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I was talking about my Army days with the boys the other day. It’s not the first time I’ve talked about it, but it obviously still hasn’t registered in their memory banks that their mum was once a soldier. A musician soldier, but I still had to do basic training and in the Australian Army, all soldiers are really soldiers. It’s a serious business. Anyhoo, Jax looks at me and musters all the authority a seven year old has, saying: “Mum you weren’t in the Army. Girls can’t be in the Army. Girls can only be princesses!” What? Why would you say that? Of course girls can be in the Army. They can be prime ministers, presidents, police officers, CEOs, nurses, doctors, professors, whatever the hell they want to be! Jax was not convinced. So I pulled out my photo album and showed him some pictures of that glorious time in my life back in 1992. Here’s one of my favorites. Fierce huh?  Well it wasn’t a joke and if you were too delicate, you got your arse kicked, especially by the male sergeant and corporals. They were definitely of the opinion that the military was no place for a lady. Screw them. I’d prove them wrong. Then again, I was never a lady. But Jax has some funny ideas about girls. He tells me girls can’t be funny, they can only be pretty when I tell him having a funny girlfriend is the most important thing. No Mum, only boys can be funny. Imagine how this all resonates with me for a second? My son, MY son, declaring that girls are not capable of being funny, or a leader, or a warrior, or whatever the hell they want to be. Naturally I’ll spend the next 20 or so years making sure these ideas are slapped out of him, but where does it come from? At the end of prep, we had a little end of year show and there was a video featuring all the kids talking about what they wanted to be when they grew up. For some reason Jax wanted to be a rugby player, and while there’s a very strong chance this could happen, at that point, he’d never played or watched a match. Where did he get that idea from? But all of the girls – split 50/50 – had two ambitions. Half to be mums and the other to be princesses. There is, of course, absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to be a mum, but the princess ambition is a little more unlikely if we do the numbers right? Only one Aussie princess in all of history, so our little Aussie angels have a fairly unlikely chance of achieving that one. It could happen, nothing is impossible, but… When I see stuff like this, I always wonder why young girls don’t want to be something else at that age? Did I dream of being a princess or a mother at five, six and seven? I can only ever remember wanting to be a police woman when I was young. I got close to doing it too, although I’m glad I didn’t. Do we not talk to them about these things from a young age? I mean many of these girls had working mum role models, so it’s not that. I just find it curious that their imaginations are not as fired up to be firemen or policemen, or other stuff like our little dudes are. Is it the movies they watch? The cartoons? It’s hard for me to know because I don’t watch girly TV and movies. Anyone else know? In the meantime, my little Jax is getting a big fat lesson in girl power. Right now he’s watching YouTube. Oi Jax, pause that a sec. What jobs can girls do when they grow up?  “They can be policemen, presidents, firemen, and racing car drivers mum.” Good he’s learning. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

My mate Michelle, we met in India – 1995 This week marks 20 years since the eventful day I departed Melbourne’s International Airport with a one way ticket to London, via Nepal, India, China, Hong Kong, and Bangkok. I remember the tears of my departure and the well wishes – with many saying I’d be back within a couple of years. Even though I knew returning within two years was very unlikely, I never denied the possibility because who knows where life takes you? The only thing I knew for certain was my hunger to get out there and see the world was my strongest desire of all, and I wanted to get all I could out of the adventures the future offered me. Over the last 20 years I’ve lived in London, Boston, NYC, Sydney, Singapore, Phuket, Noosa, and back to Singapore. In every country/city I’ve lived, it’s given me an opportunity to explore neighbouring countries – both for work and for fun – and I’m not even sure how many I’ve been to. The numbers never mattered, I just know that when I’m on the road, seeing a place for the first time, or going back after decades since my first visit, I feel alive in a way I can’t explain to people who just don’t get that same feeling from travelling. It is the central pulse of my life. Why do I love it so? The appetite was born in 1992 when I visited Egypt, Jordan and Israel – my first time out of Australia. To be in such a dynamic part of the world, with history going back hundreds of thousands of years, where civilization started, where the modern religions started, where so much of what we take for granted started; well I was completely hooked. It wasn’t easy travelling there as a young woman alone – and it’s still not easy today – but to be in the midst of it was electrifying. Nathalix and Saskia, at my wedding in Koh Samui 2005. We met in London in 1996 The other part that drew me in were the people I met along the way. Most were amazing, some were complete arseholes, but I became hooked on meeting people from different walks of life and understanding their journeys, plus why they thought the way they thought. I also became hooked on having my thinking challenged – my values, my ideals, my beliefs… it was all challenged and turned upside down, inside out, and mostly, it gave me the wisdom to reject the programmingand keep the good bits worth holding onto. Throughout my travels I’ve spent A LOT of time on my own. While not easy and often lonely; silence is amazing. When you have no choice but to contend with yourself, and every day you have experiences to challenge that thinking, the person that comes out the other side is often a lot different than the one who went in. I know people who spend thousands of dollars on therapy to do this, but my therapy was to travel and face myself, day after day, until I got myself to a clearer place.  Facing my mind, more than anything, is something I value from my last 20 years. It’s been liberating. On my journeys, I’ve made many friends. People who I cherish and will always cherish. A global family, many of whom I haven’t seen for far too long, but we’re still connected, still in each other’s lives and the impact they made on my soul remains to this day. Some people you connect with immediately even if the time together is short. Some are with you for a lifetime. I definitely got addicted to people. Addicted to the ease at which people can come in and out of your life, making such an impact. Kev, in Boston circa 1999 My career has been awesome to keep my dreams of wandering alive. Landing in London at the beginning of the technology revolution, working in marketing and communications, it ensured I have been able to get jobs that kept me on the move, experiencing new places/cultures, meeting people who were changing the world, exploring new thinking, making sense of new ideas, etc.. Sure, it hasn’t been a seamless career journey and I’ve never reached the top of my game – whatever that is. But then is that what I wanted? No it wasn’t. In fact, I’ve constantly made decisions that didn’t allow that to happen, because the only thing that is important is freedom. Freedom is still the only thing I value. Being hunkered down, not being able to fly, well I just can’t do it. That dream doesn’t speak to me. In all the wanderings, I’ve remained Australian. I love my country and every day the yearning to return is there. It’s never gone. My community is there. My family too. But do I want to go back yet? I’ve tried twice and the world pulls me out again, on the road, wandering, seeing, experiencing. I never get bored of it and Australia feels so far away from that. But now my boys are getting to the age where they want to know their grandparents. Who is this uncle they hear me speaking about? Cousins – who are they? But only half of us is Australian, the other half is British, so we need to ensure that is catered to as well, and Singapore is still almost half way between the two…. What to do? Where to go? When to go? Singapore has been amazing. I can’t believe it’s been more than 11 years. The opportunities Steve and I have professionally keep us here. It’s a gorgeous life for a family. It’s a safe life. The boys go to incredible schools and Lex is getting the support he needs to flourish. It’s always warm. We have a wonderful community. But we also have a wonderful global community that started here but people have moved on

We’re in Thailand celebrating the fact we’ve been married 10 years. Yep 10 years, a decade! While most couples tend to celebrate their marriage– and all it entails – Steve and I find it impossible to move beyond remembering our truly sensational wedding in Koh Samui, 10 years ago – which is why we’re back in Thailand now. We love this country. More than 60 people braved the journey for our nuptials (from all over the world with only a couple of months’ notice) and we still laugh about it – a lot. That’s a successful wedding in my mind. This is dawn Jan 16th On our big day, there were no meringues, no bridesmaids, no groomsmen or anything weddingy really – although  we had a lot of flowers, a lot, hey it’s Thailand after all – and instead it was just a bunch of people hanging out for more than 10 days, building up to the big festivities on the 15thof January 2005. I was also very un-bride-like. Shit, I didn’t even organise it. Steve did. Definitely not much of a bride me, but then I expect it comes down to the fact I never ever thought I’d actually get married. So when I did, it had to be unconventional, it just had to be. We achieved that. The memories we talk about, apart from the people who came, are along these lines Everyone started arriving from the 9th of January and we landed on the 10th– still drunk from a brunch in Singapore. Our packing was atrocious! Each day we had new arrivals which meant new party pals every evening, always starting in the Coral Bay Bar and finishing with ridiculousness on our villa deck. New friendships were formed throughout this time, so the wedding became about all of us. I really liked that The day before the wedding, we had to meet the lovely ladies at the resort for final detail confirmation. It went SO well… “excuse me while I go vomit.” Classy. But that was the week we were having – partying into the wee small hours of the morning. Then again, Steve had organised everything anyway, may as well let him keep going while I have a heave… The bucks/hens night started with go-karting. All was going well until two cars flipped. There was silence as we all wondered what the hell was going on, and as my panic built thinking Steve was hurt because I could see his shirt from the other side of the track, it turns out our friend Tony had broken his back! FUCK!! The drama was terrible and poor Tony and Jane endured a very long hospital stay in Koh Samui. The good news is Tony was up and walking pretty soon after and is now a proud Daddy of two (with Jane). It definitely wasn’t a funny memory but we’re so glad it turned out well for them. Whose idea was it to go go-karting anyway? Crazy shit in this part of the world. Never again After the ambulance headed off, a rather sombre group split into boys and girls – except Adrian, he stayed with the girls – and after the boys had enough of being told how handsome they were and playing connect four with the local gals, we ended up merging parties and dancing up a storm. It was a cracking night, concluding in a naked duck race on our deck. I will not reveal the second naked person, but the Welsh guy we met at the bar was the first to clench a coin in his arse cheeks, all encouraged by his wife. I don’t encourage Steve to do such things Then the day arrived and our transport was an elephant, and while entertaining for everyone else, getting on that bloody thing while wearing a Kebaya, and with a fear of heights thrown in the mix, was not a lot of fun for me. Then people started handing their children to us, so here we are, shitting ourselves, and people give us responsibility for the most precious humans in their lives. Not to forget the crowd on arrival, which was not just the wedding guests. A huge crowd of strangers turned up, taking photos, and all I could focus on was this one rather rotund chap, in black speedos, with a photography vest on (and nothing else) and a rather unfortunate case of body moles. He wasn’t pretty and he took all of my focus away from the crowd. I was totally relieved to get off that bloody beast I tell ya Then we had a ceremony with eight Buddhist monks. The head honcho was awesome, but as he splashed us with water, Steve and I broke into giggles and couldn’t stop, but you know what stopped it? We had to go to each Monk and give them an offering on our knees. We did this on wooden planks and it was bloody excruciating! Yeah, we weren’t laughing then We had another ceremony after that – can’t remember why – then it was all in the ocean for a group photo and cosmos all round. At this point, we lost three people on the beach (drunk) and in hindsight, cosmopolitans may not have been the best idea, especially when drinking them by the jug. Coming back to that later Food is always important when entertaining anyone from Asia – we discovered that early when hosting our first BBQ in Singapore. The mantra is food now, drinks irrelevant. I know, different right? Steve and I were offered first place in line, but as we’d rather keep drinking, we offered first dibs to our Singaporean friends, who jumped at the offer. By the time we got there, all Suckling Pig had been devoured. Steve had a moment of remorse at that point Elspeth meets her first Lady Boy The evening entertainment was a Transvestite Cabaret. We were asked what rules we wanted – i.e. how far

I love this time of year. Everyone spends time looking back, reflecting on the year that was and getting ready to embrace the year ahead. I love the sharing – it’s inspiring to hear from those close to me how far they’ve come and I love hearing about everyone’s achievements, no matter how small. For me I’d say last year both sucked and was brilliant too, but I also appreciate that a lot of dear people went through some really REALLY tough times. I hope the sun shines more this year for those who didn’t enjoy 2014.   However it wasn’t a great year for our world and the one thing that struck me during last year is how heavy and fucked up everything seemed to be – the emergence of ISIS, brutal beheadings and teenage girls running off to be ISIS brides – god, join a rock group if you want to be a rebel girls. And then we have school girls being abducted (we couldn’t possibly educate our girls – where’s the benefit in that?), the Palestine/Israel bullshit, crashed-planes-lost-planes-blown-up-planes, the continuing nuclear fallout in Japan, the apathy of the masses towards our environment and the extinction threat that comes with it (palm oil to name one), the filth in our oceans and a blasé attitude towards keeping our world clean, all religious fundamentalists – including ones with white faces – spouting their bullshit and representing no one (seriously, I wish you’d all just fuck off and die), the Taliban killing school kids in Pakistan (more fuckers!), the human tragedies in the Philippines and other developing countries, sometimes due to violent weather, but more often than not because corrupt governments/businesses are pillaging the earth for short term profit, but hey, don’t worry about that village at the bottom of the mountain you’re deforesting or the fact everyone is killed by a mudslide, which is definitely the fault of weather and not you, no, no, no – those trees sure were handy keeping that soil in place before the rain huh? Those corrupt fuckers can fuck off with the fundamentalists!   I could obviously go on and on – there’s enough fuckwits for a 1,000 pages – but in 2014 it seemed bad shit was going on everywhere and it sucked. Are humans seriously incapable of learning that none of this gets us anywhere? Surely it’s time for those of us who DO want peace to stand up to the fuckers that are constantly bringing the world down? I hate the fear it all generates and I always feel such a heaviness in my body when the world goes through its cycles of grief and disaster, war and savagery – you?   So I’ve been hoping 2015 could be a different year, a calmer year, a nicer year.     And what a great start. Two armed fuckwits decide to go into a magazine and blow away people for drawing cartoons. Awesome. Sure these guys push the boundaries with their ideas (and long may cartoonists do so) but its cartoons – bloody cartoons!!! We’ve seen an interesting show of unity – does it help? I don’t know – but I know many of us are pondering the events in Paris in different ways.   For me, this attack felt absolutely bloody pathetic on the part of those who did the act. Are you fucking kidding me? People who made the world laugh deserve to be shot for drawing pictures of your prophet? Haven’t you seen how much love the Jews, Christians, Jesus, etc… get from these guys as well? You’re not fucking special here. I’ve often wondered if Jesus came back to earth and I had the opportunity to ask him “so mate, what do you think of what has been built and done in your name?” I expect he’d be rather pissed with us. I reckon Mohammad would be pretty pissed too.   We’re not getting anywhere here my extremist friends, nowhere at all. This massacre makes you look like completely fucking ridiculous morons, and you’re recruiting people to your cause? Why the fuck would anyone want to be part of this? Maybe your recruitment is targeted to those with absolutely no sense of humour at all? Wow, don’t sign me up, then again, I’m a woman, why the hell would I want to be anywhere near you anyway.   This isn’t about religion, it’s about being complete fuckwits. All of my Muslim friends smile, laugh and enjoy a joke. You guys aren’t Muslims. But them, this isn’t about religion is it? That’s just a cover story that gets the world riled up and the bait is being taken… that shits me too. The anti-immigration march in Germany shows me you’re succeeding. Don’t we all get the fact that we need each other right now? Mother Earth is going to kick our arses very VERY soon in a BIG way. It’s coming. Isn’t that a better priority to be focused on? One that will require all of us to be united?   In “Holidays in Hell” (old book, GREAT read) P. J. O’Rourke is at a born again Christian retreat in the US and he makes the observation that went something along the lines of this: “if there really was a god I think he’d give us bigger bums to sit on and smaller brains to think with.” In the case of the guys terrorising our world right now, I wished they’d take this on board, and instead of what they’re doing, change tactics and sit around boring each other to death instead. In god’s name. Seriously. What sort of a monster do you think god is?   So to all people with ridiculous ideas that are fucking up our world – why don’t you all fuck off and leave us alone? There’s a very large population getting really really fucked off with you guys these days and soon we might even do something serious about it. For

Emma, today on Facebook, your family has been posting photos of you in honour of the fact it’s been 20 years since you left us. Of course it’s been 20 years! Bloody hell, how did I not know that? I left Australia a few months after your funeral, which means I’ve been wandering for 20 years – that’s a lot of life I’ve wanted to share with you my friend. A photo of the photo I’ve had with me for the last 20 years. The “Inghams Chicken Saga” photo. I think we were 19? When I found out you died, I couldn’t get my head around it. None of us could. How could you be gone? How could your baby girl grow up without you loving her as beautifully as you did? It was too much to bare, too, too much. Your wake was the worst experience I’ve had. None of us could grasp life without you in it. We cried and laughed that day, but our laughter had a bitterness to it. We didn’t want to face up to the fact you wouldn’t be around anymore, being a bloody dickhead, making US laugh. No, not you my friend. I went to Nepal a few months after your funeral. When I got to the final point on my hike, way up near the Tibetan plateau, I sat there and had a conversation with you. I said “Emma, can you see what I can see? Isn’t it bloody beautiful? This world is a remarkable place” and then I went on to make a commitment to you, which I hold to this day. I promised you I wouldn’t waste any time living with regrets and always aim to live life larger than most people dare to dream. I’ve stumbled on that commitment over the years, but more often than not, I’ve held true to it, because your death taught me that life was unbearably valuable. I appreciate that. When I look at all the photos being shared today, I go back into so many memories, from the age of five all the way to 24. When we were little (you at 47 Vermont St, me at 66), we played dolls or we fought – as all girls seemed to do. Remember the time you ripped my First Communion necklace off my neck on the bridge? I didn’t like you then. We kept that up for a few years didn’t we? Remember the fence we used to sit on in front of Wodonga Hospital? With Claire and Phillipa? Well it’s gone now, they ripped it down. That was weird. Shit we did some talking there didn’t we… hours and hours of talking. At Claire’s wedding. Your style was always unique Then we went to separate high schools and you made a new BFF as I did, but it didn’t matter. We were always close, always there for each other, always dreaming, comparing boob sizes (I always won that one), dreaming of future men, dreaming of escaping Wodonga, just dreaming about the endless possibilities life could throw our way. I never dreamed you wouldn’t be there though, that wasn’t a dream I ever had. You were always part of my future, always. You shared a dream with me once. It was a dream you had about me. I was on stage with a man by my side and I always remembered that dream, because you explained it so vividly, explaining the man in complete detail. The man you explained is Steve. The stage bit hasn’t happened but fuck, I wish you could meet him. He would LOVE you and you would love him. I can’t tell you how many times I say to him, I wish you met Emma. She’d make you laugh until you pissed your pants. You had that my friend. You complete irreverence for bollocks was always something I loved. I said it to him again today. He said “I know babe, I wish I did too,” with such sincerity. I speak about you a lot. You live on in a lot of people’s memories my darling. And of course my boys. They would have adored their Aunty Emma, and I wish they got to meet you too. In fact, there have been too many experiences, too many moments, too many people, and too many dreams achieved that I wanted to share with you – those same dreams we dreamed up all those year ago that came to pass in one way or another. I know you would’ve loved hearing those stories, as I would’ve loved hearing yours. Twenty years Em, 20 years and there’s still such a huge void in so many people’s lives, including mine. You were a special lady my friend, larger than life, and a filthy bloody bitch who I adored. I still can’t watch Beaches or Steel Magnolias without turning into a complete bloody mess mourning my great childhood friend. In fact, my mourning of your passing has never ceased and today, it happens all over again. You bloody moll!! I miss you mate. I’ll always miss you. You were truly magnificent. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

So my Grandma died peacefully in her sleep last night. She was going to be 105 in March. A phenomenal length of time to live when you think about it (born in 1910!) and I often wanted to ask her why she chose to keep going – because it was definitely her choice. Maybe she was looking forward to her next grandchild’s wedding, or the birth of her next great grandchild? Then again, she could have been hoping to be around for her first great great grandchild? I don’t know why, but one thing I do know is, it was obviously Grandma Tot that gave me the ‘I-never-want-to-be-first-to-leave-a-party’ gene. Grandma Tot on her 100th Birthday Grandma Tot is the only grandparent I ever had. The other three died before I was born. Since Mum called this morning, it’s made me incredibly reflective about her life and the influence she had on me. I expect everyone in my extended family is feeling the same way. As a kid, she scared the living shit out of me. She used to chase my siblings and I around her impeccably kept garden with a bat, smacking us on the arse for being brats – they were the days. But I also remember the smells of grandma’s house and the tables full of aunts, uncles and squirming grandchildren on Christmas Day. It was chaotic but always a lot of fun. I remember the day she proudly cooked a bull’s tongue in front of me – ugh – the first and last time I saw that! The old coins in the Christmas Pudding, exchanged for current currency so we could run down to the corner store to buy lollies – score. Her scones with jam and cream were always a welcome delight after driving more than 300KMs to visit – often with us sitting in the back of a hot, sweaty Datsun – definitely appreciated. Cedele hairspray is grandma’s smell. Loudly ticking alarm clocks are grandma’s sound. Playing cards, watching the cricket, her beloved Geelong Cats, tapestry, the BEST homemade pickles… they all belong to Grandma. She was an incredibly strong and independent lady – she had to be – and was definitely the first matriarch of my life, closely followed by my mother. As my Mum ruled the roost in her own special way, I know she got it from Grandma. Strong, independent women are definitely in my family lineage. Grandma was born into a time when life was hard, and that heaviness is something I always saw her carry through life. It was such a different generation – especially for women. But I also remember times when she  lit up with joy. I didn’t see this often, because she just wasn’t like that, but I do remember the moments when she giggled like a school girl. Magic. My Mum, Aunts and Uncle at Totties 100th  But on this day, when I heard the news of her passing, I went back to the blog I wrote after her 100thb’day and read it again. I asked her for some life advice, and well today, maybe someone new will read it. So here is Grandma Totties’ life advice for anyone who is interested.  Q1. What do you think is the meaning of life? The meaning of life is to keep God in your life because sooner or later we will all have to give an account of our life when we meet God face to face. Q2. What have you learnt in your 100 + years? To treat people as you would like them to treat you To help the underprivileged – e.g. Totties’ chooks in Mannya that I sponsored and the worming program for the village children, both in Uganda. I have done this sort of thing all through my life To keep up with your religion – please don’t think that I am telling you what to do Save some money for a rainy day so you won’t have to depend on other people in your old age Q3. If you could give your children, grandchildren and great grandchildren any advice on life, what would you say? Live a good life, don’t take drugs, smoke or abuse alcohol and then you can die with no regrets Always pay your way and don’t rely on credit cards – I have always paid cash for what I want Keep God in your life and remember what you were taught as a child, the world might change but God doesn’t There’s some good, solid life advice in here, although I think Grandma’s idea of God is very different for many of us today, and I certainly won’t be re-joining the Catholic Church based on the above. However, I’m pretty sure my grandma won’t be disappointed with my idea of religion – and that is to be a good person in the world, doing the right thing by everyone I meet. That’s what religion has come to mean to me. Grandma’s advice obviously comes from a pre-World War One baby, and when I asked her these questions, I thought it was important to share, because I currently live in a society that values its elders – Asia’s good like that. In Australia (and much of the developed world) we forget that our oldies might have something to say that’s worth listening too, so to show respect for an elder, I pass on her advice again today. Whether you’re facing your God right now Grandma, or just finally resting in peace, I must say, a jolly good innings Tottie. Well done. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

Steve has been away since the beginning of November. Not completely. He does a week, comes back for a few days, another week, and so on. But now it’s been a two week trip and he won’t be home until Tuesday – that means two weekends, which always makes it feel longer. Steve has always traveled with his job and it’s usually fine, but it’s been more intense lately and I’m turning into an unhappy bitch. The main reason? Well if you combine his intense travel schedule with me starting a new job – where you’ve got to show up, be on the ball, hopefully impressing your new colleagues along the way – AND attend Christmas/end-of-year festivities for grown-ups and the kids – well Steve not being here isn’t a lot of fun, for him either. Vick is here (HALLELUJAH!), but only for a wee while longer, and Jona as well – both amazing women, who love our boys, and couldn’t do enough for them. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: we couldn’t do what we do without their help. However, since the boys were born, Steve and I have both thought it’s important they know they’re the center of our world, and that means getting home in time to have dinner with them, being there in the morning to hug them off to school, and being available when their little hearts are broken, and they just need extra love and attention. That’s hard to do without Steve around. It’s been crazy-busy for both of us these last couple of months, and it’s absolutely killing me. If Steve is home, it’s OK, the guilt isn’t so bad, but when he’s not and I’m not home, well I do my head in – I can’t help it. I’ve been like that ever since becoming a mother. All of it just makes me so bloody tired though, because guilt is exhausting. As we’re now getting towards the end of Steve’s longest trip, I’m definitely starting to get pretty cranky with it all – towards Steve and with the boys. I’m getting curt on the phone now, because our opportunity to speak is always so limited based on time zone differences, and what’s convenient for him is not always convenient for me, and vice versa. But it’s more than that. I starts to get boring. I don’t want to speak to him on the phone. I want to speak to him in person. I’m bored with the same SMS’s I send every day – have a great sleep, I miss you, I love you, have an amazing day…. It’s becomes same-old same-old within a week, so by two weeks, I’m out of ideas. And I’m sick of us all missing each other. Enough already. Seriously, I know that people who don’t get to do a lot of travel (especially with their work) often think it all sounds rather glamorous, but the reality is very far from that. It’s not glamorous for the traveler, and it’s certainly not a lot of fun for those staying at home the other end of the phone line. It’s hard and lonely and exhausting and more, but in the weeks before Christmas, it’s also heart-breaking, because Steve has missed A LOT of important things and that makes it all even harder. He hasn’t coped too well with that either. It is what it is, and this lifestyle is OUR choice, but my darling, please hurry hurry and come home. We’re all just really missing you, but me most of all. I’m just not that great without you. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I recently wrote a blog – Boys Wearing us Out –  discussing some rather horrifying activities our lads were getting up to in the early hours of the morning – e.g. cutting electrical wires with nail scissors and starting fires in their bedroom. We took some measures after that, but our little guys continue to delight and horrify us. Setting the stage. It was an early Sunday morning and Steve was on wake-up duty – he usually is. The boys were exceptionally quiet when they decided on their program of activities for the morning and we didn’t hear them moving around the apartment. Steve leaps out of bed around 7.30am and what does he find? The boys in the kitchen with our biggest, sharpest knife – see below. What were they doing? Upon exploration and discussion, it turns out Lex decided he needed to take some action. You see, our current car had these little shades above the windows – the sort designed to stop rain coming in when the window is opened slightly. The problem with these shades is it means we can’t clip things to the car – “things” include bunny ears at Easter, bat wings during Halloween, and of course, reindeer antlers for Christmas. Lex was pissed when he realized it wasn’t happening at Easter, then even more pissed when Halloween was off the cards, but he wasn’t going to stand by and let it happen again this Christmas. As a side note, I was DELIGHTED when I realized we couldn’t put these poxy things on our car, because Steve takes great pleasure in buying them every chance he gets, knowing how much I hate them. Driving around with those things makes me squirm with embarrassment. Anyhoo, this fine, early Sunday morning, the boys took that big knife, went down into the basement car park, climbed on the car and used the knife to hack the plastic shades off. I couldn’t believe it and was expecting thousands of dollars’ worth of damage, but thankfully, all that was left behind was a few broken bits of plastic, and glue that you could peel off. So the damage wasn’t going to be a costly exercise – phew – but the thought of the boys undertaking this project, unsupervised, with such a sharp knife, and not chopping fingers or hands off in the process, left Steve and I numb. Why, why, why we ask ourselves, and while I often wonder how I got through my childhood alive, I equally wonder the same for my little dudes. BLOODY KIDS I TELL YA! Now if you would like to tell me how your kids are crazier than mine, please do include the hashtag #mykidsrcrazierthanyours and let me know? It would be great to know I’m not alone… Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I’m not one of those people who fear public speaking, which is probably due to the fact I was on stage from the youngest age playing music. With that said, neither am I a limelight seeker, often preferring to be in the background focusing on the experience being amazing for those in the audience – that’s my default setting. So it was with trepidation that this past week I geared up for my MC debut and my word, my guts was roiling ALL day long. It was horrendous. I put the anxiety levels down to not having enough time to focus on it, and then when I did, I really started to appreciate that an MC gig is a whole new world of speaking I’ve never embraced  – in a formal sense at least. As I started putting together my script, I realized I hadn’t been a member of the Asia Professional Speakers Singapore (APSS) Association long enough to innately understand the flow, so those small important things that matter just weren’t clear in my mind – i.e. how do you do a good job of introducing those with serious credentials? I scrambled it together knowing all along it wasn’t quite right. But I’d be forgiven as an MC virgin right? I arrived at the event – early of course – and this is when things went a little awry for me. My debut occurred the night two amazing speakers from the US were in town. Because they are so good and respected by the APSS members (locally and globally), many of the really REALLY experienced professional speakers based in Singapore turned up. We always have good attendance from this group, but this week, I felt like everyone was there. My word, DAUNTING. However then I realized a bigger mistake. I didn’t ask the speakers how they wanted to be introduced in advance and came up with my own ideas on how to do it. They didn’t like my idea, doh! So they gave me a script they preferred – oh NO! I don’t know about everyone else, but reading in public is not my thing. For example, if you ask me to read a prayer or a poem at your Wedding, expect me to say no, because I HATE reading from a script. The problem is my brain and mouth work so fast, that when required to read in front of an audience, I get all in a-jumble and my self-consciousness goes through the roof. This week I had to face up to that little fear. My favourite reading-out-loud moment happened at University. I had to read a paper to my music class and in the middle I started giggling. The reason I was giggling was because I was looking at myself through the audiences’ eyes and thought the situation was ridiculous. Unfortunately, I giggled directly after saying the word “pianist” and naturally, everyone thought I was laughing because it sounded like.. .well you know. So being asked to read something an hour before show time completely destabilized me, which was a rather interesting experience I must say. Professionally I’ve always been able to handle any situation I get myself into, and it’s rare for me to be stuck or side-blinded, and yet here I was, all in a tizz. But none of it mattered, because I had to get through it and no, I could not sit on the toilet any longer practising the script, because it was time. I was very happy when it was over I must say. All up did I do a shocking job and make a complete arse of myself? No I don’t think it was that bad. Did I learn A LOT? Absolutely and if the chance comes up again, I’ll be so much better prepared. Is MC’ing my thing? I don’t know and will have to get back to you on that one, but with practise, I think I could do a good job MC’ing. I now definitely have much greater respect for the prep required to be a great MC that’s for sure – something I could never have known without doing it before. And were the audience critical or kind? You know, the reason I joined APSS was to surround myself with incredible people doing incredible things, and when the student is ready the teacher comes right? I now have 50+ teachers – all of whom give me so much and are already helping me steer myself towards a new professional journey. Of course they were kind, because every single one of them has been in my shoes and all of the feedback was greatly appreciated – especially the observation that I didn’t smile enough. Wow, me not smiling, that’s new. I must have been quaking in my pants to forget to do that. But it is done. I am grateful for the guts I somehow gained in how I approach my life. I am grateful for everyone who reaches out and helps me do and be better (hopefully returning the favour when I can). I am also supremely grateful to have found an association of very cool people who believe as I do – it’s not what you get, but what you give that matters. Can’t tell you how happy that has made me finding them. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea 

We are bamboozled parents. Nearly eight years into this parenting malarkey and do you think we ever get a morning off? I’ve written about this before, because it’s definitely the thing I have enjoyed least since becoming a parent, but seriously, enough already! My treasures…. We had a late night last night – a Halloween/end-of-a-work-chapter party I guess. This meant the boys went to bed at 3am. I think it’s their latest night ever. Anyhoo our friend’s Sam and Dave were with us, and their kid’s probably got to bed closer to 4am and guess what? Our boys were up at 7am. Bronte and AJ at lunchtime. See that’s right, that’s how it should be. But no, not our buggers… It got even better recently. Our room separation strategy isn’t going so well. Jax doesn’t want to be away from Lex and we regularly find them in bed together in the morning. But even better recently, Jax has been getting up at 4am to watch movies. Four am, I mean 4am!!! He obviously wakes Lex up too, because he couldn’t possibly NOT do that, and what does that mean? Two miserable, tired little bastards. Lex is traditionally the early riser, not Jax, so I’m not enjoying this recent change that’s for sure. The thing is, I know kids are capable of sleeping in, because I’ve met loads of kids who actually do it, but not ours, oh no, not ours. With everything in my life – especially the things that make me unhappy – I try to maintain the thinking that what I resist, persists – a truth in my world. BUT it’s really hard to do this on the boys-never-getting-enough-sleep-front. Hey I’m a Mum and the only thing I care about is my boys being healthy in all ways. But equally, I hate the first thing out of my mouth in the morning being along the lines of “get back to bloody bed!” Or “Why, WHY can’t you just stay in bed.” Or “Look outside. Do you see that? Do you see that it’s still bloody night time? Do you? DO YOU? Go to bloody sleep!” AAAAAGGGHHHHH! It’s like never ending torture I tell you. Why won’t they sleep? Please tell me? Please help me? BLOODY KIDS! Is anyone else suffering perpetual sleep deprivation or are we really alone? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea