Jem turned twelve today. It just doesn’t seem possible that my baby is growing up. But she is. And beautifully. Jem has always been a quiet observer. She takes absolutely everything in. She sees so much more than most. She takes the time to be. She gets lost in being which is wonderfully compelling if a tad frustrating for her A type mom who aspires to be more like her. She has always stopped to smell the roses. And her roses always smell beautiful. Jem always sees the silver lining. I am so blessed to have such a beautiful kind teacher. A kind gentle funny soul who’s focus in life is peace. And always has been. World peace no less. Jem is complete if all around her are at peace. And ideally living in beautiful architecturally designed spaces. She has a wonderful sense of the aesthetic. Jem knows what matters. She doesn’t like conflict, but always stands up for what she believes. She is the champion of the underdog. She is kind, gentle, sweet, cheeky and quite mad. She has a fabulous twinkle in her eye, an innate style and is beautifully sensitive. She wants the best for everyone. She gets sad if others are sad, she feels happy if they are happy. She oozes empathy and compassion for every single living creature. The furrier the better. She is accepting of all, judging of none. She is cuddly and tactile and true. She epitomises still waters run deep. She has a depth to her I am so excited to still be discovering. She is capable of so much and brave enough to try anything. She is fearless. I learn from my exquisite angel child every single day and am loving watching her fly. She is truly and always has been one of a kind. Jem is the change I want to see in the world.
Monthly Archives: September 2012
two hundred and forty eight
Today I am grateful for a talented friend who totally got my verbal, just a small retro something, brief for a last minute cake for Jem’s birthday tomorrow. A lovely lovely gracious lady who seldom says no and means it too. I am grateful for authentic genuinely kind friends who teach me to be better. I’ll always be a last minute queen. But better.
two hundred and forty seven
I may have mentioned once or twice or three times how fond I am of the ubiquitous pelicans here. Especially the slightly ludicrous sight of these large birds pirched so delicately on top of the extremely tall streetlights. I always look forward to approaching the bridge near Maroochydore as I am never disappointed, there is always at least one. I am grateful today that I looked up on the way home, because the sight of a distinctive quirky cute kookaburra instead of a pelican was so delightfully unexpected, and actually quite silly, I snorted with laughter a good kilometre afterwards. I am so very grateful for silly unexpected moments, that are even better than the expected. But damn if I missed the shot. You’ll have to take my word for it.
two hundred and forty six
cynic
There is a lot of focus on breasts right now. Yes because of poor Kate Middleton but also because of the approaching plethora of pink month. I don’t mean to come across as cynical but I am a little. That’s why I love the scar project so much. Breast cancer is not pretty and pink. It’s not about what we share, its about what we don’t often share. It’s sore and ugly and about survival and beauty because of it. I went to a breast cancer fundraiser on friday and had a chat with a lovely woman who when discovering I had had a mastectomy queried why I hadn’t had a bilateral done and had two lovely matching boobs. Seriously. Pretty and pink it’s not. They are lovely to me because of what they represent, but not as she thinks. They have no feeling. They are scarred. They are not a choice. They are because we might have died if not. I asked her if she realised a mastectomy means removing everything. Nipple and all. I think I over shared before how my nipples and the sensation of them matter to me. She mentioned how yes, she understands, her friends boob job left her with no feeling too. No, sweetheart you don’t understand. I don’t mean to be mean but wearing a pink ribbon on your chest does not mean you understand. And I really hope you never do. It reminded me of a dear friend who in trying to make me feel better when I was still trying to make sense of my diagnosis, said, her husband had said something which made sense to her. He had said, well at least its just her boob, its not like its a limb that she needs. Again, seriously? Anyway cut Kate Middleton some slack. If I had her boobs, no matter who I was, I’d bear them for the world to see.
two hundred and forty five
I am grateful B has a mini me too. Jem has to put on her new stuff the minute she gets home. Admire it and wear it. Even if it is boots and puffer jackets and the sun is shining. Just like B. It was sweet to see the twinkle of pride in B’s eye, as I said, she really is your child. Whereas Kate and I might unpack our stuff tomorrow. If we get around to it. Or maybe B and Jem will do it for us. Or most likely, I’ll find an unpacked bag in my cupboard in a week’s time and wonder whose it is.
two hundred and forty four
15 September. I am grateful for late nights, lie ins and brekkie with B at our favourite spot while the girls are both at sleepovers. We are often alone these days so I really am grateful for how much we enjoy each others company. And that we have a relationship as a couple and not only as parents. In fact, I suspect, a better one. Despite what the little princesses might think.
two hundred and forty three
14 September. I am grateful for inspiring friends who are hell bent on doing something good for the world, who enable us all, who just get on with it. And who are determined to have a damn fun time doing it too.
two hundred and forty two
I simply can’t capture the delightful moment I shared with a charming elderly gentleman today. I had just ordered my coffee when I caught his eye as he was struggling out of his jumper (or jersey depending on where you’re from). He winked at me and said, I’m always here about now, stripping for the customers. It was so delightfully unexpected. He was a real gentleman too in dress and demeanour. Hilarious. What a delightful character. I am so grateful for this little moment which just made the world a little lighter. And for having the pleasure of meeting this lovely man. And Jo, I’m not stalking older people, I’m not. But I am loving them.
lost
I sobbed this morning. Poor B, sitting in Sydney, could hardly hear the words between the gulps. And I have no real idea why. I’m feeling anxious. Not sleeping well. A little out of control and not in a good way. Very emotional. Very demotivated. And to be honest a little lost. I sat on my bench, regrouped a bit, got a little perspective and carried on. And that’s just life. Its not always a bed of roses, even when it is. I know how much I have, how much I’ve learnt and gained, and I am so filled with gratitude for everything and everyone in my life, but today I got lost in all I’ve lost. It frightened me how easy it is to do. But I had to write my grateful for yesterday. I had read about how a gratitude practice can open your heart and rewire your brain. It does. It really does.






