This Week's Blessings

Our family has grown this week - by two. Not twins but two little boys born on opposite sides of the world, and on the same day Canberra-time.

In 1976, we had two babies born into the family. My brother and his first wife gave birth to their third child, a boy, in March. In November, my eldest sister gave birth to her third child, a girl. These were my third nephew and my third niece. I was nine years old and already had some notoriety for being an aunt at an age when my friends were more likely to be welcoming new brothers or sisters than nieces and nephews. I remember Tony being born in a hospital on the north coast of New South Wales and leaving school early in the day to drive the couple of hours from Sydney to see him. I don't have as clear a memory of Linda's birth eight months later - although it is possible I was also able to leave school early in the day to visit my new niece.

Some 32 years later, Tony is a father for the first time. His wife, Lisa, gave birth to Bailey in Canberra in the early evening of Wednesday. A few hours later, we heard that Linda had given birth to Rowyn in Canada. Rowyn is Linda's third child, her first boy. And although the birth dates are different due to international date lines, the closeness of the births reminded me that I have always thought of Tony and Linda as being linked in some way. Probably this is because, until they were born, my nieces and nephews arrived annually - 1971 Vanessa; 1972 Donna; 1973 Geoffrey; 1974 Gary. Tony and Linda upset the pattern and shared a birth year.

Bailey and Rowyn are continuing another pattern too. Since Jack was born nearly eight years ago, all the babies born on 'my side' of the family have been boys.* And there have now been seven of them. Until Jack's birth, my nieces and nephews were evenly divided, my great-nieces and great-nephews more of a mix.

Happy birthday, Bailey and Rowyn.

* Families being the complicated things they are, this statement may not be correct. Gary has, I think, two children but for reasons known only to him, I haven't had an opportunity to meet them. Nor has anyone else in the extended family. Gary, Garoldo, GET IN TOUCH!

"Every Day is a Blessing"

Jane and Glenn McGrath on ABC's Enough Rope in 2004

I have been deeply saddened by the news of the death of Jane McGrath on Sunday. Surprisingly so. I didn't know Jane. I don't know her family. I only knew of her through her appearance on ABC's Enough Rope and through the many magazine stories I read last year as I went through my own treatment for breast cancer. She was a constant presence in the magazines and, perhaps, a more realistic 'role model' for breast cancer patients than Kylie or Belinda Emmet.

The news of Jane's death has made me think of many things. It has plunged me back into the maelstrom of my own tussle with cancer. Most days, these days, I can almost forget that 12 months ago I was down a breast, hairless, and in the middle of chemo. Most days, despite the breast form and the short hair and the daily tablet, life is 'back to normal'. Jane's death is a reminder that cancer is a serious opponent and that once it has entered your life, you are never quite free of it. Even if you are one of the lucky ones who only have to battle it once.

Jane McGrath used her experience and her "celebrity" for good. The McGrath Foundation aims to fund breast care nurses in hospitals across Australia. In the ACT, we are lucky to have three breast care nurses funded by the ACT Government. I cannot sing their praises enough. My breast care nurse was and continues to be a tremendous resource. It was Bethel who lead J and I through the medical maze that you enter with a diagnosis of cancer. She explained procedures. She gently raised the possibility of a mastectomy, preparing us for the surgeon's recommendations. She showed me photos of mastectomies and breast reconstructions so that I wouldn't be completely horrified by what had happened to my body after surgery. And more than 12 months down the track, she is still only a phone call away, answering my questions, providing referrals, and advice, and an ear. Everyone who is diagnosed with breast cancer should have access to a Bethel ... and the McGrath Foundation is a very practical recognition of this.

Mostly, though, I have been thinking about Glenn McGrath's tribute to his wife. I've been thinking of their children, James and Holly, facing the rest of their lives with only memories of their mother. I've been thinking about Glenn's comment that he never took for granted his life with Jane, that "every day is a blessing". Every day is a blessing ... even when work is frustrating and a small boy is insisting on doing things in his own way, in his own time. Every day is a blessing and we should celebrate each one with a smile, a laugh, and the joy of being alive.

On the Table

I can't claim this photo as my own. It comes from a new magazine I discovered recently, Mindfood (incidentally, it was this magazine that provided the recipe for last weekend's citrus delicious). This weekend, though, Mr M and I attempted to create our own version of Apple Cake with (or in our cast without) Apple Wafers. We enjoy baking together and I'm trying to let us become more adventurous with our shared cooking. When we decide to bake a cake, Mr M runs to the bathroom and chooses a towel to spread out on the kitchen floor. Then he finds the big red mixing bowl in the cupboard and the silver measuring cups and is ready to go. He is slowly mastering the art of stirring so all the flour is blended in, has nearly got his head around the idea of taking turns with the stirring, and has conquered the art of the taste test. Sad to say, though, that on this occasion the apple cake looked better than it tasted. Mr M wasn't impressed at all - he took a couple of bites and returned to playing. Nor has he asked for another slice since.

Have you heard of Michael Pollan? It seems to me that he is everywhere at the moment. On the radio, on blogs, in the gardening pages and book pages of the weekend newspapers. He has just published a book called In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto, which opens with the following seven words:

Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.

From the little I have read and heard, his central premise seems to be that you shouldn't eat anything that wasn't available to your grandmother to eat. This rules out diet soft drinks and "fast food". It also rules out the breakfast cereal that is my daily staple and most of the things that come in packets and cans. But I'm intrigued by the thesis and by the number of times his name has come up in the past fortnight so I suspect I shall be buying his book soon. I'll keep you posted.

I'm Late, I'm Late ... Again

On Sunday I had all sorts of ideas about what this week's post might be. Can't recall a single one tonight; can't even recall why I didn't post on Sunday. What excuse did I have? Most likely I decided that watching Persuasion on ABC1 was far more important than turning on the computer. (I did try to watch it with an open mind but, really, it wasn't a patch on the Amanda Root/Ciarin Hinds version. Anne spent too much time staring into the lens of the camera and, much as I adore Rupert Penry-Jones in Spooks, he is simply too handsome to be Captain Wentworth.)

At midweek, the household is weary. Mr M appears to have 'slap face'. He did have a cold over the long weekend and this evening came home from playschool with a bright red right cheek. My internet search has found results that lurch from informing me it's terribly contagious and hangs around for months, to the more comforting announcement that by the time the red rash appears, the worst is over. This is why you shouldn't rely too much on the Internet to diagnose illness. For a little while following my diagnosis last year, I tried to research my disease and possible treatments on the web. It seemed to be the thing to do if you wanted to take control of your treatment and be what we called, in the days when I worked in consumer affairs, an 'informed consumer'. It was hellish. Invariably, I found myself hot on the trail of a possible treatment (usually of a 'natural' variety) only to discover an hour later that I was caught up in loony-land and being asked to pay not insignificant dollars for a 'cure'. In the end, I stuck to the most mainstream websites I could find and relied on the medical profession for advice. At times, this felt like a cop-out, as if I was abdicating responsibility for my own recovery. Most of the time, though, I believed that relying on the Internet was the surest way to madness. Now how did I get on to this?

It hasn't been all colds and weariness this week, though. Mr M has a new 'big boy' carseat, which he has taken to with enthusiasm. I did think he was going to cling to his old seat and refuse change but he has adapted to his new booster and H-harness willingly. I have a new mobile phone - with a camera - although I still can't work out how to email photos. A phonecall to the provider's helpline is required. Once I have that sorted, though, I'll be able to add photos more easily to 52 Sundays. And we went on a small bookshop crawl on Sunday on which I found two treasures - this one on the work of Margaret Atwood and this one which I had been thinking about buying on ebay for a much higher price than I paid in Fyshwick!

A Week in Dot Points

• Tuesday: worked.
• Wednesday: worked.
• Thursday: worked a very long day due to corporate function held at 6pm.
• Friday: worked ... with the assistance of a couple of skim cappucinos.
• Saturday: took the little one to watch his cousins play footy. On the north-western edge of Canberra. Not a house in view, just large green playing fields (despite the drought) and scrubby paddocks on the other side of the carpark. The under-8s playing footy were vigorous, enthusiastic scraps of energy - except when they were distracted by their new mouthguards or the play moved too far away from them and they were free to watch the clouds or kick tufts of grass. Made a delicious citrus delicious for dinner - why have I assumed that you can only use lemons? The combination of oranges and lemons was uplifting.
• Sunday: slept through the middle of the day, thanks to the thoughtfulness of the two boys. Even the littlest one kept his attempts at playing Superman to the non-bedroom end of the house. This meant I had the energy to stay awake and watch Emma on ABC1. Hmmm, it wasn't inspired but it was a pleasant enough reminder of why I love the book. Did Mr Knightley have to look so ghastly, though? And why was Emma lit so that she looked like she had a moustache? Obviously, I wasn't fully engaged or I wouldn't have noticed these things.
• Monday: swimming lessons. We have started again this term after having to abort last year's attempt due to my illness. This year, we are trying a company that uses the term 'tots' in its name. This has caused some problems because Mr M insists he is not a baby and doesn't need to learn to swim with babies. He has, however, almost mastered the art of floating and can't stop smiling when he is in the water with his teacher. I can't stop smiling because at this swim school I don't have to be in the water with him. Although the pool is small and other classes are going on in various parts of it, I can have a little swim of my own, on my own.