T18:53:00.003+10:00

Finally, today I managed to do something I've been hankering to do for ages and ages. We took the family and went on a geocaching adventure! We picked a location close to home, loaded the software on to our iphone and set off. After a few muddling moments using the application for the first time we managed to get ourselves into the right place, and from there it was a short search for the cache itself. We had fun, and I'm looking forward to heading off on another journey soon. It's an activity which manages to combine geekery, puzzles, activity and nature in a very pleasant blend.

Team madeinmelbourne, flushed with success at our first cache find.

Now we are four months...

2010-05-25T22:46:00.015+10:00

We visited Heronswood for Grammy's birthday and had a lovely day perusing the gardens.

I had my first official public meltdown after our dinner for Grandpa's birthday. I lasted all through dinner (refusing to nap, as I usually do) but lost it just as Aunty Katie, Uncle Marcus, Ma and Pa were sitting down to desert.

I have gone from smiling to out-and-out laughing. I started slowly with a few chuckles here and there (which sounded like dorky, staccato growls) to squealing, pealing laughter.

I just figured out puppies live in our house, and I love them. Any time they are allowed near me they sniff, paw and (try to) lick me. I spend a lot of time watching them.

I have taken to the Jolly Jumper with glee.

We've kept hanging out at mother's group, and I like it a lot. Every week me and the other babies stare at each other more and more. We're getting very curious about each other.

I like to hang out at the park, walking around the lake and watching the variety of ducks, geese, swans and water fowl that live along the water.

Sadly I've grown out of the baby bath (until I can sit up in it on my own) and instead I take a shower with Ma or Pa every night. I love the feeling of water pattering all over me.

I'm now able to pick up my own toys and hold them. I love Sophie the giraffe, and happily spend around an hour a day playing with the toys that dangle from my play mat.

I met yet another senator. Pa's friend Senator Scott Ludlam came over and we hung out.

We now have a regular book we read before sleeping every night, Snug As A Hug, and when I see it I settle down with contented cooing. Other favourite books at the moment are Penguin by Polly Dunbar (which Grammy bought for me on one of our excursions) and Giraffes Can't Dance by Giles Andreae. Todd Parr is still my favourite.

So now the list of places I've been breastfed is getting long and includes an apple orchard, a beach, the car, country lanes, the drive-in, cafes, CERES, the park and the pub. This is us at Cherchez la Femme feeding in the back corner.

I now notice music played for me. I still get sung Go To Sleep You Little Baby every night, and we also listen to a lot of Josh Pyke or Ma's favourite Thelonious Monk tracks.

Like Pa, I'm already addicted to technology. Anything with moving images draws my attention instantly.

I'm still sleeping really well at nights but not so much with naps during the day. We're working on it.

On raising a feminist son

2010-05-25T20:27:00.000+10:00

When imagining my future as a mother, I had ideas about how I would raise daughters. Many ideas. They were about passing on the strengths I had inherited from the women in my family, from my mother and grandmother, my aunts. They were about raising a feminist daughter.

When I imagined raising sons, my only clear idea was to raise them with respect for women. All women. Now that my son is here, that seems so inadequate. How do you parent a white, more or less middle class boy who is innately privileged by his gender and perceived class? How do you encourage a healthy self esteem, a sense of worth, while also teaching him that no matter what society tells him he is not more valuable or worthy than anyone else? I have a lot to learn.

I've already begun with the basics. For every piece of blue clothing he has been generously gifted, I go out of my way to find gender neutral items. More than that, I also make an effort for him to wear clothes with ruffles, pinks, flowers and swirls. His room was decorated before we knew his gender, but by virtue of our own personal tastes was more 'masculine' than 'feminine'. After he was born I made an effort to mix in more soft and pretty elements. He has a mix of both Himself and I's toys from our childhoods, including my dolls, dollhouse and glittery knick-knacks. All chosen for our own sentimental attachments rather than gender concerns. His ever-growing library has a large section of books featuring female lead-characters, as many as possible in roles other than princess and sister.

All of this is done from a desire to encourage him to develop as a person without having external ideas of gender enforced on him in his own home. We cannot change what he will be influenced by outside our own sphere, but inside it we can offer him the freedom to be himself without consideration of what his interests/behaviour/ideas are on a gender-identified scale. I want him to be confident that masculinity can (and should) include a wide range of emotions, crying, softness, nurturing, pink and anything else he wants it to. I see this as the first step in raising a feminist son. To offer him an environment where he isn't encouraged to identify as Boy first, with all the baggage that entails, and not to see anything overtly female/feminine/girly as negative.

In the meantime, I've got some reading to do (who knew I would find reading to be the solution to yet another problem?) to figure out what else it will take to raise this feminist son. Thank goodness for the interwebs, where I can look to women like this, this and this to get me thinking.

Now we are three months...

2010-05-20T21:33:00.000+10:00

Three months is the age for learning to stand on your own two feet, metaphorically and literally. I'm pretty impressed with myself with this whole standing thing, particularly when Ma or Pa help me bounce up and down.

I've been craving some time to hang out on my own, without those parentals cramping my style. I really like playing on my own for a while each day, and now I can control my body a little bit better I get more and more joy from every little thing I can do.

I joined my parents and Steve on their annual trip to the Grampians Grape Escape. I was much more chilled out on this little jaunt than when we stayed in Lorne, and proved yet again that I'm happy to sleep pretty much anywhere.

I'm now the chattiest little guy on the planet. I love nothing more than looking right into someone's eyes and talking my own brand of Avery-speak for as long as they will talk back.

I'm a drool machine, obsessed with chewing on my hands, Ma and Pa's hands, cloths and any/everything else I can get my hands on. Which has begun suspicions that I am teething.

We went to an orchard in the Yarra Valley and picked our own apples.

Ma and I are settling in to a routine. Now she's only working on one publication we have plenty of time to hang out at home or head off on walks and adventures.

We went to our first mother's group, which Ma was worried would be filled with crazy women. In actual fact we're enjoying it and we're both hoping to make some friends. I'm obsessed with the other babies there and I love staring at them, whether they are crying, smiling, looking back at me or sleeping.

I continue to make the parentals count their blessings by sleeping like a champion. I'm happy to have a feed, cuddle and song or two and then drift off to sleep in my own cradle. Most of the time I manage to sleep for a good seven or eight hours in a row per night, plus another four or so after a quick night feed. Ma is pretty well rested, all considered! She's certainly relieved that sleep is (so far) not the battle ground she was expecting. I do not, however, believe in napping during the day. And not for more than 20 minutes at a time. I will not be convinced.

Has anyone ever told you how freakin' cool hands are? You know that episode of Futurama where Lrrr (of the planet Omecron Persei 8) is all, like, "duuuuude, my hands can touch anything except for themselves"... yeah, well, I spent this month pretty much staring at my hands in the same fashion. I've also managed to get these hands to hold stuff long enough for me to put it in my mouth. Double win.

Ma and Pa are still taking me out to hang out with people all the time, which I really enjoy. My favourite way to spend time is sitting and watching the conversations that happen around me. Or staring down the people around me until they return their attentions to me.

My Grammy comes to mind me every Tuesday afternoon and we hang out together for a few hours all by ourselves. Some weeks I torture her by crying and grumping, most of the time I'm pretty happy to have her undivided attention.

I'm still crazy about reading, and my current favourite books are Todd Parr's, particularly The Peace Book and Reading Makes Your Feel Good. I've taken to reading along with Ma and Pa in Avery-speak.

Ma and I went to our first baby session at the library, on the advice of Aunty Katie. It was pretty cool, except when everyone clapped at the end of each song. I was shocked (okay, scared). Every time. Clearly I'm not cut out for a life on the stage.

I've grown out of another whole size of clothing. I'm now well and truly into the double zero range. How did that happen?

McSteamy Diapers

2010-05-12T18:58:00.002+10:00

Hold the presses ladies, a man is changing his own child's nappies. And he's good looking! Surely a woman would be happy enough to bear him a child, without him having to do anything but pass those good-looking genes along. Will wonders never cease.

Now that's front page news.

Now we are two months...

2010-04-20T12:55:00.000+10:00

I spent most of this month on Ma's hip, being incredibly patient as she worked on her magazines and spent way too much time staring at her computer.

I love reading with Ma. I especially love anything by Todd Parr, Bubble Trouble by Margaret Mahy, The Wild Baby by Babro Lindgren (which was the first book my mum read to me, and one of her favourites from when she was little), Yellow Submarine by The Beatles and There Are Cats in This Book by Viviane Scwartz.

I've started smiling, which seems to impress my parents no end. They won't stop tickling me or making stupid faces to try to get me to laugh at them. There's plenty to laugh at, believe me.

I have managed to sleep for over nine hours without waking. Only once, but it's still pretty awesome. Most nights I sleep from around eight until nine or ten in the morning, and am happy to go straight back to sleep between feeds with no fuss.

I met Bob Brown!

I now weigh over six kilos, meaning I've doubled my weight in three months.

My favourite colour is red. Whenever I see anyone wearing red, or I tuck up in my red and white blanket I can't stop staring.

I love chatting away to anyone who will listen. I love smiling, laughing and goo-ing with all the friendly faces who play with me.

I was babysat for the first time by Holly and Clare when they visited from Canberra over Easter.

I found my tasty, tasty hands, and delight in stuffing them into my mouth as much as possible.

I sadly waved Pa off as he went to work at his new job with Oxfam. I loved having him home for the first nine weeks of my life!

My mum sings me to sleep with Didn't Leave Nobody But The Baby from O Brother Where Art Thou? every night, and even though she can't sing very well I'm mesmerised by her.

I went on my first holiday. We went to the beach at Lorne and spent hours and hours walking up and down the board walk. I liked all the walking but I wasn't so keen on the bright sunshine or the cold winds.

I grew out of all my four zero clothes and am already pushing out of some of my three zero clothes. People have given me the cutest outfits and I'm sad I won't be able to wear so many of them for much longer.

I'm still breastfeeding and while it's still been difficult at times we're come a long way. Ma is feeding me in the strangest of places. Everywhere from beaches to backyards.

Giant Ticket Giveaway!

2010-03-26T12:08:00.002+11:00

Festival has kicked off and The Pun is celebrating with the biggest Melbourne International Comedy Festival ticket giveaway you’re likely to find anywhere. Here’s where you’ll find your key to winning double passes to over 75 shows. To enter, all you need to do is email win@anewleaf.com.au and tell us which tickets you’d like and on which date. You can enter for as many shows as you like!

Check out the website and snag tickets to shows including Akmal, Tripod, Hannah Gadsby, Dave Thornton, Tom Ballard, Geraldine Quinn, Rod Quantock and many, many more.

Now we are one month...

2010-02-24T19:54:00.023+11:00

I left my comfortable home in utero and came into the world to the strains of The Doors.

I was born on my great-grandma's birthday, which made my mum very happy.

I met my parents.

I learned how to breastfeed, which was a challenge, but I'm getting better at it every day (and so is my mum).

I met my Grammy and Grandma.

And Grandpa.

And my cousin, my aunts and uncles, my great-aunt and uncle, my great-cousins, my great-grandma, and too many of my mum and dad's friends to count.

I came home with Ma and Pa, exhausted but glad to leave hospital with a clean bill of health.

I met my puppies, who wanted to lick me.

I got comfy on the beautiful quilt Grandma made for me.

I learned to cry in lots of different ways to get exactly what I want.

I had my first bath. In the laundry sink.

I had my first visit to the zoo.

I made my mum's heart melt when I started smiling in my sleep.

I went to my first party, a dress-up 30th! This is me with birthday-girl Michele.

I have projectile pooed on my grandma and projectile everything-ed on both my parents.

I love to wander around the garden with Pa, exploring this very strange new world.

Mostly, my first month was just us. Ma, Pa and I. Tired, getting used to each other and becoming a family.

The Pun 2010

2010-02-11T16:32:00.001+11:00

Are you a budding writer? Got a passion for live performance? The Pun is now accepting applications to be a part of our team for 2010. We’re searching for reviewers, writers and sub-editors to cover the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. To apply, send your resume and two samples of your writing (including one live performance review) to lefa@anewleaf.com.au by 28 February.

When I was in utero

2010-02-01T13:34:00.001+11:00

My mum read to me and started a pretty impressive library for me.

I upset my mum immensely by making tea taste horrible. She thought missing out on alcohol was going to be the hardest part of these nine months, but she had no idea how bad it would be to crave tea non-stop and get no satisfaction.
I visited Dad's offices at Parliament House, and listened to endless hours of question time on the radio whenever parliament was sitting.

I had a stellar comedy education. I went to live performances by Daniel Kitson (multiple times) and French & Saunders, plus some awesome locals like Rod Quantock, Hannah Gadsby, Courteney Hocking and lots more.

I've been to Sydney, Canberra and all over country Victoria. I made my parents rethink their trip to India, though, and we stayed in Australia.

I loved visiting Hepburn Springs, where Mum took me to swim in mineral springs for hours. It calmed us both down and soothed our aches and pains.

News of me made my family very happy. My grandmothers especially. They couldn't wait to meet me.

I kicked, prodded and poked my Mum for around six months straight. She's convinced I'm a kickboxer or tapdancer in training.

I kept everyone guessing what kind of alien I am! Turns out nearly everyone thought that I would be Kuatu. Guess what? I am. Well done people, well done.

Nearly everyone seemed to think I would be a boy. Which is lucky, because my parents still weren't sure what they would call me if I were a girl. I guess they just knew I was Avery all along.

I liked listening to music, especially the sountrack to Oh Brother Whereart Thou?

I made my mum crave kiwi fruit. Lots and lots of kiwi fruit. She also blamed me for the ice-cream cravings, but that was just her being greedy for ice-cream.

My mum spent lots of time watching television. Really bad television. Which means that when I'm born I expect I'll find the theme tune to Midsomer Murders or Law & Order will be my idea of a lullaby.

My favourite time of the day was meditation time. When we did our meditation CD I would calm down.

Thanks to the lovely Senator Scott Ludlam, I got to meet the Dalai Lama. That's me at eight months inside Mum (on the front left). Check my dad's dorky smile in the middle back.

The birth of Avery

2010-01-27T23:35:00.004+11:00

So here it is. The quick lowdown on Avery's birth story.

The Good:

We ended up having a planned c-section after much consideration of my health situation, which in retrospect was 100% the right decision. More on that in another post.
He was born to the strains of The Doors (Riders on the Storm) thanks to a surgical team with great musical tastes.
We weren't separated for a single minute. He was taken from me, had his umbilical cord cut and his vitals taken quickly on a side table, then returned to my side in Himself's arms. They both stayed there beside me while the operating team finished up, then we all went to recovery where he was handed over for me to breastfeed straight away. When I was cleared to head off to our room all three of us headed there and roomed in for five full days.
Avery entered the world then went straight back to sleep and has remained pretty much calm and peaceful since. He took days to find his crying voice and so far only really uses it sparingly. It made our first few days together really enjoyable. I was tired, but not overwhelmed, with him sleeping and resting happily between feeds.
The midwives who took care of us in the first few days post delivery were amazing. They took great care of me while I was at my sorest and supported me to start breastfeeding as soon as possible.
Our breastfeeding relationship started off brilliantly, with my colostrum coming in straight away and Avery taking to it all with ease. The midwives helped me to learn the basics and get him into a 3-4 hour feeding pattern asap.
My obstetrician and the hospital were very supportive of my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. They made sure they understood what assistance I would need, and what they would be able to provide. I was given a place in the Mother & Baby Unit to go on to after my full five days of recovery on the ward (which I didn't end up needing as we had such a positive start and my health has been fantastic), and plenty of information about all the help that they could offer at any stage.
My fatigue has been completely under control and my physical recovery from the c-section was painful but very manageable. I'm already feeling relatively good and have great movement and motion. My body is recovering well and is much easier than I expected.
Both Avery and I are here, happy and well!

The Bad... and The Ugly:

Maybe it was the long weekend, maybe it was a coincidence, but the midwives we had after the first few days ranged from poor to outright awful. One ended up spending around 30 minutes telling us about her outrageous religious beliefs and trying to convert my atheist partner. No kidding, she was talking about 'scripture' and her belief that the world was going to end because the eclipse, meteors and the jews discovering a faith in Jesus were all due to happen soon and they are predicted in... you guessed it... The Scriptures... as signs of the apocalypse. She finally left the room after praying over Himself for him to find salvation. Another midwife (who would have been about 80, I swear) couldn't say the word vagina (she kept asking how things were 'down there'), and said that while the hospital wanted her to talk to us about contraception before we left (as part of the information they give you about recovery and early days at home) she knew nothing on the subject and thought it was inappropriate for her to talk me about it. Then there was the midwife who thought helping me with breastfeeding problems was manhandling me to the point that it hurt, and reprimanding me for my technique without answering my questions or offering any real help. Lets leave the examples there, but you get the picture.
After leaving the hospital I've discovered that I haven't learned how to breastfeed properly and the conflicting advice I was given by various midwives have left me confused as to how I need to fix my problems. Thank god for my Australian Breastfeeding Association membership. After my already giant breasts became engorged as my milk came in I asked for help after it became apparent Avery wasn't coping with the excess of milk and the changes to attachment, but this really didn't happen and now I have a rather painful path ahead with my cracked nipples and a very poorly attaching baby.
At our final health check the nurse told us Avery has an irregular heartbeat which needs to be checked by his pediatrician. She was pretty dismissive, but one of the other midwives was quick to reassure us that it's not uncommon and not to worry about it in the meantime.

Here he is...

2010-01-27T22:48:00.002+11:00

Avery

This little gentleman joined us on January 2oth at around 3pm via Cesarean section. He's a week old today. I think it's safe to say I'm besotted already.

XKCD Parenting

2010-01-07T21:15:00.006+11:00

As per usual, XKCD says it all. In around a week it appears this alien will finally make his/her self known to us. And that's when all our 'let's just take this easy and try to keep ourselves doing this the way that feels right for us' hype is put to the test. The impending arrival has me writing lists (just for a change) of what needs to be done, what needs to be organised, what needs to be purchased. There's no panic (yet) that we're not prepared enough in the practical senses.

As for the panic that we're just not prepared enough for the actual baby, well, that's pretty under control at the moment. I'm very, very okay with the fact that I have no idea what life is about to transform into. Accepting that has been so much easier than I imagined. I've done all my reading on the issues I'm most concerned about - breastfeeding, early baby care, organic/natural alternatives and methods - which is just to make me feel comfortable about this transition. I feel like I know where to look for help if any of my fears are realised and I need support with breastfeeding, postnatal depression and all the other potential pitfalls. That's a pretty positive place to be at right now.

Biggest issue? My current edition of Green magazine is right in production phase at the moment. It seems that the baby will indeed be beating the magazine, meaning I'll be finishing off editing while nursing a newborn. Sounds like fun, yes?

2009 In Brief

2010-01-01T12:13:00.000+11:00

Summary of 2009 via meme found at Blue Milk

1.What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?

Get (and stay) pregnant, gestate a baby for almost 9 months.

2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

My resolution was to take it a little easier on myself this year - expect less and be happy with more - and I think I at least improved in this area. I've tried to forgive myself when I don't live up to my own expectations and tried not to focus on the expectation of others. That's certainly a start. I don't think this is the year for resolutions, other than to try not to let it fly past too fast, and to find some enjoyment in the soon-to-begin chaos.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Yes, an old high-school girlfriend had her first child.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No, but it was a sad year for some friends.

5. What countries did you visit?

None, despite having paid for fares to India and planning to see Mansha. On a positive note I mostly managed to avoid going to other states within Australia. The last few years have been crazy with traveling all over the country and this was a great year for nesting and staying close to home. Our only holiday was to Daylesford/Hepburn Springs for a few days and it was positively perfect.

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?

Some face-to-face time with this baby I've been growing.

7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

Not sure there are dates, per se, but certainly the day I found out I was pregnant, the day I shared that with my partner and my mother.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Managing to grow another human being from scratch, publishing three print magazines and one online publication, staying in the black financially despite significant challenges.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Keeping up with my personal writing on this blog fell very low on the achievement list, but the biggest was probably my social life. In trying to focus on not burning myself out I missed a huge amount of events and time with the people I love. It's an almost impossible juggling act for me, and I don't think I managed it well in 2009.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

I don't believe in the idea that pregnancy is an illness which needs management (which is how some mainstream medical systems behave) but unfortunately the combination of pregnancy and CFS has pretty much amounted to illness. Research has shown that many women who fall pregnant while managing CFS find marked improvements in their symptoms or their condition overall. Let's just say I don't fall into that category.

11. What was the best thing you bought? (was bought for you)

Best thing I bought for myself? No idea, probably the full day of spa treatments and relaxing in the day spa at Hepburn Springs. Bought for me? Himself bought me a gorgeous ring and earrings for Christmas, and my mother spoiled us with a new digital SLR camera... both put massive smiles on my face.

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

Certain friends, who have accepted (with astounding grace and patience) my last minute ditching of plans or inability to leave my own house. They haven't given up on me and I can't explain how much that has meant. Taking the cake this year however, was Dave, for traveling all the way to Melbourne (on the dreaded red-eye, no less) to be with me for my surprise early birthday party.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

It's been a disappointing year to watch Kevin Rudd, that's for sure. Or almost any world leader who attended Copenhagen.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Having a roof over our heads, trying to pay off debts and also manage to save a little. Pretty good year on that front, all considered.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Adding to our family.

16. What songs will always remind you of 2009?

It was a poor music year for me. I'm drawing a blank on this one.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i) …happier or sadder?

Happier.

ii) thinner or fatter?

Both. I'm much bigger in circumference, but have actually lost weight. Pregnancy seems to have kick started my metabolism.

iii) richer or poorer?

Richer. It's been a year of feeling almost like a grown up with money. Very strange.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Spend time with other people.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Spent my time shuffling between my couch, bed and toilet. Gotta love that pregnant bladder.

20. How did you spend Christmas?

Christmas Eve with my mum, morning with her side of my extended family (where we discovered that my great aunt and uncle have had a bunker in their backyard all my life and I never knew!), afternoon and night with Himself's family. Mostly it was spent calmly and quietly.

22. Did you fall in love in 2009?

Yes, with my changing family.

23. How many one night stands?

None.

24. What were your favourite TV programs?

My love affair with Midsomer Murders continues unabated, plus The Wire, Weeds and Californication.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

My dislike for some has grown, but hate is a pretty strong word.

26. What was the best book you read?

That's tough. Some highlights were The Road (Cormac McCarthy), The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (Stieg Larsson) and revisiting some favourites like Evelyn Waugh, P. G. Wodehouse, Agatha Christie and Jasper Fforde.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?

I really can't think of anything. Shamefully, I didn't even see any live music this year that I can recall.

28. What did you want and get?

Growing our family.

29. What did you want and not get?

More time reconnecting with Melbourne now that we're back here permanently. Finally travelling to India (so close this time).

30. What was your favourite film of this year?

Honorable mentions to Up (it was just right for my mood that day), 2012, which was the perfect end-of-days movie, it made me laugh so hard I nearly peed my pants (although, again, pregnant bladder may have something to do with this) and Twilight: New Moon, which was so terrible I got uncontrollable hiccups from laughing too much and the seats were so comfy that it became a highlight. The one which will stay with me is probably Milk. Fantastically made biopic with a compelling story to tell.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I managed to squeeze in two birthdays this year! The first was my 29th in January, which was a quiet affair. Himself and I spent the day at Healsville Sanctuary where I got up close and personal with my favourite animals, the bats, then had a lovely country lunch and finished off wine tasting at one of my most loved places, Yering Station (where I managed to score myself some wine to bring home, of course). The second was my pre-30th birthday. Himself threw me a surprise party in December to make up for the fact that I'm due to welcome this alien to the world in the same week as my actual birthday. This means I'll either be too huge and over it to celebrate, or may be busy freaking out over the alien I now have to figure out how to take care of. Either way, I can't exactly make plans, so he spoilt me with a lovely day of friends and food. So thoughtful and perfect, plus a genuine surprise, right up until I was in my front door.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

The return of my brain. I really miss being able to articulate what I mean, keep up with conversation and enjoy a book/movie/television show/live performance with some level of complexity.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?

What fits? That's what I'll wear.

34. What kept you sane?

My mum, Himself and the knowledge that for better or worse, life will change completely in 2010. This CFS fugue I've been living in, which makes most days blend into each other and the future seem hazy, will become something different. Even if it is a different kind of fog.

35.Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Alan Davies Give me a man who can make me laugh and stars in English murder mysteries any day.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?

Climate change. It's so hard to see the stalling of this debate at every turn, and such a betrayal to see Rudd's government undermine any progress. Stupid me, I really did have more faith in their election posturing on this particular issue. I'm starting to think we would have had a better result from the Libs.

37. Who did you miss?

Mansha, after not getting to visit her in India this year. Some of our friends in other states, who we usually get to see in flying visits around the country when we travel more.

38. Who was the best new person you met?

Scout. She's been a joy to have around (mostly...) and has definitely made Mycroft happier overall. Mind you, Himself and I have concluded that while she was my Christmas/birthday present in 2009, she is most certainly his dog. She adores him.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009

It might not come naturally, but my life doesn't have to revolve around stress and anxiety. I can find calm and I can alter my own state of mind.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:

I've hardly been outside my room in days,
'cause I don't feel that I deserve the sunshine's rays.
The darkness helped until the whiskey wore away,
And it was then I realized the conscience never fades.
When you're young you have this image of your life:
That you'll be scrupulous and one day even make a wife.
And you make boundaries you'd never dream to cross,
And if you happen to you wake completely lost.

Yup, depression and realising life isn't the path you always imagined and you're not the person you assumed you were.

41. What was your favorite moment of the year?

Finding out I was pregnant.

42. What was your least favourite moment of the year?

When I started bleeding.

57. If you could go back in time to any moment of 2009 and change what?

I'd have been in the same state as Himself when I got to tell him I was pregnant.

58. What are your plans for 2010?

Meet my child, redefine 'family', enjoy those changes.

Equality in our home

2009-12-01T21:38:00.005+11:00

There are so many things we don't know about the months and years ahead of us after our child is born. We can't imagine what this new part of our lives is going to be like. Some people, we have discovered, are the exact opposite. They seem to know exactly how things are going to unfold when their child is born.

These people are resigned to some of the same things we are; sleepless nights, loads of washing and nappies, pee and poo, feeling swamped and generally being overwhelmed. The difference between them and us is that for them, it is the mothers who will shoulder the overwhelming majority of this workload. For us, we envisage it as a two person job.

I am confident that I won't be doing it all on my own. You won't catch me rolling my eyes as I talk about handing the baby over to a reluctant father the minute he walks in the door at 6.30pm. To clarify, I might be handing over the baby, but that baby will be welcomed with open arms.

I've said it before, but my partner already does more than his 50% of the housekeeping duties. I'd be lucky to be responsible for 25% of the housework, cooking, cleaning load in our home. That hasn't always been the case. Before my CFS became a factor in our lives I would say the load was closer to 50/50, but my part was always a share, not the majority.

Sometimes I feel guilty that I don't do more around our home. I'm inordinately proud of myself when I manage to vac the house, or clean the bathroom (the two tasks I'm most likely to be found doing, if anything). I notice, acutely, the disparity in our workloads.

We try to play to our strengths and weaknesses when sharing workloads, and Himself's OCD certainly plays a part in his taking on more cleaning and tidying. There are other areas where I take on more than 50% of the load, playing to my strengths. Our equality isn't each doing exactly half of every task, but it is endeavoring to share responsibilities and not having an expectation of one person taking on tasks based on traditional gender roles etc.

All this gives me some idea what to expect after this baby is born. I don't need Himself to "step up" around the house. He already does that. I will need help in a myriad of other ways, but I know that my partner has no sense of entitlement about sitting back and letting me do as much as possible until I make him help or get involved. I expect us to approach this as a team, and while I'm sure there will be disappointments and compromises and difficulties, I know that there is no expectation that the baby-rearing will be my job.

I don't talk about this as some kind of bragging exercise, or to talk about how lucky I am. I talk about it because I think it's important to note that this is the norm in our home. As it should be in many more. It's important that people are aware that equal partnerships do exist, and that it's not unusual to be expecting your partner to be as involved in the practical aspects of parenting, from changing nappies to cleaning.

Himself might not be able to breastfeed, but he can nurture and care for both myself and our child in many other ways. The practicalities of feeding and other tasks might be more heavily weighted towards me in our first stretch of parenting, but there is so much more than this when it comes to acting as a family and a team. We don't envisage our future with me as primary parent, and Himself as backup. We plan for and talk about our future as two equal parents.

Reading this article from Backpacking Dad really bought home for me how infrequent tales of immersed, competent fathers are. As he points out, you are much more likely to find stories from mothers/wives/partners about the hopeless thing that Daddy did when he was in charge of the kids than stories where involved, in control and engaged fathers are.

While Backpacking Dad suggests that perhaps women should tone down these stories of 'hopeless' dads, I actually think the opposite approach is important. Talking about the positive, rather than hiding the negative. Making it known that having an equal partnership, in life and in parenting, is not impossible. It might take work, it might not be perfect but even the struggle to make it that way is important.

I'm not always satisfied with the status quo of my relationship, and I'm sure Himself would say the same. What is important to me is that this is a journey and we move towards a path that we're both happy with. I really have no idea what our equal parenting will look like, but I do know that it will be both our jobs to raise our child, and to negotiate what that job looks like.

Giving by Giving

2009-11-25T16:54:00.007+11:00

One month until Christmas!

I love buying gifts. I love searching for them, giving them, the whole bit. I don't love the consumerism behind being forced to give gifts out of obligation, particularly when you are drawing a complete blank on what someone might like. It seems like such a waste to give for the sake of protocol, but often when we run out of ideas we feel we have no choice.

My favourite gifts to give are those where I really feel like I've found something the receiver would like for themselves, but perhaps haven't come across, something which says I know you, and shows that you've really put some thought into making it personal. I also love to give gifts which meet my own criteria for shopping. Is the gift ethical? Is it made from less harmful ingredients than the standard option? Is it (or can it be later) recycled? Does the item justify the resources used to make it? The best case scenario is a gift which meets my own standards, and is also a thoughtful present for the recipient.

Last year Himself and I put our heads together and he wrote a post about good 'green' gifts to consider at this time of the year, this year I thought I would go further and put together a comprehensive guide to green, ethical and thoughtful giving. Here is my first post on the ways you can ensure a positive Christmas for your friends and family.

Giving by Giving

Kiva

Kiva is a microlending site where users can browse and find someone who requires a loan to help them build a business:

Kiva is the world's first person-to-person micro-lending website, empowering individuals to lend to unique entrepreneurs around the globe.
The people you see on Kiva's site are real individuals. When you browse entrepreneurs' profiles on Kiva, choose someone to lend to, and then make a loan, you are helping a real person make great strides towards economic independence and improve life for themselves, their family, and their community

You can purchase a gift certificate which your recipient can use to make their own loan. The unique beauty of this gift is that it truly is the gift that keeps on giving. Your recipient can use your original investment over and over again when their loan is repayed, making it a perpetual gift for them and the many people they can assist when they select projects and people to support.

Oxfam Unwrapped

The joy here is in finding something that is personal to your gift recipient. Are they a keen crafter? How about this sewing training. Love their footy? Try supporting an Indigenous footy program. Dedicated gardener? For the tiny sum of $10 you can purchase seeds for East Timor. The options are almost limitless, and the prices range from under $10 all the way through to thousands.

Greenpeace Giving

In the same way as Oxfam, Greenpeace offer a store full of gifts to give where you can consider your recipient's hobbies and interests. Have a carpenter to buy for? Here's a share in a portable sawmill. Cat lover? Try this tounge-in-cheek 'floaties for kitty' to save pets from climate change. And who doesn't want to help protect whales and their calves?

Give Now

Again, the fun and thoughtful way to donate using this website is in thinking about your recipient's passions. This site combines a number of different options, and is a good way to start. You can put in a few keywords and find some suggested charities, look for an area of interest (such as animal welfare, arts or health) or search the list of charities themselves for something that catches your eye. If you are giving a gift to someone who has recently travelled overseas, you can pick a charity which works in a country they visited. For someone who loves animals a donation to the WSPA or RSPCA is available, or you can sponsor a child on their behalf from any number of organisations. Are they passionate about their local area? Find a unique site in their city, such as the Abbotsford Convent in Melbourne, which accepts donations to run. There are local charities you can support directly though Give Now, from the Springvale Toy Library in Victoria to the Tasmanian Arboretum, Western Australia Aids Council, the Wide Bay Burnett Conservation Council of QLD, the Wimmera Base Hospital Foundation or the Bankstown Handicapped Children's Centre of NSW.

Keep in mind the ways that your recipient may have been personally affected by issues. You can search online for a charity to donate to depending on what is important to them. Have they been touched by cancer? Donate to cancer research. Do they have a family member suffering from depression or mental illness, MS, physical disabilities or diabetes? Are they concerned with homelessness? Consider charities such as Second Bite who collect and distribute excess food to those in need, help provide Swags for the Homeless, or Kids Under Cover who support family units to avoid overcrowding in homes and house homeless children. Are they passionate environmentalists? Fund bush regeneration through Landcare, protect fauna with the Wildlife Preservation Society of Australia, or support Friends of the Earth.

Purchase regular gifts from charities so they make a percentage of the profit.

Did you know Amnesty International have an online store where you can purchase Amnesty Branded goods, or ethical goods from all over the world? The RSPCA have a huge online store where you can buy anything pet related. Your recipient may just love their pooch, but you can do double the good by purchasing something for their pet which also provides for other pets not so lucky to have a loving home. And surely you've seen one of the fantastic Oxfam shops in your local area? If not, you can also go to their comprehensive online store.

Don't forget the little things.

Just by selecting your Christmas cards from a charity, you can send good wishes and holiday cheer... and support a cause you're passionate about. You can help cure cancer, save abandoned animals, support causes all over the world with Amnesty International. The options are almost endless. Look up any charity online and you're sure to find they have an option for purchasing cards from them. If you're in Sydney, there's even a whole store where you can go and browse a huge selection of charity cards in person.

As well as cards, there's also wrapping paper. Keep an eye out for the charity stalls in your shopping centre where you for a small fee you can avoid the wrapping altogether and donate to an organisation who will do it for you. Or are you a family who just can't do without the luxury of a real Christmas tree each year? Look for a charity who sells trees in your area, rather than buying from a commercial outlet. Everyone from the Scouts to Oxfam use selling trees to raise funds.

Next up I'll offer you my tips and hints for a Green Christmas!

Better late than never...

2009-11-11T17:03:00.003+11:00

Yipes, I'm so behind in my blogs lately it's not funny. Reminder though, that the 18th Down Under Feminists' Carnival is on over at Wallaby. There are, as per usual, many great posts included. Have a browse as I'm pretty safe in saying there is something in there for everyone (and it also conveniently answers Crikey's question on where all the female political bloggers are... they're here!).

What alien am I gestating?

2009-11-10T20:47:00.006+11:00

So here is the real question, people. It's there, ready to burst out at any moment... what alien am I gestating?

Is it Sigourney Weaver's Alien?

Is it Kuato from Total Recall?

The Thing from The Thing?

Or a mutant combination of her and Himself's DNA? (perhaps the scariest of all...)

Share your thoughts below...

28 weeks and counting

2009-11-02T20:18:00.004+11:00

I've now had a little person (yet to be verified, I still have my alien suspicions) growing inside me for 28 weeks. I remember how I used to wonder what it would feel like to have someone growing inside me. I couldn't imagine how it would be to feel kicking, or movement, or to be aware that this little person can hear you speak, breathe and eat. Now that I'm here, that I can feel all of these things and they are real, guess what? They still don't feel real. I know it's my child in there, logically, but there is a mental disconnect that I can't overcome. It's too overwhelming.

That disconnect was in prime form when my wonderful mother-in-law took us shopping for a pram. This is something Himself and I have attempted a few times, but abandoned very quickly. Much like any of the shopping involved in our wedding, I find the whole baby industry similarly ridiculous. Products with dubious purpose play on parents fears, are divided into blue and pink and as often as possible feature a copyrighted character. In the face of such horror we have slowly backed out of the door and given up on buying the essentials. This time we figured we'd take the expert (especially since she did the same thing for our niece only a few years ago) which was a great move. We went to an independent store (avoiding the big chains certainly helps take out some of the ick-factor of baby shopping) and selected both a simple pram and a car seat in under an hour. All of this was considered a huge success (and draws a close to any required big item shopping and thus big-box stores).

The freak out factor occurred after we got our purchases home. Himself, of course, had to unpack and assemble everything as soon as possible. Which left me staring at a pram and car capsule thinking "holy shite, we're actually going to put a baby in that". Which filled me with terror for five minutes, until my brain shut down. I can prepare a room, read every book I can get my hands on about birth and babies, enjoy feeling the moves and kicks inside me, imagine how life will be when this little person arrives. But imagining the person, this individual who will become so central to our lives... nope. Does not compute. Can not imagine it, even though Bubble Baby is already alive inside me.

Let's play doctors, Mummy! No, wait, let's play stripping!

2009-09-03T15:05:00.004+10:00

via Gizmodo

That's right people, this really is the age of choice. Not content with waiting until she's 18 to learn the tradecraft of stripping? No problem with this (presumably real, according to Gizmodo editors) new doll. There are enough articles around lamenting the product itself, so I'll refrain from delving too deep into the all-too-obvious issues with it, but there is a fairly good rundown of what it is and where it appears to have come from on Parentdish.com

What took this from *headdesk* to shock, for me, was the casual association between this doll and the recently publicised breastfeeding doll. I was first alerted to the product by an acquaintance who emailed it to a bunch of people with the comment "this is almost as bad as the breastfeeding doll". Are you for serious? Almost as bad as the breastfeeding doll? When I followed the link to the story he sent I was taken to this Perez post, which also starts the article with a comparison to the breastfeeding doll. From there, I followed it back to the article he found it in at Parentdish.com which, you guessed it, also compares it to the breastfeeding doll. Finally I traced the story to Gizmodo (who it appears found the product and broke the story) where, finally, it is compared to something comparable (and unrelated to breastfeeding) the USB Pole Dancer which was banned from sale at Marks & Spencer.

This casual association between a doll which promotes gyrating on a pole earning money (or kudos) by getting naked and simulating various sexual acts and positions and one which simulates feeding a child in the method recognised as the most healthy and preferable by the World Health Organisation is astounding. The much-discussed breastfeeding doll was widely condemned recently as being an encouragement for girls to start having babies young, and a product which would sexualise them too early. Wow, that's almost as bad as a doll which actually does encourage them to 'play' at sexualisation. You know, like a pole dancing doll.

Clearly I fall on the side of opinion which says that if it's appropriate for children to play with a doll which bottle feeds, it's appropriate for them to play with a doll that breastfeeds. There is nothing sexual in this at all. It's modelling what parents do, and what they may choose to do if/when they have children of their own. I cannot reconcile how a doll which involves no sexual activity at all can be automatically associated with a doll which is all about sexual activity. There is no other way to interpret a pole dancing doll. It mimics a real life activity which is firmly entrenched in sexual, adult experience. Let's cut the crap. There is no comparison here at all. And while we're at it, why don't you tell me which you'd rather your daughter grew up to do in real life, breastfeed or pole dance?

Ultrasounds and the safety questions.

2009-08-26T23:52:00.003+10:00

After talking (in my earlier post) about the ultrasound I have each time I visit my obstetrician, I was asked if I was concerned about the potential health risks of such frequent scans. Most women, in a regular pregnancy, will have 2-3 scans unless issues arise or complications are diagnosed. I'm having one a month at present, and I assume if my doctor continues on in the same way I will have them more frequently as my appointments increase.

The simple answer is no, I'm not concerned about the health risks. While it's clear that little in depth research has been done on the long-term health issues associated to ultrasounds, I am comfortable with the research that has been done. From my reading, I'm satisfied that what I gain from these ultrasounds far outweighs the risks I am taking. To clarify, while I'm not having these ultrasounds for specific diagnostic services, I certainly get something out of them.

For me, the opportunity to look on a monitor, see and hear a heartbeat and wriggling baby is a huge psychological relief. It helps me to keep my anxiety in check. After miscarrying (and my generally far-from-optimistic outlook) previously and the earlier bleeding in this pregnancy, it is an effort for me to allow myself to relax and enjoy this process without becoming scared of what might happen or how things are progressing. As I leave my obstetrician's office after each visit I feel reassured and more able to allow myself to further attach to this bubble baby.

Clearly, there is no physical need for me to have these scans. The simple fact is that the benefits outlined above are, for me, vital. My mental health requires management in the same way that my physical health does, and I feel that this is a heavy weight on the side of 'worth it' vs. the risks. The commonly asked question by most people concerned over potential health issues is "why would you take any more risks than you have to just to see an image of your baby, there's no real benefit in doing so is there?" I have my answer to that question; yes, for me, there is benefit to how I'm managing this pregnancy.

The scans I have (besides the regular 12 week scan when checking for risks of Downs Syndrome) are less than five minutes long, in fact they are probably less than three minutes. My obstetrician doesn't attempt to diagnose anything from the scans other than whether the baby is in fact there, with a beating heart. She doesn't take the time to find a comprehensive angle and do show-and-tell, the purpose is not to give me an added bonus picture show. I'm satisfied that the potential risks as outlined in the reading I've done are not increased to a point I'm uncomfortable with in these short moments. As she herself explained at my first appointment, she has the equipment in her office and she likes to do a quick visual as a matter of routine. I'm sure if I requested that we stopped, she would support that choice, but the sense of well being I have after each appointment means I am happy to continue these quick scans.

I read an interesting post from a Canadian blogger in regards to the growing trend of ultrasounds-at-your-convenience and 3D ultrasounds. I've never been tempted to do a 3D ultrasound, mostly because I do see them as another commodity being sold to parents in the never ending marketing cycle. I'm also not concerned with how my baby looks, that's not what appeals to me about ultrasounds in general, and I don't see how a 3D ultrasound is anything other than a more realistic peeking device. I'm content to see hands, feet a head and a torso. If they're still there I don't need more detail.

By the way, I'm booked in for my full/proper 20 week ultrasound where a real ultrasound tech does a more detailed visual analysis of bubble baby next week, so be ready for me to do an about-face and tell you about how I need to see every detail I can and will not be satisfied until I do.

Can't sleep at this motel...

2009-08-24T14:21:00.000+10:00

Clowns will eat me.

We're still here... both of us.

2009-08-19T21:22:00.003+10:00

Still pregnant, still in a weird state of disbelief about the whole affair. Very, very pleased to report that we're both in good health at the moment and looking forward to this just-beginning fifth month. In typical anxious style I have gone from counting down the to the 'safe' mark of the second trimester to the next milestone, 24 weeks (when a baby can, in theory, survive outside the womb with medical assistance). Even as I'm doing this, I recognise that these anxieties, these markers I'm counting down to, are pointless. Yes, I'm concerned about my baby being born safe and happy, but at each stage there is another worry to line up. I'm sure at 38 weeks I'll be convinced that every time there is a lull in bubble baby's movements there is some risk, some chance that something is wrong. It's a process of coping with my own anxiety issues, and of the natural anxieties that come with parenthood. Not easy for a natural worrywart, but completely ordinary for most parents.

As much as the anxiety is always in the background, I have let myself attach to this baby more. I didn't realise how much I had pulled back emotionally once I started bleeding, but now I'm taking some time to enjoy it all. At least once a day I rest, stay still and let myself think about what a miracle this whole process is. Try to tune in to the concept that there really is a living person inside me, that my body is doing these amazing things. Because I'm overweight I can feel a different kind of rounding in my belly, but it isn't obvious to look at. If it wasn't for the ultrasounds each visit to my obstetrician (I'm lucky enough to have an Ob. who has an old machine in her room and uses it to check for heartbeat and brief glimpse each appointment), it would be easy to believe this was a dream. Dare I mention that I think I may have felt the baby move today? It may just have been indigestion, but it felt different. Mind you, everything feels slightly weird when pregnant. I have no interest in food (so unlike me it's not funny), my digestive system does weird things and other issues I'll leave unspoken for your own good.

Mostly, at the moment, I'm doing a lot of thinking about the kind of parenting I want to practice, the aspects of various movements I agree/disagree with etc. One area I'm hoping will be less of an issue than it is for most new-parent partnerships is division of labour. I'm under no misapprehension that, given I'm determined to breastfeed, much of the practical feeding/night waking/primary care role will be mine for quite some time. In terms of the household labour and domestic tasks in our home are primarily taken care of by my partner already; washing, cooking dinner, day-to-day cleaning... he's already responsible for the lion's share of these. I'd estimate he does around 75% of the domestic care around the house when he is home (he travels two weeks a month for work). We're also already in the position where I'm only working part-time (and from home), so I won't have to adjust to the non 9-5 lifestyle.

Want to have written evidence to point me back to and laugh over? Here are the aims I've already begun to formulate for our parenting journey:

Both partners to be able to act as primary caregiver. I want both of us to be able to know how to pack a nappy bag, how to settle bubble baby to sleep or to find our own routines and habits. I know I can be a control freak, and I don't want to find myself in that trap where you are so determined to do/be the best parent you can be that you don't give your partner the space to find their own rhythm, and in turn trap yourself into the role of becoming the leader, and the other parent 'helping' when you let them, or tell them what to do and how to do it.
Learn how to stand our ground on our own parenting decisions. My partner and I love our families very much. We both have positive relationships with the corresponding in-laws (some days I swear my Mum likes Himself more than she likes me). Unfortunately I think we both suffer from wanting to please them too much. While they are far from meddling, I think we ourselves worry too much about what they will think, and we find it hard to stand our ground when we know it will conflict with their ideas or methods. This is why we're not discussing baby names with anyone, and partly why we won't find out the sex of the baby. I don't want to be swayed by anyone.
Be a supportive, non-judgemental mother. I don't want to play Mummy Wars. I don't want to judge other women for their parenting choices. I want to accept other people's choices, just the way I want mine supported by them. This one won't be easy for me. I often have strong opinions and I while I try to be open to other people's ideas raising kids is one of the most contentious areas and I've seen firsthand the destruction that comes from letting your differing parenting ideals come between you and a friend.
Not to take the easy road just because it's easier. I'm a passionate environmentalist, and a passionate feminist. Whether I raise a boy or a girl, have a difficult baby or an easy one, I don't want to give up my principles because it gets harder to stick by them. I'm sure there will be days where disposables are easier than cloth, where it's easier to smile and ignore another adult telling my child that only girls play with dolls and when I'm too tired to cook organic, nutritious meals instead of ordering takeaway. That doesn't mean I give up and just live with a 'whatever' attitude. There are more eco-friendly disposables to fall back on, I can avoid an argument with other adults about the engendering of children through toys but make sure I foster the opportunity to participate in all kinds of play for my own child, and if I've been feeding my child a healthy balanced diet and occasional meal of crap isn't going to harm them.

I'm sure I'm going to love looking back on this and laughing, but if we don't have aims then we don't have anything to aim for.

That's right, we're joining the ranks of the breeders.

2009-07-21T15:35:00.003+10:00

Terrifying, but true. It seems Himself and I are going to be parents in 2010. This is a mix of elating, unbelievable and confusing. On one hand, I've wanted this for a very long time. On the other, it's hard to process the reality. For the first weeks we knew I was holding my breath, waiting until we passed that first trimester to feel 'safe', given my past history of miscarriage. The day we started to share the news with our extended family was the day I started bleeding. I was convinced we'd lost the baby, and surprised beyond all belief to see a wiggling, happy baby on the ultrasound the next day (complete with heartbeat). Since then I've been bleeding off and on, feeling less secure than ever about the pregnancy. I've been on doctor-ordered bed rest, off it, and am now back in bed after bleeding again.

The epic changes our lives are about to go through are intimidating, but I can't wait. It's the start of a whole new chapter, a completely different set of life experiences, and something impossible to predict. I'm preparing in my usual geekish way by reading everything I can get my hands on, knowing full well that I won't 'get it' until the reality is here. Still, it's the closest I can come to controlling any aspect of this journey, and even that is comforting at this stage.

So please meet Bubble Baby, the small alien creature currently growing inside me. It's not a particularly clear photo, and does little to convince me that this is not similar to the alien that grew inside Sigourney Weaver. Time will tell.

The Age of Ineptitude

2009-05-09T13:40:00.001+10:00

I've given up sending emails to The Age directly about their inept subbing (for which I blame staff cuts, not the actual sub-editors for the most part), and will now collect examples of "for f**k's sake, even a monkey could do better, I swear I'm not being a pedant" stuff ups from The Age.

How's this one?

The Pun 2009

2009-04-01T18:19:00.003+11:00

It's been almost a month since I updated, but for a change there's a good reason. The Melbourne International Comedy Festival kicks off today, and I've been happily absorbed in putting together a great publication. This is the third year we will have published The Pun, and I'm really pleased that after our break last year we're back stronger than ever. As well as being the third year I've published The Pun, this is my fifth year making magazines about it (two years of MICF editions of Rabelais at La Trobe University), my seventh year of reviewing shows at MICF (including two insanely busy years reviewing around three shows per night for Beat) and, most excitingly, my ninth year attending the festival.

In my first year at MICF I saw Greg Fleet (who I had seen do a solo show at Fringe Festival the year before) Tripod, and a group show that I can't recall the performers from. That was 1999. In the years since I've loved getting more and more involved. I've produced shows, programed a venue, written thousands of words about hundreds of shows. My passion for the festival has never faded, though I'm pleased I took a break last year. That year off (I saw only two friends shows, and Daniel Kitson) gave me a chance to feel like I was missing something, and to remember how good it feels to be in the thick of that festival buzz. Which I stand on the precipice of right now.

Check out the website as myself and the team delve into the festival, reporting on all the buzz that makes the Melbourne International Comedy Festival one of the top three comedy festivals in the world, and the biggest festival in the southern hemisphere. I'm looking forward to the next 26 days with pure anticipation and joy. It's been a while since I had such a positive feeling towards MICF, mostly because the amount of work it drains out of me is so huge. This year, it will be similar, but I am happy to be right in the thick of it.

Of course, I wouldn't be myself if I didn't encourage you to SEE LOCAL SHOWS, especially the amazing FEMALE comics we are lucky enough to have in this country. My first Top 5 list is dedicated to ladies who will make you laugh, so get out there and see them. It's a tough road for women in comedy, with the usual sexism and stereotypes rearing their heads.

The women I love

2009-03-08T06:42:00.002+11:00

It's International Womens Day today. It's a day I didn't really think about until I ran an IWD event. This was when I worked at a local council in event management. One of my key events during the contract was a breakfast for the community in celebration of IWD. We had a great event, fantastic speakers, so many door prizes it wasn't funny. And no-one came. Well, next to no-one. And I was bummed about it. Why weren't women my age interested in celebrating IWD? Why didn't we gather to appreciate and commemorate the women who have come before us, making some of the most important inroads towards where we are today? Why didn't we take the time to remind each other how much support, or inspiration, or joy we get from each other?

I've wanted to run an event of my own for IWD every year. Unfortunately, time and other commitments have meant it hasn't happened. But I do mark the occasion by taking the time to connect to other women in ways that I find meaningful. This year I'll do the same. I've just been reminded though, that I really do know (and love) some exceptional women.

One of my dearest friends has just been accepted into the NYU Stern Class of 2011. This is no mean feat. And frankly, this is probably not the most remarkable of her many achievements. Another of the girls I love most is just about to embark on another solo show in the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. She's made choices in her life that other people wouldn't have dared to make; she's had an 'it' job that looks great from the outside, but it didn't fulfill her. So she followed her heart, and she's doing something she loves and working hard at. In a man's world, no less. I watched a talented, gorgeous friend come out at our homophobic all-girl's religious high school and hold her head high despite other people wanting her to hide or be ashamed. Women I admire have gone out on a limb to produce magazines and media which has challenged the current landscape and offered a unique creative outlet for themselves, but always others. We all benefit from their work, but they do it for the work, not the kudos or the limelight.

My mother has faced, and overcome, breast cancer twice in the last five years. My grandmother, who passed away just over a year ago, defeated breast cancer with a mastectomy, survived a brain tumor and dealt with Alzheimer's bravely until she was unable to anymore. My aunt lost her infant to SIDS, but went on to have two healthy, happy daughters that she is able to love wholeheartedly and without reservation. She works a job she doesn't necessarily love to give them the education she values and to make sure they never grow up in the poverty she did. A high school girlfriend gave birth to a healthy baby girl last week, taking on the challenge of a highly demanding career and motherhood combined. Another of my oldest friends is a single mother who has just completed her PhD while raising the most centred, happy four year old I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. I have two sisters-in-law. One is an artist of amazing talents, who continues to create and express herself regardless of her MS or the challenges of juggling mothering, creativity and daily life. The other is happily childless by choice, following her career path with gusto and constantly amazing me with her down to earth supportive, practical involvement in everyone else's life whether she agrees with their choices or not. My cousin is the first, and only, accredited female glazier in Australia and has just taken time off after the birth of her daughter.

The women in my life are strong in the face of mental and physical illness and disability. They work, study, volunteer, support their spouses, extend friendship, manage families, nurture others, keep their creative sparks alive, follow their dreams and support other people's dreams. They inspire me. Not to compete or measure myself against them. Just to keep believing that even with all the obstacles in our way, we should strive for equality on all fronts. For ourselves and others. We shouldn't be discouraged, because individually and collectively, we're amazing. Sometimes it's easy to feel detached, but really, I'm part of this community of women, and I'm prouder of that than I am about anything else I can think of right now. My mother doesn't think she's a feminist, but she instilled in me every value that makes me proudly identify as feminist. It may sound corny, but just this one time per year, I like to remind myself that I am part of a community of women, and we stand together.

Thanks to the many female bloggers who help me to feel part of their experiences, and to participate in a community of women who help me to face my own challenges*. From the Hoydens to The Dawn Chorus, Blue Milk, Sorrow at Sills Bend, Eglantine's Cake, Audrey Apple, Kate Harding, TigTog's Feminism 101 Blog, The Rachel Papers, Bye Bye Pie, Mel Campbell, Jess Friedman, Courteney Hocking, Amoir, Blossom Creations, One Red Robin, Ink & Spindle, Hollabee, Meet Me at Mikes, Mizu, Instinct & Grace, Polka Dot Rabbit, Green Renters, Boobook, Postcards From Insanity, Busy Intersection, Mallee Native Plants, and One Good Thing to mention but a few of my daily doses... thank you. I admire each and every one of you. Thanks for keeping me inspired.

Thus ends the sap. I'm so not a sappy person, but I get like this about these women. Sometimes you just have to share the love, y'know?

*It must be stated that I am a serial lurker, and find it difficult to introduce myself in the comments sections of blogs, so many of these women probably don't even know I read them every day. I do. I've probably also read their entire blog from the very beginning, just because I'm obsessive like that. Not stalker style. Just curious about other people's lives. That's my excuse, anyway.

I shouldn't be ashamed, I haven't done anything wrong.

2009-02-01T00:21:00.002+11:00

When reading this post over at Dawn Chorus I could feel the anger boiling up inside. Not just for this poor bloody woman (who was pregnant, wrongly accused of shoplifting, made to take off clothes inside the store to prove she wasn't hiding alcohol), but because it raised my own feelings of shame and embarrassment. I've been going out of my way to hide a recent experience of mine, because I was convinced that it was something to be ashamed of.

I've been accused of shoplifting; quite recently in fact. I'd never bothered to 'know my rights' in this area, which is ironic given I was an editor of Rabelais (the magazine which published an article banned and subject to various court cases regarding its instructions on shoplifting). Since the incident, I've struggled with feeling as though I have actually done something wrong, despite the fact that I know I haven't. Like when you're going through customs and you get that nervy feeling like they're going to think your nail scissors are actually a weapon you fully intend to use. You know there's nothing in your bag to worry about, but sometimes you can't help but jump when they ask you to step out of the line and explain an item in your luggage. So here's the abridged story...

After having a coffee in a coffee/bookstore I went to leave, forgetting that I had put books on top of my other shopping in a green shopping bag, which I intended to purchase. When stopped outside the store I was embarrassed, but happily returned inside to to pay for the items. Then I was told that I would have to wait for the police. I stood there, aghast, and reiterated my earlier apologies and intention to pay for the items... nope, the police were called. I still waited, thinking the issue would be easily solved when they arrived. I'd made a mistake. It was simple. They would see that.

Police arrived, asked if they could search the remainder of my belongings. Again, knowing that I hadn't done anything wrong, I consented. Amid the rest of the crap inside my handbag there was a small pair of wire twisters, along with framing tacks, a card and receipt from picture framing I had done the week previous. All of a sudden, the police attitude changed from courteous to suspicious and aggressive. One minute they seemed to understand the incident was a mistake, the next they charged me for shoplifting and coming prepared to shoplift. Apparently the wire twisters are classified as some kind of tool for shoplifting. By this stage I couldn't believe the nightmare unfolding. I kept trying to explain the connection between the wire twisters and the other picture framing stuff - I'd been working on the frames, had to transport the glass and alter the frames at my parent's factory, chucked all the stuff in my bag - but nope, that was it. I kept repeating "but I haven't done anything with them, they're just in my bag! And this is the reason..."

The whole incident was so surreal. I was loaded into a divvy van, taken to the station, fingerprinted, interviewed, charged and released. Even now I can't believe it. I have a mug shot. Through the whole incident I kept thinking, if I just co-operate, they'll understand I'm just a normal person who made a mistake, who forgot to go back to the counter after her coffee. The officers kept asking "but how could you just forget" and practically scoffing at the idea that I could have a legitimate reason for having wire twisters in my bag. They completely derided the idea that they were in there along with the rest of the items which were used to assemble the frames and glass I had bought, even though there was no way that I had even attempted to use them to do anything!

I have enough trouble explaining the concept of 'brain fuzz' to sympathetic ears, but to someone who doesn't even believe in the concept of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, it's impossible to be taken seriously. I can try to explain that even making a cup of tea takes an unbelievable amount of effort to remember what steps to do everything in; get cup, fill kettle, boil kettle, put teabag and sugar in cup, put boiled water in cup, stir, add milk, stir again, remove teabag. Most days I have to stop and ask myself with conscious thought "what comes next?" My hope of getting these people to understand how I could just 'forget' that I had taken the items off the table when I was reading a magazine with my coffee in the store, put them on top of my other stuff so I had room to read and drink, then fifteen minutes later think "I'm finished", get up and leave, is near impossible.

In hindsight, of course, I keep thinking I should have just told the original girl who stopped me to just take back the books and walk away. But I wasn't even sure I was allowed to do that. I honestly thought that by staying, explaining to the police, co-operating, I was doing the right thing, that it would show I had never intended to take anything without paying. How bloody green am I?! The attitude of security and store workers (let alone the police) is so intimidating that even when you know you've not set out to do anything wrong, you still feel like you need to go along with whatever they want you to in order to show you're not shoplifting.

So now I have no idea what happens. Apparently I'll receive a summons to appear in court, but it's been months and I've heard nothing. Already though, it's had huge repercussions on my life. For example, my foster care application? Down the drain. A recent charge for shoplifting doesn't exactly put you in high standing. And you try explaining "it was a mistake!" It sounds so damn soft. But instead of letting myself get embarrassed into feeling like I've done something wrong, I want to write about it publicly.

I think part of the reason I didn't act within my rights and leave the store instead of waiting for the police is because I didn't truly think something like this could happen. That you could be charged over an honest mistake. I wasn't hiding anything; the items were in plain sight, I provided an explanation of how/what/why I had forgotten to go back to the counter before leaving, I co-operated fully by coming back into the store and agreeing to the staff checking my bags, by waiting for police (so they could check and confirm I had no prior record).

I know, in hindsight, that it was the point where they saw the wire twisters that things escalated. Before that, the police were pretty bored. After that point, they were convinced that I had something to hide. And if I had acted like I was guilty; refused to be searched, refused to stay, refused to provide my details and identification, left immediately... I'd have no problem right now! So, lesson learnt. No more co-operating with police or security in store. No more assuming that they are only interested in people actually doing something wrong. No more acting under the false assumption that an honest explanation will clear up a mistake you have made. No more assuming that a jewellery-appliance like a wire twister is just a wire twister. From now on, take all the precautions a guilty person takes and refuse to co-operate with anything asked of you in a store.

So yes, a pregnant woman being humiliated in public and asked to bare all in the middle of a store does make me angry. And it doesn't surprise me. After my own personal experience I strongly believe that it's regular people with nothing to hide who are the suckers most at risk. We're the ones prepared to stop when asked to. We're the ones who want so badly to show we have nothing to hide that we co-operate with the requests to search us, or have our belongings searched. We're the ones who don't bother to learn, or assert, that we do not have to consent to bag searching when we leave a store. We do not have to stay and wait for police if accused of shoplifting. We do not have to give our details to shop assistants or security guards if asked to. Having no criminal record, not having CDs tucked under our jumpers, being genuinely embarrassed when we do something wrong in error... none of it matters. Security guards, shop assistants, shop owners, police will all ask you to waive your rights and submit to humiliating processes where you are assumed to be guilty unless you can prove otherwise.

Sense of humor. I has none.

2009-01-30T16:36:00.003+11:00

The heat has sapped away any and all sense of humor I may have once had. Until I found a link to this story in the Telegraph. It's a letter of complaint to Sir Richard Branson:

Dear Mr Branson

REF: Mumbai to Heathrow 7th December 2008

I love the Virgin brand, I really do which is why I continue to use it despite a series of unfortunate incidents over the last few years. This latest incident takes the biscuit.

Ironically, by the end of the flight I would have gladly paid over a thousand rupees for a single biscuit following the culinary journey of hell I was subjected to at thehands of your corporation.

Look at this Richard. Just look at it: [see image 1, above].

I imagine the same questions are racing through your brilliant mind as were racing through mine on that fateful day. What is this? Why have I been given it? What have I done to deserve this? And, which one is the starter, which one is the desert?

You don’t get to a position like yours Richard with anything less than a generous sprinkling of observational power so I KNOW you will have spotted the tomato next to the two yellow shafts of sponge on the left. Yes, it’s next to the sponge shaft without the green paste. That’s got to be the clue hasn’t it. No sane person would serve a desert with a tomato would they. Well answer me this Richard, what sort of animal would serve a desert with peas in.

I know it looks like a baaji but it’s in custard Richard, custard. It must be the pudding. Well you’ll be fascinated to hear that it wasn't custard. It was a sour gel with a clear oil on top. It’s only redeeming feature was that it managed to be so alien to my palette that it took away the taste of the curry emanating from our miscellaneous central cuboid of beige matter. Perhaps the meal on the left might be the desert after all.

Anyway, this is all irrelevant at the moment. I was raised strictly but neatly by my parents and if they knew I had started desert before the main course, a sponge shaft would be the least of my worries. So lets peel back the tin-foil on the main dish and see what’s on offer.

I’ll try and explain how this felt. Imagine being a twelve year old boy Richard. Now imagine it’s Christmas morning and you’re sat their with your final present to open. It’s a big one, and you know what it is. It’s that Goodmans stereo you picked out the catalogue and wrote to Santa about.

Only you open the present and it’s not in there. It’s your hamster Richard. It’s your hamster in the box and it’s not breathing. That’s how I felt when I peeled back the foil and saw this: [see image 3, above].

Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking it’s more of that Baaji custard. I admit I thought the same too, but no. It’s mustard Richard. MUSTARD. More mustard than any man could consume in a month. On the left we have a piece of broccoli and some peppers in a brown glue-like oil and on the right the chef had prepared some mashed potato. The potato masher had obviously broken and so it was decided the next best thing would be to pass the potatoes through the digestive tract of a bird.

Once it was regurgitated it was clearly then blended and mixed with a bit of mustard. Everybody likes a bit of mustard Richard.

By now I was actually starting to feel a little hypoglycaemic. I needed a sugar hit. Luckily there was a small cookie provided. It had caught my eye earlier due to it’s baffling presentation: [see image 4, above].

It appears to be in an evidence bag from the scene of a crime. A CRIME AGAINST BLOODY COOKING. Either that or some sort of back-street underground cookie, purchased off a gun-toting maniac high on his own supply of yeast. You certainly wouldn’t want to be caught carrying one of these through customs. Imagine biting into a piece of brass Richard. That would be softer on the teeth than the specimen above.

I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was relax but obviously I had to sit with that mess in front of me for half an hour. I swear the sponge shafts moved at one point.

Once cleared, I decided to relax with a bit of your world-famous onboard entertainment. I switched it on: [see image 5, above].

I apologise for the quality of the photo, it’s just it was incredibly hard to capture Boris Johnson’s face through the flickering white lines running up and down the screen. Perhaps it would be better on another channel: [see image 6, above].

Is that Ray Liotta? A question I found myself asking over and over again throughout the gruelling half-hour I attempted to watch the film like this. After that I switched off. I’d had enough. I was the hungriest I’d been in my adult life and I had a splitting headache from squinting at a crackling screen.

My only option was to simply stare at the seat in front and wait for either food, or sleep. Neither came for an incredibly long time. But when it did it surpassed my wildest expectations: [see image 7, above].

Yes! It’s another crime-scene cookie. Only this time you dunk it in the white stuff.

Richard…. What is that white stuff? It looked like it was going to be yoghurt. It finally dawned on me what it was after staring at it. It was a mixture between the Baaji custard and the Mustard sauce. It reminded me of my first week at university. I had overheard that you could make a drink by mixing vodka and refreshers. I lied to my new friends and told them I’d done it loads of times. When I attempted to make the drink in a big bowl it formed a cheese Richard, a cheese. That cheese looked a lot like your baaji-mustard.

So that was that Richard. I didn’t eat a bloody thing. My only question is: How can you live like this? I can’t imagine what dinner round your house is like, it must be like something out of a nature documentary.

As I said at the start I love your brand, I really do. It’s just a shame such a simple thing could bring it crashing to it’s knees and begging for sustenance.

Yours Sincererly

XXXX

Each time the author writes 'Richard', my giggles reached a new level of earnest (or some might say manic) cackling.

What she said...

2009-01-27T18:24:00.003+11:00

You know when you have an issue that bugs you, or an idea that you just can't encapsulate your thoughts on? It happens to me frequently, especially with my extended brain-fuzz. Last week there was that great post on bluemilk regarding maternal desire, this week it's Lauredhel at Hoyden About Town with ambient intimacy and assisted devices. Both captured an issue I've found a personal struggle, but have never been able to articulate with any degree of clarity.

In regards to Lauredhel's post, I couldn't agree more with her attitude to the internet as a social assistance tool. I have relationships which exist entirely online, some which were formed online but have developed into face-to-face relationships and some where I have meet someone in person only to have a relationship which continued (often flourished) online. I'm comfortable with the idea of the internet as a place where I can develop relationships. I have friends who are not. They see any/all online relationships as a form of internet dating. They don't see any space for 'real' connection. I don't doubt that for them, this is true. It would be very difficult for them to have relationships which were not face to face, because of their own communication styles or preconceptions. I do, as Lauredhel expresses so aptly, resent their assumption that my own online relationships are not 'real' or worthwhile.

Without the internet to connect me, I cannot imagine my current life. I'm very lucky with regards to my CFS at the moment. I'm going through a relatively positive patch; one where I am able to work intermittently, socialise occasionally, live daily with bearable aches and pains and have the oh-so-pleasant experience of my brain joining the party and offering clear thoughts at least some of the time. Golly gosh I'm also managing to have a relatively acceptable sleep pattern! To me, that's positively heaven. Even though I'm able to view all of that as positives, it is still with the basic acceptance that I am pretty much housebound much of the time.

I have to work from home, there is no possible way I could have a job outside my house. The transport alone would kill me. My social life is basically inside my house. I went to my sister-in-law's house for a BBQ yesterday and fell asleep on the couch in the middle of our family and friends mid-way through the day. That means so far I've fallen asleep when going to the movies with friends (and it wasn't boredom, trust me), halfway through a board-game, during Christmas lunch, between a wedding and the reception... the list goes on. If my idea of a social life (or social outlet) was what I could do in person, I'd be very lonely. And a very bad friend.

My online relationships are vital to my sanity. Through the internet I can chat to my not-really-geeky friends on facebook (even my relatives are on facebook now), my overseas friends via messaging and my industry related friends via twitter. That's just maintaining the relationships I already had from 'IRL'. These tools allow me to keep in the loop on the most mundane of things happening in my friend's lives. How many times have I seen a status update about some one's mood, or what they're doing the next day, and been able to chip in with a quick message? If it took a social occasion or phone call (which I find very draining and difficult to concentrate on), I'd miss so much. I can see photos of special occasions I had to miss, watch babies I barely get to see grow up or just maintain a casual relationship with a friend it's been hard to catch up with. It's informal and easy.

Then there are the communities I have joined or people I have met who keep me sane and offer a new social outlet. There are message boards, live blogging and most notably my twitterati. These are people I'm happy to have a relationship with completely online. If it develops in person, that's great, but it's not the aim, nor does it really even matter. As I spend the day at my desk, twittering away, I have the kind of people contact that others in office (or just able bodied) environments take for granted. I can discuss current affairs, what happened on television, the weather or politics. It doesn't have to be in-depth, but often a discussion will evolve into this, too. By blogging, or participating in a blogging/commenting environment, I can add my thoughts when my brain is willing to join me. I can read a post, put it aside and come back when I have the energy to contribute to the debate or conversation. I don't miss out because I can't keep up with all the people talking, as often happens when I'm having dinner with friends. The internet allows me to dip in and out when I can.

Key to all of this, is that my online relationships are almost always more manageable than face-to-face ones. I can 'hang out' with a friend, messaging backwards and forwards online, in my pyjamas. If I'm not up to contributing to the conversation, I can come back to it later. The flexibility of being able to socialise with people when I feel well and jump online, rather than making plans in the hopes that I will be okay at a mutually acceptable time at some point in the future, is invaluable. Then there are the people, like Lauredhel, who I know only as an online handle, who have helped me discover more about my own illness, or how to cope with it. Herself and others have made it so much easier to come to terms with this experience. It should have been no surprise to me that it would be via Hoyden, a predominantly feminist blog, that someone would manage to express how I feel about this social life I live online, which is no less vital than the life I have in the flesh.

I have so many contacts I know by a name they chose to display themselves by, whom I consider my connection with as vital as anyone I see in person. I consider my CFS, political, feminist, television-watching, media, gardening, sustainability and family mini social circles as a part of that. Each allows me a space to connect to others that I just can't reach face-to-face. Online I can play scrabble with a friend I haven't seen offline for three years, get expert advice on how to save my poor vegetables from this awful heat wave, chat about the inauguration of a president, compare notes on Big Brother, show my partner a piece of art I want to buy even though he's working interstate, discuss the state of our media landscape with someone I went to a conference with two years ago. Without the internet, none of this would happen on a daily basis. My communication with the world, at the moment, predominantly exists online. And I think that's great.

Melancholy

2009-01-20T21:02:00.005+11:00

This little girl is making me very happy. She's settled into our home well and other than the usual puppy fun (like cleaning up puddles and eating plants) it's all going swimmingly. Having dogs, the cute baby kind and the semi-grown up kind, is great. The companionship, the weird and funny things they do, the relationships you develop with them. Unfortunately, not even a puppy can quell my maternal desire. It's not something I talk to people about a lot, but I've wanted children for a long time. I have been pregnant before, and miscarried, and while children weren't something I obsessed about prior to finding out I would be a mother, once I welcomed the idea into my life it was impossible to let go of. I've looked forward to the day I could have children.

I was so pleased to read the ever-inspiring Blue Milk and her post on maternal desire. I've often been on the receiving end of judgement by admitting to my own biological drive, which I am happy to admit is overwhelmingly biological. It's innate, and I don't think I could turn it off even if I decided that kids didn't suit my lifestyle or other plans became more important. I think the desire would still be there, regardless of my decision that it wasn't going to be part of my life. I'd still fight it or deal with it. For many of my friends and associates, having kids just isn't cool. It's an end to personal freedom, or becoming a 'breeder', or taking the road more ordinary. I agree, in part, with all of those points. But it doesn't add up to enough to make the prospect unattractive enough that I don't want to do it.

Sometimes it seems impossible, as Blue Milk's post captures very well, to explain that maternal desire to people who don't have it. I think that I have a pretty realistic expectation of motherhood and pregnancy (as much as you can without having gone through it). I'm not picturing sunshine and rainbows, I know it's hard work and sacrifice and a lot of sleepless hours. I can see how that's not attractive to plenty of people. But to me, that's all worth the upsides that I see in having a family. Family and children, to me, are essential to the idea of life. We're just a bunch of animals running around with biology and imposed social structures and a soul. We're unique, and exactly the same. We're driven by urges to fit in, or stand out, or find shelter, or form communities. I love human interaction and I love that we all find different meaning in everything around us.

Having a child is participation in one of our most basic purposes, procreation, and I think it's an exciting exploration of our abilities and potential experiences. I don't really buy into the idea that children are our way of living on and creating our own immortality; I don't care if my kids are biologically mine or not, though I would mourn the loss of experiencing pregnancy if that didn't happen. I do think it gives us a chance to redefine a world that we sometimes feel we've pretty much got sorted out by the time we hit our 20s and 30s. It opens up whole new aspects of life, or takes us back to things we've forgotten, and I think that's amazing. I also love the minds of little people, before they are taught how the world works they have a fascinating way of creating or assuming their own meanings and interpretations. That inspires me. Expanding my life to include all those experiences is exciting for me.

But who knows what life holds? Maybe I'll never have children, but I'd be very disappointed if that was the case. Which is why I'm disappointed that we've hit a snag with our foster care application. Long story, involving things I don't want to get into, but essentially the plan is on hold and we don't know how long for. Foster care is a way I can live up to one of the adage I strongly believe in. It takes a village to raise a child. I have a home, and the instinct or desire to mother, and no children. If I can assist someone else to raise theirs, then I see that as completely positive. But alas, it's not to be at the moment. As is having a biological child. But it was nice to have an analytical discussion of that desire, and this aspect of my life, out there in the blogosphere. I've often held back on discussing or describing it, so having it articulated for me (and so well) helped me put mull over my own ideas on the topic.

Introducing...

2009-01-08T18:10:00.002+11:00

Scout Finch... our newest family member!

I'm so pleased to meet you, 2009.

2009-01-01T20:24:00.004+11:00

Let's not focus on how sucky 2008 was, just for a moment. Lets open our arms wide and give 2009 a giant hug hello. Dear, dear 2009... how I've looked forward to you finally arriving. The past two years have been filled with the most awe inspiring highs and lows. I've achieved some of my dreams, and I've had others smashed to pieces. The last year has been particularly difficult, but I want to turn that around and think about my Top 5 for the year. Sooo...

Top 5 Moments of 2008

1. Walking into our new home for the first time, realising I had somewhere to unpack and live with my beautiful partner and my beautiful dog. This photo is the image I see nearly every day from my kitchen window. It's Mycroft, relaxed and happy. That's how all three of us are now we have a home to settle into instead of another suitcase to pack.
2. Sitting at Sassafras with Himself, enjoying a fresh pot of tea and an organic cake in the sunshine. There have been so few moments of peace for us this year, despite the new home. Himself's job still has him away more than here in Melbourne, and our home time is usually a round of family, friends and 'getting things done'. Being able to relax together doing something as simple as sharing afternoon tea has been almost impossible, but those moments have been such a pleasure.
3. Seeing my beautiful cousin walk down the staircase at her debutante ball. All the years of zoo visits and family birthdays and hanging out came back to me, and I realised that her (and her sister) have grown up in front of my eyes. I held them when they were born and I've been there ever since. I've been to their dancing concerts, I've taken them to fashion shows and comedy shows, I've talked to them about everything from homework to sex. For an only child who has had a fractured extended family, that's something to hold on to. They are funny, smart, independent girls. I'm glad I can call them family.
4. Having friends gathered around our dining table, enjoying mountains of home cooked food. There have been a four people who have kept me together through this year, whose companionship and acceptance and patience have buoyed me up when things seemed impossible. Being able to have them in my own home, drinking and talking and enjoying their friendship... it made me shimmer and glow (to steal a line from What's Eating Gilbert Grape). I don't know where I'd be without Himself, Steve, Meg and my mum. I don't have any way to express my love for them. And that's not counting the other friends who've also taken the time to come hang with us in our urban oasis (oasis for me, not them!).
5. Working at Parliament House. For a politics geek, the opportunity to work as part of the Australian Greens has been awesome. And fun. But mostly awesome. Walking to corridors and actually belonging, not being on a tour, made me smile every day. Working on campaigns and processes that literally shape the political landscape I'm so passionate about is more than I could have hoped for out of this year. Not only did I go back to having a traditional job, if even for a little while, but I also had a job I would have been proud of on my best day, not just any old job.

5% emissions target is not enough.

2008-12-17T16:30:00.002+11:00

5% emission target is not enough

On Monday, Prime Minister Kevin Rudd raised the white flag of surrender on climate change when he announced an emissions reduction target for Australia of just 5% below 2000 levels (4% below 1990 levels).

On Tuesday, Australians gathered in capital cities to begin the community campaign to tell Kevin Rudd: ‘No surrender on climate change'.

Dear Prime Minister Rudd,
In 2007, you said you believed that climate change was "one of the greatest moral and economic challenges of our time".

Yet on Monday, 15th November 2008, you announced a greenhouse gas reduction target of just 5% below 2000 levels by 2020 for Australia - that is, 4% below 1990 levels.

Mr Rudd, 5% is unacceptable and dangerous.

A target range of 5-15% will spell the end of Australian icons like the Great Barrier Reef, Kakadu and will place even greater stress on our already struggling Murray-Darling Basin.

The United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change has called for developed nations to reduce their emissions by between 25-40% below 1990 levels.

We, the undersigned, are asking you to listen to the scientists and increase the target range for Australia's emission reduction to between 25-40%.

5% is not enough!

Our goal is 20000 signatures! Help us get there!

Support this campaign! Sign the petition here

Friday Find... on Wednesday.

2008-12-10T19:27:00.004+11:00

Ok, so I just couldn't wait to post this for you all. As most of you would know, Himself works for Greens Senator Rachel Siewert from Perth. Another of his good friends, a man I'm lucky enough to have seen work up close and personal, is Senator Scott Ludlam. Scott is one of the nicest, most respectful, hard working people you're likely to find anywhere, let alone in parliament. Recently he's been slogging away against the thoroughly moronic proposed "mandatory internet filter", and is the only politician to strongly campaign against it, pressuring Senator Conroy at every stage.

Now, you should also know that I'm a twitter addict. I find it invaluable for being in touch with people all over the country (you can be in contact with people all over the world, but I like keeping my focus local) and finding out about what is going on in their literal or metaphoric neighbourhood. I've met some amazing people, have talked to industry leaders... and most recently used it to keep up to date on the No Clean Feed campaign, which I'm passionate about. In keeping an eye out for the issue, hearing about campaigns in each state, seeing what kind of action people are taking as a group or individual, I came across this:

It is but the first strip in a web series dedicated to depicting characters Jeff, Rork and of course, our very own Senator Ludlam and the Australian Greens, fighting teh evil Conroy and his terrible plans.

I have to tell you, I find it hilarious. Scott has now become the hero of his very own cartoon. He's portrayed here as one of the lone warriors, where he is responsible for an almost singlehanded defense against Conroy's lame attempts to filter our internet. Scott, saviour of teh interwebs! Yeah! After all, he's already been portrayed as the Indiana Jones of the movement, a rogue challenger.

I'm glad Scott's getting recognised for all his hard work, and in a way I find it even more touching that his recognition is being celebrated in true web style. They're expressing their appreciation in cartoons, emails/tweets of support, mash-up pictures. He really is the poster boy of this campaign after really grilling Conroy in Estimates, and they love him for it.

It's days like this I love our online community here in Australia. There are so many arms, so many interests... but we are all passionate about our democratic right to use it in the way we see fit. We don't want, or trust, an idiot like Conroy (who has just started a 'blog' and can't even get his office to respond to direct emails to his office promptly).

Twitter has been responsible for a campaign where users selected a particular day (during a sitting period, no less, the busiest possible time), signed up for a timeslot, and called Conroy's office to voice their objections. There are rallies on in every state this weekend. GetUp have launched their own campaign. What campaigns have you seen encourage such passion and action lately? How lucky we are to have our very own hero to keep up the good fight.

Bonuses all round!

2008-12-08T19:28:00.001+11:00

Well, actually, I won't be getting any bonuses today, nor will most people I know. That's okay, I'm not complaining. I've got it very good at the moment and I count myself lucky in many, many ways. I'm happy for parents, pensioners, carers and people on disability support to be getting extra money. These groups are often marginalised, living closer to the edge than people like myself.

I'm unable to work full time, but I can't get a disability pension. I'm lucky that I have a partner who loves his job and is paid enough that we can live comfortably. It's that, coupled with family support, which means we're not on the streets. That may sound over the top, but it's true.

I can't work, but Centrelink doesn't give a crap. Their aim is to spend as little as possible, not to be a real safety net. CFS is a contentious illness and despite a firm diagnosis from the only industry 'expert' in the state and two GPs, Centrelink still thinks I can work part time, therefore I can take care of myself. Yeah, sure. You find an employer who will take my last minute phone calls explaining I can't raise my arms above my mid-section so unfortunately I won't be in for my shift. Or that I've lost the ability to form sentences, can't find the words for obvious items and what you taught me last week is no longer in my memory. That's the reality of my life; good days, bad days. It's completely unpredictable. Who wants to hire that? Nobody, which is why I freelance and take contracts for infrequent publications.

With my experience with The System though, I understand how difficult it is for people like pensioners or carers to make ends meet. Even if you can claim support (and find your way through the maze of paperwork and bureaucracy it takes to keep receiving support) the money is barely enough to survive on. Rents go up, petrol goes up, groceries go up... but your payment doesn't. This one-off bonus is a big deal for a lot of people. It's a lifeline for those who have resorted to credit to make ends meet, or those who were looking at a pretty bleak Christmas.

So why am I still mad, mad, mad? Because all I've heard all day is the government urging us to spend, spend, spend. I get it. We need the economy boosted. Unfortunately, you've given money to people who have the most incentive to save, or spend on 'essentials' that don't boost the economy. Like their gas bill. Doesn't it defeat the purpose of an economic stimulus measure to give money to people who don't ever really have 'disposable' income? If you really wanted to stimulate the economy, shouldn't you be giving money to sixteen year old girls? They can spend up a storm, and they aren't going to be looking to increase their savings account balance anytime soon.

If ever there was a mixed message, this is it. Here, people who haven't had enough financial support to live comfortably, here's some money. Now make sure you spend it all! Don't leave any in the bank! Please, think of the economy. And the stock market. And shareholder profits. And people lucky enough to have superannuation. Don't worry that we've been telling you all about how the economy is in free fall and we're all going to be broke for the rest of the decade. Ignore that bit. Just spend away, regardless of the fact that we're not planning to figure out a way to help you live more sustainably after this.

And don't even get me started on the fact that nobody is talking about buying Australian. Indiscriminate spending on stuff made elsewhere does almost nothing. Buying Australian products supports our national economy and jobs, rather than a quick buck going to those items Made in China. But no, let's not encourage "buy Australian"... let's just keep saying "spend, spend, spend!"

Happy Bonus Day!

Mummy drinks because you eat her donuts.

2008-12-06T23:54:00.003+11:00

I'm home sulking at home rather than enjoying my previous social plans for the evening. This is all thanks to a rather unsatisfactory ouch-ouch incident with my neck... no idea what I did to myself, but I can't turn to the left. At all. Which leaves me, as previously stated, at home sulking. That is, until about half an hour ago, when I remembered I had a donut in the cupboard. Score! Sulking lowers itself a good 50%. Until I get distracted by a phone call, put the donut down on the coffee table and leave the room. And return to this:

After which, I poured myself a long, long glass of wine (which will remain in my hands at all times). Because otherwise I would be crying. And lord knows I'm going to need fuel to get through the sugar high he's about to flip out on.

Friday Find

2008-12-05T15:21:00.002+11:00

These ones are for the ladies... let's celebrate a little good news reportage for the day, shall we?

Rapist 'anxious' to be doctor again

Yes, that's right, miracle of miracles, The Age subeditors have learned what 'how' to 'do' their 'job'. No 'rapist' in sight. Rather, the question is the rapists alleged 'anxious' state. What a nice change, given the amount of times we've been subjected to such shoddy editing, which only furthers the idea that 'rape' is questionable, rather than a reported murder, which somehow never appears as 'murder'.

and for some actual good news, via Perez Hilton of all places

Say goodbye to the Bratz Dolls - forever!

Now I find it hard to believe that they won't make an appearance again at some stage through some magical multi-million dollar deal, but in the meantime, let's savour the thought of a few less Bratz Dolls making their way on to the shelves.

Share your bookshelf

2008-11-30T20:59:00.004+11:00

You know what makes me happy? My books. You know what makes me happier? My books on their new bookshelves!!! In the process of putting them there I realised I've got so many gaping holes in my collection. In part it's because I love to lend my books to people and I've forgotten who has what (but now I have my borrow book that's yesterday's problem). Also, we've moved so much I have lost some along the way, which is sad, but I hope someone else found them and loved them.

Anyways, I also realised that I've been holding off (well, holding off by my standards... ha!) buying heaps of stuff I want, including classics I've maybe read but don't have a copy of, until I had somewhere outside of a suitcase to keep them. And now I do. So I've decided to create my own meme. Please put it on your site with your answers and link back here, then I can see what should be added to my reading list and find a home on my shelves. So here is the "share your bookshelf" meme... I've answered all the questions here on my site, but obviously you can just cut and paste the questions and change it for your blog.

For bibliophiles, there is no such thing as a single favourite book. There's a book for all occasions. Tell me your top reads so I can have something new to discover.

Favourite childhood picture book:

Then, it was probably any of the Golden Books. I don't remember any other picture books I was particularly attached to.

Most nostalgic early reader:

This one is easy for me. Anything Enid Blyton. I had all Mum's old Blyton books from when she was a little girl, and I read them over and over and over. I think my favourite of those was the Magic Faraway Tree series. Or Famous Five. I just wanted to be George, and have a dog like Timmy...

Picture books or early readers you wish had been around for your childhood:

My favourites are all picture books, and it's a toss up between any of the Todd Parr books (they're bright and cheerful, they promote tolerance, self-acceptance and alternative family models including adoption, fostering, gay parenting, single parenting and split families), Shaun Tan's beautiful new Tales from Outer Suburbia (non linear, wildly imaginative stories) or Princess Smartypants, which is a great counter point to the regular 'princess' crap little girls are inundated by.

First book that made you cry or scared you so much you couldn't finish it:

Seven Little Australians or Little Women or one of the Anne of Green Gables series. Not sure which came first, but I was so traumatised by the death of characters I'd grown attached to I found it almost unbearable. I still have trouble re-reading stories where I dread an upcoming death.

Favourite teen read:

This is hard. I was completely sucked in to Babysitter's Club, Sweet Valley High and all those serials aimed at girls. I suppose the ones that stand out the most are the Judy Bloom books. They were fascinating for all the obvious reasons, but also because they were the first to feel like they connected with my own early and pre teen experiences of bullying, the sudden division into boy/girl camps and starting to feel removed from your family.

What book can you see influenced your reading habits later in life:

Nancy Drew was a precursor to my love of murder mysteries and the crime/thriller genre. I loved her so much. So. Much. Pity the movie was so terrible.

High school curriculum book you loved the most:

Such a cliche, but still true, To Kill a Mockingbird.

High school curriculum book you hated the most:

I didn't really hate any of our books, but I did hate that we studied next to no classics and no poetry (except awful, awful Australiana).

Favourite author or genre for a light summer read:

Anything Agatha Christie or even more pulp-ish in the crime/mystery genre; Lisa Gardiner, Patricia Cornwell or even old-school Raymond Chandler.

Favourite author to sink your teeth into when you want a challenge:

What author makes you swoon:

Truman Capote. I hadn't read any of his work until relatively recently, only in the last couple of years, and from page one of Breakfast at Tiffanys I was totally hooked. I didn't realise how page-turning his writing was. It made my heart sing and I went straight out to buy all of his work, which I then devoured immediately. Something about his writing is so enchanting, and it took me completely by surprise. I thought he was one of those authors people had built a mythology around, but now I'm a huge fan.

What book do you wish you had written:

High Fidelity or maybe About a Boy. Rarely do books make me laugh out loud, but both of these did that. I wish I could make characters that people connected to like these two.

Biography or autobiography you love:

Heart Garden, which is all about Heidi Museum of Modern Art and one of the people I'm fascinated by, Sunday Reed (who, by the way, Nicole Kidman's daughter is named after. About five years ago when I told Himself I wanted to name my imaginary daughter Sunday he said it was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard of. Now Nicole beat me to it. No fair.).

Favourite funny book or writer:

About A Boy and High Fidelity are definitely up there, but I think I love them more as stories that are filled with pathos and characters I love rather than comedy books.

Character you want to be:

I want to be Miss Marple when I grow up, but right now I wish I were Tuppence, another one of Agatha Christie's characters (whom she features in quite a few short stories). She has a heap of spunk.

Character you want to pull off the page and into your arms:

I've never been into the Mr Darcy type, or the Romeo type. I think it's probably one of Raymond Chandler's broody noir types.

Character who'd be your best buddy in real life:

I'd love to be Sunday Reed's best friend, but she was a real person that Janet Rice wrote about in her novel Heart Garden, not a character. And I'm pretty sure I would have been too scared to talk to her, such is my adoration.

Favourite poet or poem?

Gwen Harwood. I don't really love a huge amount of poetry (I think I'm too impatient when I read it), but her poems about women, motherhood and identity are amazing.

Favourite hometown book or author:

Arnold Zable or Barry Dickens. I've spent a lot of time with Barry and his stories always ring true on the page, but are even more golden being told first person. Arnold Zable's books suck me in entirely, I have to read them cover to cover as soon as I get them.

Favourite book set in your city:

What the Dickens by Barry Dickens. He has a great way of making previous eras of Melbourne come alive.

The book which opened up a whole new world for you:

Gwen Harwood's letters to her friends throughout her life. It made me think about friendship differently, to accept that sometimes we're separated by huge distances but we can retain intimacy with kindred spirits, no matter how much time we spend apart. I hold that lesson pretty dear, true friends are the ones you can pick up a conversation with any time.

Book you wish your favourite director would make into a movie:

I love great sci-fi movies, so I guess I'd like some more Phillip K Dick. Or the Chronicles of Prydian teen fantasy books, which are based on Welsh mythology which I loved growing up.

Book that you either loved or hated the movie adaptation of:

High Fidelity. The book and the movie are totally different, but they both work incredibly well and are in my Top 5 lists for books and movies.

Favourite title:

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep. Freakin awesome. Also goes down as a great book/movie adaptation, but again the two are totally different... is that the key, do you think?

Most enjoyable collection of short stories or essays:

Other than Anne Enright's recent collection, Talking Pictures, I'd have to say Peter Carey's Fat Man in History (I still recall unsettling emotions every time I think of the various stories, and the cover introduced me to the art of Jeffrey Smart, who I now love) or Julian Barnes History of the World in Ten and Half Chapters (which has the best narrative running through it, while still maintaining exceptional autonomous short stories throughout).

Book you think other people would miss/skip/underestimate:

I've been reading a lot of teen fiction this year. Curiously people seem to think reading Harry Potter is cool but all other teen fiction is out of bounds. Personally I think there's some really engaging, interesting writing coming through these areas. Two series I read with gusto are Twilight (which I think everyone is starting to hear about because of the movie) and Penni Russon's Undine. When I talk to people about Twilight I get "Vampires? Teenage love story? With werewolves?" which is all true, but doesn't begin to cover what is so page turning about the series. Remember what it felt like the first time you found someone irresistibly attractive? That teen angst that comes with pumping hormones and new sexual interest? These books express those emotions and so much more. It's Anne Rice combined with Judy Bloom and it works. There's plenty of pandering to American morality (no sex before marriage, kiddies!) but it doesn't undermine the authenticity of her characters and it's fun. Undine I found because I came across Penni's blog. I found her posts about writing the books fascinating, and her ability to write in such an engaging way about her gorgeous little girls made me curious about her professional writing. I was so pleased that her characters and the novels as a whole are just as interesting as her writing about her own world. Great for adults as much as teens, I think.

Best book you read this year:

I did a lot of rereading, or pulp reading. My brain wasn't up for much. My Columbian Death by Matthew Thompson was a highlight. I know Matt, so it was amazing to read a novel of his own experiences in which I could imagine him (and his lovely wife) going through it all. Also Anne Enright's Taking Pictures. It took my breath away.

Now over to you! Feel free to skip categories or add your own. For those who don't have a blog, feel free to add incredibly long comments!

Case of the Mondays #7

2008-11-24T22:41:00.003+11:00

I've spent the weekend in Sydney saying goodbye to a dear friend who leaves the country very soon. Today I'm in Canberra, where I'm spending some time with Himself and planning to meet up with various people to discuss our upcoming issue of Green Magazine. Case of the Mondays? Nowhere in sight.

You know why? Because life happened... my friend is leaving Sydney, I wanted to see her, and I could. I could get in the car on Friday with my partner, drive up to Sydney, then over to Canberra on Sunday afternoon. If I (or Himself) worked in an office with more draconian views, that would be impossible. I probably wouldn't have been able to afford the plane ticket, so I would have had to skip seeing her before she goes home, probably for good, to her home country. Or I would have had to rush back for work Monday. Surely that would lead to a case of the Mondays.

Himself was able to, literally, work on his computer as we drove. Mobile internet+mobile phone = mobile office. I sat in the drivers seat and we kept going down the highway while he emailed workmates and journos, sent national press releases and spoke to his boss, a Senator, while she flew from Canberra to Sydney to Canberra to Perth throughout the day. How freaking cool is that? I have to say it beats being forced to sit at a desk all day. He was able to do his job, I'm able to do my job up here for the week, and all it took was a little flexibility.

Friday Find

2008-11-21T13:14:00.000+11:00

So I finally found a version of the "new" Star Wars I can stand to watch.

http://failblog.org/2008/09/16/subtitle-fail/

Timely reminder

2008-11-19T18:41:00.003+11:00

And I've just found this article. While I do raise my eyebrow at the idea of "beating" CFS (for most it's an illness we manage for the remainder of our lives, even if we manage to come through particularly bad patches), it's great to see someone with a profile like Layne Beachley talking about their experiences of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. For even more perspective, read some of the comments of others below her article. You'll see there are some people who feel they are 'cured', many more who know they aren't, along with a breadth of other experiences. I think the most important thing to take from it are that no two experiences are the same, and for every 'solution' that works for one person, there are two more it didn't work for. It's a really, really tough illness to treat, let alone discuss (even amoung people who suffer from it). I do believe that the important part is that we stop pushing it under the carpet and keep discussing. The stigma is often the most debilitating aspect... or is that just me?

More on Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

2008-11-19T16:49:00.004+11:00

Thanks to a link from Lauredhel to another shirt on this site, I came across a great shirt I intend to purchase pronto:

Notice 'fatigue' instead of fatigue. That's because our chronic 'fatigue' is more like chronic pain, brain-fuzz, exhaustion etc etc... fatigue doesn't even come close.

And also the original text from a letter I was given a while ago, which is worth re-posting:

Having CFS means many things change, and a lot of them are invisible. Unlike AIDS and Cancer, most people do not understand even a little about CFS and its effects, and of those that think they know, many are actually mis-informed. In the spirit of informing those who wish to understand ...

... These are the things that I would like you to understand about me before you judge me...

Please understand that being sick doesn't mean I'm not still a human being. I have to spend most of my day flat on my back in bed and I might not seem like great company, but I'm still me stuck inside this body. I still worry about school and work and my family and friends, and most of the time I'd still like to hear you talk about yours too.

Please understand the difference between "happy" and "healthy". When you've got the flu you probably feel miserable with it, but I've been sick for years. I can't be miserable all the time, in fact I work hard at not being miserable. So if you're talking to me and I sound happy, it means I'm happy. That's all. I may be tired. I may be in pain. I may be sicker that ever. Please, don't say, "Oh, you're sounding better!". I am not sounding better, I am sounding happy. If you want to comment on that, you're welcome.

Please understand that being able to stand up for five minutes, doesn't necessarily mean that I can stand up for ten minutes, or an hour. It's quite likely that doing that five minutes has exhausted my resources and I'll need to recover - imagine an athlete after a race. They couldn't repeat that feat right away either. With a lot of diseases you're either paralyzed or you can move. With this one it gets more confusing.

Please repeat the above paragraph substituting, "sitting up", "walking", "thinking", "being sociable" and so on ... it applies to everything. That's what a fatigue-based illness does to you.

Please understand that chronic illnesses are variable. It's quite possible (for me, it's common) that one day I am able to walk to the park and back, while the next day I'll have trouble getting to the kitchen. Please don't attack me when I'm ill by saying, "But you did it before!". If you want me to do something, ask if I can and I'll tell you. In a similar vein, I may need to cancel an invitation at the last minute, if this happens please don't take it personally.

Please understand that "getting out and doing things" does not make me feel better, and can often make me seriously worse. CFS may cause secondary depression (wouldn't you get depressed if you were stuck in bed for years on end!?) but it is not caused by depression. Telling me that I need some fresh air and exercise is not appreciated and not correct - if I could do it, I would.

Please understand that if I say I have to sit down/lie down/take these pills now, that I do have to do it right now - it can't be put off or forgotten just because I'm doing something. CFS does not forgive.

Please understand that I can't spend all of my energy trying to get well. With a short-term illness like the flu, you can afford to put life on hold for a week or two while you get well. But part of having a chronic illness is coming to the realization that you have to spend some energy on having a life now. This doesn't mean I'm not trying to get better. It doesn't mean I've given up. It's just how life is when you're dealing with a chronic illness.

If you want to suggest a cure to me, please don't. It's not because I don't appreciate the thought, and it's not because I don't want to get well. It's because I have had almost every single one of my friends suggest one at one point or another. At first I tried them all, but then I realized that I was using up so much energy trying things that I was making myself sicker, not better. If there was something that cured, or even helped, all people with CFS then we'd know about it. This is not a drug-company conspiracy, there is worldwide networking (both on and off the Internet) between people with CFS, if something worked we would KNOW.

If after reading that, you still want to suggest a cure, then do it, preferably in writing, but don't expect me to rush out and try it. If I haven't had it suggested before, I'll take what you said and discuss it with my doctor. He's open to new suggestions and is a great guy, and he takes what I say seriously.

Please understand that getting better from an illness like this can be very slow. People with CFS have so many systems in their bodies out of equilibrium, and functioning wrongly, that it may take a long time to sort everything out.

I depend on you - people who are not sick - for many things.

But most importantly, I need you to understand me.

It's going to be easy being Green.

2008-11-18T01:56:00.002+11:00

Oh yeah! I forgot to share my exciting news. I'm the new editor of Green magazine. I'll be managing my own publication again, which is fantastic. It comes out often enough to keep me busy but not so often I'll be overwhelmed, I can work from just about anywhere, it's an area I'm passionate about. Doesn't get any better than that.

Case of the Mondays #6

2008-11-17T11:41:00.001+11:00

After a fortnight of blog silence, I'm back for another installment of Case of the Mondays! For those who haven't caught the series before, rather than lamenting all the things I miss about having a more active, full life as I used to prior to CFS, I've decided to celebrate each week that passes without someone asking "has someone got a Case of the Mondays?" in a chipper voice by noting the many and varied aspects of office life I don't miss in the slightest. Yes, I love Office Space. You should to.

This week? Lets discuss the physical surrounds of almost every office. You know what I mean. That carpet (thin polyester scratchy stuff... eeewww), the cheap particle-board office furniture (which leak chemicals into the air, often in levels considered unsafe for continued exposure), the 'ergonomic' chairs (which either won't adjust their height or the back pushes forward so you're stuck like you're leaning in to the wind), humming computer monitors (mine at home never hum, but put them in an office and it's like they're speaking to each other in hive mind hum sounds) and, worst of all, fluro lighting. Those lights are terrible for our health, flatter no-one and when they start that flickering they induce suicidal tendencies in everyone. The only thing they have going for them is their good eco credentials, given how little energy it takes to operate them. Unfortunately, that's not enough to redeem them. Working in an airless office, surrounded by equipment that never works quite as it should... just another thing that is bound to give me a Case of the Mondays.

Case of the Mondays #5

2008-11-03T23:00:00.003+11:00

It's a long weekend here in Melbourne. Well, a split long weekend, in which many people take off Monday so they can truly appreciate the 'real' day off, Tuesday, making a giant Sat, Sun, Mon, Tues extravaganza. You might think this gives me a reason to shake off the usual Case of the Mondays, the idea of recreation on a Monday instead of work. You're wrong. It just highlights more ways that our usual nine-to-five week gives us all a Case of the Mondays.

On long weekends, we relish the idea of more time for ourselves. Maybe a BBQ with friends, maybe an extra day to potter around home, maybe a chance to get away. Sounds so lovely, especially heading into warmer months, doesn't it? Only, with the exception of pottering around home, long weekends mean instead of sitting in a busy office dealing with other people all day, your day is dealt with a crush of other (inconvenient) people... only this time you don't get paid for it. Everywhere you turn, everyone else is trying to get in on this relaxing caper, ruining your chance to relax.

Booking a weekend away is either impossible or costs double what it would at any other time, a shopping trip encounters full car parks and hungover shop assistants, relaxing drinks with your friends means packed bars and pubs (and in the case of this weekend in particular here in Melbourne, drunken horse racing refugees). There is no escape from everyone else trying to escape. Those precious hours of freedom are spent negotiating how to avoid all the other people with their free time.

Also, is it just me or does having a Case of the Mondays on Tuesdays actually feel worse? Long weekends seem so much harder to return from. You've had that extra day and somehow your body and brain have decided that 24 hours extra without checking in to work means it must go into holiday mode. My parents seem to suffer from this badly. It should be said, though, that after their time off over Christmas they seem to have a giant Case of the Mondays well into February. You know how some people have seasonal affective disorder? My parents have return to work affective disorder. It really worries me. Tomorrow they return from a short jaunt away on their 'long' weekend, so we'll see how they fare when they return to work on Wednesday. Can you get a Case of the Mondays on Wednesday? When does it stop being a Case of the Mondays and start being a Case of the Hating My Job?

Friday Find

2008-10-31T09:53:00.002+11:00

This one is for the ladies. In my usual obsession with finding new enviro friendly products I've stumbled upon something I hope can be used to lower my carbon and landfill footprint. Via the Earth Basics online store:

Eenee Weenees Pads

Weenees disposable pads. The pads are flushable, 100% compostable and contain no plastic. Suitable for day and night use. Use in all Eenee Weenees waterproof garments. Available in cartons of 40 pads in either Small or Medium size.

Besides the unfortunate name, which is a follow-on from their Eenee Weenee Disposable Nappies range, this is a very welcome product. It is unclear from the product description if these are meant for sanitary use, but they do come in sizes up to extra large, and the picture on the packet for the matching underwear (meant to keep the pads in place) shows adults and children wearing the underwear.

I know how much plastic, chemicals and high-water-consumption cotton goes into the other feminine hygiene products which are currently widely available. To see something with this potential is fantastic! At the moment it does seem rather costly (around $20 per carton of 40 if you're not buying in bulk) compared to those on the supermarket shelves, but I strongly believe this is a consumer area in which we need to find new, environmentally responsible, options. I hope these are suitable for menstruation... just sent the store an email to ask. Will update you when I hear back from them!

Case of the Mondays #4

2008-10-28T18:29:00.004+11:00

It's nearly time for the next installment of the Down Under Feminist Carnival. Hoorah! Each carnival gives me a plethora of new reading material and if I'm lucky, a few new blogs to subscribe to. The next carnival is hosted by Penguin Unearthed, who wants to have a focus on feminism/women in the workplace. In celebration of this, my regular post in the Case of the Mondays series is all about why I thank my lucky stars in being free of corporate culture and regulation in the workplace as it relates to my gender.

Have you ever been sexually harassed in the workplace? I have. Have you ever reported sexual harassment in the workplace? I haven't. In yet another case where I wish I could go back in time and tell my younger self to follow what I knew was right, instead of staying quiet to avoid making waves, I can recall multiple times I've been sexually harassed in the workplace. I can recall working in bars, being harassed by patrons. I can recall working in restaurants, being harassed by diners. I can recall working in a call centre, being harassed by heavy breathers and sexually explicit phone calls. I can recall working in an office, being sexually harassed by a client. What smarts the most, in retrospect, is that I can recall working in an office and being harassed by a co-worker.

For most of the examples where I was sexually harassed, the behaviour was not threatening in a violent sense, nor was it particularly memorable or traumatic for me. There was only one example where I was made to feel threatened. I worked in a pub where a patron kept asking me out. My polite refusals made no difference. On the man's next visit he pointed out I had better "keep being nice" to him, because if he wanted to he could [insert sexually explicit example here] anytime he wanted. He'd seen my car in the parking lot (thanks to personalised number plates gifted to me by relatives) and could wait out there until I finished my shift. I reported this incident to my supervisors immediately, which resulted in him being thrown out on his ear and subsequently banned from the venue. Security escorted me to my car from then on. I was entirely satisfied with how the issue was dealt with, even if I remained nervous and skittish until I finished work there. Unpleasant to experience, but certainly in relation to how my workplace dealt with it, I was satisfied.

Other instances have ranged from drunken propositioning over the bar, wealthy men who confuse waitress with prostitute (never work a private dining room at the MCG), or lewd and inappropriate comments about myself personally. In all of those cases I felt, at the time, secure enough to deal with each man in a way which extricated myself from the situation and prevented it happening again. In none of those examples did I report the incident to a superior. Now here comes the kicker. In one office I worked in I can recall two specific incidents of sexual harassment, both related to one another. First, I will point out that I was 19 at the time and working my first full time job after pulling out of my first university degree. I'd gone to work for a very wealthy accounting firm doing reception work and was very green. In the third month of my employment a regular client came in to the reception area. He said his usual friendly hello, I called the senior partner he was there to meet with and showed him in to the meeting room.

While I was getting him his cup of tea, he did his usual jovial questions about how my day was unfolding. Then as I lent beside him to put his tea on the table he rubbed my lower back and asked how I felt about older men. I froze. He took this as a sign of compliance and lowered his hand towards my buttocks. Zinging with tension, I jerked away and made some off-hand joke about my boyfriend being older, giving him (and I) the out to pretend his question had just been friendly banter. I practically ran out of the office. When I sat back down at my desk I felt physically ill. I wondered what I had done to provoke his actions. Was I too friendly? Had I crossed the line of office behaviour? I concluded that I must have done something to send him the signal I was interested. My co-worker, a woman much older than I, was horrified when I told her and demanded I speak to the partner who handled this client. She was adamant that it should not happen again, to me or any of the other staff.

Can anyone guess what happened next? I went to my meeting with the senior partner (his name was on the letterhead, so you don't get more senior than him). I explained, mortified throughout, what had occurred. When I reached the end, I was relieved to find my employer smiling. All I could think was 'okay, maybe I'm not going to be in trouble or get fired'. Senior partner, well into his fifties, then launched into a speech about keeping clients happy. About how it was my job to 'greet' customers and 'put them at ease'. He told me he'd known said client for over ten years, that he was essentially a lovely man, that he had a daughter my age. Now, at this point, I was beyond embarrassed. The message was clear; I had misinterpreted the actions of a valued client, but more than that, what I was accusing him of was something that was part of my job. It was my job to make light banter about whatever he wanted to, and flirting was a part of that package. The fact that I had felt sexually harassed, or even just plain uncomfortable, was mitigated by the fact that he had a daughter my age (meaning he couldn't possibly have wanted to act upon it, perhaps? I still don't understand that part). This was all horrible. It was all, unequivocally, wrong. What happened next was worse. Senior partner then proceeded to tell me in paternalistic tones that he had noticed, since I started working there, that I was at a really lovely stage of life, progressing from being 'a girl to a woman'. That I should appreciate compliments and advances from men, seeing as how they were an affirmation of the 'lovely lady' I was blossoming into. Many romances started in places such as the office, and perhaps I should be more gracious about the attentions shown to me.

Here's the bit where I go back in time to my former self, remember to put pepper spray in my pocket that day, pull it out as this soliloquy ends and spray the whole can into his face. That, or have the good sense to sue for sexual harassment. Instead, in the reality of 1999, I mumble an apology, leave the office with my cheeks burning red and work out the remainder of the day humiliated by the whole experience. In the hours following, I feel like the stupidest person on earth. I'm completely conflicted and have very mixed messages from the whole ordeal. I have one very clear emotion, though. I am ashamed. Ashamed that I made a big deal out of what the client did, ashamed that I thought he was coming on to me when my senior partner thought otherwise, ashamed that even if he was coming on to me, who was I to refuse a 'friendly' advance, ashamed of the attention that had been drawn to my body and my self, which I had only just begun seeing and exploring in a sexual way. By the end of the week I was so humiliated that I couldn't bring myself to go back to work there. I was convinced that everyone knew and that the senior partner's condescending smiles were proof that I was just a very misguided young girl. I phoned in my resignation, never returned, never asked for a reference. I made up some crappy excuse to my parents and never told anyone the extent of what had occurred.

I'm sure I'm not alone in describing the feelings that this left me with. I'm sure plenty of us have had similar experiences or dealt with it in similar ways. I'm sure that my desire to turn back the clock and tell my younger self that my unease with the situation was real, that I should be true to my innate feeling that something was wrong about all of it. That I should listen to myself instead of letting my employer manipulate me to save himself drama and aggravation. Ultimately, it's one experience that opened my eyes, even if I didn't realise or act on it the way I could/should have at the time. It is also just one example of a culture of misogyny and boys protecting boys which I strongly believe still exists today. That incident was nearly ten years ago, but I doubt it would be any less likely in 2008.

So thank god I don't have to deal with such bulls**t anymore. I wish it was because the culture of workplaces had changed, but that's not how it is. If there is any less sexual harassment in the workplace, or any less covering-up by more senior male staff, it is because of fear of litigation or a tarnished image. It is not because there is more respect for women, nor is it because there is more recognition that the behaviour is inherently wrong. Me, ten years later, is unlikely to receive the same treatment, but most likely this is because the confidence (and defensiveness) with which I approach the same situations is worlds apart than me at 19, a glaringly obvious target as someone far less experienced at handling the attentions of males in more senior positions than I. I'll be happy to go and work in an office again when I have the confidence not only that a) I won't be sexually harassed, but b) that my colleagues and superiors will have the depth of character to respect that I have a right to work free from such behaviour and will act accordingly.

Friday Find...

2008-10-24T17:38:00.002+11:00

I have no idea how I found this, but it's pure gold. Poster Boy makes mash ups of advertising in the subways of NYC. So good. So very good. Take a look at the Flicker stream for more beauty.

Case of the Mondays #3

2008-10-20T10:03:00.001+11:00

Moving house recently we've had a steady stream of tradesmen to the house. Well, mostly telephone men. Do you think we can manage to get a telephone line and our internet hooked up? I think not. Which brings me to another thing I can really, really be glad for now I'm not doing 9-5 days. How the hell do you deal with needing stuff done at your home during working hours when they're, well, working hours? It's all well and good if you actually believe that the time you were given for your "appointment" with the plumber, electrician etc was real. Unfortunately, the truth is we're lucky if they turn up on the agreed day most of the time. I understand why tradies frequently can't give you an accurate time for your job (my parents run their own small business which is in the building/trade area), but it's pretty impossible to tell your boss "yeah, I need the day off work... but if this guy doesn't work out I might need to take the next day off... or maybe the week".

When you're at work and you want to deal with someone else in another office it's really convenient that you know they'll be in the office roughly the same hours as you. When you need to visit a bank or have something repaired at your house or pick up something from the post office... not so much. If you're lucky you work within a quick dash to the bank/post office/shop you require. Unfortunately, that's usually on your lunch break. Which is everyone else's lunch break. Which means it takes forever. And on it goes.

Back in the good old days (when we respected the way nature had designed the world) women could stay home and get these happy house chores done for her man. She could let in the plumber and bake a cake. She could juggle your five children and pop out to the bank to deposit your pay cheque. Sadly, uppity women everywhere have ruined the system, and now it's in disrepair.

So, for a nice change, being mostly confined to your own home has an advantage! I'm available to deal with the the Optus man... who stuffs up... so we get the Telstra man... who stuffs up... so we get him back again. Needing to be home for 'the afternoon' turned into a week of appointments. Ladies, I'm harking back to the old school ways, and it's working. Learn your lesson from this. You all need to exit the workforce and come home. Your tradesman needs you.

Not quite beautiful

2008-10-18T16:55:00.005+11:00

Most people who surf the blogosphere will have seen this out there somewhere. Here is the link to what (I think) is the original article in the New York Times. Essentially, computer scientists have created a program which 'beautifies' any face. On the left is the original image of Martina (who, unsurprisingly, remains unnamed until half way through the article and in most other coverage is only ever called 'the woman'), on the right her altered image.

This program is by no means the first attempt to automate what is, essentially, a commonplace practice of 'improving' images of people (and by people we all know I mean women) in photographic media. Does anyone remember the camera which would make you thinner? Not to mention the stock standard techniques of airbrushing and outright altering of subjects in magazines. In fact, the creators claim that, unlike these other techniques and programs which strive to morph subjects into an ideal beauty, this program takes up "the challenge of altering a face according to agreed-upon standards of attractiveness, while producing a result that left the face completely recognizable, rather than the product of cosmetic surgery or digital retouching". While it may be the case that the program is not aiming to dehumanise or take away personality, it's hard to imagine they are unaware that this is, in fact, exactly what they are doing. It's another step in a long line of actions which reinforces the myth that there is an Ideal Beauty, and more damaging, that we should all be striving for it.

The NY Times articles does cover the basics in its article; the software takes away our unique elements, does beauty really come from a ratio-style formula of features, what about people of another ethnicity. It still manages to stay a little detached, though. Surely the question has to be... why? The creators point to the applications use in film, animation, cosmetic surgery and advertising. So, in essence, no matter what they say, the application is going to be used in the fields which most often profit by selling women the idea that they are 'less than'. It will be used to further homogenise our idea of beauty. It will be another tool to reinforce to women everywhere that there is a standard they are not meeting. Only this one manages to insult us by justifying the ideal as a scientific, mathematical, definable standard to hold ourselves up to. The claim that it leaves us recognisable, as opposed to digital retouching or other ways of altering our image, is laughable. In some ways, it is more damaging.

It says, look here, look at what, even with your imperfect and not-quite-beautiful face, you almost could be. You wouldn't have to change much to be beautiful. What a shame.

Meanwhile...

2008-10-15T17:51:00.002+11:00

I've moved into my own home again! The last two weeks have been a mad mish-mash of collecting all our belongings from all over Melbourne and gathering them in our little nest. In answer to the 'how did the move go' question I've been getting from all fronts, how does this sound for a perfect list as you're moving house?

one week of sinus pain coupled with swollen glands
collecting all your belongings from four different locations all over the city
running out of your anti-depressants the week before your move and not being able to find the script to have it refilled
world's worst period pain striking on day one of moving house

Recipe for success? I think not. Mind you, having said that, it did go remarkably well. We walked in the door on Monday and by Wednesday things were pretty orderly. Now it looks like we've been here forever. Mind you, we're pretty good at setting ourselves up in new spaces considering how often we've moved in the past four years.

List of highlights thus far...

Seeing all my books in one place again, even though most of them haven't got shelves to live on yet
Having my gorgeous dog cuddling up with me every day
Having a veggie patch already underway and ready for new planting
The look on Himself and I's faces as it started to sink in that we have a place of our own, without anyone else, for the first time since we first started our relationship
Shopping at the market five minutes from our house, bringing home fresh organic food to stock the house with
People dropping around to have freshly cooked scones and jam, with pots of freshly brewed tea (from our collection of over a dozen different loose leaf teas which are together in the one place, finally)
Having a spare room already being used for people to crash out on, which is already booked for multiple interstate visitors to make use of in the very near future

So that's life at the moment. Continuing to pick up all the bits and pieces from everywhere we've lived or stored our crap, finding places for all the junk we own, sorting through piles of paper and belongings to figure out what to keep or let go of, enjoying the space and the dog and the settling in. So suburban. So good. Check in next week, where I'll be bored and itching to get out of the house.

Friday Find...

2008-10-03T09:23:00.000+10:00

If you love books, fantasise about having your own library someday and search out good functional design, you should be reading Bookshelf. It's all about bookshelves. Good that. Recently Bookshelf featured this quirky, and very cool, project.

"Book Case is a temporary public reading room that travels in a suitcase (or two). Its collection consists solely of material that can be read in a single sitting - zines, anthologies, essay collections, short stories, poetry etc. - and changes according to each new location it appears in. Readers are encouraged to interact with each other via index/correspondence cards in each book, or by old-fashioned conversation in the reading room surrounds."

I like it.

Case of the Mondays #2

2008-09-29T09:31:00.000+10:00

You know when I used to get a Case of the Mondays? Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday... but even worse? Friday. Casual Dress Friday. Who needs that shit?

Casual Dress Friday is an admission that really, there's no need to wear a suit to work every day. It doesn't hinder you doing your job, it doesn't really impress anyone and the world continues to spin even when you don't have that polyester tie on.

Yeah, I'm gonna celebrate having one day of the week where you let me pretend I'm free to be comfortable at my own desk. That won't remind me that my manager commented last week that skirt-suits "really are more feminine, don't you think?" in a thinly veiled directive to stop confusing the men with my liberal pants-wearing attitude.

And what's casual about it? It's not like anyone has the balls to turn up in a stained tracksuit or their moccasins. Nada always wears her jeans with a crease ironed down the front and Martin seems to have confused Casual Dress Friday with Ugly Joke Tie Friday.

Casual Dress Friday is another one of those areas in an office which makes people uncomfortable. No-one ever tells you what casual means, which usually results in everyone dressing pretty much like any other day. Or they don't, which makes management take a note never to promote you. Your taste in slogan t-shirts are an overt display of your love of beer and dislike of fat chicks... that's supposed to be kept to the management meetings, where you can be safe in the protective cocoon of the Boys Club, tsk tsk.

When Casual Dress Friday includes casual martini lunches, or at least a comfy chair for me to work on, I'll be there with my moccasins on.

Friday Find...

2008-09-26T02:08:00.000+10:00

Here's one I've had pinned in my feed reader for ages. I've always loved Braille Radio. When the lovely gentleman moved to Melbourne (years ago now!) it was great fun to read someone discovering your city and falling in love with it. In this post, Patrick shares one of the greatest visual graphs I've seen around for a while. Awesome concept, damn good design.

This is Listen, a project which visually shows us what the most popular body parts are (by amount of times mentioned) in various genres of music. The website has the full story.

Little boxes... or pods.

2008-09-25T15:38:00.001+10:00

Aiden, of Capricious and Arbitrary, wrote a great post in response to my Case of the Mondays #1. You should all head over and read it. I started writing a response in her comments section, but it got too long and unwieldy, so I decided to post it here. Thanks for your thoughts, Aiden...

My view of office work as hell isn't so much a judgement about those who do it, it's an extension of my distaste for the hegemony into which people are expected to live. It's the idea that we're asked to shed all personality at the door, wear the requisite uniform, conform to an unspoken code of behaviour.

Aiden is right though, because often when I hear myself condemning that lifestyle, it sounds as if I have an issue with the people who either want to, or have to, do it. I don't look down on the work done in offices. I support people who enjoy what they do in their office all day. I just don't like that in most instances it stifles people from being themselves.

I've worked in offices. I worked one particularly hideous job, let's call it The Office of Doom, where I felt like I was going to suffocate if I didn't leave. I couldn't handle the faux-enthusiasm and the motivational staff meetings. I did my work badly because I hated every moment of it (and it was actually pretty creative and interesting work, but that didn't make it any better). I'm not able to hold those polite lunchroom conversations, I just can't. I know the other person doesn't care what I did on the weekend and frankly, I don't care what they did. We're from different worlds, we have different ideas, different values. I don't understand why it's not enough to be polite and live our separate lives. I didn't think less of my co-workers, I just didn't have a lot in common with them. And I knew, from the sexist and homophobic comments I often heard, that they certainly wouldn't accept my lifestyle or my points of view.

Conversely, besides my involvement in creative stuff here in Melbourne, I work one of the most tedious, repetitive, paper-shuffling jobs in the world. When doing that job, I work in suit central... Parliament House. However, in my particular office, we can wear anything as long as it's neat, we work within a team that shares common vales and aims, we're respected because of our personal contributions to the team. We aren't asked to do anything except do our best work. Even though this work is, in fact, part of the largest cog in a faceless, personality-free system, I do much better work there. Even though this work is, in fact, menial compared to the work I did in The Office of Doom. Even though I work 15 hour days and I have to see Wilson Tuckey in the corridors.

When I wrote that for the most part my friends don't work in traditional offices and jobs, I didn't mean that they (and I) are better because we're creative or artsy types. I meant more that most of us don't check into our cubicles in the morning and wear a mask of calm over our internal despair. Most of my friends are genuinely happy with the work that they do, and the life that they lead. They haven't compromised themselves in order to fit into a corporate system that only works for... well, the system. They might compromise on fitting into traditional office hours, which they'd rather not do, but they recognise is necessary in order to do the job they really love. Or they work in a cafe, where they are able to just be themselves, work all day even though they aren't passionate about food or coffee per se, then go home to their passion (their children, their music, their partner, their garden). I think my friends are lucky because they all have the faith of their convictions, which means that they refuse to let a workplace, or anything/anyone else, turn them into a drone.

Most offices are set up in this impersonal fashion for a reason. Conformity, regulation and bureaucracy all work for giant corporations. They take away personal opinion, freedom and expression. They enforce a standard which attempts to mould people into behaviour that makes them work harder, longer and with less questions about why they are doing what they are doing. Companies want us to give them the maximum profit. They want us to make their bottom lines look bigger. They want our KPIs to be met so they can keep raising them. They want annual turnovers to grow, and to get more value from you as an employee. They don't care that we love to play tennis. They don't care if we have kids at home waiting for us. You know why small talk is required in the office? Because we aren't given time for real conversation. Team building excersizes don't let us get to know and like our workmates, they try to make us see that if we all work together, little cogs and big cogs combined, we work better. Our output is better. They get more from us. By taking away our individuality with a business suit, we become a walking billboard for how 'professional' and squeaky clean the company is. Of course it's no coincidence that it also helps us to be, look and feel more like cogs in the same wheel.

The latest farce in this game is work life balance. What that means is that some executive finally cottoned on to the fact that people were getting tired and burnt out from all the unpaid (or paid) overtime and leaving for greener pastures, where they hoped they might make it home before the kid's bedtime. It costs more to retrain and rehire a new employee. Solution? Give the illusion of being on the worker's side. Tell them to go home to their families earlier (but don't actually give them less work to ease the burden, just expect them to do more in less time), bring in massage therapists over lunchtime (instead of giving them time to do something which truly relaxes and centres them, instead of this $500 stunt), give them access to counsellors to discuss any issues in their life (which they have to see during their own time, or company time in which no-one is covering for them so they'll just come back to an even bigger workload). Run seminars for time management (so that while you put more pressure on they learn to do more in less time), run yoga or aerobics classes twice a week (because healthier staff are more alert and take less time off sick). Encourage them to eat better, make good use of their weekends, offer time in lieu. They'll never notice that none of this costs the company anything. It's just a way to bribe you to feel like being a cog in this particular wheel isn't that bad.

And yes, I am one of those people who treat Office Space like it is more than just a comedy. I know that it's satire, and that's why I like it. It makes me laugh (and yes, squirm at the misogyny too, Aiden), but it also shares my values. Too often we allow ourselves to be brainwashed into feeling as though we need to conform in order to be good at our job. Some of the targets are so well hit that it hurts. The casual racism towards Samir and his automatic outsider status speak volumes, and remind me of office horror stories outside fiction. While Mansha was in Melbourne on the weekend she recounted a story where on conference she and the only other two Indian women in the whole company were placed on the same table. We're talking a lot of people here. Not a coincidence. The company had a diversity problem, she said. No, they have a racism problem. They want all their cogs to look the same, they want them all to be able to politely discuss their rugby team and whether their bridesmaids will wear pink or green. They don't celebrate difference.

Or how about Milton? The slightly weird guy it's so easy to walk all over because he won't stand up for himself. Every office has a Milton. Someone who has been there forever, who lives for order and routine. Who other people take advantage of. In The Office of Doom, that was Fran. Fran was very sweet, eager to please and unable to say no. My manager, let's call her Debbie Does Darebin, because that's what I did call her, would waddle her officious arse over to Fran and swamp her with procedure designed to make it look like Debbie Does Darebin was doing a fantastic job. Poor Fran would be lumped with hours of pointless work, which everyone knew was pointless, but made Debbie Does Darebin feel important. Their manager didn't stop this because she knew, no matter what, that Fran would do everything Debbie asked (and still get her own work done) and never complain. Oh yeah, and then there's the little matter that anything making Debbie Does Darebin look good to management might just make her look good, too.

I guess I see office work in the same light as Little Boxes (the song at the start of the TV series Weeds). Society is more comfortable if we're all in boxes, and we're all the same. But like the show explores, there is always more than the 'same-ness' that is required to be presented to the world. And I'd rather we allowed people to be individual - it doesn't stop them doing a good job. My real issue with working in an office is that there is often a subtext of pressure and impossible expectations, which leads to people being made to feel that their only worth is in being a cog, just like all the other cogs. But we're not cogs. We're people doing a job. We're supposed to be exchanging our labour, be that brain or brawn, for fair recompense. Fair recompense. And for me, checking my personality at the door and pretending to be like everyone else just isn't worth it.

Case of the Mondays #1

2008-09-22T14:37:00.001+10:00

I spend a lot of time trying to convince people that my life of non-permanent employment due to CFS is nothing like a holiday. Coping with reoccuring, chronic (and remitting) pain isn't a holiday. Walking around feeling great one day, realising it will end in you suffering pain for it later isn't a holiday. Knowing if you take the time to drive to your doctor's appointment you will probably have to sleep for a full 24hrs afterwards is not a holiday. Feeling like you're wading through mud every waking hour of the day for weeks at a time is not a holiday.

On the other hand, regardless of my CFS, I've managed to pretty much escape a 9-5 existance. Every time I watch the movie Office Space I can laugh, smug in the satisfaction that I don't have to deal with a land of cubicles. Recently I was in an elevator in the CBD and managed to overhear the obligatory "will the pies win on the weekend, mate" conversation that I had forgotten existed in this world of I-don't-know-you-but-we're-forced-to-spend-more-hours-together-than-I-do-with-my-kids-so-we-better-find-something-to-fill-the-silence-with style world. And I got some perspective. I'm lucky. I'm so damn lucky it's not funny. I have a partner who supports me so we're not completely destitute, a family who cut me every break possible to let me focus on my health, some days where I feel great, a medical system that manages to keep me somewhat on track to improving, and the luxury of looking forward to a future in which I can change the things that don't make me happy.

None of which involve someone coming up to my cubicle and saying "it looks like somebody's got a case of the Mondays!" or asking if I understand the new system for the TPS reports.

In celebration of this, and to remind me of it each and every week, I will be offering you regular 'thank god we don't have to live with this reality' moments such as the one I begin with this week. For the most part, I know my friends don't work in traditional offices and jobs, but the ones who do have a sense of humor about it (or at least understand that while it may work for them, it's my worst nightmare)... so join me in my series of Monday posts "Case of the Mondays".

Case of the Mondays #1

Steve works in an office. Steve actually manages to like his job most days. He works in the public service, so for every day he actually gets in at 9am, there are five more where he manages to include 4 hours drinking beer as part of his 'lunch break' before returning to the office to write scathing emails to his 'friends' all afternoon. It's an office, but not one that has managed to suck his soul yet... I'd go so far as to say it's actually made him slightly saner. But then again, his previous life was all about student politicians and the young labor movement, so I guess sanity is relative. So far, his office doesn't seem like a prime target for our 'Case of the Mondays' file. I mean, public service? Long (drink filled) lunch breaks? Leaving early to do your shopping at the market? Considering finishing early on a Friday for drinks to mean you don't come back from your morning tea break where you started having a wine with 'early lunch' and finished by drinking the second bottle with 'late lunch' until finally heading for 'after work drinks' to round out the afternoon?

Don't let that fool you. He still works with Slightly Chatty Receptionist who wants to tell everyone about her wild weekend of drinks with The Girls at Metro. Then there is the fact that he has to wear a tie to work. And once, when I visited his office, I could see with my very own eyes that they have motivational stuff in their workspaces. Imagine working with people who have motivational posters stuck up next to their computer. By choice. I always thought those things were invented by CEOs who wanted to convince their worker drones that they should be worker drones with aspirations to keep on droning. I never dreamed the worker drones would allow themselves to be so brainwashed they decided to seek them out for themselves. Most terrifying though... they have decided to do away with that clinical term 'cubicle'. Oh no my friends, no 'cubicle' for the public service. They have PODS. These drones are one advanced species. They work in pods, where one can only assume they churn out some kind of alien ooze (perhaps slurm?) for the good of The Company. Is it just me, or is working in a pod even more disturbing than working in a cubicle? And, just quietly, if it walks like a cubicle and it talks like a cubicle... it's a cubicle.

Serendipitously, my phone just called. It was Steve. Clearly hard at work with our tax dollars. I told him I was blogging about his pod. He informs me that there was a meeting about upcoming changes to the pod layouts. Butcher's paper was involved. No decisions have been made.

Now that would give me a case of the mondays.

Friday Find...

2008-09-19T11:55:00.000+10:00

I've been finding new blogs to read lately, some I've had sitting in Bloglines waiting for me to get around to for ages, some I ended up at after following a comment on something I already read, some I went looking for in hopes of finding some information to learn more about people's experiences of foster care. I rarely remember to talk about the things I find out there in the blogosphere, mostly because I pin them to come back to later when I can 'flesh out' my thoughts on the topic. What inevitably happens is I never feel up to that task, and consequently I never mention it and the topic is no longer relevant. So I'm not going to do that anymore. I'm going to at least post the link to whatever it was that made me laugh, or explored something I'm passionate about, or made me keep going back to re-read the post.

For your reading pleasure...

I've had The Book Grocer on my radar for a while, but just recently got around to reading through the archives (if you haven't had the pleasure of going into one of their stores, you really should!). While doing so, I came accross this post. It positively made my day. Honestly, I started chuckling knowingly somewhere around the scottish cousin and lost it in fits of giggles right at the end with the ears. If you've worked in retail (or any kind of service industry, really) you'll relate. This manages to cross the aren't-all-customers-annoying stories we all love to share.