Autumn

One of my neighbours used to spend his weekends picking up every single leaf from his yard, until eventually he got sick of it and had the offending trees cut down.

Another neighbour spends autumn with a rake in her hands. I watch with an evil delight as she finishes a long afternoon of collating the mess, only for the wind to blow another gust of reds and oranges. You'd never know the ground had been green only a minute earlier.

At our place we let the leaves lie where they fall. I love to walk through them, finding a little satisfaction in the crunch. Like a full stop to another step taken.

Today, though, I'd like those leaves in neat little piles. I'd probably even go as far as sorting them into colours, and discarding those that are shades in between the vivid.

Instead, I'll let these little feet crunch in them, and wait out the unsettled gusts.

I want to love where I live

Over the weekend we visited a friend on her farm in South Gippsland. It's a beautiful spot as it is, but add to that she's just had her dream house built atop a hill that overlooks Wilson's Prom.

Seriously stunning.

As we walked around her farm I told her how much I like it there - the views, the beauty, the peace.

She nodded. "When I can't sleep I walk around here in my mind," she said, by way of explaining the calming effect this place has on her.

I've fallen out of love with the area I live in, and I'm trying to find a way to reclaim that. There are so many considerations, pros and cons about the possibility of moving - the balance between being grateful for what you have and wanting more.

Her words struck a chord beautifully. That's exactly what I'm looking for when I say I want to love where I live: a place I don't want to escape from, but rather escape to.

The rush of rock climbing

There's nothing like choosing an experience from RedBalloon that teaches you a lot about yourself. When I was invited onto the #RedBalloonMums campaign, my first thought was, ROCK CLIMBING!

See, when I was pregnant last year I battled with a lot of "stuff", and all I wanted was to go and climb a cliff. The urge to do this was like the strongest craving (even worse than wanting to eat ice-cream all day and all night). I read up on it and it turns out there's this theory where taking on physical challenges - specifically those with immediate outcomes of accomplishment, like rock climbing and running - can help combat anxiety and depression. It made perfect sense, those were the exact things I was trying to get a grip on... only it was a bit hard to go rock climbing with a baby on board.

My baby girl is seven months old now, and the craving for adventure has only got stronger over time. So when #RedBalloonMums came calling I immediately searched their site for the best climbing experiences.

The weekend before last was The Day. It was the first time I'd left my baby for a whole day, so I was nervous about that - although at least it distracted me from my nerves of the climb! Once I got over that I had to face up to the big challenge...

The first hurdle for me to cross was putting my trust in strangers (not my strong point). The guide had a system in place where we didn't have to just trust one person belaying (holding the ropes), as there was another backing them up, which was intended to help the nerves of those trust issues... but really made me nervous of having to trust two strangers. When I got the highest was when I had the most trust in the main person on the ropes - it's so important to have good back-up before you can think about the task at hand.

"Just let the belayer know you're about to fall," the guide suggested, and we all laughed. It sounded silly to say you know you're about to fall. But he was serious: "It's true, you'll know you're going to fall. Most of the time it happens because you've talked yourself into it."

So, up I went. It's madness, really, trying to defy gravity and all your logic is saying this is impossible. But you keep going because you can see rocks to grab and the adrenalin starts to rush and you peek down and see you're getting higher and you get a little bit addicted to that feeling. You think, maybe just a bit higher, maybe just one more step, and then that feels so good you try again for another.

Then you reach a point where you're sure you can't go any further. There is nothing around to grab onto. Nothing. My heart raced and I'd hang there like some sort of spiderwoman, convincing myself I could go further - then I'd reach around the rocks with my hands and feet and find a spot I didn't know was grab-on-able.

(Not my best angle)

(Warning: life metaphor ahead.) The thing is you need to have a vague plan of what's coming up so you head in the right direction, but you can't think too far ahead. You really just have to focus on the next step and trust that the one after that will work itself out. Stay on track but don't get too far ahead of yourself (another of my not-so-strong points).

But I think the hardest part is actually after you reach a really stable point. It's hard to let go of that stability to the uncertainty of the next, perhaps treacherous step that might just be your undoing. (Again with the metaphors!) My big mistake was reaching those points and stopping to feel comfortable for a little while. I just couldn't get going again, couldn't convince myself to step off. The guide laughingly asked me at one point if I have commitment issues, because I'd try to step up but wouldn't fully commit myself to it. No, actually, I have issues with UNcommitting!

"I'm going to fall," I called out below. So yes, the guide was correct in his earlier prediction.

On my next attempt, I got higher. So high I was only a couple of body lengths from the top, but the same thing happened again. I found a spot that was relatively comfortable and couldn't get my head or my body to go up any more. I was happy to have gone further than before each time, but I never did reach the top and that frustrated me.

You wouldn't believe the rush of this adventure. Each climb, I was so focused and so filled with adrenalin that by the time I hit the ground again I was shaking all over. For 24 hours afterwards my head was scattered and I was sore and exhausted. Perhaps the emotion from the build up of this craving and the meaning it held for me to do this rock climbing played a big part in that feeling, and I guess it was a real life lesson for me.

I want to do more rock climbing. I want to work hard to prove that I have it in me to get better and better - and maybe even reach the top next time.

*

Want to learn more about yourself through an amazing experience?

RedBalloon have an offer for readers of this blog:

Spend $129 or more on any RedBalloon experience, and receive $30 off.  To redeem, visit www.redballoon.com.au and enter the promotional code REDMUM04 at the checkout to receive your discount.

Terms and Conditions: Offer valid until 31/12/13. Promotional Code can only be used once per person. All purchases are subject to RedBalloon T&Cs, for full details see: www.redballoon.com.au/help/terms-conditions

Thanks to the team at Digital Parents Collective for inviting me to be a part of the RedBalloon Experience program. I will be sharing my awesome experiences with you over the next few months. As always, all opinions are my own however the experiences are complimentary.

My life list

Yesterday's post about making a life list seemed to resonate with some. I think lots of us feel like we're floating a bit at the moment - questioning what's next, and what's important in this world of having access to everything and anything. I also think we spend lots of time reading others' opinions and hearing what they're doing, which can distract us from where we want to be.

Sitting down and really thinking about what you want is a worthwhile exercise.

There aren't any rules with a life list. The point is to write what comes to mind, to try to find your priorities.

Rather than being vague any longer, though, here's mine (I find there's something really grounding about a pen and paper, so I'm going with the handwritten version):

These are the things I want to focus on over the next stage of my life, and how long this stage lasts will be determined by when I next feel a bit lost.

They're the things I need to remind myself of. I find it really easy to get lost in my work and obsess over how much I'm achieving. I find it hard to slow down and realise the importance of the little things. And so my list focuses on family, wellbeing, slowing down and making life a little bit lovelier.

(The "real books" part is because I rarely read books anymore, just magazines and online articles. I miss books. Plus I feel sad that my girls don't see me enjoying books - and if plonking on the couch reading is what it takes to be a good parent, then I guess someone has to do it.)

(The "Love where I live" thing might need an explanation all of its own - and I certainly need some further clarification on it - so I might write about that further.)

What would your life list look like?

Making a life list

Making mud cakes at kinder

A couple of years ago I was in the midst of a big career decision. Two paths lay ahead of me and I had to choose - and fast. It was one of those times that I didn't know which way my instinct was pointing.

My husband is a wise man - he knows never to tell me what to do - so he suggested a way for me to reach this decision by myself.

And so it was that I came to write a life list, one that set out my priorities. I love a list at the best of times, but even I snubbed the idea at the time. I mean, I know what's important to me without writing it down! Still, I went along with it because there weren't any better suggestions going around.

Writing a list can provide such clarity. I wrote down how I wanted to spend my time over the next few years, and then figured out which of my career options suited that lifestyle best.

I'm in the need of a new life list. Not a "five year plan" or anything concrete or formal, and not even one that lists any goals as such - but one that sets my priorities and reminds me to focus on what's important.

That's all it might take to clear my mind once again.

Sometimes, life is perfection

Sometimes you just need to let life fall.

And the sun has the chance to shine in all the right spots.

The light shows where you're broken and why that's okay.

There's a bigger picture at play.

Like a diamond in the sky.

The confidence of running your own business

There's one big difference between working for someone else and running your own business. Confidence.

The former requires turning up every day and completing - to a certain extent - a defined set of tasks. You are validated every day, perhaps by having someone agree with your decision, or even just by knowing that the outcome will be a number on your bank account balance. I'm not trying to downplay the struggles of working - for me, a decade of being a young woman pushing her way up the ladder in a male-dominated environment really required each and every bit of confidence I could muster. It's just in a different way to what I do now.

Working for myself is sometimes a bit strange, and it's actually a struggle most days - not in terms of motivation (quite the opposite, I find myself wanting to work too much), but in that confidence.

I have to front up to myself every single day with the belief not just in a job I'm doing, but in the whole business. I need to believe that what I'm doing is worthwhile, that my efforts will pay off, that I'm not wasting my time.

There is no job description, no one to say that this is an important thing to do. There are few consequences if I don't do my work, no company chain to break down if one link fails to show up. It's just me and my self-belief. (And that's the biggest ask of all.) Even if you love what you do, there's an internal battle that asks why you should get to enjoy your day while everyone else struggles away in the 9 to 5 grind.

I haven't had made a lot of time for my work of late. That's just life sometimes. And it kind of feels like a part of me has been chopped off. Not even in an "I'm losing my brain being with the kids all day" kind of way, but more a "Something's missing" way.

And that's how I know my little business is right for me. When it becomes a vital part of you, you know you're doing the right thing.

*

A little aside that's sort of related to my work (drawing a long bow there, aren't I!): remember the car fire drama? It's all sorted now, and we have a 'new-to-us' Landcruiser that's already been out camping twice. It will see us through lots of adventures over the coming years!

Connection

I pulled my baby girl towards me, holding her face with my hand just as she likes me to. I looked in her eyes as I sang along: "It's just so easy when the whole world fits inside of your arms".

Later that day someone I know gave me some news. She's moving away. This is someone I've relied on to help me through this past year. She's given me the ability to stay strong.

They say people enter our lives for a reason. Over the years I've had friends who have enriched my life or taught me more about this world and myself. Some of them stick around, others drift out - maybe gone forever or perhaps one day to drift back in. Only time can tell that story.

It's like I'm losing an anchor, left to once again float by myself. I encouraged her, congratulated her, gave her the words she wanted to hear, but I don't really know what it's like. I've never moved away from these hills. Don't really want her to go. But like any change, there are lessons to be learnt.

It's time to trust in myself once again. To know that she didn't give me that strength I've been feeling - she supported me as I found it in myself. It was always there and will remain so, if I make that choice.

I've learnt that when it's all too much, when I'm overwhelmed and ready to melt down with frustration, I shouldn't run away. Those are the times I need to let others help me rejuvenate that strength.

Most importantly, I now know the value of connection. To really feel a touch, to give honestly from my depths, to make eye contact with not just a glimpse but to look. Really look.

The whole world is right here in my arms. All I have to do is hold onto it.

Lessons from a weekend away

Toasting marshmallows by the campfire (on another camping trip)

As we drove towards the weekend Steve asked, "Did you pack the camera?" No, I'd forgotten. Being a writer and a blogger, I never usually leave home without a notebook and camera, so I thought about asking him to turn the car around. But I didn't.

The place we camped was nice enough, but not somewhere I'd write about, making this an actual holiday from writing. Rare for a travel writer!

What is worth writing about, though, is the time we had.

We went away with some new friends: three other families from Abbey's preschool. The eight adults set up camp, cooked together and chatted, watching the seven children play all weekend.

I learned a lot. Like...

If you choose the right people to go camping with, everything just falls into place and it's really easy - and fun.

A baby is happiest when watching others, crawling in the dirt, eating leaves and having funny faces pulled at her by other kids.

You can't hide your real self when chatting around a campfire; it removes all guards to reveal genuine souls.

Toddlers can be gentle and gorgeous and my heart has melted away from the dreading of going through that stage again.

Hanging out with people who are all about their families inspires me. We talked about the dreams we have - as individuals and as couples - and the fun times and tragedies that have passed by us. It all came back to now, to our kids, to just doing the best we can. I found that really grounding, and it refreshed how I see my little family.

Sometimes you need to stop taking photos, trust your memory, and let kids play without being the paparazzi. I soaked in the joy on Abbey's face, watched her caring nature when another child was hurt and enjoyed getting to know her friends and their families, all of whom are genuinely good people.

When no one uses technology all weekend there becomes a time to really connect and be a part of life.

And when you come home from a weekend like that, the only things that remain are those that are important. Perspective and clarity find a home and you know that where you are is exactly where you're meant to be right now.

Mums should be exempt from getting sick (plus a giveaway!)

This post is sponsored by Wellwoman and Digital Parents Collective.

See below for a great giveaway!

Remember when you'd play chasing games as a kid, there would always be a zone called 'barley'? It was a safe spot that you could stop and know you couldn't be 'got' - except there was always that kid who ignored the rules and got you anyway.

Falling sick is like a game of chasey, and motherhood should be barley - but sometimes that illness comes and gets you regardless.

Yep, mums should be exempt from getting sick; all we're trying to do is look after our families and keep things running smoothly. But when an illness strikes a mum the whole 'smoothly' part of that sentence stops and instead we're left trying to look after everyone as well as find some time and space to recuperate. It's just life being mean while we're screaming, "Barley! This is meant to be BARLEY!"

During Iris's babyhood I've been struck down with a few minor things: mastitis (repeatedly), migraines, flu, gastro... even a few nightmare days with both mastitis and gastro at the same time. Totally unfair. I couldn't keep anything down, I was feverish - and yet, still had to feed a baby.

It took a while for me to find a way to look after my own wellbeing amidst the chaos of a newborn and having two kids. It's really hard to look after others, look after their health and your own, fit in everything that needs to be done plus a few things that each of you want to do, not push so far that you get run down, and stay sane at the same time. (Anyone feeling exhausted yet?)

But like I say, those are minor illnesses in the scheme of things. What happens if something worse hits - the really tough bully kid getting us in the supposed barley location?

My Mum had breast cancer many years back now. With four kids to look after, a job to hold down, bills to pay and everything else that comes with life, well, it was tough going in so many ways for her and for all of us. I don't know how she did it, but Mum pulled herself and all of us out of that hole. But these things have lasting effects.

I sat in denial for years. It was only after Abbey was born that I started checking myself regularly and agreeing to tests to gauge the genetic risk. I guess it suddenly clicked that hoping I wouldn't get breast cancer wasn't enough of an effort, and I knew I had to give my girls the information they'll need to look after themselves.

And so we hope, we cross our fingers, and then we do whatever is within our power to stay on top of our wellbeing.

It’s good to know that these days there’s an option to help out if things like that do happen. AIG Direct now has cancer insurance – they call it ‘Wellwoman’ – which covers seven types of female cancers. This means that a payment of between $25,000 and $45,000 upon diagnosis can help with your family and lifestyle and allow you to focus on getting well.

Because realising that there isn't a 'barley' on motherhood only makes you value your health more than ever.

This post is sponsored by Wellwoman - a cancer insurance aimed specifically at female cancers. Click on the image to find out more.

Giveaway: an hour all to yourself!

One reader will win a one hour full body and mind massage with thanks to RedBalloon, valued at $110.

Just leave a comment telling me: What do you love to do in your 'me time'?

The best answer wins! Click here to see the full terms and conditions of this giveaway. Competition ends at 11.59pm on 30th April 2013. Good luck!