My friend and I arrived at the starting line yesterday on what can only be described as a rather hot morning. So we sat around in nervous anticipation and watched all the other competitors come in and register.

Well, I sat in nervous anticipation. For you see, like I mentioned last week, my training for this run had gone by the wayside. But never mind, the spirit of the day, the energy from everybody else, would drag me along, wouldn’t it?

Yes, it did. Frankly, having lots of people alongside me kept me going. I kept saying to myself, if they can do it, I can do it. Just ignore your dry mouth, my aching left foot which left me suspecting I need a new pair of sneakers, and the fact I chose such wrong songs to listen to along the journey. Yes, I had the usual techno-beats and a lot of pop, but (and here’s a tip) don’t put sad tracks on your playlist, otherwise you’ll want nothing more than to drop by the side of the track and weep.

That’s if you can see through the sweat that’s dripping into your eyes. Which I couldn’t on occasion.

My time? The official numbers hadn’t been put up as of the time I’m writing this, but on my friend’s watch I think I did the 10kms in 1hr 12min.

And I’m happy with that.

The best bit of all?

The kids holding up signs to cheer me on. And everyone else on too, because after I passed they changed the chant to “Go Mums! Go!”

They were so cute other people stopped to take pictures of the signs.

Now, I must move along now. I am stiff and sore and might go take a bath in epsom salts…

Oh, you want a photo of me? Really?

Okay, fine. Here it is:

Believe me, I took advantage of every drinks station.

“There’s mercy to be found at the bottom of a glass.”

Not sure what that line means, I just wrote it.

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And that’s about as articulate as I’ll get today.

I will be flicking through old photos and I think, “Wow – my son does resemble me a little.”

He’s not pure Adam after all.

We held an intimate, but nevertheless fun, Halloween party on Saturday night. Here are some of the photos:

Adam drew some scary pictures which we hung on the wall.

I made Halloween cupcakes (and by the way, since when did red and yellow make a funny shade of pink? No matter how I tried they just came out the wrong shade. You can’t quite tell here. In fact, here they look half decent. And anyway, the kids didn’t care.)

We decorated the walls with orange and black crepe streamers, making the place look more like the Wests Tigers (Rugby League) were playing a Grand Final than something spookily impressive, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

(Yes, that’s Top Gear on the television.)

Riley started the evening as Spiderman, but by the end of the night ended up as this interesting looking character.

I started the evening as a unimpressive looking pirate and ended it looking even more unimpressive…as you can see.

Aussies, did you do anything for Halloween? Or are you still trying to resist the temptation?

Some of you may have seen the show Electric Dreams on television last night – it was about this family that had their house transformed into a replica of one from the 1970s, thus taking out nearly all modern comforts and gadgets. The first time the family returned to their house there were the usual shrieks of shock, but as I watched I admit there was a part of me – a small part – that was slightly envious. I also remember a time when all I had for entertainment was a hand held transistor radio in my bedroom, when I made mix tapes (off the radio, not an LP) and when I had to put up with temperamental television sets.

The life you had was your own; you didn’t have to splice it with any online identit(ies) or presence.

I must admit there have been a procession of events this past week that altogether have made me question this blog, this space. This question isn’t necessarily fair either, as it’s not the blog’s ‘fault’. No, the fault is mine and I am casting about for excuses.

The problem is that I don’t know what the problem is with me.

My concentration span is zero, I am sleeping more than ever, I am not training. I am even (and brace yourselves) doing housework. Anything to avoid writing.

Of course, I am exaggerating slightly. I am sending off a story this week, actually. To re-balance out the two rejection letters that came in last month (in my defence, however, one of those pieces I have absolutely no recollection of even posting. Perhaps I did it in the strange, sad weeks following Dad’s death).

So as I muck my way through this month, when I’m supposed to be writing more words than ever, I’ll just try to imagine I’m in that 1970’s house. More than that, I might have to step back from teh Internetz.

At least I’ll try.

Earlier this week I got sick of lugging around my handbag without really even knowing what was inside anymore. My shoulders hurt. So I tipped it out and sorted through the contents.

* One bottle of water (almost empty)
* One black moleskine 2008-2009 diary
* One Barbie wallet (almost falling apart) and loose change
* One emergency muesli bar for hungry children
* Mobile phone
* Keys with the face turned up to Adam’s and my wedding photo
* Two antacids
* One Monaco Bar wrapper
* Some business cards
* One hairband
* One plastic dinosaur
* One roll-on sunscreen
* Two lip glosses that are virtually the same shade
* Four pens, one being Keira’s new 5-in-1 colour pen (Very exciting for her, I remember my first one)

No wonder it was so heavy.

I have never been sentimental when it comes to cutting my son’s hair. It’s always been a case of buzz cuts all round, please. The shorter the better.

In fact, that inserted link points back to the last time Riley had a haircut. I’ve avoided giving him one this year. At first it was because he simply didn’t need one, but by June Adam started to get on my case about going back to the hairdressers. It’s true, it was getting long. Riley had sideburns and walked around all day with that ‘just rolled out of bed’ look. But I couldn’t do it.

I only relented the week of Keira’s preschool formal. One afternoon when Keira was in class, I spontaneously walked into the salon and got a lucky spot straight away.

“How much do you want off today? Shall I go get the clippers?” she asked.

“Wait. No.”

And so it began, the agonising, possibly pathetic regret of the passing of our children’s youth.

“I only want a little off today,” I said, pincering my fingers almost completely together. “Just a bit. I just….”

I just couldn’t shave it off.

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The other times Riley’s come out of the salon looking like he’s been to boot camp people have stopped me to say, “Goodness, doesn’t that make him look older.”

Which was true to a degree, but for me there’s always been one thing that’s stopped me from agreeing and that is his cheeks: those matching plump, kissable cheeks he’s had since birth. As he’s grown and stretched, and his muscles have altered accordingly, the cheeks have remained a comforting constant.

But I’ve begun counting my days until they too are absorbed by the process of change; when one night a little boy goes to bed a big one will wake up, probably shouting and yelling ‘fart’ all the time, or wanting to go for a cruise to McDonalds in the car*.

*Wait, he does that last one already.

The other morning I was sitting on his bed, waiting for him to wake up (oh, the joys of daylight savings when they don’t go to bed until late, eh?) and he lay there in abandon, cheeks pink, his chest rising and falling deeply. I had a sudden panic that these days of ours are slipping past fast. After this baby is gone, we will have no other. And while there are times when I’ve longed for the very difficult early years to pass by (and let’s face it parents – those early years are difficult) I’m not sure if I’m ready for the next stage to begin yet.

For as much as I’m willing to tell anybody who asks that there will be no more children there is a part of me that wonders what I might be giving up.

Newborn

May 2007

September 2009

October 2009

Yesterday a post I’d written about my Miscellaneous Voices project went up over at Overland. It really only scratches the surface of what can be said about the increasing confluence of online/offline writing and what wider significance this might hold in store for the reading (and writing) populace.

Anyway, come and have a look and tell me what you think.

I’m keeping the photo-heavy, content-lite direction of the blog this week; not intentionally though, for I have a lot to say, just not enough time to write. Besides that, my brain is quite full of my offline projects.

However my grandparents (Hi Nan! Hi Pop!) are quite keen to see how my garden planting went and so I shall oblige by showing them (and you).

Along the back we have four tomatoes (2 x romas and 2 x cherrys). Hiding behind the grill that is protecting the world’s laziest strawberry is a basil plant. In the middle row is a chili and a beetroot that is obscured by the shadow.

Also, here are my lavenders (the French kind, I believe, but feel free to correct the mistake if I’ve made it)

(Playing with the macro setting of the camera – probably badly, but I daresay it’s the only way I’ll learn)

I must say, these are pretty darn cool.

These were drawn by Surprise!’s newest fan, a five year old boy in the class of a teacher friend of mine. The likeness to several of the pictures in Surprise! is quite plain. I’m impressed!