The control freak can't outsource

I’ve tried most work situations in the last three years: working part-time, not working, and working from home. The only thing I haven’t done since Little Miss A was born is work full-time – and I can’t imagine I will do that for a long, long time, if ever again in a traditional sense.

By far, the setup that works best for me and my family is working from home.

When I work part-time from home, I have the chance to play with Little Miss A, blog, bake, walk, write, take photos, visit or talk to friends, work and clean – all in a day.

When I’m working away from home, my day consists of getting up, getting ready, driving and working, and a quick play with my daughter before she goes to bed.

Life as a mum working away from home is busy. I love being busy, but this feels like busyness in a really unproductive way. See, when I work from home I have a number of things to do – and when I’m done, I’m done. I then move on to other things, often things that interest me or the more basic essentials of life (looking after my family, exercising, things like that).*

When you work in an office, it’s all about the hours you put in. Your productivity is rarely defined purely by your work output; it includes looking at how many hours you are present. This doesn’t usually work in the favour of someone who works quickly and efficiently; in fact, I believe such a culture encourages the opposite. (Oops, I think my HR-ness just snuck out for a moment!)

Working to my own timeline, a speedier one, suits me perfectly. It gives me time to live a more balanced life, where I can allow my business self to have its moment and my creative self to have a look-in, too.

It means I can factor in time with my family - and this is certainly the most difficult aspect for a parent working in any facet or even having their own interests. Working from home with a child around is never easy, but being able to look after my daughter most of the time and bring in some income, as well as having time for my other interests, is my perfect life balance.

Rushing a young child out the door, taking her to another place to be looked after all day, for day after day – it feels wrong. Coming home and spending just an hour with her? That isn't the type of parenting I want. (Do I need to put that little disclaimer here? I’m not judging others; I’m simply talking about my experience with the things I’ve tried.)

Call me a control freak if you will, but outsourcing parts of my life doesn’t suit me. And believe me, this comes as a surprise to me more than anyone.

* I want to add that I'm doing some work temporarily, which I chose to do. I'm worried this post will come across as though I hate doing that, which I don't, or that I'm seeking pity, which I'm not and never ever do. This, like most things that find their way onto this blog, is just one aspect of my thought process.

How is your life balance? How do you manage to work or have time for your own interests, or both?

Hello?

A person you haven’t met before, or perhaps who you’ve met but haven’t spoken to for a while - what do you do?

Are you one to approach them and say hello, or do you stand back and wait for them to make the first move?

I’ve been called a ‘snob’ many times in my life for doing the latter. That happens to people who tend towards the shy end of the spectrum. You watch from the sidelines, agonising over whether to say hi, wondering if you’ll be ridiculed, hoping they haven’t noticed you.

Meanwhile, the other person is often doing something similar. They have their own insecurities, and think you consider yourself too good to speak to them. The balance of power is ultimately taken by the one who makes that first move. The one who is seen as confident enough to walk up and put themselves on the line.

These days, I’m much more at that socially confident end of the spectrum, unless I feel REALLY unnerved by someone. I sometimes need reminding now, that others aren’t always comfortable doing the same.

I find myself labelling people as ‘rude’ when they don’t say hi – but I shouldn’t make such assumptions.

Are you a first-move-maker or a bystander?

The eve of something strange

Three years ago, in the midst of frustration, lack of motivation and a baby at home screaming for me, I walked out.

My Little Miss A was eight months old and I tried to go back to work. I was following the rules - get back to life as soon as possible. Don't change. Don't lose yourself.

But I had to change, and more than that - I had to stop resisting it.

Now, on the eve of walking back into that same building, I'm nervous. Not of the work, or the people, and no longer about leaving my little girl.

No.

I can tell you what it isn't, but I'm struggling to explain what it is. That feeling when you worked somewhere for nine years, then left in a whirlwind of emotions, and now find yourself heading back into territory that's so familiar and yet so strange.

Know what I mean?

The universe reads my blog & other random thoughts

Earlier this week I posted a statement: I'm ready.

Depression be gone, anxiety be gone. I'm back baby, and I'm ready to face the world.

Turns out the universe reads my blog. Since that post went up, I've managed to get some consultancy work, find another opportunity (that I've had to turn down), and commit to going back to work, part-time for three months.

Life is about to get very busy, but things are falling into place. Each of these things is taking me closer towards my bigger goals.

*

Another thing is back too: mother guilt. Having just cut Little Miss A's childcare hours back in preparation for starting preschool next year I'm about to increase them again. A little part of me is guilty about changing things around so much of late, but mostly I know I'm doing the right thing.

I know my girl, and I know she takes change in her stride. I know she loves childcare, and I know she'll love having a day a week with her beloved Nanna, as well as more one-on-one time with Steve who will be picking her up in the afternoons.

I also know that heading towards my own longer term goals - to set things up so that I can work around her preschool and, eventually, school hours - is the best thing I could be doing right now. For all of us.

And if it's all a terrible disaster and fails horribly? It's only three months.

*

All this work will take us towards one really special goal: a big holiday next year. Keeping that in mind will make it all worthwhile.

Where shall we go? We're yet to decide. 

The options are endless. And that thought makes me happy.

*

Working with brands has been the topic on everyone's fingertips in Blog Land this week.

I've been thinking about this a lot of late. I've trialled some sponsored posts, ads and attending some events over the last couple of months, and I can already say I'm unhappy with some of the things I've done.

Being open to this stuff has led to some wonderful opportunities though, and the things I've loved most have been the experiences - a weekend away, a few meals out with my family, catching up with other bloggers, things like that.

I think the answer for me is to not take an extreme Yes or extreme No on this issue. I'll learn from what I've taken part in this year, and just be very picky when it comes to which brands or sponsoring go on this blog. 

(Universe, if you're still reading, you know what to do...)

*

And the renovation is nearly over. My office is being put together this weekend, the final room to be fitted out. 

Many of the other rooms aren't what I consider 'finished enough' to share here yet, in terms of painting or furniture, but they'll come soon. Including a new reading corner for Little Miss A's room!

At this point, I'm really just hoping to find some time to get everything sorted in my new office as soon as possible, to free up some space in the rest of the house. Funny how one room can throw out the entire house.

*

Things are good. Life is good. 

That's the main thought on my mind.

Family, working, writing, travelling - that's where life is headed.

I'm back, baby.

Don't mind me, I'm just throwing a tantrum

This may come as a surprise even to those who know me well*, but I have lost my temper a lot in my lifetime. A LOT.

I'm one of life's short-tempered people and, to an extent, that's just me. Of course, I've learnt to control my temper and the level of my reaction in a lot of situations** and I've also calmed down a lot in the last few years. Marrying a man who rarely loses his temper has that effect.

Little Miss A is fairly even-tempered, but of course she does lose her temper at times. Things frustrate her and she can't always get what she wants. In parenting circles, it's widely acknowledged that we should give our children the space to vent those frustrations, to have a bit of a tantrum and let the anger out. And then move on.

When do we decide this is such a bad thing? At what point do we say, no, it isn't acceptable to do that? Suddenly, we seem to expect people to hold the anger in and be 'strong'. Or at the very least, to have the foresight to let their frustration out in a more sensible fashion.

I, for one, love a good tantrum... as I recently reminded myself on the slopes of Mt Buller recently. Falling for the hundredth time, face flat in the snow, unable to move my legs as they floundered out at angles I didn't know they could reach, I threw my poles and swore into the snow. Then I quickly calmed down, asked someone to help me, and laughed at myself as they helped me get my skis off.

And boy, did it feel good. Anger gone, I was ready to face the challenge again.

Being angry or frustrated is not a bad thing, not a sign that a person isn't strong or capable. In fact, I was reminded of how good it is to feel something so much that I need to let it out. To stop being sensible and just throw something. And then to move on.

Maybe we'd all be better off if we just threw a little tantrum now and then.


*That's a lie. They've all seen it.
**But probably not enough.

Walking with her

"Where are we going? Mummy, run, run, run! Mummy, run!
What's that? It's a doggy, Mummy. Hahahahaha look at that doggy!
Can we play a game? I spy with my eye something that's...
Mummy, you say it... no, not that one; green, I want green.
Um, the trees and the grass.
And your top.
And...
Can we play a game?
I spy
with my eye
something
that's...
I don't
want
to
walk.
I
want
to
sit
here.
Can
you
carry
me?
Pleeeeeease
Mummmmyyyyyy?
Are you carrying me? Will I hop down over there?
I'll hop down over there and then I'll walk, okay Mummy?
I walk sometimes, and sometimes you carry me and sometimes I walk Taylor.
Hahahahahahahaha... that's so funny, Mummy, can you laugh? It's funny isn't it!
Are we at the shops yet?
Where are the shops?
Will we
be there
soon?
We're at the shops, Mummy! We're here, which shop are we going to?
This one? This one? Maybe this one?
Look Mummy, I got some rocks, can I put them in your pocket?
But I want them in your pocket! No, I'll hold them. Look!
A stick! And a gumnut. Mummy, look, a brown gumnut!
This shop? Okay, let's go in this one. I won't touch anything, will I?
Mum?
No
I
don't
want
to
go
home."

*

This is a writing exercise for InkPaperPen's Write On Wednesdays - 
click the button below to read the other participants' pieces.

If the dreams fit ...

I think I'm getting over the fact that some things I've taken a shot at this year have failed.

(And now I'm waiting for the phone to ring, because Steve and my Mum and my sister are sure to tell me off for using that 'f' word. I know, I know, they were actually things I chose not to go ahead with, but they still feel like projects that I failed at. Maybe because I lament all the time spent on them, or because I have nothing to show for that. Maybe it's because I have nothing else on the go and I'm scared about that.)

Whatever it is, I think I'm getting over my slump.

I've always been a very driven person. Every single day of my life I've wanted to achieve something, whether that be as big as getting a promotion or as small as getting through my to-do list. Lately... not so much. These last couple of months have seen me cruise, without any plans or goals or dreams to speak of. Nothing formulating in my mind.

For the first time. EVER.

It all sounds kind of relaxing when I write it down - cruising, seeing where life takes me, taking it easy. Not in my mind; being idle is my worst nightmare. I'm more highly strung when I'm bored than when I have a hundred things to do.

Steve said to me the other day, 'At least you've tried things. You'd have always wondered if you didn't try.' True. And it's the advice I'd give to someone else too.

Then I heard something on television (and so it must be true, right?): 'Every successful person has failed at something at some point.'

I think that's what I need to remember right now - that everyone who takes some risks will see some things not work out as they would have hoped. That it's okay to be in a slump for a short while. And that these few months are a very short portion of my life. They will pass.

Now, though, I can feel it. That fire coming back, the passion to do something more. I'm trusting myself again. I'm remembering my dreams and I'm writing out my goals, just to see how they feel.

And guess what? They still fit.

Pillow love (+ Giveaway)

We've all seen those images of standard pillows with all the bugs and bacteria - gross! But there is a better option for your kids...

At a recent blogging event organised by Brand Meets Blog, I was introduced to the products of Madii & Dyl - wonderfully healthy and hygienic pillows for little ones.

These pillows are made of latex, hypoallergenic, and great for parents who aren't keen on their children's heads sleeping on dust mites, mildew and bacteria (all of us!).

The story of this business is great, too - a mum of two who couldn't find a pillow she was happy with for her kids. So she created her own. Not only are they a healthier option, they're also suited perfectly to little heads and necks.

Here is the result:

Thanks to Madii & Dyl and Brand Meets Blog, one commenter will win a child's latex pillow!

How to enter:

1. Head to the Madii & Dyl website, and choose the pillow you'd like (they'd love you to join their Facebook page too!),
2. Come back and leave a comment letting me know which one you've chosen,
3. Watch this space to find out if you've won!

{Note: Australian residents only. Giveaway ends at 5pm Friday 26th August 2011 (AEST). Good luck!}

Why I love the Victorian high country

I often refer to Tasmania, particularly Hobart, as my second home. Having family there means I've spent a lot of time in one of Australia's most beautiful states, and it just feels like home. But there's another spot that comes an equal second - a special part of the country just a couple of hours from home...

To many, the Victorian high country is a place of fun, adventure, spirit. A place of peace.

To me, it's everything. Not just a place to visit, this is a part of the country that I feel.

I look around and see the beauty of it, hear the silence and the wildlife, smell the eucalypt and fresh air, feel the roughness of the bush and the wind blowing around me, and I swallow that air with every breath.

I've been coming here for as long as I can remember. Family holidays as a kid, filled with swimming and ice-creams and driving trips; visits to my aunty's farm where we'd slide down hills on a piece of cardboard.

Since I met Steve, I've come here every year to camp and waterski. Together, we have hiked part of this country and we've skied on those mountains. We sit and we talk. Here, we can just be.

And now we bring our little girl here too, and she loves the rivers, mountains and bushlands where we camp, hike and drive. She swims, she wanders, she looks at the animals and she laughs as we drive over bumpy roads that could either lead us to an amazing, hidden spot or get us stuck.

This is an area you could spend every holiday for every year of your life, and still never see it all.

Although it's fun to try.

Skiing - I gave it a go

This weekend, we headed up to Mt Buller here in Victoria for a day at the snow. I'd always wanted to try skiing, but I had no idea how I'd go. I was worried about falling (Steve told me not to be nervous, that I would definitely fall), scared about going downhill (you can imagine the hilarity there), and just had nerves about not knowing what to expect.

I'd been to Mt Buller before - in spring and summer, for sightseeing and hiking. And once in the snow, when Steve tried snowboarding, but I was 36 weeks pregnant at the time and it was freezing and snowing, so I gave the cafes a good test run.

This time, Steve and I tried skiing. So, how did it go?

Well - at the start of our skiing lesson, I was ready to sit the day out. Having to get on a chairlift and then make our way down the hill to get to the beginner's lesson was just mean - and I walked down with skis in hand. When I did put my skis on, I just slid around everywhere and got very frustrated.

So when Steve said, "Smile for a photo!" I kind of forced one...

The lesson was good - I learnt to stand still, ski a little, turn and stop. Cool. Maybe I could do this after all?

But the little slope at the lesson was very different to heading down the main run at Mt Buller - Bourke Street. Very different. I spent most of the day on my bum in the middle of the ski run, swearing to myself. In the end, and with Steve's encouragement, I headed back to the beginner section and practiced my basic skills there.

I was glad I'd given it a try and happy that I'd made some progress. I might even try it again one day, and we'll definitely head up to give Abbey a turn in the next couple of years.

But, at the end of the day, the joy comes from stopping, taking off those horribly uncomfortable ski boots, and having a drink.

The sight of stars

“I know nothing with any certainty,

but the sight of the stars makes me dream”

~ Vincent Van Gogh ~

Parenting against instinct

Being a balloon parent (I'm running with my new term) doesn't come as naturally as many might think.

There are times I just want to run to my little girl and cuddle her close when she falls. I watch for her reaction when she hurts herself, and hold my breath as I smile at her and calmly ask if she's okay.

Sometimes it's funny when people talk about how tough she is. There's a running joke that a friend's sons like to say, 'We're not as tough as Abbey!' But I try to counteract all the talk about bravery and toughness by telling her often that it's okay to cry if something hurts. Just so she knows.

Sometimes I'm relieved when she does cry after a fall - usually when she's really tired. It's the perfect excuse to listen to my instinct and cuddle her, at least for the thirty seconds she'll allow it.

On many occasions I hold my breath as she climbs a ladder to a tall slide, and every time she's out of my sight for a moment I have a little freak out.

But all these panicky parenting moments, and many of the clingy ones, I hide from her.

Why? Because I think it's the best thing for Abbey.

Because I want her to listen to her own instincts. I don't want to overpower that, so I follow her lead when she's trying something new or hurts herself.

Because my favourite part of parenting is encouraging her, and having her realise how capable she is is far more important than following my instincts.

Sometimes I parent against my instincts because this, her childhood, is all about her. Not me.

Party planning mode

It's all about planning in our house right now, as Abbey comes closer to another birthday celebration.

The invitations are sent, and now it's time to get everything organised.

So far, I know that the concept will be a hit with Abbey and her friends and cousins. I know there will be cupcakes that taste like Spring. I know that will be almost the extent of the sweet things on offer*. I know my girl will be wearing a beautiful purple dress, that she chose herself.

I know... not much else about the day.

Hence the planning required!


*Excited kids on a sugar rush? No thanks.

A big Saturday night with the family

Saturday nights are now a bit different to how they used to be.

What does a Saturday night look like with an almost three-year-old in tow?

An early meal, and a quick meal - Asian food is always good with young kids, as the service is fast. A bottle of red wine, drunk at a pace that equals the speed of the meal. Some Wiggles on the iPhone. And a Mum who decides to sit in the backseat with her child so they can play and sing songs together all the way home (this may or may not have a direct link with the speed of the red wine consumption).

In between all of that, there was a delicious meal.

When we walked into this restaurant, we weren't entirely sure how it would go. But, bolstered by the great online reviews we'd read and the knowledge that this was a spot that prides itself on its 'hawker-style' meals - its casual setting being one of the drawcards with a child who has an adversity to sitting down for too long - we headed in.

Often it's the unassuming-looking places that serve the best food. And this was a fantastic Malaysian meal.

The soft-shell crab was so full of aroma and spices (but not in a hot way):

And the noodles - way better than they look!:

One word: yum.

PS - I then fell asleep on the couch at 9pm, clearly exhausted after a whirlwind Saturday night of fun. So tragic.


We ate at Redbean Kitchen in Hawthorn, an inner suburb of Melbourne, with thanks to the Malaysia Kitchen campaign. 

Stop

Stop. Look outside.

You might just find a flower that has never before shown its face.

The shortest living blog post ever in the history of blog posts

Yesterday morning I published a blog post. Usually once a post is up, I put links on Twitter and Facebook and read comments during the day. Simple.

Not this time. In fact, this particular post only stayed on my blog for half an hour.

The post was about my self-confidence, or lack thereof when it comes to job interviews. Never comfortable with blaming others I felt I needed to think more about what I was doing wrong. Two comments on that post came in and I had a panic attack realised why I shouldn't have published it.

See, there's a difference between taking responsibility for the part you play in something, and completely blaming yourself for everything. I'm very, very good at the latter. If there was a job in that, I'd be considered the worldwide expert, I'm sure of it.

I listed the things I think are reasons I haven't got a job this year - there were several of them, some my fault and some on the side of the interviewers. To blame just one of those things is silly and dismissive.

To make all these things public makes me feel stupid, and that's the reason I removed yesterday's post. I wrote it hoping others would relate - and some contacted me to say they'd read it and could relate, which was wonderful - but sometimes this whole 'putting myself out there' thing is hard.

To say no one wants to hire me is not the whole picture, and it gives you this image of me that's far from what I, and the people who know me, would perceive as correct. To say I'm lacking in confidence, or let you in on my internal dialogue during the interview process, makes me sound like a blundering mess. Which I'm usually not.

With my friends and family, I laugh at myself. I make my mistakes sound funny - here, though, they can come across as overly serious and self-pitying.

Yesterday's post made me realise something - I need to take action. It's time to move on from my mistakes, stop being dismissive and talking myself down, give myself a pep talk and get over myself.

I am an intelligent, educated, skilled person with a lot to offer. Look out world.

(Now, please excuse me while I play some 80s power ballads, about living life and being awesome, really loudly and sing at the top of my voice...)

For the love of Walhalla: the magic

Sure, there are things to do in Walhalla: history to explore, fun to be had, eating to be done. Yes, it is a wonderful spot for a girls' weekend away, with wine, chocolate and warmth.

But none of those things are the reason I would - and will - go back. So, what really makes Walhalla something special? What makes Victorians and other travellers go out of their way to come here?

A little thing called magic...

It's a shock at first, when you're used to being contactable anywhere, everywhere, anytime. And for my little family to get away from that, we usually travel further and into more remote places. So to realise that here is a spot, not too far away, with no phone service, internet or television, is like taking a deep breath and really letting go. 

Much of the Gippsland region is beautiful - my sister lives there and every time I drive to her house I'm inspired by the vibrant greens, stunning scenery, peacefulness and the lifestyle. But Walhalla is a special little oasis, its hills acting as a shield to protect you from the outside demands.

A trip to Walhalla is a trip to a simpler time. Leave all your mobile devices behind, stroll the streets, enjoy the scenery and just... be.

Enormous thanks to Brand Meets Blog, Destination Gippsland, Walhalla's Star Hotel for hosting and looking after us, and my lovely fellow roadtrippers - Louisa, Claire and Toushka - for making the trip so enjoyable. Even bigger thanks to nature for providing the inspiration that is Gippsland.

For the love of Walhalla: the girls' weekend

Following my recent weekend away to Walhalla (read more about the destination here), I've been pondering: what makes for a good girls' weekend away?

I've been on hundreds a few girls' weekends whenever I can on occasion and I find there are some specific ingredients required:

Wine, and a perfect spot in which to drink it. (We gave this a good trial 

run... only so we could recommend it on good authority, of course.)

Chocolate (location theme optional)

Warmth - in this case, hot water bottles on the night train.

They really do think of everything in Walhalla.

A few things to do, but not too much to distract from wine-drinking and sleep-ins.

And of course...

Great company! (Toushka, me, Claire, Louisa)

What do you think are the perfect ingredients to a great girls' weekend?

Enormous thanks to Brand Meets Blog, Destination Gippsland, Walhalla's Star Hotel for hosting and looking after us, and my lovely fellow roadtrippers - Louisa, Claire and Toushka - for making the trip so enjoyable. Even bigger thanks to nature for providing the inspiration that is Gippsland.

For the love of Walhalla: the trip

"I'm going for a weekend away to Walhalla!"

"Hang on, isn't it me that's always wanted to go there and you always say no?"

"Oh, um, er..."

That's how the conversation went when I told Steve of my plans. It's true: he's often talked of going to Walhalla, a small town in the Gippsland region here in Victoria, after hearing great things about it from friends. To me, there was always somewhere else to go, other things to see - things that perhaps seemed a little more exciting.

To my credit, I do admit when I'm proved wrong. And oh, how wrong I was!

When I say Walhalla is a small town, I mean small: just ten people live here. Several more live in the surrounding towns and drive in to run businesses (accommodation and eateries for the most part).

I was lucky enough to be in wonderful company on this girls' weekend away, and the four of us - Louisa, Claire, Toushka and me - drove into Walhalla with whispered 'wow's as lyrebirds ran in front of us, the kookaburras laughed and the scenery turned from lovely to stunning. We spent our weekend exploring the local sights:

Take the Long Tunnel Extended Gold Mine tour. This mine operated from 1863 to 1914, and holds the key to Walhalla's heyday.

Explore the town's history - there are signs around the town and people to chat to who help you learn more about the town as it was. One thing that staggered me was how sparse the town was of trees and bushland during its mining days. Looking at it now, it's hard to believe it was once like this.

The Goldfields Railway - another must-do, this train takes you through the most beautiful bushland. Come here in August for the Walhalla Vinter Ljusfest and the train heads out at night, with beautiful lights over the treetops and rock walls.

The Vinter Ljusfest (Winter Light Festival, inspired by the town's Nordic origins), which

sees Walhalla lit up each during August - and it's a beautiful sight. 

(This image from Destination Gippsland.)

Explore the cemetery, cut into the hillside, to discover the stories of the people who made this town.

Find somewhere lovely to stay - we were hosted by the Star Hotel (whose owner, 

Michael, was fantastic with showing us around and letting his passion for Walhalla 

shine through) and there are also other nice spots around the town, from camping to 

beautiful original buildings set up as cottages or B&Bs. 

Enjoy a good country meal (the Star Hotel had wonderful food and although we didn't

eat at the Wally Pub, I loved the look of it and heard great reports from others).

Not to mention all manner of day-trips possible from and around here. I have it on good authority that the Erica pub cooks steak to perfection, that Mt Baw Baw during ski season is lots of fun, that the bushwalking is wonderful (next time, I want to see Mushroom Rocks!), and we enjoyed stopping at Yarragon for food and browsing the local produce available.

All this, only about 2 hours drive from the Melbourne CBD.

And of course, we all know I'll be heading back. Steve is now more jealous keen than ever before, to visit this spectacular part of Victoria.

But although visitors to Walhalla love to see and do all these things, there's more to this town than sightseeing... (more coming soon!)

Enormous thanks to Brand Meets Blog, Destination Gippsland, Walhalla's Star Hotel for hosting and looking after us, and my lovely fellow roadtrippers - Louisa, Claire and Toushka - for making the trip so enjoyable. Even bigger thanks to nature for providing the inspiration that is Gippsland.

Flirty Spring

Of all the seasons, Spring is the biggest flirt.

The sun shines briefly before turning away, the blossoms are suddenly vibrant and the warmth makes you excited, until it's taken away just as quickly as it arrived. Such a tease.

Not as extreme as Winter or Summer, and more highly anticipated than Autumn, Spring is one of Melbourne's favourite seasons. And it can't come soon enough.

(Which is code for 'I'm freezing, where did that sun go?')

My Life: Then and Now

It's not a cloud

Her brown eyes gaze upward.

"It's not a cloud, Mummy. It's a white rainbow."

And I know what to do.

I give her a hug, a big one.

And I write it:

If I get caught in the fog again,

I'm not going to see clouds.

I choose to see a special kind of rainbow.

Helping kids eat spicy foods

Lunch time, Sunday. Starving. Nothing to eat. It all looks boring. Want to go out. Tired. Bored. Staaaaaarving.

We headed out for a nice Sunday lunch together, just the three of us. Found a nice place that we knew would fill our empty stomachs, sat down, ordered and licked our lips seeing the food arrive to our table quickly.

We get a little blase about what what we feed Abbey - not in terms of nutrition (I'm very conscious of that), but with the types of food. She is not, and has never been, a fussy eater - she'll try anything and likes the most amazing array of flavours.

She tried to try the food...

... and then resorted to cutlery when she realised chopsticks aren't used to stab food with!

One taste, one cry... one problem.

Uh-oh. Maybe this food isn't suitable for an almost-three-year-old? Malaysian food is spicier than I expected and although we had ordered mostly mild dishes, there was a hint of spice in each.

The thing is, Abbey clearly loved the flavours. The rice (nasi goreng) was delicious and she wanted to eat it but the lingering spicy hit was hurting her tongue.

The solution? A little shop two doors down, and a gulp of...

... milk! Famous for cooling the mouth.

We didn't ask her to try the food again, but we asked her if the milk cooled her tongue. A nod. A moment of thought. A dive back into the rice. A few mouthfuls followed by a gulp of milk. Repeat.

One happy girl.

Meanwhile, Steve and I were happily eating...

My favourite? Rasa Malaya Sotong (calamari with a tangy red sauce):

And Steve's favourite - a spicier dish that came as a surprise for its yumminess (a spicy bean dish that I forgot to write down the name of - too busy eating calamari!):

We ate at Rasa Malaya in Doncaster, east of Melbourne, with thanks to the Malaysia Kitchen campaign.