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There are so many things I take for granted on a daily basis - my health and good fortune to name a few. Often, it's only when I'm confronted with the injustice and prejudice that exists in the world, that I then stop and reflect upon the greatness in my life.

Hence, I was fortunate enough to be raised in the first world and just so happen to live in Australia - the 'lucky country'. I do not suffer political or religious discrimination, but rather I am encouraged to exercise my freedom of movement, expression and speech - daily. Furthermore, I have access to education, resources, and health care and am surrounded by countless opportunities.

I am blessed with abundance, my life is full and my cup overflows.

Last Friday Hoover came home from school waving this piece of paper in her hand. She was bursting with pride as she had just composed her first sentence, unaided. As I held the crumpled sheet of paper in my hand I was reminded of how fortunate I am to have received the gift of literacy. A skill I use daily and could not live without, but one I also take for granted.

I am thankful for many things in my life, but that which I am truly grateful for is my parent's choice to immigrate to this country so that their children could have greater choices in life. I value the great education I received at their expense and treasure the ability to read and write, because without this basic ability and gift I am powerless.

My daughter is now reaping the benefit of this choice and I have no doubt in my mind that she too will be powerful one day.

At the end of the long school/work week we all look forward to movie night at our house on Friday evenings. Hence, 'movie night' has become a much loved tradition that we all look forward and hold fast to.

After our weekly catch-up around the dinner table, we then slip into our most comfiest, cosiest pyjamas' and then regroup on the couch underneath the warmth of a shared blanket (in the colder months) to escape together for a few hours to the wonderful world of (more often than not) Disney.

This Friday we couldn't decide what movie to choose, so while the kids were trying to work out what to watch I quickly channel surfed to see if there was anything interesting on the ABC. Mid-surf Hoover got a brief glimpse of George on MasterChef and shouted 'look mama, a cooking show!'

Uffa!

If you follow me on twitter then you would understand my complete and utter disdain for MasterChef as I loathe reality TV with a vengence.

My dear Aunty Peppa was my Nanna's sister in-law and best friend. She was ninety-seven years old when she passed away last weekend and her funeral yesterday was one of the most moving I have ever attended. Her life was testimony to the incredible faith and unconditional love that she possessed and shared with all those who encountered her.

Josephine or 'Peppa' as she was affectionately referred to by those who loved her, lived a long life that was often filled with tragedy, heartache and disappointment. Yet, her steadfast companions in this life were faith, hope and courage.

In her ninety-seven years on this earth Peppa endured two world wars in Malta. Hence, considering that Malta was one of the most intensively bombed areas during the second world war you can then appreciate how terrifying this must have been for young Peppa. Also, at this time Peppa as a young teenager was compelled to raise her younger siblings, after her dear mother tragically passed away during childbirth.

She would then later fall in love, marry and have five children of her own. Peppa watched them grow and in turn marry and have children, as the cycle of life so faithfully continues. But with life also comes tragedy, and so Peppa had to endure what every mother dreads - the death of her own child.

I took Hoover down to Beaumaris this weekend so that she could spend some time with my aunt who also happens to be her godmother. Hoover was a little hesitant to start with as she doesn't get to see her aunt Carolina that often, but things quickly turned around once her great aunt suggested that we head down to Half Moon Bay for an ice cream.

When I reflect upon growing up Maltese in Melbourne in the late 70 and early 80's I can distinctly recall certain food memories with great fondness. Then there are a whole host of food memories from my childhood associated with my father's harebrained schemes and experimentations, which I prefer to bury and repress.

Today is the day when most Australian children return to school and resume their studies. It also happens to be Hoovers very first day of school. To say that our little girl has been dreaming about this day for a very l-o-n-g time is a complete and utter understatement.

The little darling has had to sit back and watch her older brother skip through the school gate and amble off towards his schoolmates for years. She has also had to sit through countless school assemblies, watch her big brother receive umpteen awards and sit through numerous school concerts and swimming carnivals.

This day couldn't have come any sooner for the poor love!

A little part of me hoped that she would be tearful and clingy and that she may even protest or show some sign of distress. But no, not my girl! She confidently hung her backpack onto its designated hook, greeted her teacher with the cheesiest of grins and waved me off without even a backward glance.

 

Yesterday was just like any other day. We slept in, had a late breakfast and then set about attending to a couple errands. One of the things on our 'to do' list was to get Hoover some school shoes. Not any old school shoes I might add, but her very first pair of school shoes!


How did this happen so soon?

Where did the time go?

Day's fly ...

I can remember her first pair of shoes, I still have them in fact. We often take them out of their box and marvel at how tiny they are.

 'Were they really my shoes mama'?

'Yes hanini girl they really were your shoes' I reply.

'Did I like wearing them mama'? she inquires

'You did enjoy wearing them sweetheart, but you much preferred to walk around barefoot'.

In fact she still does. My barefooted, free spirited, fairy girl could walk around ħafja for days on end.



I often wonder how she is going to manage wearing those black Mary Jane's all day long? I suspect she is going to take off like the wind, with grace and ease and a skip in her step.

On Boxing Day we head down the coast for a week. Both Stephen and I are going to leave our MacBooks and mobile phones at home. Hence, I won't be blogging while we are away as we'll be spending our days on the beach and lazing in the sun. I hope to resume life as we know it by the second week of January, or there about.

So have yourself a very Merry Christmas and may the year ahead be filled with abundant joy, hope and new adventure.

I clearly expressed to Huxley that I did not want a birthday party this year as I have just had three weeks of childfree, party time in Mediterranean. I should have known that he would ignore my wishes and do the complete opposite, but I thought that after sixteen years of marriage he would have realised that I loathe surprises and that I can't bear being the centre of attention.

So what did he do last night?  He organised a surprise birthday party at our house of course! What was even more frustrating was that I was clueless to the fact that both he and the children were up to something and consequently I was utterly duped!

I waved Hoover and Fussy off at the front door last night as they stood there bathed and clean and ready for bed in their flannelette pyjama's. Hence, the last thing I suspected upon my return home after a quiet dinner with my colluding girlfriends, was to be greeted at the door by my glamorous, frocked up four year old daughter who then led me by the hand into a house full of people ready to party!



So thanks Corrie, Jacqueline, Yolanda and Ava for conspiring with Huxley against me and for managing to pull the wool over the eyes of the most controlling of control freaks. I love each and all of you despite your power, corruption and lies. And I love all your gorgeous gifts - you really shouldn't have.

May the road ahead be paved with good Martinis!

Over breakfast this morning we were all chatting about how exciting it was that spring is finally here. I love spring and would much prefer if we could have six months of glorious spring and do away with summer altogether, as summer in Melbourne is insanely hot.

Ah, well no harm in trying!

Hoover then appeared in the kitchen after breakfast fully dressed for kindergarten wearing gumboots and fairy wings. I suggested that maybe she would like to lose the wings and change into shoes as it was not going to rain. She replied - 'but mama I need to help Tinkerbell with the blush of spring today'.

'Of course, the blush of spring!'  I repeated. What a complete nincompoop I can be at times.  'Sure bella, keep the wings as I'm sure Tinkerbell can use all the help she can get today'.

When I dropped her off at kindergarten I told her teacher to remind Hoover to hang up her fairy wings once the novelty wore off. When I collected her at 12.30pm this afternoon this is how I found her - bless her!