Two stops early

It's amazing what happens when you grab the chance and get off the tram two stops early.

I keep seeing these pieces of street-art from the tram when I'm near my work. Today I got off the tram two stops early so I could enjoy them up close and photograph them. Finally!

For reasons that appear apparent to me, the piece above reminds me of Kirty's recollection of a Joni Mitchell song.

My youngest loves ladybugs at the moment. He'll be wrapped with this photo.



And, of course, a tiger. This one's pretty good for a stencil art-piece. Nice lines.

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From the mouth of babes

From the mouth of babes, originally uploaded by Mark Lawrence.

From the mouth of babes, originally uploaded by Mark Lawrence.

Did you ever think that one day you would raise fire-breathing monsters?

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Happy Third Birthday Jamie!

It was Jamie's third birthday on Saturday. Jamie is my second child – our baby, but certainly not a baby any more.

It was a lovely day for all of us. We had an afternoon tea party for him (mainly grown-up family, with a couple other kids too) with some afternoon tea food, lots of presents, lollies and chocolate birthday cake. I believe he was quite happy with the day.

One of the presents we gave him is some playdough (or playdoh as the proprietary stuff is called) and all sorts of playdough extrusion and molding implements and he's having heaps of fun with it. He really enjoys playing with the home made stuff, and we thought this would be one of the last chances we could get him something like this where he would enjoy it before he grew out of it. In just only three days, nearly all the bright colours have been mashed together into that sludgy brown-grey, but that hasn't seemed to spoiled his enjoyment of the stuff.

My sister came down from Brisbane for the weekend and it was great to have her with us, especially for Jamie's birthday. And that's not only because she rescue me from getting stuck with the chocolate cake recipe my mum had given me over the phone. I think it helped that my sister had done that recipe before, whereas I hadn't! Honestly, it was a relief, and kind of nice to have my big sister there to boss me around again – for a bit.

Jamie had asked for a chocolate cake for his birthday, but it was hard to tell if he really enjoyed it. Perhaps he was too full from all the other party food. It's hard to find a nice, though simple, choc cake recipe that kids will also like. I may have another go at this one and see if it he takes to it at some other time. If you have any ideas for a good kid-friendly chocolate cake recipe, do let me know.

The photo above is from a couple of weekends back - not his birthday. I still haven't uploaded the birthday party photos to flickr, but when I do I'll be back here to update with the photos so stay tuned.

But from the photo you can get an idea of his cheeky, vibrant, fun-loving character. He is a really sweet-natured child, caring, loving, generous and sharing, and usually full of cuddles and hugs, though of late he has been developing his independence and learning to identify himself discretely from us, his parents. And his big brother! I think you can imagine what that can be like. Happy Birthday Jamie! We love you very much!

I have been remiss in keeping my blogging up to date, so I hope this little news will explain one of the reasons I've been so busy, despite there being so much news to share. I hope things get better on the blogging front soon. Bear with me.

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Wind in the Willows is 100

I have a number of abiding memories from reading Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows as a child and young teenager. Some strong themes stand out for me, in particular the spirits of discovery, adventure, fun and camaraderie that imbue the book, its critique of the excesses of wealth, and its celebration of idyllic country-river life.

Of course, as a teenager I also had a strong desire to one day be able to ‘muck about in boats’. It was only much later as an adult did I realise the extent that food was also a strong theme running both through the book and my experience of it. With this year being the centenary of the publication of Kenneth Grahame’s most famous and enduring work, I thought it worth while to revisit this theme in Grahame’s book.

In a writing class some years ago, we were all asked to bring some food with a literary theme to share, and to select and read in class a scene involving food from a pice of literature, to celebrate the final class of the year. One of my classmates (Hi, Heather!) read from a scene in the opening chapter of the book where Rat takes Mole on a picnic on the river bank in what is Mole’s first ever – and defining – experience of the River. She also brought every single food item listed by Rat to be in the picnic hamper to share at the party.

I just want to set the scene for you. The Mole has just seen the River for the first time, has just been befriended by the Rat, has just gotten into a boat for the first time, and is about to embark on his first ever River excursion with the Rat. During a quick stop-off at Ratty’s home on the river bank, Rat reappears “staggering under a fat, wicker luncheon-basket.”

‘Shove that under your feet,’ he observed to the Mole, as he passed it down into the boat. Then he untied the painter and took the sculls again.
‘What’s inside it?’ asked the Mole, wriggling with curiosity.
‘There’s cold chicken inside it,’ replied the Rat briefly;
coldtonguecoldhamcoldbeefpickledgherkinssaladfrenchrolls
cresssandwidgespottedmeatgingerbeerlemonadesodawater––’
‘O stop, stop,’ cried Mole in ecstasies: ‘This is too much!’
‘Do you really think so?’ inquired the Rat seriously ‘It’s only what I always take on these little excursions; and the other animals are always telling me that I’m a mean beast and cut in very fine!’

In case you had difficulty deciphering from Grahame’s writing what the Rat had packed, here it is again:
cold chicken, cold tongue, cold ham, cold beef, pickled gherkins, salad, french rolls, cress sandwidges (sic), potted meat, ginger beer, lemonade and soda water.

The only thing my classmate couldn’t manage to bring was the potted meat – if only because she wasn’t sure what it was – and she compromised with some paté. As you can imagine, we had a great end-of-year celebration that year.

My classmate’s passionate recreation of Ratty’s and Moles’ river-side picnic lunch rekindled my interest in The Wind in the Willows, and reminded me of other scenes involving food in the book. When Mole gets lost in the Wild Wood and Rat goes to rescue him, they take refuge from the snow, nightfall and dangers of the Wild Wood with Badger, whose hospitality includes an ample supper and a lovely breakfast the next day.

In my favourite chapter, 'Dolce Domum', food is also the social lubricant that makes Mole’s rediscovery one winter evening of his own home the warm and joyful experience it is. First we have Rat displaying his optimism and can-do attitude to rustle up a tin of sardines, a box of captain’s biscuits, a German sausage and some beer from Mole's stores for his and Mole's supper. When the local young field mice out caroling turn up to sing at Mole’s front door, Rat soon packs off two of them with a shopping basket and strict instructions for more provisions to cater for the impromptu event. The joy with which Mole sits down with his guests to a table laden with food later that evening is a significant marker of the importance of food in hospitality and 'house-re-warming' – not only in Grahame's experience of country England of that period, but for all cultures everywhere, I'm sure.

I don't want to delve to far into what experiences influenced Grahame's book, or his idealisation of country life, animals or rivers in England. And I don't particularly want to get into the theory that suggests that food and food scenes in children's literature take the position of sex and sexuality found in adult literature – other than to mention in passing (heh!).

This is more an opportunity, instead, for me to pay homage to a book that had a big impact on my early life, and remains a favourite for various reasons – food being one of them. It is also a book that has survived a hundred years quite well, considering the popularity of the plays based on it performed at Melbourne's Royal Botanical Gardens each summer, the television shows based on it, and how children are still taken with the adventures of Mole, Rat, Badger, Otter and, yes, even Toad.

The guardian.co.uk and Telegraph.co.uk have great articles on Kenneth Grahame and the book to mark the centenary, and offer some fascinating insight into Grahame and what inspired and motivated him in writing the work.The Guardian piece has the bonus of publishing my all-time favourite EH Shepard illustration for the book, which I've not shown here only because it is still under copyright. It's the one that pretty much summed up the book for me as a child. EH Shepard's illustrations are generally considered the favourites and most identifiable with Grahame's book. The illustration above (not by Shepard) was published with the Telegraph piece.

As the weather warms up and our thoughts turn to the wonderful possibilities of picnics and barbecues and their associated foods, or just enjoying the gardens, rivers and creeks near us, I hope the Wind in the Willows offers you some inspiration. I know it will me. Perhaps I'll even make it out to the Fairfield Boathouse on the Yarra River to muck around in boats.

Cross-posted at Sarsaparilla.

[Note: sorry, I've just noticed the image was not displaying - I've fixed that up. Updated 9.42am Friday 16 January 2009]

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Tearing open the heart

I'm having trouble coming to terms with the enormity of the tragedy of the drowning death of the father and his two sons in Tathra, New South Wales. They were burried today in Bega, NSW.

Each time I hear or read the news of the event, I feel terribly troubled – almost in pain – to the extent that I don't allow myself to dwell too long on it, and the excruciating pain that must stem from such a tragedy. Today I'm facing it, otherwise it may haunt me.

I'm a very visual person, and I tend to visualise situations and events, particularly imagining how they may have unfolded. It's what I do, and it somehow meshes with the 'worse-case scenario' type of thinking I'm prone to.

From the reports, I understand that the father drowned after he jumped off the wharf to rescue his two young sons (four and 18 months) who had fallen in the water. The two boys also drowned. From an early report, police were investigating whether the older boy was playing with the pram his baby brother was in the minutes prior to their falling in. The three had gone for a walk on the wharf at Tathra, a popular holiday spot in New South Wales.

Part of my tendency to visualise and imagine the worst is that I also can't help but wonder how this could happen to my two boys and I. It could so easily have happened to any one of us. Kids fool around, big brothers (and sisters) often want a turn pushing their younger sibling in the pram. You take your eyes off them for a second to ask the fisherman on the wharf if the fish are biting. You hear shout or a splash, you panic, the terror rises up. You jump in. I would have, even though I cannot swim very well.

No, I don't feel any better having written this. I've imagined it yet again, and it hurts. But I've also been reminded that constant vigilance is a price for the joys of raising children and being parents. And this is in no way a suggestion that the dad at Tathra had not been vigilant. Not at all. I know exactly how quickly, and terribly easily, it could all come crashing down. That imagination feeds my paranoia when the kids are mucking about in places or situations I don't feel safe in or about.

I know that my feeling troubled at these events pales in comparison to the trauma and deep grief the family, especially the mother of the boys, and the wider community in Bega and Tathra are feeling. And will feel for a long time. The grief of losing a child, let alone two, and your lover, can tear open your heart. Especially when your memory of your partner is coloured by what happened to your children.

I know many, many people live with grief each and every day, and I've had my share of grief from death in the family, so I know that time will heal.

Honestly, though, if I had not been able to find them in the water, I don't know if I could have come back up to surface to face the enormity of the pain of it.

Vale, Shane, Riley and Travis. May you rest in peace.

[Image of the wharf at Tathra, NSW, by sophiec]

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Happy Eighth Birthday, Jacob!

It was my older son's birthday on Saturday. Jacob turned eight.

We had a party on Saturday for him and four of his school friends and his two Melbourne cousins (and other relatives) involving a round of mini-golf and then a birthday picnic at the park. We then had a late BBQ lunch for the family after. It was a pretty busy day, as you can imagine. And exhausting.

Mini golf is a strange game. It's stranger to watch five eight-year-olds (we'd split the party into manageable groups for the golf) struggling to hit little white balls into not much larger holes with unwieldy clubs over deviously frustrating tracts of poorly maintained artificial grass. I think the kids had fun.

The cake and treats certainly made up for any frustration though.

In all, I believe Jacob enjoyed himself. He even said so.

Jacob's been really enjoying his birthday presents, in particular the electric train set we gave him (in conjunction with his Nana). He's been a train buff for a long time, but this is his first electric model train set, and he was really excited about it. But it turned out to be larger that we expected, so it took nearly all of Sunday for his mum and I to build a special platform train set so that it could be kept safely out of reach of feet, accidents or his little brother's hands.

With sheets of plywood and lengths of timber, glue, screws, sandpaper, a borrowed electric drill and a great deal of elbow grease, sweat, occasional swearing and good planning, we managed to get it finished last night just after dinner. It still needs quite a few finishing touches, including a paint job, but it gives Jacob the chance to set up the tracks and run his train, which he's enjoying a lot.

Happy birthday, son! It is amazing to think that it has been eight years since I witnessed your birth and you came into our lives. Smitten as only new father can be, I marvelled at how amazing you were. And you continue to amaze me. Your mother and I really didn't have much of a real idea what we were in for when you were born, but it has sure been an amazing adventure.

I love you, and I hope your life continues to be an amazing adventure!

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6 minutes isn't even enough time to help my youngest go to the toilet

'One Minute Aussie Dads', the headlines screamed when I spotted it on the tram going home from my night class on Monday. Well, it was something like that, because I didn't pay very much attention. If it hadn't been on the front of the free, waste of old-growth forest glorified shopping catalogue distributed free on Melbourne's public transport that I saw from across the aisle, I may have paid a bit more attention to it – beyond wondering what beat-up about dead-beat dads it was beating up.

I'd been in work training in the city all that day, so no internet, no email and no blogs, and hadn't heard the news. But there it was again the next day when I did get on the net at work.

There was a whole bunch of news items reporting the research findings of social researcher Lyn Craig from the University of New South Wales that Australian fathers on average spend as little as one minute a day alone with their children – on weekdays. Or, on average, six minutes alone with their kids from Monday to Friday.

I'm not sure who these fathers are, or how these averages are calculated, but it doesn't sound anything like any of the fathers I know well enough. It certainly doesn't reflect my experience.

6 minutes didn't even cover the time it took me to help my second go to the toilet to do a poo this evening. Or to wash his hands.

(He's two and a half, and he started toilet training a week and a half ago, and he has been going wonderfully well this last week, with accidents getting fewer and further between. He has even moved on to doing a poo on the toilet this last couple of days, which is a great accomplishment, and which required my sitting in the hallway outside the loo keeping him company this evening before dinner, and more… Hmm, I bet that was probably a bit more information than you really wanted, isn't it?)

Then there's the bit of time before the loo thing that I spent with my two boys in the front yard playing cricket. And I didn't come home from work and yoga yesterday to immediately blog on these reports because I was putting the boys to sleep. And I bet you know (or can guess) how long it can take to get two boys to go to sleep.

I'm not trying to talk myself up, or request a round of applause. I guess I am saying that the research findings came as a bit of a surprise to me. Perhaps that is the shortcoming of assuming that many - if not most - other people are like yourself or the people you know.

But even where I consider the many the differences in socio-economic, cultural, and educational backgrounds and attitudes amongst the people around me, I find many who apparently share some traits with me – fathers who care about spending time with their kids and being directly and intimately involved in their care, and mothers who expect, encourage and enable this participation.

A lot of the reporting on the research was that fathers spend time with their children alongside the mothers of the children, and spend more time alone with their children on weekends. Another finding was that many fathers believed that the care for children was the responsibility of mothers, while for fathers it was a hobby.

It is probably true that many, many in Australia still hold such attitudes, and many for whom time with the kids is time as a family, rather than one-on-one or without mum around. And there are a lot of men who are struggling to balance work demands with their desires to spend more time with their families at all, let alone time alone with their kids.

But there are also lots of fathers who spend a great deal of time alone with their children, and relish it. And it's not just time spent playing sport and other 'blokey' things. This can be shuttling kids to and from school, or helping them with their homework, reading to them, drawing with them, putting them to bed, or just hanging out. And enjoying it.

By all means, do still take them to the footy. At least you've got that.

If we don't talk about the fact we are doing this, and why, then the kinds of attitudes identified in the research, and the dearth of time fathers spend with their children without the mediation of mothers, will continue.

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Queenscliff and Point Lonsdale

We had a great time during our weekend away to Queenscliff. In actual fact, our holiday was in the Bellarine Peninusula, as we stayed in a self-contained cottage in Wallington, about 15 minutes inland from Queenscliff, and, besides enjoying Queenscliff's township, we also made forrays to Point Lonsdale for its beach and to see the lighthouse.

I have a thing about lighthouses, and you wouldn't believe how happy I was to see and photograph the one at Point Lonsdale. The current structure has been standing since 1902, when it replaced the wooden lighthouse that had been operating since 1863. I wonder if the wooden one burned down. The plaque didn't say.

I hope to photograph the lighthouses at Airey's Inlet and Cape Otway some day, and have a complete set of the lighthouses of the Bellarine Peninsula and Great Ocean Road.

The kids are train fanatics and Queenscliff is famous for its tourist steam railway, so there was no way we could avoid a steam train trip. To be able to take our younger son on a ride, we chose the shorter 40–45 minute round trip from from Queenscliff to Lakers Siding. Short and sweet, but much going for it, including passing by some lovely views of Swan Bay and the Marine Discovery Centre (more on that later).

Queenscliff station is a simple, old country railway station with volunteers running the steam trains as a 'living museum', much like Puffing Billy in Belgrave and the museum at Daylesford. Lakers Siding was just a stop with just a little old post and telegraph office. But there we got to watch the train shunt around the carriages and join up to the opposite end to take us back to Queenscliff.

We also visited the Queenscliff Marine Discovery Centre, which is a marine research and education centre run by Victoria's Department of Primary Industries. They don't have an extensive public exhibit, but we got there just in time for the floor talk and feeding time (the creatures are fed on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays). It was a really good way to see some of the marine life of Port Phillip Bay, including sea horses, sea cucumbers, scallops and such, and for the kids and adults to learn of the impact of litter, plastics and other acts of human inconsideration on marine ecology and sea life. We also got to touch the seastars, hermit crabs and other hardy creatures in the touch tank.

We stayed at a self-contained holiday cottage on the grounds of a B&B in Wallington, set in a mix of bushland and farmland. It was quite easy to get to from the Bellarine Highway, which was amazing because dotted around the property were these amazing, massive and ancient grass trees.

You could tell they were old because they are very slow growing and many had tall trunks and even taller central floral spikes. The one above didn't have half as tall a flower spike, but it was stunning and in blossom. This was pretty much the view from the kitchen window whenever I was at the sink:

Not bad for washing dishes, wouldn't you say?

You can find more of my Queenscliff holiday photos on flickr.

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Holiday interruptions…

… are, of course, the best kind. But it does mean I have had little time or energy for regular blogging this week.

We are going down to Queenscliff for the weekend, and that means I won't be able to blog very much. I may manage the odd brief email blog post, but being on holiday I won't feel very obligated to do so.

It's school holidays, so... you can imagine what things are like at home. But that doesn't mean I haven't been having fun. Yesterday, I took the boys to ACMI for a free claymation workshop they are holding for kids, and we had a great time. I wanted to blog about it after, but was too exhausted.

Work has been pretty busy as well, so I've had little energy to blog these last few evenings. And I hope to do just that sometime next week. And, things going well, some photos of the holiday.

Along with some observations on the emerging trends in the new Opposition new leader, Malcolm Turnbull, portraying himself as charismatic and all-Australian (despite him being the richest man in parliament) against an 'out-of-touch', boring, technocratic, jet-setting PM, Kevin Rudd. Hmm, we live in interesting times when the richest man in parliament – a conservative – can pose as the hero of pensioners and paint the Labor PM as mean and an elitist intellectual.

Meanwhile, you can keep track of what I've been – and will be – up to via Twitter.

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Happy Father's Day

I've had a good sleep in, unwrapped the lovely toiletries and bath salts my son (eight years next month!) has given me (is he trying to say something?), read the cards from both the boys, and read bits of the Sunday paper.

The late breakfast things have been cleared (raisin toast, coffee and a delicious lightly toasted muesli with with nuts, and soy milk, low-fat yoghurt, frozen blueberries, banana and sultanas – I'm on a cholesterol-busting diet), and I've showered off the crumbs.

And I've called to wish my dad Happy Father's Day – he lives in Brisbane so I can't with he in person, but I do know the presents I posted him earlier last week arrived in good time And hopefully he will enjoy them.

So I'm taking a quick few minutes to send my best wishes for the day to all the fathers out there in blogland, especially those who read this blog and whose blog I regularly enjoy – Steven, Tim, Mike, Phil, and Matt, to name a few. And also to David Tiley, who once told me to enjoy the simple, lovely moments with my kids while they're young, because before I know it they'll be all grown-up and raiding the fridge. This morning, I did.

Happy Father's Day!

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Waiting at hospital emergency is an endurance sport

My every intention to post earlier and regularly this week went out the window late on Tuesday night when I had to join my partner in waiting at the Emergency department of the Austin Hospital. We were waiting for the paediatrics emergency doctor to see our younger son, Jamie.

Before you get too concerned, be reassured that he is pretty much fine, and I've taken the day off work to stay home with him. (In fact, he's just gotten into my lap as I type this, demanding to see animals on my laptop!)

But at the time my partner took him (and his big brother) to emergency at the Austin she was very worried. His tongue was swelling up, he had been complaining of pain in his mouth and had trouble eating earlier that day – a big thing for a little boy who loves his food.

She was at the hospital since around 7pm with both boys – shunted from Emergency to the after-hours GP clinic at the hospital, where she had to wait more than two hours to see the doctor. The doctor thought that our little boy's rash, fever, mouth ulcers, being unsettled, clingy and fretful, amongst other symptoms, were probably hand, foot and mouth disease, but there was uncertainty because he'd already had it, or so we thought, a few weeks ago. So he suggested getting a second opinion from the paediatrician at Emergency. So back to Emergency for more waiting.

It was at that point that she called me at home at about 10 pm to come and wait with her. I had been to yoga earlier that evening, so had no idea what was going on until I got out and checked my phone messages on the tram going home. My partner reassured me that it wasn't urgent or life threatening, and that she just needed him to be seen by the doctor, and so I should go home instead of meet her at the clinic. But when it became clear she was going to have to wait for the Emergency doctor, she thought it best I join them.

So it was then that I learned first hand to what extent that the main event at public hospital emergency departments is waiting. You hear and read that this is the case so often, but it's not until you have to experience it yourself that it really hits you. I got there at around 10.45 pm, so I didn't have to wait as long as the others in my family.

Waiting for a doctor at hospital emergency – especially with a sick child – is exhausting, worrying and very stressful, and should qualify as an Olympic endurance sport. And you should get bonus points when you do it with your other child (or children) who was so far wonderfully patient but steadily getting tired, bored and grumpy.

So to cut a long story short, we ended up seeing the doctor long after midnight, when she confirmed it was probably hand foot and mouth after all, although there is a plethora of viral infections that haven't been identified or even named yet for which a rash is a symptom. We got out at around 1 am, and I didn't get to sleep until 2 am – exhausted but relieved Jamie was not seriously ill.

Needless to say, my partner and I were wrecks the next morning (yesterday), and I barely made it through a half day at work. Jamie, on the other hand, was a lot chirpier.

My experience of a Victorian public hospital Emergency department was nothing like what you see in TV medical drama. It was eye-opening, but honestly, I don't want to get to know the public hospital and emergency system any better at all. Mind you, I'm not rushing out to buy private insurance. The medical and support staff were lovely, and very good, thank you very much.

Today, Jamie and I drew a picture of his brother.

It's at moments like these that I am thankful that I work for a very family-friendly organisation that lets its staff, including men, take time off to care for sick children without fuss.

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Children's book honours kicks off children's book week

The Children's Book Council announced this year's winners of its annual children's book awards this afternoon. Melbourne author Sonja Hartnett won the award for book of the year for older readers for her latest work, The Ghost's Child (published by Penguin Australia).

This tops off a fantastic year for Hartnett, who earlier won the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award, the world's richest award for literature for children and young adults.

I remember reading a press report of the awards ceremony in Sweden in May where Hartnett commented that children's writing, and children's authors, are not take as seriously in Australia as they are in Europe (despite hunting, I couldn't find the story online). I'm uncertain how telling an indicator of this it would be, but it would be interesting to see if The Age's Saturday arts, books and culture supplement, A2, will cover the Australian Children's Book Awards winners in its edition tomorrow. Or how much.

Bookwitch has a story on Hartnett's Swedish prize adventures and her writing.

Here are the other prize winners for this year's Children's Book Awards:
Carole Wilkinson’s Dragon Moon won the prize for Younger Readers, while Aaron Blabey’s Pearl Barley and Charlie Parsley won Early Childhood Book of the Year.

Meanwhile, Matt Ottley’s Requiem For A Beast won the Picture Book of the Year, an award Shaun Tan won last year for The Arrival. The Children's Book Council (and various booksellers) have to keep reminding buyers that the Picture Book of the Year is not necessarily suitable for all age groups – as picture books are not just for young children!

What I found pretty interesting about this year's awards is that the winner of the Eve Pownall Award for Informational Books was a book about books – Parsley Rabbit’s Book About Books, by Frances Watts and illustrator David Legge.

I haven't come across it before, but the ABC Shop’s website describes it this way:

“Celebrate the joy of reading and begin a lifelong love of books with the delightful Parsley Rabbit and his pesky little brother, Basil. Lively and entertaining, it features a remarkably clever and handsome rabbit and is full of fun, flaps to flip and questions to share. Parsley introduces children to books - from the cover, to the imprint page to the title page, formats, style and more - and takes the reader on a hilarious and stimulating journey through the world of books. An absolute treasure of a book for children from 3 – 7 years."

What a wonderful way to introduce children to the art and process of making and enjoying books, and not just reading them (or having them read).

And a wonderful way to kick of this year's Children's Book Week (also a CBCA initiative), which starts tomorrow. It is a week of activities that lots of book stores, schools, libraries and authors and illustrators get into each year to encourage the joy and wonder of books in children and to celebrate books for children and young people. But this is not just something to be left to teachers, librarians, authors and illustrators.

This year, I'm going to buy a couple of children's books for my two sons and add them to the long lists of books they enjoy reading/having read to them each evening.

What are you going to do for Children's Book Week this year?

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Men balancing work with caring for children

Are you a father who finds it difficult to juggle the demands of your work with your desire to play an active part in raising your children? Well, according to another new report on the difficulties of the 'work/life balance', you are not alone.

The latest research by Barbara Pocock, a South Australian academic and leading researcher on work-life balance, and her co-author, Natalie Skinner, found that over half those surveyed "felt that work sometimes, often or almost always interfered with activities outside work."

By "activities outside work", I think you can take a fair chunk of that includes raising children and having a relationship with your partner (if you have one), or even visiting your parents or siblings, and the rest of it could include other things like taking out the rubbish, doing the dishes, cooking meals, reading the odd book or two, catching up with friends, and fitting in a trip to the museum or the footy.

The researchers also found that men working long hours are suffering from the pressures of balancing work and life, but that women working the same hours are suffering more.

Again, that is no surprise because women are still expected – by far too many men – to take the lioness's share of caring for children and keeping the household from turning into an avalanche of sludge.

But I'm sure you don't need another research report to tell you that it's a struggle to balance the demands of work with the needs and desires of raising children and keeping family life on track. But the key thing that I'm picking up from this research, and the teetering tower of research that has gone before it, is that men are finding it a crunch.

Yes, this means that people are generally finding work pressures are getting worse, including the pressure to work longer and harder. But what is noticeable is that men are noticing how the crunch is affecting their family lives – because they want to have a family life in the first place.

I'm sure we cannot say that a majority of men are up doing this yet, but I know that there is a growing number of men who take an active role in the raising their children – because they want to.

By this I mean more than just playing with our children on weekends and perhaps reading to them at bedtime, but also being involved in their school issues and homework, sharing in ferrying them to and from school or child care, playing with them, taking turns to cook meals for the family and do the household chores, and more importantly taking and active part in supporting and caring for our children's developing inner, emotional life.

Fathers are not just appendixes. We are part of the crucial anatomy of family life and raising children.

But there is no denying that it is hard to juggle all the demands of life - especially the often competing demands of work and family life. But all is not doom and gloom. Many men are choosing to scale down their work demands, including working part time, forgoing promotions, or choosing to work in organisations that don't put as much pressure on th workers to put in long hours at the expense of personal and family life. And, admittedly, this often comes at the expense of financial security and ease.

I highly recommend Cast Iron Balcony's fantastic post responding to the same research. Drawing on her observations from her workplace, Helen writes of the changing situation of men taking on the responsibilities of caring for children and notes that it is not just possible, but quite plausible to cite family responsibilities as reasons to leave work early, arrive late, or take time off so that fathers can pick up their kids, care for them or just take and active part of the family.

Mark Bahnisch at Lavartus Prodeo has also posted briefly on the new research on Work/Life balance. One of the commenters at the Lav post points out that the SMH's coverage of the story focuses on a high-achiever, a woman who manages a large staff, as a case study. Interestingly, The Age's treatment of the story in its Insight Saturday supplement (26 July – sorry, I can't find the story online) focuses its coverage on the case study of a high-powered male lawyer who went part time – 3.5 days – in order to stay home and care for his young children on his non-work days, which also allows his wife/partner to pursue study.

But, it is worth remembering, because is helps put this story into perspective, that this is something that has been discussed and covered in the media for a long time, been long advocated for by the union movement, and frequently been something of a political hot topic for opportunists on both sides of parliament.

However, many of us aren't just waiting for the media, government, policy-heads or other people to keep cycling through this conversation. We're doing it – now.

Would you like to share how you are juggling the work-life balance?

[Men at W.o.r.k. image gratefully pinched (sorry, borrowed. Yeah, I'll give it back, promise.) from Helen at Cast Iron Balcony. Can't keep a good idea down.]

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Winter – Wordless Wednesday (No. 5)

It has been a while since I've done a Wordless Wednesday, but it thought I'd try again, seeing that I actually liked some of the photos I took at a family outing to a park in Brunswick on the weekend. It has been cold here this last week. Winter has truly set in.

Last night I went to the forum 'Growing up Asian in Australia' last night, held to mark the launch of the new anthology of writing by writers of Asian descent – about growing up Asian in Australia – edited by Alice Pung, and I've had Hanif Kureishi on my mind .

Wouldn't you know it, his website has a story with a tree, children, an 'Asian' father and a park. Oh, and an errant ball. I recommend you read his story 'Hullabaloo in the Tree' to go along with the photo. I will blog on last night's panel when I have some time later this week.

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Flowers for your day

On the tram coming to work this morning, I gave up my seat so that a young child who had just got on could have it. It was no big deal – I was only three stops away from work, and I've been trying to get off a stop early to stretch my legs, so it wasn't heroic at all. But it didn't quite work out as I intended.

Within moments of the mother and child getting on the tram, I had heard this little piping voice calling, "Sit dowwwwnn…" (as they do), and the mother saying, "No, you can't sit down, it's busy," (it was, very). I know what it's like to keep a young child standing upright on a busy, crowded tram, so I wanted to be helpful and considerate to the child. After all, other people had done the same for my children at various occasions.

I got up from my seat and stepped toward the mother, passed a couple of people in the way, and said – loudly enough for others to hear as well – "she can have my seat if you like." She smiled and thanked me, but as she negotiated her child passed me and a couple of other passengers, she saw that someone else had sat down in my seat!

A large man in trendoid clothes, sunglasses, and a pair of headphones clamped to his head had taken the seat I had offered for the child.

How rude! The twit. He seemed oblivious to the few glares thrown at him by various people around us who realised what happened, but, then again, he struck me as particularly self-absorbed and lost to the little things, and little people, going on around him. By that point, I was too far away to say anything to him. Thankfully. Perhaps I'm being unkind, but I never really liked mirror-style aviator sunglasses.

Instead of letting this incident chew on me today, I considered how things – whether acts of kindness or utter selfishness – have a tendency to come around to you again in the long term. Including for Mr Aviator-Sunnies.

Luckily, for the little child, a woman sitting across the aisle from where I was gave up her seat for her – without fuss.

I've added the lovely flowers (above) I photographed off Block Arcade in Melbourne on Monday as an offering for all you nice and considerate people out there – especially all of my readers – as a fillip for the day. Along with my hopes that you have a lovely day.

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Two

It was Jamie's – my younger son – birthday last Friday – he turned two. That, in part, explains my silence here on the blog front. As does my sister's flying visit from Queensland over the weekend.

As you can guess, we had a lot of fun, and it did take us a while to get things back on track. A bit longer for the blogging to get back on track, but there you go. Life happens.

It is pretty astonishing to think that only two years ago I announced his birth here. How many parents of young children exclaim about how quickly time passes with young children, and how quickly they grow? On Tuesday, while I was caring for a cold-suffering Jamie at home, I witnessed another step in his remarkable growth: he saw a photo of himself with his brother on my desk, pointed at himself and said his own name – as clearly as any two-year-old boy can!

Self-recognition and being able to say his own name – repeatedly – within earshot of his own parents, that is. Wow.

My partner and I have found it so amazing to watch this little baby grow into toddler, and now into a little boy. He is loving and caring, and demands cuddles regularly – even in the middle of cooking. He also loves toys and books, as you can see from the photo of him unwrapping his presents on the morning of his birthday.

He enjoys books, trains, cars, balls and teddy bears, along with other soft toys and pretty much anything his big brother is playing with. He loves having books read to him, turning the pages and asking what everything is in the illustrations. He has his favourites – whether books or toys – but he is still happy to experience, play with or have read new things.

Jamie adores his big brother with a passion, and misses him when he's away. Despite the usual wrangling that comes with the 5-year age gap between the boys, and little things like incompatibility in the intricacies of games, toys, and other complex big-boy arcana, big brother Jacob, in turn, loves Jamie with a fierce but tender passion.

What a joy. Happy birthday, Jamie. We love you very much.

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A nail-biting, edge of your seat, razor close game

A nail-biting, edge of your seat, razor close game, originally uploaded by Mark Lawrence.

Jacob and I went to the footy on Saturday – a night game: Collingwood (Pies) v North Melbourne (Roos). We met up with a friend and his boys and caught the train in together. It was my first ever live footy match, and I enjoyed myself despite neither of the teams playing being mine.

It was a very close game – Collingwood made a good come-back to lead at the end of the second quarter, and at one stage leading by 3 goals in the third, which pleased Jacob tremendously. But North Melbourne made a strong surge in the last quarter and with a quick succession of goals stole the lead – by 3 goals!

We had to leave before the final minutes to beat the rush to the train, but we heard that while Collingwood scored a few more goals, North still beat them by 7 points.

The close games are the most exciting ones, but it has done nothing for my results or ranking in the office footy-tipping.

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37 bikes in the bike shed

Yesterday was Ride to School Day, where school children were encouraged to ride their bicycles to their schools (under their parents' supervision, in the case of youngsters) – instead of being driven there by their parents. Our eldest son's government school got in on the act.

He rode the bicycle he got from us for his birthday last year – the whole two-and-half blocks to his school. It was his first time riding his bike to school, though he's probably ridden more than twice that distance for various neighbourhood outings. All the same, he was pleased as punch to be able to ride his 'BMX'. He was not so pleased at his mother's insistence at documenting the occasion with my camera (at my request). Hence this perfect back shot.

Not that taking an alternative to the car to get to school is novel to us. My eldest has walked the two-and-half blocks to and from school for the vast majority of his last two years of schooling. Unfortunately, this year's family travel arrangements have changed somewhat, but that's another story. It has made the bike ride an event, though.

In today's school newsletter, the Principal reported there were "37 bikes and 14 scooters in the bike shed yesterday," and that "This did make a difference to the traffic conditions in the immediate vicinity of the school." I wouldn't have hoped for less.

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Wordless Wednesday No.3

Bubbles

Wordless Wednesday was nearly photo-less this time round, with things really busy during the day. I thought I'd just make it in anyway with this photo I took of my partner's niece – well, my niece too, I guess – Alix. I took this on Saturday, when we were celebrating my partner's mum's birthday, and her grandchildren were out playing in her backyard.

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(Not so) Wordless Wednesday No. 1

I first learned about Wordless Wednesdays from two peas, no pod, and I've decided to start doing it here. It's late, but it just sneaks in today! The idea is to post a photo of mine each Wednesday (I hope) to share, with a few details of the 'where', 'when' and 'what' of the photo's subject (and maybe 'how' of the photography), and to leave it at that – let the photo tell the story. Hence 'wordless' Wednesday. You can learn more, and find other participating bloggers at the home base of everything Wordless Wednesday.

This is my second son, Jamie, at San Remo on our way home from our Phillip Island beach holiday. He has this amazing capacity to sit and occupy himself – amazing for one his age – as he was when I took this photo. He's also wearing my favourite of his t-shirts.

This being my first such post, I'm going to break the rules and say a bit more. Besides, it's also a week since I last managed to post here, so this helps to break the drought.

Tomorrow will be Jamie's first full day of child care. That is a big thing for us, as it means that we will be trusting him into the care of people who are not his extended family or close friends of ours for some stretch of the day. This will be a big thing for him as well, I'm sure.

It will be for two days per week, for now, and somewhat different from the weekly three hours of occasional care we've had him in the last six months at the local Neighbourhood House. But this means that his mum can start going to uni this year, and his dad can keep going to work to pay the bills and fit in study and writing as well, so we are really appreciating the fact that so far he has taken well to the new day care centre.

He has had his orientation there: a number of two- and three-hour stints over two weeks at his new child care centre so that he can get used to the place, the setting, the carers, and the idea of being in care there. We feel that we can trust the carers and their ethos, and we know that Jamie is ready to be in child care a couple of days each week, but this is still a big thing for us. He will be growing and doing things some days that neither of his parents will get to see, and I can admit to some trepidation at the whole thing.

Sure, we've done this before, over a number of years, with his older brother, but it's been two years since we've had a child in day care so it's still some getting used to all over again.

It is certainly shaping up to be a busy year for our family. What I'm thankful for, though, is that I can fit in study and child-rearing responsibilities around my very family-friendly part-time job, including my working from home on Tuesday mornings while Jamie is at the Neighbourhood house, and then going to get him and spending the rest of the day caring for him! This means we can still spend some decent time together each week!

Jamie, you're growing fast, and this year you're going to do some of that growing beyond our eyesight. So it is my privilege to record and share here some of that growth that I do witness!

Okay, from now on, Wordless Wednesday posts are going to be a lot more wordless!

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