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When I first started working in London way back in 1995, I worked with a young graduate from a very privileged background who treated the office assistant like a piece of shit. It went against everything I stood for, so one day I took her out for lunch and explained that being nice to this lady was very important to her. I explained that this is the person who sent her faxes (yeah way back) and cleaned her desk/emptied her bin, so she’d obviously make you a priority if she liked you and might just forget to do something if you were an ass. Hey why not right? No one wants to be treated like shit. Thankfully this young lady listened to me. Of course, helping people understand that there are actual benefits to being kind is really not the point. Being kind is just good human practice, but having lived in Asia for 10 years, sometimes you’ve got to give people a what’s-in-it-for-them incentive to be kind too. Asia is definitely a massive personal contradiction for me, and where you sit in the social hierarchy is very VERY important round these parts. In Asia I don’t believe it’s a conscious decision to treat people as less than yourself, it’s just a cultural thing that people don’t question. As such, sometimes you’ve got to point it out, or at the very least, lead by example. It’s tough for me though, as I often grapple with it, but equally, I am lucky to be Caucasian. Today I was reminded, once again, that being kind has rewards. I drove to the office and when I headed for the car park, the attendant told me “no, the car park is full” – fully intending me to turn around, which meant I’d have to navigate the CBD chaos to find somewhere else to park. That would’ve been a massive pain in my arse and I had a headache, so wasn’t too happy at the prospect. When he saw it was me, he said “oh it’s you, you’re my friend. It will be about five minutes before a park comes free, so wait over there and I’ll tell you when one comes up.” Everyone else was sent on their way. This man is low on the social totem pole in Asia and most people just ignore him. I, on the other hand, adore people of all walks of life, and have enjoyed some of the most bizarre and fascinating conversations with him. He appreciates that I take the time to acknowledge his humanity and today he gave me a little bit of gratitude in return. It felt really nice. I’ll talk to anyone – I don’t care. Completely of the mindset that everyone I meet has something to teach me, sometimes I’ll walk away from a conversation a bit perplexed by an opinion, or completely delighted, but either way, these moments expand my thoughts and that makes my life richer. People have all sorts of strange ideas and beliefs, so being open to anything enriches you and I believe it helps you to understand the weirdness of life a little more too. So it was a reminder today that my approach is a good one, not just because someone did something nice for me , but because I feel my life is so much richer due to all of the fabulous and sometimes challenging people I meet. Tomorrow, if you feel inclined, say hi to someone in your world that you’ve never really acknowledged and see where the conversation takes you? More than that, see how it makes you feel opening yourself up to someone else. The one thing I know that will happen is the ignored person in your life will be so happy that someone, finally, acknowledged their existence, I bet you’ll make their day. That’d be nice no? But then perhaps you already make a practice of it? Oh something else I saw yesterday that I thought was fabulous and made the same point – Tim Minchin – terrific! Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I watched Wrecking Ball. I watched it after having an intelligent discussion with some smart friends who think about this sort of news objectively. There’s lots of discussion and bollocks going on around Miley at the moment – some intelligent and some extremely harsh. But when stuff like this hits the headlines and sends everyone into a rampage, it only leaves me wondering – what is the real issue we’re looking at here? I mean, let’s put aside the important issues of our time – you know Syria, Iran, women’s health in Africa, starving kids, etc… Then again, perhaps this IS an important issue of our time – how woman are valued and how women value themselves? My take-away is the absolute ferocity of the global bitch-fest against Miley – a 21 year old girl trying to define who she is as a woman. Don’t get me wrong, I squirm along with everyone else as I watch her rubbing plastic hands against her snatch and want to ask her “what’s with all the tongue action girl?” But, equally, I don’t enjoy watching all of the cock grabbing moves of young male rock stars either. Sexuality is a beautiful thing, dignity is a beautiful thing, but being powerful and being sleazy are two very different things. The truth is, I have no idea what it’s like to be Miley. I mean, imagine putting up with this shit? But is this about her, or is this about us? Is this about us demanding that she transforms into the sort of woman we’re comfortable with – one who doesn’t stray too far from her good girl Hannah Montana persona? I mean, she’s no Madonna taking over the world as an adult – an emergence that shocked us, then thrilled us and finally we accepted her. Miley has been in the spot light since before she got pubes, so becoming the challenging, raw, sexy rock woman of our day perhaps isn’t too comfortable a transition for us to make? She, on the other hand, seems fine with it. I found Wrecking Ball a bit squirmy (though more erotica than soft porn) but I certainly don’t think it deserved the hullabaloo it’s attracted. The song is scarily catchy and I definitely think the girl can sing. In fact, if you close your eyes and listen to the words it’s actually quite a powerful song. So not a big deal for me. However I did find her previous performance a little more off-putting. I felt embarrassed for her watching it – it just didn’t feelright.  But who cares right? If Miley was a new performer we’d say cool, she can sing and she’s got a great body. However, she’s not that to most of the world, as such, it feels like the world is demanding she remains what we know or damn her – not the first time it’s happening to a young starlet emerging into womanhood. I keep asking myself the question – is this who she is today? A gyrating vixen with an attitude? And if that’s who she has grown into, well then fine! Authenticity is OK by me. But if she’s getting incredibly bad advice from the professional clique taking care of her career, then our angst should be headed that way – because why do they think this is what the world wants of our young women? With that said, I have a sneaking suspicion this is what Miley wants. The problem for Miley is she’s moved a long way from where she started out, and she’s definitely got some work to do on her personal brand. But all personal brands are a work in progress. Where she is today isn’t pleasant, but she’s a young woman in transition, so let’s hope the world can give her the space she needs to discover who she really is – mistakes and all. Shit, when I was 21, I was angry with the world, but my community gave me the space I needed to grow and soften. I didn’t have to do it before the world however, so perhaps we all need to be a little more nurturing towards Miley as we expect towards ourselves? I don’t know, I just feel like she’s got some pain inside and that’s what we’re seeing expressed right now… But how would I know? There is no escaping the truth Miley is making people uncomfortable and people don’t like being uncomfortable, but I beseech you to hang-ten a little on the vitriol against her. Instead perhaps take a deeper look at what this means to our society as a whole and how women are valued, as well as how women value themselves. Surely that is the more important question we should be asking ourselves in this day and age? No? Anyways, if you haven’t seen it, here’s a bit of a giggle out of New Zealand… Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth I wrote about Lex’s big transformation earlier this week, so to balance things out, I thought Jax deserved a mention today, which will hopefully result in a few chuckles. Jax, at five, is an interesting little dude. He has incredible self-confidence, but is already struggling with the politics of women (yes it’s begun already, sigh) and it’s painful for this Mumma to observe sometimes – bless him. Jax is also very eloquent with his speech and he does NOT miss a verbal trick. From 15 months of age, we’ve had to be very aware of what we say in front of him. Let’s just say we haven’t always been successful… Anyways, in Phuket, I overheard a very interesting conversation between Jax and his Dad. It went something along the lines of this… “Dad, Dad, I’ve got to tell you something.” “Sure mate, what’s up?” “Well, Lex said thebloodyfuckenword.” “He said what?” “Thebloodyfuckenword. He’s not allowed to say thebloodyfuckenword, only Mummies and Daddies are allowed to say thebloodyfuckenword, but he did say it Dad, he said thebloodyfuckenword.” “I didn’t say thebloodyfuckenword Dad, because I know it’s a Mummy and Daddy word, but Lex Did say thebloodyfuckenword and I think he needs tabasco on his tongue Dad, because he said thebloodyfuckenword.” A recent charming family shot… “Lex is VERY naughty Dad, because he knows he shouldn’t use thebloodyfuckenword but he did say thebloodyfuckenword Dad. I wouldn’t use the bloodyfuckenword Dad, because I’m a good boy.” Dad, at this point, clears his throat and says: “ROIGHT, Lex don’t say thebloodyfuckenword, ok, OK? It’s a Mummy and Daddy word, and if you say it again I’ll, well I’ll, well you know….” Naturally Steve was stuck for words, because it’s the hardest thing in the world to discipline a child for saying something super funny, whilst doing everything in your power not to laugh and trying not to make a big deal out of the fact your other little treasure is also using the “word” several times in an appropriate context. Jax, in the meantime, knows he shouldn’t say thebloodyfuckenword, but he’s relishing in the opportunity to say a naughty word – many MANY times – as well as a chance to dob on his brother!!! How do you deal with that in an appropriate way? We have no idea how to deal with it, other than not letting them see us laugh. That’s key or it’d be MUCH worse. Then again, everyone who knows us well, will probably say it’s hardly surprising… Bless my mini dudes. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I couldn’t believe it this morning – Lex (6) slept until 10am – Lex has never slept until 10am, I mean, he just doesn’t do it! Lex is up and at it so early EVERY SINGLE DAY and has been since the day he was born, so much so Steve and I are worn out by the little bugger, but 10am, 10AM!! On one of the disco buses with Aunty Vick Equally I’m not surprised. Our trip to Phuket was mind boggling for Lex. He loved every minute of it and we could see his mind expanding as he was putting this new world together in his head. Jax is a little different in that his life exists in closer proximity to his body – he’s just a cooler character – but Lex, from the day he was born, has been way out there in the world – taking it all in, working it all out, trying to put all of the pieces together. Interestingly, as he’s the one who had speech challenges, people have often failed to notice how bloody smart and aware he is. As a Mummy observer, I can’t help but feel children are measured on their intelligence by the eloquence of their speech? But with Lex, I’ve always known he was smart, as is his little bro Jax, but we also have another quality in the mix – and that is curiosity. Curiosity is an awesome quality in a person and one that attracts me to new friends. In a child, however,  curiosity can be really REALLY bloody annoying. An excessively curious child (which Lex obviously is) is always seeking more, checking more, touching more, feeling more, smelling more, seeing more… and as any parent of an excessively curious children knows – it’s a SUPER BIG pain in the arse for the parents – I mean, how many times do you need to tell them to stop bloody touching something? And no, I don’t know the answer to that question, because we never reached a definitive point on that one, with either of them… Bloody kids! But Lex really loved our Phuket adventure. He took it all in, and we watched him processing all of the new information he was receiving, working it out in his own unique way and drawing incredibly logical conclusions about some very surreal situations. He was open and aware, but by the end of every night, he was bloody knackered, which meant he was walking around with big bags under his eyes every day. Little love. Is it any wonder our mini-man comes home, to a place where he feels safe, and just sleeps as hard as he can? I wasn’t surprised at all – I mean it was exhausting just watching his brain in action. One thing for sure – apart from the fact that this trip has positively helped Lex to grow in leaps and bounds – is the wonder I felt seeing both boys really embracing every new experience they faced. Steve and I also feel tremendously relieved because we now know, deep down, that they are born travelers which is important to us – like really really important. Let’s face it, not everyone was born to travel. As a Mum, I love being able to offer the boys these sorts of experiences, because there will be many many more, and a lot of them will be a lot more adventurous. We’re already planning our next one to Sri Lanka – which we expect to be even more interesting. Travelling, exploring, adventuring – that’s just how we wanna live our life. Regular 10am sleep-ins from both boys would be a superb bonus too. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I am on day three of a six day break in Phuket – the first proper break our family has had for five years, and the reason it’s a proper break is easy – we’re not worrying about anything right now, it’s all kind of going in the right direction. Awesome. So now we have a chance to stop. Be happy. Walk slowly. Be at peace. Celebrate life. Enjoy each other’s company. You know, be on holiday? But day one I was a frickin basket case. I could not switch my mind off because there were so MANY things I didn’t finish before heading to the airport. There was, literally, no time in the day to get it all done before I left. I couldn’t let it go, and even though I have years of working wisdom behind me with the knowledge that no one’s going to die based on the work I do,  it still put me in a frazzle. The night of day one Steve and I sat down, relaxed and remembered to laugh at ourselves. That’s what did it. Tuned me into holiday mode – the mode that allows you to step out of the chaos of your life and ask the question – is this right for us? Are we headed in the right direction? What do we need to do differently? What needs to change? What’s good? What could be improved? Everyone in the family OK on this journey of life? As such, the epiphanies have been flowing – and I love epiphanies – the notebooks are out, ideas are being recorded, and most importantly, Steve and I are getting a relationship tune-up, as are both of us with the boys. It’s good for them to see us relaxing. They haven’t seen too much of that with all of the constant uncertainty around us. Phuket is also a favorite place to be, but this trip has been cathartic for a number of reasons. The main one being – we had to come back to Phuket as a family, because the last time we were here it was a disaster. It was in 2009 and we tried to live here – thinking all we needed were phones, laptops and international airport access and we’d be laughing. The boys were 15 months and two and a half then, and within the first week, Jax got electrocuted and it was pretty much downhill from there. The dream became a nightmare and it was the start of a few years of uncertainty – we just didn’t know where we wanted to be. We’re beyond that and this holiday is an opportunity to say thank god that bloody time is over – never again! With that, the mega-pool at the Angsana is calling to me and I’m going to take the boys on a frog discovery adventure. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

In recent days, the Prime Minister of Australia declared boat people will no longer be welcome in Australia, and if they head that way, they’ll be settled elsewhere for “processing”. I have a lot of mixed emotions around this news, but the one over-riding feeling is a deep sadness – a sadness that my country has lost compassion for people most in need. Not just the government, but the citizens of Australia declaring their support for this move – with “good on ya” and “they’ll steal our jobs.” It’s just left me feeling so so sad. Front page of the immigration site this week – sharing another’s grief is good policy because? I think it’s important to differentiate between an immigrant and a refugee. Immigrants come to Australia in their thousands every year – something I love, because it makes it a richer country. Sure there can be problems, but on the whole, it’s pretty peaceful Downunder and my home country is richer for it. A refugee is different – as defined by the UNHCR here: “A refugee is someone who has been forced to flee his or her country because of persecution, war, or violence. A refugee has a well-founded fear of persecution for reasons of race, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership in a particular social group. Most likely, they cannot return home or are afraid to do so. War and ethnic, tribal and religious violence are leading causes of refugees fleeing their countries.” In Wiki: “A refugee is a person who is outside his or her country of origin or habitual residence because they have suffered (or fear) persecution on account of race, religion, nationality, political opinion, or because they are a member of a persecuted ‘social group‘ or because they are fleeing a war or natural disaster. Such a person may be called an ‘asylum seeker’ until recognized by the state where they make a claim.” So let us all agree that these people are not having a very good time in their homeland. Thankfully there are sensible people around – with many of my friends equally outraged – and I also enjoyed this article in The Age by Julian Burnside. One point he makes is on the legalities – “Asylum seekers do not commit any offence by coming here. Under the Universal Declaration of Human Rights every person has the right to seek asylum in any territory they can reach.”  When referred to as queue jumpers, he makes another excellent point, “As for “queue-jumping”, leave aside that there is no queue where boat people come from, the etiquette of the checkout at Coles is not how it works when you are running for your life.” It’s equally interesting how the politics of fear have been used…I really appreciate that this is a sensitive topic and equally appreciate that many people have strong opinions about it, but I just want to share some stories that changed me forever. Maybe someone reading this will change their mind and focus on the need to get every nation in this world back on track with compassion too? Maybe everyone reading this is already in agreement?  I just reckon we need to take care of each other. What did Jesus say: “what you do to the least of my brothers, you do unto me”? My first life-changer happened when I was about 14 or 15 years old. Two sisters joined my school and their names were Lychee and Lumyai. They came from a country called Laos, and for our predominantly white (at that time) country town in Australia, they were very different to the rest of us. We all laughed at their funny names of course, and then they were just part of the crew. There was no difference. Then someone was inspired (a teacher, their parents?) because one day both L&Ls Mum and Dad, their brothers and sisters (9 I believe) all came to the school to tell us the story of how they got to Albury. My memory won’t serve me here, but I believe the essence is correct. Laos was going through a brutal civil war at the time, and when things got absolutely desperate, the parents made the decision they had to get out – something no citizen was free to do, because people didn’t have passports and the country was under complete control. I don’t remember why this decision was made, but faced with brutal communist rule and raising a large family – wanting the best for their kids like any parent – I can only imagine why. Actually, I probably can’t imagine the why, because I’ve never had to experience humanity at its absolute worst like they did. Their Dad strapped all 10 children, his wife, the grandmother and himself to the bottom of a train and they travelled the full length of Laos and escaped when the train landed in Thailand (I think). Sadly, the grandmother and one of their siblings died on this journey. Now I don’t know about you, but can you imagine how hideous an experience like this would be – especially for young children? The fear of falling? The fear of being caught? Not being able to eat? How frighteningly dark it was for the little ones? Can you imagine how bad life must have been – even a little bit? I can’t, I just can’t. The family finally made it to Australia, but I’m sure it was a very long time and years of desperate uncertainty, being treated like animals, before they found themselves settled in their home in Albury, where the children could go to school and they all could be part of a community again. I don’t know if they had to stay in resettlement facilities, I don’t know what they suffered, and I don’t know who sponsored them to make it to our town (potentially the Catholic Church?) I’m just glad someone did and they were finally able to start living the dream of a better life for their entire

I was not raised with a belief in reincarnation (the Catholic Church got rid of that escape clause before the Middle Ages), but I really like the idea of it, ‘cos it means you get to explore every possible angle of being human – including that which you love and that which you hate in the life you’re living right now. So if you hate boat people and have no compassion for them, chances are you’ll come back as one next time. For me, reincarnation is an interesting idea. Living in Asia, where thousands of years of different beliefs are around you all the time, it makes the possibilities hard to ignore. However, I suppose I just find it hard to reject outright because of my past decade experiencing all sorts of ghost activity – they just don’t want to leave me alone. Therefore from my life experience perspective, there seems so much going on I can’t explain with a rational mind, so I remain open to possibilities. But this isn’t about whether or not you or I believe in reincarnation. It’s a lot simpler than that. I was in a cab on Friday night and thought – after a particularly grueling week – if I do get another run at a new life, I’d love to be an academic, who never gets married, never has kids, and just studies one tiny subject in the greatest detail possible all of my life and then die peacefully and happy. I reckon that would be one good life to experience – completely in the mind and not caring about other stuff – like love – which includes not being distracted by anything or anyone else. As I said, a grueling week. So then I thought, what else would I like to experience? Well I’d like to be…. An award winning war photographer, capturing humanity at the front lines of war and showing its pointlessness. Of course, in my future lives I hope there are no wars, but still, it would be an experience. The other aspect of this life is living at the edge completely. I’ve lived as close to the edge as I can throughout my life, being alone in dangerous or completely different places. In these moments, you are drawn to others in the same boat, and the only thing you have in common is a combined need to be with people like you when you are living in a sea of difference and the unfamiliar. You party very hard in these times, because no one really knows you, you’ll never see each other again, it’s good to feel like you belong somewhere, and it’s the most freeing time of your life. I definitely want to encourage the boys to take these moments in their lives, but I must say it’s an experience hard to explain to people who’ve never done it. So I’d like a life where I take it even closer to the edge Dominatrix – as opposite to me today as you could get, that would be an interesting life. I’d have a posh dungeon in downtown NYC I reckon. Definitely my alter ego  I’d love to have a life as an Ancient History professor – making young‘uns passionate about the world and its ancient past Musically there would be a few. A banjo playing country music STAR, an opera singer, a virtuoso cellist (female, ‘cos it’s a sexy instrument), but most of all, probably a hard rocking, bass playing rock chick clad in leather It would be great to live a simple life, high up in the mountains as a Buddhist Monk, helping all around me find their serenity within I’d like to be one of the super-rich, experiencing all that life has to offer, but equally be a great philanthropist, with a focus on tackling women’s health issues and ensuring not a single child is sold into sexual slavery. Again, I hope that by that time, neither of those problems exist in our world, but that would be what I’d want to tackle if it did get a life like that I’d love to be a metaphysics master, with all the mathematical and scientific prowess that entails, mastering the power of the stars and the natural magnetic energies of the planet A healer of the human spirit – no idea how that would play out, but when I see so many around me suffering in their hearts, for so many reasons, I’d love a life where I can help ease that An Anthony Robbins/Robin Sharma kind of motivational superstar – that would be awesome, because I think they share great and inspiring messages with the world A stand-up comic – yes, that needs to be in there. A maestro who makes people laugh their arses off Well it’s been a pretty cool process for me thinking about this, and so I must ask – ifyou had a few more lives to look forward to, what would you like them to be? It’s not about belief in reincarnation, it’s about daydreaming. Anyone want to join me and share theirs? COME ON – you know you want to…. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I read today that Nissan Motors is unveiling its first car in the resurrected Datsun brand in India, and while everything about this announcement makes total sense, it brings back so many memories…. This is a hotted up version of our old car… while ours was also red, it wasn’t this pretty and it didn’t have a roof For some bloody reason, I had the only Dad in the world who did not give a shit about his car. He changed in his later years – getting more stylish top to bottom – but as kids, we were never able to claim any pride in our father’s choice of family vehicle. The stand-out amongst all of his bad car choices was the red Datsun two door wagon – with tarp. I don’t know why my Dad chose a wagon for a family of six, with only two seats in the front – but I can tell you something, we REALLY had a reason to fight over who got the front seat. Unlike most other families we grew up with, we had the arse-aching pleasure of sitting on a corrugated metal slab for our journeys. It got so bad that one year my Great Aunty Bel – who felt sorry for us when she realised we had a 600km round-trip on that surface – donated a piece of her couch so at least three of us could sit on something a little more comfortable. Unfortunately there wasn’t room across for four, so my youngest brother, Mark, always got the shitty end of that stick. Sorry Mark. This is a tuba – boob height on me I am still impacted by this experience, because I find it incredibly challenging being in an airless environment (it’s as close to a panic attack as I get) due to sitting under a tarp in said Datsun during hot Australian summers, with no air circulating at all. It was equally bloody cold in the winter, especially when we went up the mountains to go skiing. Brrrrrrr. The highlight, of course, was the fact that we were quite a musical family. Twice a week at least, we’d head off to band practice, and if we were lucky we’d get to do a gig at a local fate, festival or even entertain the grannies at a retirement home on weekends – we actually did enjoy it alright. Anyway, everyone would arrive in their suitable family vehicle, looking presentable and comfortable, whereas in we’d come a-chuggin to have the hatch released, and out would flow two very large tubas, probably some percussion gear (‘cos we were good like that), a euphonium, and a couple of cornets, followed by four children in a disheveled state. Mate, we were proud I tell you. We eventually upgraded the Datsun to a beige family car – this time with back seats – but it was one of those mini-family sedans, so still not enough room. Come on DAD!! As such we still had good reason to fight over the front seat. My boys are bloody lucky I tell ya – growing up in a time when at least seat belts are required is what I would call progress. So fellow Wodonga Brass Bandies – remember the Datsun? And anyone else have a special car in their childhood memory banks? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

10 years ago today I met the love of my life and I even wrote a blog about it once. However, this morning Steve jumped on a plane and flew to Australia, so we’re not going to be able to celebrate our decade together – other than the 4.30am happy anniversary kiss I got this morning. Steve did leave me a lovely note though (as well as enough of my favorite chocolate to last while he’s away) and the note said lots of things, but one comment stood out which I thought was worth sharing: It’s not our wedding anniversary, but this is one more result from that fateful night 10 years ago… “10 years, 2 kids, 8 homes, 5 countries, 2 redundancies, 7 schools, 4 operations and 4 helpers later I realize I love you more and more every day.” Sweet huh? Until he went on to say that I do shit him sometimes occasionally too… which of course I do, because I shit myself, so it comes with the territory. But what do you reckon – a lot achieved in a decade huh? I think so and when you see it written down that way, it makes you stop and think. Perhaps it’s time to take a breath? Nah – boring! However, there’s something I’d like to acknowledge about my beloved and it’s one of the reasons I feel like a very lucky girl every day. Steve works his arse off for me and the boys. He never stops working for us, because he is singularly motivated to ensure we are happy all the time, and while sometimes it can be a bit overwhelming, it is always appreciated – always – and it makes me work harder for him too. As an example, yesterday, in the craziness of getting packed and spending time with each of us before leaving, he filled the car with petrol, made sure there was enough money on the cash card so I didn’t get stuck, transferred money around accounts so I could easily access it, stocked the home with my favorite things, stocked the home with potential necessities, paid bills so I don’t have to worry about it, spent one-on-one time with Jax, then spent one-on-one time with Lex, took me out for dinner, and got himself packed, etc… Recently when I went to the US he did the same – got US$ for me, confirmed my flights, reserved great seats on every leg of the journey, made sure my points were attributed, and generally made sure everything was sorted so I only needed to pack my bag, get on the plane and go. He’s a remarkable fella. But I want him to start working for himself a little too. He is so selfless he always puts himself at the bottom of the priority pile. If I need something or the boys need something, he drops everything and he’s there. That’s why I’m not pissed off about him being away for this anniversary weekend because he’s doing something for himself. He’s extended a business trip to spend time with people he adores and they’re going to see an Aussie Rules Football match – boys bonding over sport, does it get better than that? So I love my man and feel very privileged to be with him, but darling, remember to take care of YOU too and go enjoy every second of this weekend because YOU bloody deserve it. Equally, while we’ll all miss you, I’m happy to hang out with our little dudes, making sure they’re happy, while you have a jolly-good time with your mates. Hand on heart, it’s the truth. Happy decade together babe – you definitely get less for murder. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

My Little Angels… I was having a chat with a fellow Mum of similar aged boys and she’s having a bit of a rough time managing her little warriors. Let’s just say I could definitely relate and I explained my philosophy of child rearing as being quite simple: I let them win some battles but I win the war. She liked that. While this might not seem a particularly positive or enlightening philosophy on parenting, let me explain. The idea is they get to “win” on occasion, which I believe empowers them and gives them a good sense of self. The stuff they win is harmless, and while I’d prefer they didn’t do or say (or eat) some things, if I was banging on all the time, they’d never listen to me. So my battles have to be over the important stuff and my goal, of course, is to win the war. A final victory can be declared when they go out into the world, independent young men, who are hopefully kind, generous and funny, with core values that will serve them well. The challenge is – shit they can push you over the edge. I have noticed a cyclical aspect to parenting –stages I suppose – where both of them go through a few weeks of being the biggest, rudest, pains in my arse the world has ever seen. Of course they know what riles me – they’re smart little dudes – but the difficulty for this Mumma is I had two boys 15 months apart, which of course means they do everything together – including being turds. And they’re in go-hard-mode at the moment – which my husband suffers equally – so by the end of the weekend, we sit there exhausted, wrung out, exasperated, perplexed and confused, looking forward to getting back to work on Monday morning – because it’s easier. Of course I completely understand what they are doing. They are stretching boundaries, trying to find out what is acceptable, pushing us to see how far we’ll go and in the mix of it, they are working out who they are and where they fit in the world. Having watched other parents in-action, I know my boys are on the extreme end of the pushing spectrum, but I like that. They’re strong characters with big personalities, and it’s going to serve them very well in life. But they need to know the rules. What’s acceptable, what’s not, and that’s all I’m trying to do – give them the right guidance and structure to help them become the best version of themselves they can be. That’s it, that’s what I see as my Mum job. Unfortunately, there are no guidebooks for this stuff and no one ever told me it was going to be so hard, which means sometimes I’m left wondering when – exactly – is this going to be fun? Bloody kids, I adore the hell out of them, but why did I have them again? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea