Koalas, wiggles and snakes

Scarlett has had a busy couple of weeks. The weather has been gorgeous so we have been back at the beach regularly and started back at the pool again too. Rob and I take turns doing laps and playing with Scarlett in the kids pool. Rob and Scarlett went to a special 15th anniversary Wiggles concert at the invitation of our friends George with her kids Sophie and James. It was celebrity packed (by Australian standards at least) affair and Scarlett danced and sang alongwith Russell Crowe and Miranda Otto's kids. Afterwards they headed to Luna Park and the Merry go round. A new mini zoo opened in Sydney last week called Sydney Wildlife world. It's an amazing Armadillo-like structure on the roof of the Aquarium in Darling Harbour and promises a quick look at Australia's animals without needing to have a full day at taronga zoo. I thought it was pretty lame. The habitats and building itself are pretty cool but there was hardly anything to see. You had to squint to see two koalas way up in the trees and the only sighting of a wallaby was of its legs poking out from behind a bush. And for my $30 I expect exhibits more interesting than bull ants. I can see these in my back yard for free. However we did get to play with a friendly carpet python. Rob took Scarlett to the zoo with her friend and doppleganger Sam where they were treated to the results of a new experimental breeding programme they are running there to create much larger animals with some success. Finally Scarlett made her first outing into Sydney Society on Monday night when she joined Rob and I at the cocktail party for the Launch of Good Food Month. It was a smart affair with cocktails, champagne and canapes. Scarlett had her first taste of caviar which went in ok but was quickly spat back out. However she loved the smoked ocean trout. She was also photographed by one of the Sunday papers for its society section which comes out on Sunday so we are hoping she makes it in this weekend.

Wet, wet,wet

We headed away this weekend, down the coast two hours to Gerroa, a beachside village at the head of Seven Mile Beach noted for how little there is to do there except enjoy the surf and the beach. We rented a beach house with old friends Martin and Drew, and despite some of the wettest weather ever recorded in Sydney last week, were expecting a weekend of sun. In my mind's eye we would be spending our days sunbathing, swimming and lazing about, Sweet Manhattans in one hand, Raoul the Columbian pool boy in the other, and our nights on the deck barbecuing and sipping white wine.
During the 2 hour drive to Gerroa on Friday night we are optimistic - the skies are clear and blue, we watch the sun set and the moon rise. What do those weathermen know anyway? Then ahead, on the freeway, the sky is blackened by the appearance of the sort of dark clouds usually reserved for the apocalypse, rising like volcanic smoke from the horizon. Then the rain begins to fall, and lash and lash... until only the hysterical setting on the windscreen wipers will do. I know this all sounds like a recipe for disaster but think again. As it turned out the house was so gorgeous it mattered not what the weather was doing. Architecturally interesting, the house was constructed as two pavilions, a rear one, home to three bedrooms and two bathrooms, connected to the front pavilion by a deck. The front pavilion was a huge open plan L-shaped kitchen/living/dining room with impossibly comfortable leather couches surrounding a fireplace, an immaculate modern kitchen centred around a large stone island and, best of all, floor-to-ceiling windows offering uninterrupted views along the beach. We had the fire lit all day every day, food cooking, wine open, papers out and there we stayed. Our one excursion was a hastily aborted attempt at a walk on the beach, from where we were sent packing by violent winds and a cold, sobbing two year old. Truly there was nothing better than being trapped in this divine house, safe and warm, while we watched the tempest rage outside from front row seats. Perfect.

Oh what a night

A big night on Monday at the Good Food Guide Awards. The star attraction was uber chef Alain Ducasse, the only chef in the world to hold 14 Michelin stars at his various restaurants. The big upset of the night concerned Neil Perry. His restaurant, Rockpool, has held 3 chefs hat awards for several years. Last year he lost a hat and there was uproar. There was an expectation that this year he would win the third hat back (he even brought along a TV documentary camera crew to record the event) but it was not to be. Controversy reigned when during his speech Alain Ducasse declared his outrage that Perry's hat was not returned. Great night with amazing food and much champagne. I made an unusually dignified exit at 11pm, dropping Rob off at an afterparty on the way home. He arrived home at 2.30am.
On Thursday night Sydney was hit by an incredible storm. We were woken at midnight by an incredible clap of thunder that shook the house and scared the bejesus out of Scarlett who climbed into bed with us. The recorded rainfall over the city of a zillion mm or something, broke all records from this century and the last. That much rain hasn't fallen since 1883, which I guess explains why our kitchen flooded into the hall.

Happy Father's Day

What a top weekend. We awoke on Saturday to a 28 degree day, not bad for the second day of Spring, and sprinted to the beach for the morning. I took my first dip of the season, a lively event that saw me alternately whimpering, grimacing and cringing and I lowered myself deeper and deeper into the freezing ocean. I had to wait a good 5 minutes until my lower body had gone completely numb, and reduced my overall body temp, before I could fully submerge myself. In the afternoon, we went for a bbq at the home of our friends Lara and Adam, who delighted us with the news that they are expecting their first baby. They live in an amazing apartment with a deck that overlooks a rainforest. You can walk down a track from their deck into a deep valley and eventually to a creek. Scarlett loved it. Yesterday was Father's Day here. Scarlett presented Rob with a painting from nursery, a new book about Daddy and a voucher for a spa pedicure to sort out his middle aged foot situation. Good grief. We met up with friends in the Botanic Gardens for a morning picnic. Olga, our friend Deb's mum came too and did an excellent job of entertaining the children while we sipped champagne. After a long lunchtime sleep, we had more friends over in the afternoon for a late Father's Day lunch. A brilliant day but it all ended in tears, quite literally, when a certain two and half year old found it all a bit too exciting come bedtime. Tonight we are going out to the biggest event in the Sydney restaurant calendar - the Sydney Morning Herald Good Food Guide Awards. It is a hugely spectacular party at the Opera House at which restaurants are awarded hats, prizes are given and hearts either soar or are broken depending on the results. As Deputy Editor of the food section of the paper I already know all the results and know exactly which chefs to stand behind when they announce them. There will be a lot of bad language tonight as a couple of chefs have no idea they are going down. More on this later in the blog.

A koala isn't a bear, it's a marsupial

We spent a very funny morning this week at the Featherdale WIldlife Park in the outer west of Sydney. It is completely bizarre place to find a wildlife sanctuary because it is located within a massive housing estate in the middle of the burbs. Sydneysiders are notoriously postcode prejudiced and anywhere too far west is considered the wild west. We would have been regarded as bold indeed to venture out along the freeway further than Parramatta 'quelle horreur!' to Doonside. The sort of place where a punch in the face is as good as a handshake. Our amusement began when after paying to get in we passed the wall of fame littered with photographs of the famous who had passed before us. It tickled us greatly to note that Matt Damon, the blonde bloke from 90210 whose name no one ever remembers and boxing legend and 'grilling innovator' George Foreman had also driven through the miserable streets of Doonside. What must they have been thinking as they stared from their limousine windows, mouths agape, marvelling at all the cars parked on lawns, sheets pinned up to windows as curtains and various unshaved blokes standing around on street corners polishing their flick knives? Inside, once the lively pong of animal wee subsided we were greeted by a fantastically friendly and very large wombat. I hadn't seen a wombat since I first came to Australia on holiday in 1993, when I got to cuddle one at another wildlife park. They are so cute. Behind us wallabies and kangaroos bounced up and all around huge birds screamed and shreiked in a way only Australian birds can, pelicans gibbled their giblets and fairy penguins waddled passed. Next we were into the massive koala area where 30 odd koalas clung to trees in various states of sleepfulness. Most people wrongly think koalas sleep all day because they are stoned from eating a diet reliant solely on eucalyptus leaves. It is actually because they stay up late watching talk shows and reruns of David Attenborough documentaries. Everytime one of them woke up, they were grabbed from their perch and placed on a makeshift tree branch in order to be photographed and petted by people like us. Our one - Monty - was soooo soft. Then we were into the children's petting zoo - my favourite bit. I just about did a toilet in my pants when as soon as we walked in, a baby lamb ran up to me for a cuddle. A cuddle! If only I had known this day would come I wouldn't have bothered wasting hours in my younger years planning pincer movement traps for sheep through fields in Scotland, shouting 'mint sauce'. There were also rabbits, guinea pigs, goats and a big pig all craving our attention. We also spotted Tasmanian Devils, a crocodile, snakes and spiders and a selection of high speed commuter trains that whizzed noisily passed the perimeter fence every few minutes reminding us we were not deep in the outback but deep in the outer west. Every time I experienced this reality check I felt sorry for the local housewives as I considered the quantity and consistency of bird poo they would have to contend with on their washing - remember there are pelicans flying unencumbered here - think a bucket of white paint and double it. Although it was a bit grotty and run down it was also incredibly child friendly and lots of fun. If it's good enough for Ian Zering, it's good enough for us. Scarlett enjoyed it too.

Wet, wild, windy and gloriously hot

A bizarre weekend weatherwise. Maybe Al Gore is onto something. On Saturday we managed to fill an entire morning satisfying Scarlett's fondness for public transport and our own fondness for going out for breakfast. We jumped on the bus from Leichhardt to Circular Quay, a journey punctuation by squeals of delight from Scarlett along with many many 'There's another bus' comments. From there we boarded the ferry across the harbour to Luna Park, Sydney's very own homage to Coney Island, where we had breakfast at Ripples, a cafe right under the harbour bridge with very cool views back to the city and opera house. While I tucked into a satisfyingly large wild mushroom omelette with rocket and pesto, Scarlett made light work of some sour cherry toast and Rob looked disappointed with his poached eggs on toast. A quick sojourn to Luna Park in time for Scarlett to meet park mascot Lunabelle and we were off again on a bumpy and windy ferry ride round to Darling Harbour, huddled against the gale and threatening rain. Then back on the bus home. Once again Scarlett's 'baby' doll caused great alarm to all who saw it slumped forward in the doll pram its head scraping the pavement, assuming it to be our not much cared for second child. On Sunday the weather couldn't have been more different. We met Jules and Lenka, Zoe and Paul and their broods at the beach where we lay in the sun all morning, paddled in the rock pools, sipped flat whites and nibbled at moist fruity friands. As I type this morning at my desk, rain is lashing my 26th floor window. Rob and Scarlett are taking the air in the Botanic Gardens. I wonder if I might see them moving swiftly past my window any time soon.

Spring has sprung

Spring has sprung early even though it's still winter. We spent a glorious couple of days at Balmoral beach this week, lying in the sun, splashing in the surf - still too cold for a full dip - reading the papers and eating fresh stuffed rolls from the kiosk. On Tuesday we met our friends Stef and our old next door neighbour George and their kids. Our girls - Sophie, GG and Scarlett - all aged between 2 and half and 3 and a half, get on really well and love playing together on the beach. Rob took them off, Pied Piper style, for a walk to the island that divides the beach in two, now renamed Dragon Island, for adventures and dragon hunting. They loved it and came screaming back along the sand declaring they had seen a dragon. It reminded me of when we were kids and our Dad set up a dinosaur trail in a quarry that led to a cave.

Spring Forward...

I am soooo looking forward to Spring, which officially begins on September 1st, and for the warm weather to return. We got a hint this weekend of what's to come and for the first time last night kicked off the American quilt that nightly tops our winter weight duvet. We spent a happy and sunny Saturday morning at the organic growers markets with Martin and Drew, bumping into our mates Ewan, Kel and Sarah and their offspring at the jumping castle. Once Scarlett was all jumped out we queued with the best for the bacon and egg rolls that have become the toast of the market, stocked up on flat whites, lattes and ginger cordial before sitting in the sun to eat. I spent $10 on shitake and oyster mushrooms from the mushroom man and was happy to be relieved of $9 by the flower man in exchange for a huge bunch of yellow tulips, yet to flower. After a lunchtime sleep we headed to Clark Rubber, home of custom cut foam, to get Scarlett a new cot mattress. Who knew foam could be so much fun? They also sell above-ground pools, pool supplies and accessories, so while Rob waited for our foam to be cut Scarlett and I entertained ourselves by trying on goggles and fins and punching an inflatable duck in the face. The new foam is part of the transition from cot to bed. We have put away the sleeping bags she has slept in since birth and have remade the cot with sheets and blankets as if it were a bed. The next step is to get her in the bed. Every time we show her the big pink bed on the IKEA website she looks delighted. But as soon as I suggest she sleep in it, she shakes her head, pouts, points at her room and says "No. I don't like it. I want to sleep in my cot in there.' We were hoping if we had her in a bed before we go back to England it would make our trip easier if we didn't have to cart a travel cot around.
In the evening I made Terry Durack's recipe for Mushroom risotto using pearl barley instead of rice and my mushrooms man mushrooms. It was a triumph. But let me add, that pearl barley seems to have quite an effect on the digestive system, if you get my meaning, and a night of the dancing duvet ensued. We also watched V for Vendetta which is quite a film of our time. On Sunday I chained Rob to the dining table to finish his new CV while Scarlett and I headed to the the sunny park at the end of our street. Rob appeared momentarily dragging and scuffing his feet in the manner of a sulky teenager, declaring it was 'too hard'. I distracted him from his attempts at a career change by whisking him and Scarlett off to the neighbouring suburb of Five Dock for the Italian festival, Ferragusto. We ate pizza, Italian doughnuts, corn on the cob and Italian sausages, and Scarlett had her face painted. Then we all went home and slept for 2 hours. In the afternoon, a short walk delivered us back to the local park where we bumped into Deb and Ewan, Kel and Sarah again who were, along with many others, enjoying the heat of the late afternoon sun and a bottle of champagne. We have arranged to meet up again next Sunday at Petersham Park, where they have bbqs for a late lunch early dinner cook out. As I say I can't wait for Spring.

Cold and old

Another fun weekend despite feeling old and cold. On Friday, two incidences at work made me realise that some of my colleagues think I either look, or am, much older than my 38 years. Shocked of Leichhardt!! Rob is 43 this year and still looks younger than me. I find him very handsome as he ages. Since Rob's job finished he has been pottering about at home. It is very nice having him around all the time and Scarlett loves the extra time with him too. Today they are spending the morning perusing the Art Gallery of New South Wales while I am in the office. We watched Transamerica on Friday night. We loved Felicity Huffman but found the story quite slow going. Still a low budget movie and made before she was famous. On Saturday we met Martin and Drew for breakfast at Brasserie Bread, the great bakery. A serving of bacon and egg pie, sourdough pancakes and granola with fruit and yoghurt later, we armed ourselves with bread for dinner and headed to the beach. We managed about 9 seconds before we were lashed with rain and violent winds that sent us running for the cover of our cars. Saturday night Melissa and Larry and baby Lotus, and Kendall and Brett came for dinner. A brilliant night despite an interruption to the main course. Just as we were sitting down I heard Scarlett's cough turn into a vomit. I excused myself from the table and in under five minutes I managed to soothe her, strip and remake her cot, change her clothes and sleeping bag and get her back into the cot without anyone at the table knowing what had happened. No point ruining a good dinner with a vomit story now is there? We seem to have sleeping sickness in our house at the moment as we have all been sleeping in until 8.30/9am. Scarlett used to be our 7am alarm clock but seems to have outgrown that. Maybe it's the very unusual cold, wet weather we are are having so much of this winter but none of us can get out of bed in the mornings. I had to drag myself out of bed on Sunday morning to go and do the Bay Run, a 7km circuit around the bays near where we live. In the afternoon we went to GG's 3rd birthday party which was in a brilliant park on the north shore with lots of kids toys and sandpits and climbing frames and silly mirrors. However it was so cold we were soon bundling ourselves back into the car and applying layers of chapstick to our extremities. Until summer our life is all about casseroles, turning the heater on at 10am to warm the house by the evening and applying ointment to nasal sores caused by extreme nose blowing.

Weekend at Banjo's

Just back from a brilliant weekend away in the Hunter Valley, 3 hours north of Sydney, with our friends Chris and Stef and their children Genevieve (GG)and Harrison, and Rachel and her daughter Ava. All the kids got on brilliantly, sitting down to eat together at their own special table at meal times, and LOVED the interaction they got with one of the wild kangaroos that live in the bush around the house we rented which they got to stroke and feed. We spent our days walking, eating, playing tennis, table tennis, mini golf, eating, visiting the local olive grove and village, eating and playing on the swings. Our nights, once the kids were all bathed and in bed comprised eating fine food we all took turns cooking and reading trash mags in front of the ridiculously large fire. GG and Scarlett gone on particularly well and were sad to say goodbye. Very very relaxing.

Rain, rain go away

Friday was Rob's last day at work. For the next month he goes into the IBM
'resource pool' and if he doesn't find a job within the company (unlikely since his jobs and all those like it are going to China - hence the redundancy) he leaves. It will be a big change for us, all as the whole time we have been together Rob has always done shift work. In recent years this has afforded him extra time at home with Scarlett during the week, including one day a week they spend together without me, that most blokes don't get working 5 days a week. It's not the end of the world as Rob has had to miss out on a lot in the past due to working weekends and nights and it's not a job he has ever had much interest in. It's also a chance for Rob to try something new. We shall see what comes up.
There's something about living in a city that has hot weather 8 months of the year that means when it rains and is cold you have no idea what to do with yourself. Or it is just me? Everything here is about the outdoors - the beach, the parks, the walks, the markets, the open air cafes, restaurants and bars, the harbour, the pools. A wet weekend in Sydney was forecast and I was wondering how we would fill our time. We piled into the car and headed for the mall on Saturday morning to do the grocery shopping for our dinner party that night. I made a delicious pea and mint soup, and a spectacular Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall recipe for orange lamb shanks dish. Talking of fine food, I was lucky to be invited to an amazing champagne masterclass on Wednesday - a 6-course champagne-matched degustation dinner prepared by Tony Bilson one the Sydney's best chefs. I got to taste seven vintage champagnes including Dom Perignon 1996, Krug 1995 and the rare S de Salon 1996. It was all pretty amazing. On Sunday morning the rain held off and we went to the Botanic gardens for a run around. Great views and great morning despite menacing storm clouds. We stopped to look at the two beautiful metalwork sculptures by Bronwyn Oliver in the gardens, Palm and Magnolia. Bronwyn is a renowned Australian sculptor and is the partner of my colleague, wine writer Huon Hooke. Bronwyn took her own life last Monday so it was especially poignant to look at some of her best-known work. On a brighter note Scarlett finally succumbed to our pleas to sit on our shoulders instead of being carried on the hip whenever she gets bored of walking. Unfortunately it has taken until she weighs 14 kilos to show any interest in this pursuit so it is back-breaking work. What has greatly amused us of late is many many people mistaking Scarlett's doll for a real newborn baby (albeit with a massive head and eyes that never close). We regularly have people come up to us in the shop or wherever obviously about to tell us off for leaving the baby lying in the shopping trolley or letting Scarlett drag our 'baby' around on the floor. It's not until they come closer they realise it's a doll and start laughing. We are expecting a call from family services.

Winter in Sydney

A good couple of weeks despite Scarlett face planting on concrete at the beginning of last week, while we were enjoying a lively race down the hill from the shops. Normally an activity she only enjoys with her father (Mummy is much too responsible) it was actually Mummy who caused the accident by tripping Scarlett up on the front wheel of the pram I was pushing as I raced past her. Competitive Mum. A large sore scab has spent 10 days enlarging and now receding. We had a brilliant, chaotic family dinner with our friends Julia and Richard and their daughter Ella who were visiting from Japan. Scarlett, who is very affectionate - she kisses furniture, doors and windows before getting into bed - was particularly pleased to see Julia and Ella and threw herself into Julia's arms. Scarlett has got quite into the whole picture taking thing now and constantly wants to hold the camera and try to take photos. This pic of Rob, Pooh and I at breakfast is one of her first portrait masterpieces. On Saturday mornings we have started going to the Orange Grove organic markets held in a local primary school grounds. As well as a fantastic range of produce, bread, meat, coffee and a very nice man who turns out a mean salmon omelet in a roll, there is a bouncy castle. Needless to say it is a big hit with our girl. Mummy however is close to being blacklisted after threatening a seven year old who kneed Scarlett in the head only moments after I had warned the older kids to look out for the younger ones. She grassed me up to her mother who came and told me off for the way I spoke to her daughter. I didn't say it but wish I'd said 'I might have threatened your daughter, but she is a g rass. She won't last five minutes in the nick.' The weather at the moment is typical of Sydney winters - cold nights and early mornings, but then glorious sunny days with blue blue skies an d temps in the 70s. Not bad at all. Yesterday we me t up w ith our ol d neighbour George and her daughter Sophie, Scarlett's 'official' best friend. It was warm enough for them to strip off and run about in the all together.

Happy weekend

After a bout of gastro knocked me about later in the week sending me home to my sick bed on Thursday afternoon, I recovered enough on Friday for Rob, Scarlett and I to make it to Godfather Kendall's for dinner and a sleepover. As always Kendall produced an incredible dinner in his beautiful Elizabeth Bay apartment, where we enjoyed his fire, food, wine and company. Slightly worse for wear on Saturday we walked, slowly, down to Rushcutters Bay park on the water for coffee at the kiosk, that conveniently also has a ton of kid's toys out on the grass. In the afternoon we headed to the Royal Prince Alfred hospital, where Scarlett was born, to visit our great friends Melissa and Larry, who had their first baby, a girl called Lotus May, on Friday morning. Melissa featured earlier in this blog around the half way mark on her pregnancy. Lotus is beautiful and I have never seen Melissa look happier or more relaxed. We can't wait to watch our girls play, smoke, get drunk, bunk off school and lie about their exam results together in the years to come. On Saturday we got ready to head out to the Sydney Opera House to see Kiri te Kanawa, our wedding anniversary present to ourselves. Just as the babysitter walked in the door, Scarlett started vomiting in her cot - the dreaded gastro bug had struck again. While we certainly had reservations about still going out, Rob reminded me of the price of the tickets and we were out the door leaving Scarlett happy in a changed bed and bed clothes. It was a spectacular night as nights at the Opera House tend to be. Kiri was exceptional as always, accompanied by a single pianist. The opera house setting is remarkable and during the interval we grabbed our champagne flutes and headed out onto the terrace to look at the harbour and the illuminated bridge and city skyline. On nights like this there really is no other city in the world I'd rather be. We were home to find our little Miss all scrunched up in bed with no further sickness to report. On Sunday we had Julia, Richard and their daughter Ella over for dinner while they were in Sydney for a few days. They are wonderful friends who we have really been missing since they moved to Tokyo in March. Fortunately their stay there is only for a year and we will be visiting them in Japan in December for some sushi and skiing.

Balmoral beach babes

Had a lovely winter morning on Monday at Balmoral beach with Zoe, her 3-year-old Sam and baby Bronte. Sam and Scarlett love playing together and after some initial squabbling over the ownership of a bag, it was pants off and they were legging it in and out of the surf, laughing then screaming. It was an absolute joy to watch them. Were kept awake on Monday night as our local high street was shut down to accommodate a World Cup live site. We were guaranteed noise either way as Australia were playing Italy and Leichhardt where we live is one of the biggest Italian suburbs in Sydney. Pleased the socceroos got as far as they did before Italy clomped them but secretly happy England will now go further even if it's only until Portugal do their dance of death over us.

All better now

All on tenterhooks in our house as we eagerly await our phone call from Nicole Kidman telling us where we will be going to attend her top secret wedding on Sunday. Hoping she will be asking Scarlett to be a flowergirl. Have an outfit picked out for her just in case. Luckily our young Miss is quite recovered from her recent illness, despite the croup turning into a throat infection requiring Anti-biotics. Rob took her to the Botanic Gardens for a bracing walk to clear away the cobwebs. As usual she was the subject of much attention from Japanese visitors who find her absolutely fascinating. That peroxide and those hair extensions have really paid off. She must be in hundreds of photo albums across Japan. "oh yes this was a blonde girl we saw in Sydney. That building in the background? Oh, it's the opera house or something, but look at how blonde and curly her hair is." We also managed another zoo outing. Scarlett's favourite bit is the ride in the gondola. Back home, she kicked back with some Nancy Sinatra and Mummy's new boots. 'Larti wearing the Mummy boots.' Finally a lovely shot from Rob taken at 6am on his cycle into work. Overnight Sydney has gone bonkers as the Socceroos made it through to the next round in the World Cup. This is the furthest they have ever got in the tournament before. Will be too much to bear if they get further than England however, in which case we will have to leave the country. I hear Togo's lovely.

What the...?

On Monday night Rob and I were watching telly, when we were startled by an odd noise. It sounded quite like a bull seal barking, but as our only domestic pet is a small, quite useless, tabby cat, we naturally assumed there must be a bull seal on the roof of the house. We were wrong. The noise of the large water-loving mammal was coming from the mouth of our dear sweet Scarlett who had suddenly developed Croup. Poor lamb, she cried and barked on and off all night. After a visit to Dr Dimitri, formerly of Moscow, now of Leichhardt, who confirmed the Google diagnosis, he instructed us to monitor her temperature and breathing. He hoped she would improve on her own but added if she didn't we could be facing getting her to inhale steroids (at last a chance to get on the Chinese 'women's' swim team) or worse a trip to the hospital. We took her to the zoo to cheer her up but she stared to go down hill, her temperature spiked and she became floppy and tearful. And so did we. A second night of barking kept us all up, so much so that I had to call in sick yesterday as I was shattered. Scarlett and I passed the morning doing puzzles in our pyjamas, Daddy slept in until midday. Enough said. Then it was Mummy and Scarlett's turn to go back to bed. Another restless night last night and she is still not 100%, seems tired all the time and a bit needy, but the barking is now less seal like and more Lauren Bacallesque. I reluctantly came back to work today and we have kept Scarlett out of nursery so she and Rob are off to the sales - a sure-fire way to make a girl feel better. This pic is months and months out of date but remains one of my favourites and shows Miss Scarlett in the rude health she usually enjoys.

These are our readers

As you know one of my jobs on the Sydney Morning Herald is a fortnightly column I write in the Saturday magazine Good Weekend called Modern Guru. Readers write in with 'etiquette' dilemmas that need solving and I reply. I found the following letter so bizarre I thought you might all like to share it and my answer to it. It will be in the paper next month. Remember, these are real letters.

Q. After our Saturday morning "lie in" is the only time my husband and I use the bathroom together. While I shower, he towel dries and then proceeds to blow dry his private areas. If that's not bad enough he then hoists his foot up next to the vanity and dries between the toes one by one. He says it keeps the tinea in check, I say it's gross. What do you think ?

A. What do I think? What do I think? You've just told me, and a sizeable readership of this newspaper, that after a weekly interlude with your husband, he grabs a hair dryer and blow dries his genitals. Do you understand what you have written? You do know people will be reading this, don't you? I have an image in my head I know will keep me awake for many nights. It is of a hair dryer in the hands of a strange man and it is not being pointed at his head. What do you think I think? Of course it's gross. Anyone would think it was gross. A dog would think it was gross. Not to mention weird. Gross and weird. Why would you need any confirmation? I haven't even started giving any in-depth thought to the tinea situation lower down other than to confirm that, once I get my head around it, I suspect that I will also classify this action of podiatary misconduct as COMPLETELY GROSS. Imagine if he went through this performance before your `lie in'. The sparks would fly, that's for sure. And aren't you curious to know what he gets up to with your hair styling appliances on the days you don't share the bathroom? I think you should pack your bags and leave now and don't forget the hair dryer. Leaving it behind constitutes a flagrant abuse of power.

It's behind you!

Had a full on week recently. Scarlett and Rob had a close encounter with a tiger - it's behind you - thankfully only at the zoo. We had a great Vietnamese dinner out for a friend's birthday on Thursday. The next night, Melissa, Larry and Carolyne came for dinner. Paul was a no show. Bad, bad Paul. The evening was spectacular. Here is Paul's empty place setting. On the weekend we headed south to Bundeena, a lovely village on the northern edge of the Royal National Park to stay with our friends Nick and Meg and their girls Molly and Lucy. Tomorrow is officially the start of winter so we packed boots and jackets. We would have been better off throwing swimsuits and flip flops in the bag as it was baking hot. People were swimming in the sea. I have never felt so inappropriately dressed on a beach. We went for a lovely walk down through rainforest to get to the beach. Here, Scarlett and Lucy climbed a tree so we could take pictures. It was scary how easily they slipped into this innocent pose. Note my arm and hand entering stage left which Lucy is gripping tightly. Her other arm is around Scarlett to stop her falling from the tree. It's all about the smoke and mirrors.

The Graduate

All very exciting today as Scarlett has 'transitioned' from the Beetles room at Nursery to the Caterpillars room. She is quite the grown up little girl now. She can almost count to 10 and can say her alphabet if prompted. Her new thing is that whatever you say you are going to do, she says she wants to do. For example I'll say 'Mummy is going to hang out the washing" and she'll say "No, Larti will hang out the washing." Mummy is going to have a shower", "No Larti is going to have a shower" etc, so I said " Mummy cure cancer" and she said "No, Larti cure cancer". This is good to know. So when she is accepting her Nobel Prize for Medicine in about 30 years, I'll be able to say, we always knew she'd do it. She said she would when she was 2. Meanwhile, though Scarlett might be advancing the health of the planet, I seem to be accelerating towards old age. I fell out of the lift this morning at work and landed on the floor on my hands. On my hands! Like an old person. I'll be getting my hips replaced next. We have our lovely mates Melissa and Larry, Paul and Carolyne for dinner tonight. I got up at 6.30 this morning and, while everyone else was asleep, I made Jamie's Oliver's fish pie. How old person is that? I've turned into my Gran. Will be serving it tonight alongwith Maria's bread and butter pudding. Am using raisin bread and orange and lime marmalade. Yum.

My Blissful Guilty Secret

Below is the piece I wrote for Spectrum, the Saturday arts section of the paper, on the subject of Motherhood for the Mother's Day weekend edition last weekend. Some of you had asked me to see it so here it is.

"When women are pregnant they become public property. Bumps are touched, size is commented on and gender guessing games take place. This I knew, but what I wasn't expecting when I was expecting was other mothers tending to focus only on the negative aspects of motherhood. At six months' pregnant, I had the following exchange with a colleague I barely know. `How are you feeling?' she asked. `Fantastic,' I replied. `I'm really enjoying it.' `You are now,' she countered. `But you wait. The birth's awful and the first six months are just a fog.'She wasn't alone in wanting to spread the dread. Others almost salivated as they told me to forget lie ins and nights out, not to expect my husband to help out and to look forward to when my baby was in daycare. Even darker were those who shared stories of late miscarriages, of horrific labours and death in child birth. I was staggered that most mothers only seemed to be on message if they were sharing the bad bits. It's hardly a secret that labour can be painful and long or that babies cry in the night and need their nappies changing, so why focus on those bits? Why were the stories of the first cuddle, smile and hiccup only shared by the fathers?As it happened I had a wonderful pregnancy, felt fantastic and had bags of energy. I had a fairly swift, though strenuous, labour of six hours, and fell instantly in love with my baby girl when she slid onto my tummy. I took to motherhood with an enthusiasm I hadn't felt before. Rather unfashionably I followed a book advocating feed and sleep routines. They resulted in our baby sleeping from 7pm to 7am from 9 weeks old. We took her to the pool at 4 days old, used a babysitter at 4 weeks and took her to Rome and London at 4 months. Maybe we were lucky, but to me these were landmarks and yet I felt I had to keep them to myself to fit in. I discovered it was uncool to be a mum having fun. At my first mothers' group, the midwife asked us to share our experiences of pregnancy, birth and the first few weeks. We delivered very different accounts. When I mentioned I was having some success getting my daughter into a routine, one bleary-eyed new mum, grabbed at my arm and said `how does this routine thing work?'. Before I could explain that as my husband and I didn't have family in the country we had followed a book, the midwife cut in and dismissed me with a curt `You don't need to bother with any of that'. She didn't want me to share the good bits either.Now don't get me wrong, I know many women have a hard time becoming mothers and don't want to hear about those who haven't. I have friends who loathed pregnancy, hated the way their bodies changed; those who had long, long labours that ended in casaereans, those who delivered disabled babies, those whose babies died. Some cried their way through months of painful breastfeeding, had babies who wouldn't sleep and others battled through undiagnosed post-natal depression. And I know there is a place for these stories. A friend told me she liked hearing the gloomy stories because it helped her to know she wasn't the only one struggling with motherhood.But like anything, isn't it all about balance? For every bad story shared, shouldn't there be an encouraging one, too? Until I had my daughter I hadn't been on a slide or swing for 26 years. It's a hoot. I love that my daughter plays with my old whoopee cushion and that its noise makes her point to her bottom and roll about laughing. I can be immature with her and it's just fantastic. My daughter is only 2 so I know I haven't even hit the really hard stuff yet like homework and puberty and boyfriends with car horns that play the theme from The Godfather. And, of course, our time together isn't all raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. There are tears and tantrums. She has them, too. It drives me crazy when she won't wear the clothes I've laid out, when she refuses the food I've cooked and when she fights me EVERY SINGLE TIME I put her in the car seat. But for all of these things she does 500 other things that I love. And she has such a lovely bottom. I love being a mother. I've never done anything so important or that fulfills me and tests me so much. I think she's amazing. My husband (who helps out all the time) and I still look at her and exchange a glance that only we understand. Life has never been the same since she arrived and that's the way we like it. So, sure, if you have to, tell your friend who is a new mum that she'll be up five times a night and to get used to the smell of regurgitated milk. But also tell her about the soft bit at the back of a baby's neck and how great it is when the only person in the world your child wants a hug from is you.Incidentally, that colleague that stopped me in my joyous tracks went on to have another baby, so it can't have been all bad, can it? I just think it's a shame that she didn't bother to share with me the thoughts and feelings that made her want to do it again. Me? I can't wait to have another one. "