Sydney calling

Hello
Before you start jumping up and down, waving your arms and legs and yelling - that pregnant woman at the top is not me. More on her later. This is the first day of our family blog which we hope to use to keep family and friends up to date with our life in Australia.
We just had a wonderful Easter, despite having to spend it in Sydney as Rob had to work nights all weekend (again). We spent the morning of Good Friday at our favourite beach, Balmoral. It is where we will live when we win the lottery. A large lottery win forms the foundation of our long-term financial plans. Every time we buy a lottery ticket we are convinced, convinced I tell you, that we will win. Rob and I enjoy giving a great deal of thought to how we will spend our millions. The houses we would buy around the world (this is a big win you understand), the friends we would install in said houses as rotating housekeepers until we needed to use the house, where we would holiday etc etc. Sigh. Anyway, as I say we spent Good Friday at Balmoral Beach, rock pooling with Scarlett (now known as Larti - her name for herself), swimming and reading the paper. Glorious. Later in the day our friends Melissa and Larry came for lunch. We made salmon wrapped in proscuitto, roasted potatoes with fennel seeds and a big crunchy mixed salad. Here's a photo of Melissa who six months pregnant. The rest of Easter was spent waiting for Rob to wake up from his night shift sleep so we could hit the pool and visit our friends Zoe and Paul and their new baby Bronte and Sam and Christy and their new baby Jemima. Everybody's at it. Coming back to work on Wednesday after 5 days at home with my family was hard. Have just written my first column for the paper's Spectrum section which has a parenting column. It is the first time I have been asked to write about something serious, as I am usually called upon to contribute more amusing pieces. It is for the Mother's Day issue and I am waiting to hear what the Spectrum editor thinks. We watched Little Fish on DVD this week. A fantastic film set in Sydney's druggy western suburb of Cabramatta and starring Cate Blanchett as a recovering junkie. Very good. Lauren the babysitter from Larti's nursery is coming over tonight and Rob and I are going out for dinner tonight and work are paying. Hooray. More on this later.


Summer Poo - Summer Metropolitan December 2005
It is summer, holiday time - the season of lunchtime naps, late afternoon swims and early evening barbecues. And toilet training. Yes, toilet training, for it is said that summer is the best time of year to tempt toddlers from their nappies and onto the loo. The idea is that in the warmer temps one can remove nappies and let the young run about the place commando style, free from the constraints and dependence on their Huggies. The theory that is without the (quite literal) safety net of the nappy, the child will not want to do their business in their nice new grown up pants and will instead raise their hand to announce the imminent arrival of numbers one and two in plenty of time for you to plonk them on the loo and thar she blows. My small child began showing an interest in the lav in spring. With few months to go before she turns two she was declared as `advanced' `a genius' and `very smart for her age' and that was just by my husband and I. She may indeed be early to show an interest in the loo, but apparently girls always are. Boys, it seems are more than happy to sit in their own mess until well into their teens. She would point at the loo whenever we passed by, saying alternately `wee wee', `poo poo' and `yeeeuuurrgghhh', the latter accompanied by a violent flapping of her hand across her nose in the action of wafting away a bad smell. Whenever she caught my husband or I upon the throne she roughly forced our knees apart and jammed her head betwix them in order to get a better look at what was going on in the loo. After a few days of this we decided to sit her up on the loo to see if she was interested in joining in. Amidst much beetroot-faced straining and tiny grunts, a small trickle of wee wee appeared, to huge smiles from her, and a standing ovation, loud cheering and clapping from us. This is what you're supposed to do, they say. They also say that if they keep this up, it bodes well for a swift and efficient toilet trainee and you are to gets things ready in the house for the rapid progression from nappies to the loo. So it was off to K-Mart for a child-sized loo seat that fits in under a regular one, perfectly shaped for tiny peach-like cheeks, and to Coles for a five-pack of pink fairy-emblazoned knickers. And then we began with the nappy off, grown up girl pants on system. The instructions are simple. `When you need to go, let Mummy know.' It even rhymes. Then she was off, playing in the back yard, climbing in and out of a large container of water to keep cool during the hot weather, watering the plants, kicking the ball, all with a new gusto for life - a life without nappies. Every few minutes I'd ask encouragingly, `do you need to poo poo or wee wee?'. `No' she'd reply in that little golden voice. Some time later while I attended to the washing line she slipped inside the house, to grab a toy or doll. She returned momentarily looking very happy and grabbing at my hand, Lassie-style, urging me to follow. `Mumma, poo poo,' she said. `Hello,' thinks I, `this is working. Time to pop her on the loo and gets things moving. This toilet training lark is easier than I thought. I don't know what all the fuss is all about. Wait till I tell your Father when he gets home. It's only been a week.' But she did not lead me to the bathroom, but straight down the stairs into the kitchen to show me the not inconsiderable cable she had lately laid under one of the kitchen island bar stools. At least it was neat and out of the way. I wiped it up and popped it down the loo, sitting her upon the seat once more to show her the other way of getting it there and we smiled and cheered some more. If this is summer, pass the wipes and the nappies, it's going to be a long one.