Hi Dad,

Today is Remembrance Day, and you’re on my mind.

You went, even though you didn’t choose it, even though the war was so far from home.

You came back with no parade, no celebration, just silence. But I know you carried it all—the sound of helicopters, the roar of lions on jungle raids, and the constant unknowns that came with each day.

You never told me much about those parts. You were just being my dad, not letting me see those moments – You were the funny, positive guy everyone knew as “Irish”.

I wonder about the things you didn’t say, the simple details—what the food was like, if you ever felt a breeze in that heavy heat, or if you and your mates found a moment to enjoy a smoke and forget about the war for just a while.

You kept those memories to yourself and only ever talked about the friends you made, the laughs you shared with the ones beside you

Even from when I little, I have always known what these mates meant to you – even if I didn’t understand why at the start. I now know they got you through - they gave you the strength to keep going.

It’s those same friends who still remember you today, the same scruffy lot who were with you back then. I think about how they turned to say goodbye to you, not in suits or pressed shirts, but exactly as they were—a little rough around the edges, a little untidy. They knew you didn’t need them to be anything other than themselves.

 They still come together every Anzac Day, and they leave a beer on the bar at the British for each one in your troop who’s no longer here.

One of those beers stands for you now. It sits there, untouched, all day. At the end of the night, they leave it there, a symbol that you’re still with them, even as they say goodbye for another year.

I know that row of beers is growing, that each year more of them will be joining you rather than staying behind. But the pride, the laughter, the stories—they’re still there. They talk about you, “Irish”, and your mates as if you’re still right there with them.

I often wonder if you can see us, too. Are you proud of us? Can you see the boys and how they’re growing up? Jasper, he’s so much like you. He’s got that quiet courage, that strength that you carried, even when you were just being my dad and keeping the darker parts  to yourself.

Then there’s Alfie—he’s got that cheeky side of yours, the same grin that’s half trouble, half charm. He would have been the one who slept through raids after a late night like you. Just like you, he can be a handful, and I think you’d get a kick out of it.

Remembrance Day is a chance to honour what you gave and what you held close. I don’t need to walk in your shoes; you did that for me and for all of us.

Thank you for every part of it, Irish — for your strength, for the friendships, and for everything you chose to share.

I’ll stop. I'll pause. And I’ll remember.

And I always will.

Being Batman’s little brother is a strange role, especially when you’re not the one wearing the cape or facing the battles head-on. Instead, you’re there, just outside the spotlight, watching your best friend gear up for challenges you can’t even imagine.

 It’s a tough job to be the sibling of the “Batman” in your life—the brother who’s constantly in and out of hospitals, facing medical challenges, living with a resilience that seems otherworldly.

As Batman’s little brother, you’re there through the long waits in the hospital, the whispered conversations, the times when life feels flipped upside down. You see it all—your brother’s bravery, the weariness that comes with constant doctor visits, the way they carry themselves, sometimes too strong for their own age. You feel every twist in the journey, even though you’re not the one directly in it. You’re not the one getting poked and prodded, but you’re right there, feeling each part of what your brother is going through.

Sometimes, being Batman’s little brother means holding back, keeping your worries in the background, because you know your sibling is facing something huge. Please do not feel you need to.

You are not just Batman’s little brother – you too are a superhero. You are playing your part in a quiet way, being the supporter, the one who’s there without needing the attention. You learn early on that whilst your brother might be Batman, every hero needs someone in their corner—someone to laugh with, to take them back to normal when things get too much.

Faith becomes a constant companion, especially for the sibling who feels like they’re on the sidelines. Faith that your brother will come through the next surgery, the next appointment, the next long night. Faith that the roles you play, though different, are equally essential. You lean on faith that your sibling’s strength will pull both of you through, and in turn, you learn that there’s a strength in just being there for them.

The importance of being Batman’s little brother is often unspoken, but it’s deeply felt. You’re part of a team, standing by the hero in your life, helping them be strong even when the path is uncertain.

And one day, you look back and realise that while Batman faced the battles, you were there, too, quietly becoming stronger in your own way, learning that even the quiet roles are powerful ones.

So here’s to Batman’s little brothers and sisters— you get to choose which heroes you are. But you are the ones who stand beside their heroes, holding onto faith, courage, and the belief that being part of someone’s journey is its own kind of superpower.

Here we are again, approaching marathon number 17. You’d think by now, I’d be ok with this. After all, I’ve done the training. The early mornings, the long runs, the physio appointments, the promise of foam rolling, and the endless carbs. I know the drill. I have done this before.

But as the big day approaches, I can’t shake the nerves. The marathon is the party, the moment where all the work is supposed to pay off. And yet, here I am, again, overthinking every step.

As a marathoner, I’ve been here before. I’ve crossed finish lines and felt the runner’s high. I know what it takes to push through the tough km. But no matter how many races I run, I can’t help but feel that little jolt of anxiety before each one. Will I make it? Have I done enough? Is there some unexpected hill I haven’t prepared for?

Runners will want to weave into any conversation that they run. And relate it to what they are currently doing. This my friend, is no exception.

Marathon running reminds me a lot of parenting teens.

The unknown, the questioning, the second guessing – that is parenting teens.

I’ve been through the stages of parenting before. I’ve navigated the toddler tantrums, the first days of school, the homework battles, and all the in-betweens. But parenting a teenager- it’s like stepping up to the start line all over again. You’ve put in the work (years and years of it), but when the stakes feel higher, so do the nerves.

Parenting teens, much like running a marathon, requires a mix of careful preparation and handling the unexpected. Sure, you’ve laid the foundation – given them the tools, the advice, the guidance they need. But life can throw in its share of unexpected twists and turns. Some days, parenting feels like a breeze, and other days, you’re wondering why on earth you signed up for this.

And yet, we keep going. We lace up our shoes, show up for our kids, and do our best to navigate those tricky kms – whether that means negotiating curfew with a teenager or pushing through kilometre 35 with legs that feel like lead.

We push through, as we know the finish line is worth it.

Training for a marathon (have I mentioned it is number 17) has taught me that no matter how prepared you are, doubt will creep in. But that’s part of the journey – and in many ways, that’s what makes the end so rewarding.

The same goes for parenting. We may not always feel ready for what’s coming, but we’ve built the strength over time. We’ve trained for the challenges, even if they show up in ways we didn’t expect.

So here’s to the big party – both in marathons and in raising teens. The nervousness, the excitement, the uncertainty – it’s all part of the process. At the end of the day, whether it’s crossing the 42.2km finish line or watching your child reach their next milestone in life, both are achievements that make every bit of effort worthwhile.

Let’s face it – if we can get a conversation out of a teenager after school, we can handle anything.

Including marathon number 17.

As a parent, watching your child go through surgery is one of those experiences that grips your heart in a way you never imagined. It’s the sort of thing you think about, sure, but you never really think it’ll happen until you’re there, sitting in that too-bright hospital waiting room.

And then suddenly, it’s real. It’s happening. And all you can do is watch.

I found myself in there recently. Feeling all the usual emotions—fear, worry, helplessness. But as my son was prepped for surgery, I saw something that changed how I was feeling completely: I saw his strength.

Now, I know, parents are meant to think their kids are brave. But this was something different. As I looked at him, with his hospital gown draped over him and his 13-year-old hands still holding “monkey”, there was something about his calmness, his quiet braveness and resilience.

No fear, no hesitation, just this calm, unshakable strength.

I half expected him to look up at me and whisper, “I’m Batman.” And in that moment, I really believed he might be.

You see, Batman isn’t strong because he has fancy gadgets or a cool car. He’s strong because he faces challenges head-on. He fights the fear, the unknown, and everything in between—and comes out stronger on the other side. That’s what I saw in my son. A boy who, despite having a chronic disease and facing the unknown, was stronger than I could have ever imagined.

When your child starts channelling their inner superhero, it gives you a little perspective. In that moment, I had to remind myself of something bigger, something beyond the hospital walls and the nervous energy swirling around us. I had to have faith that this was part of a greater plan, even if I couldn’t see it.

There’s a certain peace that comes with letting go and trusting in something bigger than us. I realised that my son wasn’t just showing his strength; he was helping me find mine, too.

His resilience reminded me that faith doesn’t mean the absence of fear—it means trusting there’s a purpose behind it all, even if it’s not immediately clear.

Finding your own faith when facing the unknown is about trusting that, even when things feel uncertain, there's something bigger guiding you. It’s leaning on the idea that things will unfold as they’re meant to. Sometimes, it’s just about letting go and trusting that your faith will carry you through, one step at a time.

As I watched him get wheeled off, I smiled. Yes, I was still scared, but I knew he had strength beyond what I could comprehend. And I knew that, like Batman, he would face this battle and come out the other side, stronger than ever.

So, here’s to the little Batmen in all our lives—the children who show us what true strength looks like, even when they’re the ones going through the tough stuff.

 And here’s to having faith that there’s always a bigger purpose, even when we can’t see it.

After all, even Batman needed a little faith sometimes.

We are in Week 9 of Term 3.

This term, my 8-year-old has been to the school office 15 times.

He has had numerous tummy aches. He’s had concussion. Well, he hasn’t had concussion. He watches quite a bit of football, so he knows concussion is serious and gets you at least a week off life if you have it. He’s had a headache. He’s had a sore arm, a sore finger, a sore knee and a sore foot. He’s been tired. He’s had a temperature (that one was verified by evidence).

And then the last, my favourite. He took himself to the front office and declared that he had nits. That he has had them since he was 3 years old. That is apparently 5 years of head lice. After the wonderful receptionist/negotiator checked him over, I am pleased to report he did not have head lice. However, his response...."School policy not to return him to class if he is suspected of nits…."

So he was again once picked up from school early as he just needed to be home.

It’s been a term. Week 9, Term 3. It’s been a lot.

These little hearts are so tired. These big hearts are so tired. So again, this is my message to you.

Please

Please don’t think being tired makes you a bad parent; it means you care.

Please don’t forget that self-care isn’t selfish; it’s necessary.

Please don’t believe that asking for help is a sign of weakness—it's strength.

Please don’t let it consume you when things don’t go as planned.

Please don’t think you’re failing because you can’t do it all.

Please don’t expect to have all the answers right away.

Please don’t feel guilty for needing a break—everyone does.

Please don’t assume your hard work goes unnoticed.

Please don’t think you need to hide your struggles—you're not alone.

Please don’t overlook how important it is to just show up, day after day.

Please don’t doubt that messy days can still be meaningful.

Please don’t ever feel like your best isn’t enough—it is.

Please embrace the mess—it’s part of the beauty of life with kids.

Please take time to breathe, even on the busiest days.

Please laugh with your children often, it heals the soul.

Please be proud of how far you've come, even if the journey isn’t perfect.

Please remind yourself that growth happens in the tough moments.

Please do cherish the memories you’re creating, even in the chaos.

Please trust that you’re exactly what your child needs, just as you are.

Please.

Dear Teen,

I know the world you live in isn’t easy. You didn’t create the world you live in; we did.  We know it’s hard. We know it can often seem like a struggle between what’s real and what’s imagined.

Please know, I don’t I want to shelter you from the magic of the digital word. But what I want for you, is for you to truly experience the beauty of the real world.

So, these are my hopes for you. To help you. To help you live in the world we created.

I hope you look up from your screen and see the beauty in the world around you, beyond the confines of a filtered feed.

I hope you explore the world with your own eyes, not other people’s pictures. Finding joy in nature, adventure, and the simple moments of everyday life.

I hope you embrace moments that can’t be captured by a filter, knowing that the best memories are those lived fully and authentically.

I hope you value genuine connections made face-to-face and understand that true relationships are built on shared experiences, not just online interactions.

I hope you discover your own path without feeling the need to compare yourself to others, trusting that your journey is unique and meaningful.

I hope you stop and take a breath when you see a mountain you climb, feel the warmth of the sun on your face, and the richness of real experiences that fill your soul, not just your feed.

I hope you realise your worth comes from within, from your character, your kindness, and your actions, not from likes, followers, or online validation.

I hope you know that life is hard. Hard things will happen. To everyone. At some stage. And you will need people in the real world around you to hold you tight and help you take that next step.

I hope you can take a step back and disconnect from the digital world often enough—not because I want to shelter you, but because I want you to truly experience the beauty of the real world.

That is in front you of. Every day.

Love Mum

Yesterday, my 7 yr’s old fish died. All 4 of them. Gone in one day. He had unplugged the heat pump…to charge his iPad.

It was 1 degree yesterday.

I didn’t break it him that the fish potentially may need the heat to survive in winter. We just talked about the fish. How it was their time, how they had a good life, and how they might be in heaven now.

Through the many tears of his lost fish, which admittedly he could only recall one of their names, he asked me the big questions.

It wasn’t what you expect. It wasn’t is there a heaven, where do the fish go now and why do people and animals (some which we remember the name of) have to pass on.

He asked me this.

Why did we buy it in the first place? We knew the fish would die. Which means we knew one day we would be sad.

That’s life isn’t it.

Life is about risk. It’s about doing things, even if we know the answer on the other side.

I often ask myself, if I was to be given one billboard in the middle of Piccadilly Circus today, to put anything i could on it – what would my message be?

The billboard is obviously big. People will look at this billboard fleetingly. Therefore, the message must be interesting to capture the attention, but also powerful to last.

I’ve thought about this for a while. What my message would be. But mainly, what I would want my children to read and know that’s what their mum’s message was.

I think mine is – Do something that scares you.

Doing something that scares you and showing your children you are scared is important. It’s important to not know the answer and still try. It’s important to get things wrong, to learn for next time.

It’s important for our children to know they can try scary things, and not know what is going to happen.

As we enter the much-needed holiday break, I hope you find something to try that scares you. That excites you. That you don’t know how it is going to finish.

And that your children see the role model that you are – trying this. So, when the next opportunity for Athletics, Tournament of Minds, Basketball, or the school disco rolls around, they know they can try something that scares them.

So that’s my billboard. I hope you see it one day in black and white on some big city corner.

So my little 7 year old…we did the scary thing and bought the fish. If we never took the risk to the buy them, we never would have got the happiness they gave.

Sleepy the catfish, and unknown fish 2,3,4 – thank you. We did the scary thing and took the risk.  

Ps – the Ipad was on 100 percent.

It’s July 2024. I am about to turn 44.

They are growing up, these children of mine. I watch it every single day.

It happened quick.

I came home the other day to a clean house. It wasn’t clean before I left. My 13-year-old had earphones in, singing, cleaning and making my heart smile.

On Friday, my almost 8-year-old son asked his brother to make him breakfast whilst he found his own school uniform.

I watch my eldest read books, with so much passion and interest that he is lost in the world he is reading about. The next morning, after I have gone to sleep, he will report he was up till midnight just to finish the chapter.

This year - my almost 8-year-old has packed his school bag with his lunchbox every day. And not forgot it once.

When I think of these memories, it gives me so much joy to see my children growing up to become independent capable young boys.

Yes boys. I am not ready to say men yet.

These memories I have will remain with me. Making me smile, sometimes cry and always proud for many years.

The things is, these are my memories. Of my children. And I am not in them. It's just them.

I am busy doing other things while my children are busy growing up.

I know this is life. I have read, listened, and talked about the need to find ourselves again after we have children. I understand the saying “you can’t pour from any empty cup”. I know the importance of maintaining a close relationship with my mum friends so can ride this roller coaster together. And I know you don’t earn a rest. You need a rest.

And I really mean all that. We should make time for ourselves. We definately should.

But as our children grow in front of us, we also need to make sure that we are in their memories. And not just for the big moments.

We know that they will remember the holidays you brought them on. They will remember the parties that you threw them. They will remember when you taught them to drive. The big ones.

But I hope that you will slip into to those daily memories too. And by slipping into those daily memories, that they will mimic the memories for their kids - when or if they are fortunate to have their own.

Even it is little. But the everyday things. Be in those memories. Teaching them how to turn the washing machine on - or where you keep your car keys daily as you are so used to losing.

When we are drowning in laundry, ticking off our work task list, making sure we are not wasting that gym membership, it is easy to forget daily memories can be made.

Memories don’t have to appear on social media, with filters, reels and music to show they mean something. Memories are the relationship between you and your family. That a Facebook post doesn’t capture.

No-one really needs to see how you and your kids make pictures out of your Strava runs. They don’t need to see that when you walk your dog, he avoids the puddles as he is petrified of them. And they don’t need to see the dance parties that occur when you are packing the dishwasher together.

They are your memories.

To make.

As your children grow in front of you, where you can, make sure you are in their daily memories.

Not that they are just in yours.

They are growing up these children. Every single day.

I've seen you pray. I've seen your tears in the cafe.

I've seen your exhaustion holding hospital bags for your next overnight stay.I have seen you fight and advocate for your child when they can't fight for themselves.

I have seen you stay positive when you are in an appointment when you are hearing what the next treatment step is. And I have seen you race to the bathroom to cry, so they can't see those tears.

I have seen you live in a world that most would like to pretend, doesn't exist.

But then, I’ve also seen you learn from your child.

I’ve seen you no longer fear the hospital, and it's become a second home.I’ve seen you play the board games, read the books, laugh at the clown doctors.I’ve seen you and your new “normal” life. And I have seen you smile when you found it.

As parents and carers, we go through life with the responsibility on our shoulders that we must be the teachers, the guidance, the light for our children. We must shelter them from the bad, introduce them to the good – and hold their hands on the bumpy ride.

But life will happen. And hard things will happen. And we will face moments where we would rather hide, then face what is on the other side.

Just because you are the parent, doesn’t mean you always have to be the resilient one. Doesn’t mean you can’t learn from your child, from their strength, from these experiences.

I didn’t know what I would learn from my child until I saw him faced with a chronic illness. He taught me gratitude. He taught me resilience. He taught me courage.

When we went to one of countless specialists’ appointment to hear of our next treatment plans, he didn’t get angry at the world like I was. He calmy said to the Doctor “Thank you – you are doing an amazing job”.

When we had out fortnightly hospital treatment, he didn’t get angry at the delayed processes of the system like I was. He was grateful for more time to play board games and beat me at Canasta.

And when he faced one of many scans, he didn’t complain, he treated them like being in  some vessel in a Star Wars movie.

I have learnt – although I want to, I can’t fix it all. Sometimes I can’t fix anything. But I can learn from my child.

So, I urge you – take a step back. Let yourself not be the one to save every moment. Let yourself learn. And learn from your child. As you will find a new strength, a new sense of resilience, a new sense of gratitude that you never knew existed.

Life will happen. Hard things will happen. It might be an illness, it might be a learning diagnosis, it might be a school refusal. Hard things will happen. 

You can use this time to learn. From your child. And heal and grow together.

Parent’s, carers, families - I've seen you.

You are strong. You are resilient. You are courageous. And you are doing a good job.

I remember when I first met you all. One of you had bright red hair, one you had a small baby on your lap – another had the perfect handbag. I was pregnant, nervous, and tired.

I didn’t know what I was doing with this first child in pre-school. I had no-one to follow, no-one to teach me.  I didn’t really want to talk to you. I just wanted to get in the gate and out. Tick it off the “to do list” for the day.

Then you smiled. Then one of you asked me when my baby due. One of you asked if I needed help with pick up. One of you asked me why Jasper’s hair was orange.

I am not sure if our children were friends back then. I know I invited the wrong “Jack” to the first school birthday party – that’s how we first met. By mistake.

At the end of the first year, we had a Christmas concert. I sat with my family only and smiled politely back at you.

Now - we just sat at our last primary school concert together. We were all together – squished on a few blankets. Sitting so close kind of symbolised  what we had become. We kind of watched the concert, we kind of listened to the songs – we all kind of cried.

I looked around and saw you all.

I know your dogs’ names, what your children are allergic to and how many runs they got in cricket last week. I know which gym you go to and what the fight with your daughter was about this week.

Undoubtedly, we are told when our children start school, they will meet new people. They will make friends. They may however grow up, change friends, change schools, and make new ones.

But as adults, the village you make when you start this ride together is one to keep. It is one you may not know you would get, or needed.

We have been there for each other in the back row of funerals, dropped medicines on doorsteps and delivered fish on Good Friday in lockdowns. We have celebrated new loves, new babies, new jobs. We have sat for hours on side lines, not watching school sport, but being there – getting our weekly fix of what we needed. Each other. The mums, the dads, the everyone. 

So, this my letter to you all. Thank you. It just doesn’t seem enough.

Once we have left these school grounds, your name in my phone may just change from “Remy’s Mum” to “Belinda”.

Maybe.

Love Trish

p.s Year 1 Mum’s… ill bring my blanket next year and squish on in…

I did cartwheels 10 days ago. My hamstring still hurts. I am surprised that i got old and no-one told me.

I have a job. I clean the house. I drink coffee. I clean the house again.

I am a mum. I am a wife. I am a sister. I have a mortgage. I test my pelvic floor if I jump on the trampoline. I clean the house, yet again.

I am, by all standards an adult.

I get anxiety. I worry. I wake up at 3am and make a to do list. I look at my superannuation balance and actually think about. Albeit, briefly.

By all measures, I am a grown up.

I have forgotten what it Is like to be a child. 

Last week, at my children's primary school, there was a Catholic Charties fundraiser colour run. At the colour run, I saw pure joy. Pure elation. Pure happiness.I saw children being children. I stood back and watched on. I cried at the happiness, I laughed at laundry that was to be had. And I saw our teachers. Our staff. All covered in colour. All involved. All doing exactly what they do every day, putting the happiness of our children first.

There was colour. There was laughter. There was zero care of what people looked like. Zero concern on how funny they looked, if they straightened their hair or if they had the top range of shoes on.

Then i decided to join in. And I didn’t feel like an adult. I forgot about my super. I didn’t care if I forgot to fill up my car with petrol.  I forgot that i needed a new roof – as this can wait.

And like the children, I felt that joy too.

At some point in the last few years, between the work, bills, medical appointments and life, my setting changed to “adult”. I suspect that I’m not alone in that. When the setting changed,  I started missing out on opportunities for happiness. 

But, I got a little reset. Find yourself a reset. Whatever it may look like. And take it. If it makes you laugh, it it makes you smile - then take it.

To our community, to our staff, to our children. Thank you. You turned down the setting back to "child" for me today.

And it was needed.

And it was loved.

Dear Mum and Dad,

I miss you. I wish you were here.

Losing a parent feels like you lost piece of yourself. An irreplaceable piece of your family.  I struggled to find that missing piece of myself for a while. I still struggle at times.

After you were both gone, sometimes I landed on solid ground. Sometimes I landed in a puddle and almost drowned.

But I survived.

I learned how to be a parent from you both. You were fantastic role models.  I was lucky to have you.

The losses of you both made me strong. I became an independent young woman who wanted to do it all on her own. I love that I became strong, but I hate that I had to lose you to do it.

I hope that even though you are not with me, you can still know some small pieces of my life. I wish you were sitting in the front row on my wedding day. Mum, you missed it, but Dad saw it – and I’m hoping he has now told you all about it.

I hope one day you will tell me you were able to see my sons’ faces when I first met them. I could have used your help and wisdom. And still could use it.

I wish you could be there on those long hospital days and appointments, telling me it will be ok – or just making me a vegemite sandwich with no crusts. And Dad, oh how I wish I could have called you and shown you pictures of JJ laying the wreath at the National War Memorial on school camp. Jasper knew you were with him.

Someday, I will see you and I know will tell me you were there with me.  

I often imagine how life would be different if you were both still here. I daydream of the laughter and stories we would share together about my babies. 

They are all getting big now. Oh, they have grown so tall - but their hearts are growing even bigger. They are caring, resilient and so strong. You would be so proud of them. I know what being a parent is all about now - and why you both loved it so much. You taught me more than you know.

This week it was both All Saints and All Souls Day. Next week is Remembrance Day. November feels like a month to pause, to breathe, to remember.

And to be grateful. And grateful - how I am so much.

All Souls Day we remember those who have gone before us – like you mum and dad.

I know that I have written to you about what I miss, what you have missed and how the loss has hurt and shaped me.

But this year – on All Souls Day and in the month of Remembrance, I will also be grateful. And I will remember the laughs, the courage, the joy you both had and gave me.

Those memories - well there are too many to list here – and maybe I want to save them all for myself. But I will remember, and I will smile, and I will tell always keep telling my boys all about you both.

So that they know, the importance of this day, these months, and how to keep these memories growing.

Till next time Mum and Dad,

Love Trish

Ps – I hope you didn't see the tantrum Alfie had in Target last week.... you don't need to see it all.

Image credit @eddiewhitejr

Dear Son,

It’s almost Term 4. I am mindful there are less “lasts” now.

It’s coming to an end - your last year of Primary School. From day one of Term One, there have been many “lasts”. Your last first day of Primary school, last school photos with your brother, your last dress up book week parade (Ps – you went out with a bang mate).

And I know there is more to come – and not just school related.

The “last” Primary School Sports and Mercy Days

The “last” sounds of you and friends on the trampoline outside

The “last” after school request of “I’m hungry” being replaced by complete silence.

The “last” of shopping in the toy section for your birthday present.

I know you know me, and understand I cry at the littlest things. I cry when our goalie misses a penalty shootout, I cry when I go to community prayer and see you dancing with your mates to the liturgy songs. I cry at Market Monday.

Let’s keep it real, I cry at the end of Lego Masters each week.

But, as the “lasts” become smaller, the window of “firsts” becomes bigger. And I am already seeing them now. First big school camp, first new uniform try on, first subject selection. My favourite – the “first” stack of bikes in our front yard marking the territory of the BMX bandits and the glimmer of independence has arrived.

The “lasts” are now scattered with the “firsts” - And the tears become less frequent. I guess that is part of this process as Primary School comes to an end.

You, and all your year level, have jumped at every opportunity that has been presented this year. You have tried it all, not missed a beat. How lucky we are to be watching this growth.

Trying these things means you are ready – for that next step. You are ready to see what the big world has in store for you.

So, thank you – for giving Dad and I all these “firsts” and giving us all these “lasts”. I promise you we will soak up each moment of every “last” and get excited for all the “firsts”.

But please, keep that wonderful pile of bikes on my front lawn each weekend. And just remember, look at Dad in the graduation mass, not me.

Love Mum

So, I was trying to do another cupboard clean of the house. You know the ones – the grand old plans to declutter – make more space, be more organised, become less stressed. What ended up happening was finding all the old photos and memories from my parent’s houses. Boxes and boxes of photos and even film negatives. This stopped cleaning and started the memory lane journey.

There are many pictures of my parents from caravan trips to Bright to backyard cricket matches. Taking photos, capturing the moment was always been big in our family.

Jasper has clear memories of Dad but never met mum, with St Pat’s Day being one of his favourite memories. My dad’s family was from Ireland. Jasper has always been pretty adamant that as such, St Pat’s Day should be a public holiday.

He remembers the highlight reel - The laughs, the dancing, the absolute happiness. Alfie never got the chance to meet either of them, but often asks why Jasper has red hair and freckles, why we listen to Irish music and why my brother has a love for the black beer.

Over the years since mum and dad have gone, the worry and helplessness have faded away. And the depths of gratitude have magnified.

Moments mean more, things mean less. How lucky I was to have the long conversations about life, war, and his Irish heritage. How lucky that I kept mum’s simple recipe books to remind me of the very plain cook she was. How lucky I am that I had the knowing to keep the old Nokia (snake game) phone which has their voice messages on it.

The trip down memory lane reminded me of the life lesson to get on with living. The lesson I learned is that you can do good, you can be good, but it doesn’t grant you more years. There is no afterparty. The good, the bad - it is all happening right now, simultaneously.

Today’s lesson – is to get living.

Take more notice of the unknown expiration date of life. Colour each day with purpose and intent. Slow down. Dance more. Say no to things more. Live more.

Thanks for the lesson, Mum, and Dad. Better go get living. 

Trish x

I married a footballer. Pre meeting him, I had no experience with football. Zero. I had not attended one game. 20 years later, I have attended maybe 10.

With my limited football knowledge, what I knew was that my dad was a mad Norwood fan, and my husband played for Sturt. Apparently, that is not ideal.

I knew who Tony Modra was. I had seen pictures of Scotty Thompson's hair. I knew there were four quarters to a game. I did not know they went for so long.

I sat through a BBQ with Brett Burton asking what he did for a job other than football, only to find out on the drive home that football was his job.

And when Sturt won the flag in 2002, I found out just what the Premiership Quarter was.

I equate our life, and our four schools terms to the four football quarters. And so team, we are now in the all important, Term 3, Quarter 3  - aka Premiership Quarter.

Term One

This is where we start off slow. The start of the year begins like the start of a game. Full of energy, motivation and a clean slate. There are no scores so far. No-one has made their big break. Everyone comes together to begin a new year, a new game.

It is all about the children, teachers and families finding their feet. Getting to know their classmates, laying the foundations for the year.

Its like the first bounce, find your players, settle into the game, get good first quarter under your belt.

No one needs to get injured.

Term Two

We have our base. We can make changes if we need to.

We started well. We know what needs to get done to win the game.

But we still have alot of work to do to get there. There are still many minutes (or hours it feels like…) before the final siren.

Term 2 is about putting in the hard work, ticking off the tasks in the process to get to the end goal. You may get a little bump or two coming into halftime which may set you back and make you stronger,

Until the last 4 minutes of Quarter 2. They (I hear ) are crucial to set yourself up to lead into a big Premiership Quarter.

Term Three

Here we are. The Premiership Quarter.

It was David Parkin, Carlton Coach, who coined the phrase Premiership Quarter in 1982. His theory was for his team to outplay the opponents in Quarter 3, to guarantee victory before the final quarter.

If we follow this theory, Term 3 is where we do the hard yards to set ourselves up to achieve our best in Term 4 and to complete the year.

We have had a term to settle in, a term to get the work done and tick off the task in the process. Now we have a Term to cement the hard work. 

The 3^rd Quarter, aka Term 3, will see tired children. Tired parents. Tired staff. But all putting the hard work in. Because, if you haven’t done the work by Term 3, trying to catch up in Term 4 will be a hard race.

It is the Premiership Quarter. It's the Term to work hard, even when you are exhausted. As you will appreciate the results at the end.

Term Four

We made it. The work has been done, the final quarter is a celebration of the year.

A celebration by completing the Year 12 exams, primary and high school graduations, and Christmas concerts. A celebration of all the people that got you to the end of the game.

Term 4 is a good one. It's an exciting one. The celebrations are important to recognise, as it took three hard Terms to get there.

So friends, here we are. In the Premiership Quarter. Time to dig deep. Time to get the job done. Time to keep going even if exhaustion kicks in.

I tried to research whether the Premiership Quarter actually is just a theory, or if it sees some consistent results. I got quite lost in the research, with all the football terminology, so i turned on an old marathon to watch - which I understood more.

But the theory of the Premiership Quarter can be related to life. And to our schooling years. Don’t wait until the last minute to make a difference. Make use of whatever chance you get, and at halftime if you need to, make the adjustments you need.

Then, sit back and enjoy the fourth quarter, as the hard work has been done.

*As a disclaimer, whilst I am an ex WAG, my football terminology  will reflect my football experience – even 20 years on.

 Whether it's for a friend in need, a family gathering, or a community event, our presence can make all the difference.

Showing up means being there physically, emotionally, and mentally, offering our support and solidarity to those around us.

When we show up, we send a powerful message that says, "You matter. I care." Our presence provides comfort, reassurance, and a sense of belonging.

It shows that we are invested in the relationships and communities we are a part of. By being present, we create opportunities for connection, understanding, and shared experiences that can positively impact the lives of others.

So, let's recognise and harness the incredible power of showing up.

Let's be present for the moments that matter, for the people we care about, and for the communities we belong to.

Because in the end, it is our presence and active engagement that can create a ripple effect of positivity, unity, and meaningful connections.

Friends – we are halfway through the year. As tired, exhausted and overwhelmed you feel, just continue to show up.

I want you to change one word today.

See how changing one word in your daily sentences can make a difference.

Remove the word “have to” – and replace it with “get to”.

We all are living with life, work, health and cost of living stressors. It is easy to fall into the trap of looking at these stressors and thinking what you have to do next.

You have to get to work, you have to go for the run in the morning, you have to pick up the kids for school.

Recently through some family health challenges, this "have to" mentality was a recurring theme for me and I could hear myself constantly complaining.  It’s a busy week – I have to organise specialists, hospitals, medicines, appointments and so on.

Then I changed this thinking to -  “I get to”. And my mindset changed to gratitude, and I became stronger.

I am fortunate to live in society where I get to access healthcare system. I get to have the support. I get to make appointments for the family.

I get to pull on my running shoes each morning, I get to go to a job that I love, and I get to have manic, busy, sometimes ugly ,sometimes beautiful school pick-up.

Change the word.

Change it from “have to” – and replace with “get to”.I can’t guarantee I won’t still complain, and to my school mum family who gets to be on the end of those complaints and tears, please know on these days, there is “get to” feeling buried somewhere.

When you realise you are fortunate enough to have the word “get” in your life – your gratitude, strength and resilience will grow.

I have to go do the pile of laundry now.

That word stays as “have to”.

You made it! Whether you walked, ran, or limped over the finish line of Term 1, you made it.

School Holidays are upon us. Time to dust off working from home and perfect this parenting juggle.  Hopefully, you are packing the caravan and heading away to hike some mountain, swim in a rock pool or just disconnect. If not, here are 5 tips for home activities – with proven outcomes.

1. Arrange an outing with another school family.

When you do this, choose carefully. Think of the family which aligns to your parenting style – that will want to do the least number of arts and crafts or playground red rovers, and preferably, sit in a cinema with $100 worth of popcorn and chocolate.

The family you choose must be willing to identify that the excursion is safety in numbers.

Note - Screen time at another family’s house does not count as in screen usage calculations.

2. Recharge

You will announce to the family the holidays are a time to relax, recharge and rejuvenate to prepare for a big Term 2. You will recharge – the screen devices to give you some peace and quiet.

3. Cooking

This is always a brilliant school holiday activity. The children will choose the recipe, write down a list of 35 items you don’t have, scatter your kitchen with ingredients whilst making dinner. You will all smile at the creation, swallow it politely, and take pictures of this wonderful achievement.

After they are asleep, you will order pizza. After you have cleaned the kitchen.

4. Have a day trip to the museum, library, Lego exhibition.

There are plenty of free activities on offer to enjoy and learn along the way. Remember to take pictures. Lots and lots of them. Capture this brilliant moment of parenting, before you head to an afternoon of hot chips and raspberry lemonades.

5. Repeat  

Repeat these achievements every school holidays. For many, many years.

Go make memories friends.

Let’s talk about exhaustion. Tired kids, tired parents, tired everyone.

The type of exhaustion that when you look in a mirror, you assume its poor lighting. Then sadly you realise, it is not the lighting…

Exhaustion can present in all different formats. Tears, withdrawal, school refusal, way too much energy…  Be kind to yourself. Be kind to your little ones. Be kind to your community.

Whilst we remember it is only week 8, the reality that this is the first “normal” year counts. The “are they going/aren’t they” COVID dance has gone and the cramming everything we have missed in has returned. The days of working from home may have gone and the rush to get children to school and in face-to-face meetings looking semi presentable has returned.

Life is brilliantly chaotic, but it is also exhausting. So, I give you permission to feel that It’s not just week 8.

Remember the staff we leave our children with daily; they too are people. Who have the same pressures, same stressors and potentially the same tired children at home. They are not robots.  

Be kind on yourself. Be kind on those around you. Manage the mental load. Outsource where you can. If your house is dirty, life will go on. If you cry at school pick up, life will go on. If your little one will only wear his black school shoes on a weekend, life will go on.

When the exhaustion hits you,  wrap your arms around those little ones so they know being tired is ok. It will pass. Do what you need to get you through if the tired cracks are starting show now.  Some weeks doing a short 5km park run is enough. You don’t need to run a marathon each week.

Think of your tired child like your eyebrows. Just after you get them tinted. They’ll come good soon, you just have to wait it out.

Keep the faith. Your great eyebrows are coming.

Sometimes, I question if I am cut out for this mothering gig.

Then I see family drawn pictures of me with giant hands, scribbled hair and I am the tallest in the line of the family, and I know that my presence is felt.

There is no question though, that it is hard mothering, parenting, our children through their own Storm.

Storms where you feel they have no lifeboat, no sunshine in sight - and they must ride it out. As a parent, it’s wanting to weather the storm for yourself, so you don’t need to see them this way.

It’s watching them feel the feelings that you can’t fix. It’s seeing their heartbreak on show, where you need to console and hold space to carry them through. It's finding the strength within you to do this, when you yourself, need the same. It’s trusting they have the skills to handle the situation themselves when all your instincts want to walk into the playground and sort it  out yourself.

It’s our job, as parents, to share our calm in the storm. Not join in the chaos. You can't calm a storm, but you can calm yourself. Over time, the storm will pass.

Remember the crying newborn and sleepless nights and you thought... “How am I going to get through this? "

You did.

Remember the strong-willed toddler who demanded daily dress ups before going out of the house and you thought...“How am I going to get through this?"

You did.

Remember when your best friend moved overseas so the daily phone calls slowed and you thought...  “How am I going to get through this this?”

You did.

Remember when you got that phone call from the hospital saying it was now time to let go of your favourite person and you thought... “How am I going to get through this?"

You did.

Whatever the storm your child may be facing, know that have not only taught your children how to get through this, but you have also shown them. Each time, when you thought you couldn’t make it through, you have.

This new storm, you will get all through.

You have.

You can.

You will.

Don’t doubt it, you are cut out for this gig.

Dear Parents,

I know you held it in this morning. That was hard. But we will care for them too. Let’s do this as a team.

We got this. I am not you, but no-one is. 

We know your little loves have already been at school – with you, at home, learning life. You were their first teacher, and you always will be. But as they walk through those gates, I’ll be the new you.

I am not you, but no-one is. They wont be alone. They are with us. I know you had the usual photos this morning. In front of the same tree you do each year, just to see how much they have grown. I know deep down inside you might feel nervous and you can't show it. It’s ok – we are here.

I can’t wait to hear about your little ones summer holidays. What they did, what they saw, which mum you forgot to arrange the urgent playdate with.

Yes, I am new to them, but I won’t be for long. I soon will get to know the traits which make them their own person. Soon I will learn who their favourite person is to sit next to, what face they make when they are nervous and when they need an icepack.

Soon I will understand the stress that is experienced if the laptop Is not charged, how it hurt when they lost their basketball game on the weekend or the absolute joy of riding home from school on their own.

Soon I will know the anxiety final exams bring. The panic of whether the right subject choices have been made to lead into those final years. The importance of just being heard.

You already know all these things. As you are their first teacher. But soon, I will know them too.  I may be new to them this year, but that won’t last long.

You don’t need to worry. I will care for them. I will see them. I will listen. I will promise to keep them safe and happy. I will encourage them to be their best, just like you have. Like you do. When they don’t know things, I will teach them. Just like you have, like you do.

I know it is hard that they are with me in the day now. But I promise you, you are still number one. You aren’t forgotten.

I mean this. I see it everyday. You are the one they draw in their pictures with oversized ears and sticks for legs. You are the ones they write about in the stories about holidays. You are the ones they talk about if they don’t like the fruit they have for recess.

And you are the ones they look forward to seeing at the end of the day.

So until 3pm. Trust us. We will be there. We have got this. I am not you, no-one is.

And remember, you are still number one.

From,

Every Teacher

The start of the year began with fresh hair cuts, uniforms that fit and shiny shoes. The end of the year has finished with wearing your brother's uniform as yours has lost a button, an afro of curls and odd socks.

You are holding it all together. Kind of on the countdown to school holidays and Christmas, kind of not. 

As you are tired. Exhausted. And not quite sure how to gather the energy for the holidays.

And I hear you.

But remember – this year started different. You didn’t start on a full tank. Only our littlest and biggest went to school. And even then, you only went to the gate. You had to stay home, work and help with online learning. The term was filled with masks, Covid, forms, reporting, PCRS, Rat tests, isolation time changes.

Remember trying to work out if you were a close contact?

That was just this year team. We hadn’t even hit Easter yet.

The year then became a catch up. A race. A race to squeeze in all we felt we missed out when the world was shut. There were holidays that needed to be taken, work conferences that had to be attended and sporting events that needed to resume. All this was done on a half-filled tank.

The world, life, events, functions, parties all came back after a 2-year rest. A 2-year breather. But we didn’t have that breather. But we still went to each one.

So, if you are feeling like you are limping towards the finish line, you likely are.

But for a moment, l ask you to look back through your phone. Check the pictures from the start of the year. Check the fresh faced excited little ones with uniforms too big. Look at those faces.

Then look at your phones and think back to last week’s Christmas Concert or the last assembly. Those faces were still there. As happy, as fresh, and as excited as day one.

You all did that. You held that together. You made that happen.

Their faces from Day One were  as happy as Day 201 (or what feels like Day 501).

Now Team – You made it. Well done you.

Find that energy for the holidays…. And as a tip… use the 5678 art masterpieces that will have started coming home as Xmas wrapping paper!

PS - Book your child in for a hair cut.

.

And then one day, it stops

One day, in the future, it will stop.

It’s the lack of warning that gets me. The lack of notice, no countdown, no warning sign that this time – might be your last.

And the hard thing is, you may not know it has happened straight away – until you try to think of the last time you had that moment.

• The calling out in the night.
• Tying the shoelace.
• Cutting the crusts off the sandwich.
• Doing the shirt buttons up.
• Making a school lunch.

It’s the little things. The daily things. The everyday tasks that you are their lifeline – only you are needed to do. You were their centre. You were their go to.

One day – it stops. With no countdown. And no warning.

When our children are young, we are defined by parenthood. At times, it can feel pretty much like our whole purpose. It can be long, it be tiring, it can be lonely. But it won’t be forever.

One day soon – how we define ourselves through parenthood will stop.

As the end of the year comes racing around, the thoughts how this may be your last year in primary school or last week  as a reception student may feature. Or you may be on the countdown to the graduation parties, the last day of school and the last exam.

These milestones we know are coming to an end. So, we cherish them. We take photos. We capture the moments. We make sure we remember them.

For me – for today – it’s the little things I want to remember. In case it’s my last.

It’s the plugging in of the seatbelt, it’s the sleepy midnight walk to the bathroom, it’s picking up the shoes as you walk in the door.

It’s the request to play "I spy" on the way to school, the checking of the clean teeth and the important task of finding the lost sport uniform.

It’s without a doubt, the reach out to hold the hand. When you cross the street, when they have a blood test, or they are in the movies.

If you are lucky enough to witness that last time – relish it. Take it in. Capture it in your mind like you would 100 pictures from a holiday.

As one day, I promise you, with no warning, these little things will stop.

And their pants will stop being worn backwards - and their shoes, will no longer be on the wrong foot.

My children are 11 and 6. They have wonderful grandparents who pick them up from school, go on adventures, host sleep overs, and play backyard cricket with them.

But they only have one set of grandparents that can do this.

My parents both passed away before youngest son met either of them. My eldest son was 2 years old when my father passed away and he never got to meet my mum.

I make it a point to discuss the hard things such as grief with my children – to teach them about this part of life. Which isn’t easy, it isn’t nice, but it is a part of life.

No matter how prepared you are, you can never be fully prepared for loss and the grief. There is no time line for grieving.  You can’t rush it.  You will grieve, in some form, forever.

I have learnt many lessons over the years – with these 5 highlighting my journey and part of the hard parts I try to teach my children;

1. Grief doesn’t come in five neat stages that you can tick off in order.
2. People will bring you food because they don’t know what else to do. 
3. Big life events and milestones will forever be bittersweet.
4. It’s okay NOT to cry sometimes. Don’t feel bad if you laugh or feel happy. You will feel sad at times you never expected.
5. Time does NOT heal all wounds. You don’t get over it – you get used it.

There will always be regrets.  No matter how much time you had, you’ll always want more.

Grief and loss is not easy to talk of. It is awkward. It hurts. It is hard. But because we had these discussions with our children, I hope it prepared them for when their pets passed over their rainbow. There were tears, there was anger, but there was an understanding that this was one part of life. And yes – a hard part.

One of our roles as parents is to bring these little loves into the world with all the skills to help them through the good and the bad times. We cannot hide them from the hard parts of life. We cannot pretend they will not happen.

But we can teach, and we can guide them so they will be ready for the journey when it reaches them.

As a parent, you aren’t given a rule book on how to talk about the hard things. You are not taught what to say, when to say it and why. But there is help there for you. You do not need to do it alone.

So my message to you – talk about the hard things. Seek help if you need it. Prepare them for the world they live in, without sheltering them things that are just awkward to talk about.

Parenting is hardly all sunshine and rainbows. And neither is the world we all live in.

But – I have faith in you. You got this.

I was driving along in the car listening to the radio when a song came on from my late teens/early 20’s.

A song I knew every word to. And I sang each word incredibly loud.

I didn’t particularly love this song, but it got me thinking. I loved karaoke and dancing.

I wasn’t the type that would know the names of up-and-coming bands. But I loved a dance, a sing along and had a full CD tower.

I went to concerts.

I danced with friends.

I stayed up past 9pm.

In that moment it became clear to me that, along with music, I’ve let go of many other habits and things I used to enjoy.

Do you remember that time in in your life when you watched what you wanted to watch.

 You ate when you wanted to eat and at the temperature you wanted to eat it.

You went to a café and only ordered a coffee?

In the past 2 years, I have been to the cinemas 5 times. I saw 4 children’s movies which were great – but I also went with the girls to see Top Gun. Which ended up in 2 hours of wonderful commentary and fits of laughter.

It isn’t that we don’t love being parents. We really really do. But it is the realisation that we are still living in the transition of who we used to be – to who we are now.

As parents, we often consider our children’s needs equal to or above our own in the day to day needs.

I learned that my happiness and identity cannot be dependent on my kids. That is a responsibility that is unfair for them to shoulder. 

If you are feeling lost, I hear you.

But if you take time to prioritise yourself, that identity will creep back in.

It’s not easy. There are always a million things that need to be done before you feel like you can make time for yourself.

But you have to do it anyway. Do something just for yourself. And, make it a habit.

I run. When I am happy, when I am sad, when I am stressed. I run. Running helped me find myself again. I found a group, I met new people, I made goals.

I entered a marathon where I had to stick to daily run plans. For me. If I didn’t do those km, for myself, I would not finish the marathon. Many times it felt selfish. Many times, when running I would be thinking of what jobs I should be doing at home.

But then the other times, I was out there. For me. Each step, for me. And i started finding a new me again.

You may never have a life like you did pre-parenthood, and that’s okay.

Your identity isn’t lost, it’s just been a bit buried under school homework, parent/teacher interviews and sports taxi runs.

Make the time for yourself. You will be showing your children they should always prioritise their health and happiness.

It doesn’t have to be a marathon. But find something. And make it a habit.

And remember – car karaoke is always a good thing.

I love winter. The fashion, the food, the fires. But it's cold. And rain makes my hair curly. Summer is ok. Whilst the beach and the sun are nice, the heat ruins my running and I must get up at 4am to clock the kms early before the whinging kicks in.

Our life and the different stages of parenting are like seasons. Like seasons, we often find ourselves longing for the next one. Whilst we love the winter coats and boots, we hate the cold and look forward to spring.

Parenting is like seasons. And instead of quickly acknowledging what we like about our current season, then wishing for the next one to arrive, we need to embrace the season we are in. 

The fact is, all of us are in different life chapters. Social media is wonderful at highlighting other people’s chapters and enabling us to long to be in their chapter.

How divine does it look to wake up to the sunrise and sip on water with freshly squeezed lemon. To begin the day with writing in your gratitude journal, completing meditation, all followed by a homemade Acai bowl.

If this is your chapter, then embrace it. There are beautiful things within this chapter to hold on to and not start planning what is around the corner.

If your chapter is a 5am alarm, drinking pre-workout to get out the door to meet running friends at 5:30am to snap off 15km before the children wake, then embrace that. You may not have the calmness of the previous chapter, but you also have the 5 year old, who will look at Strava, and try to decipher what picture you made on your run today. Embrace that.

Your current season may lean towards excelling at an established career, renovating or overseas travelling with friends.

Or it may be a season that involves making sure you leave your employment just in time for pick up, constant care giving, and travel that involves caravan parks with waterparks and jumping pillows.

Don't fall into the trap if wishing your current season to be over. 

Your life will hold so many seasons. So many different chapters. Embrace them.

Seasons change – they are temporary. We are all in different cycles, so there is no benefit in comparing yourselves with others. Each season will bring its own lesson. It's not better or worse – its just a different season.

Whilst it is easy to envy friends who don’t need to hire babysitters for nights out anymore, they may also be envying you with the little one that climbs into your bed at 2am for a mummy cuddle.

I myself, are in two different seasons, at the same time. A season of a reception child finding joy and wonder at small things. Then a season of a child finding his independence as he prepares for high school in a years time.

Both seasons are different and most days, I don’t long for either to be over.

And I’m learning new things. Or relearning things I had forgotten, whilst I was trying to race to the next chapter. As a reception mum, i have re-learnt;

• Tuck shop is the equivalent of your mum's weekend away. It's something they count down the days, they start to pick their orders and the prospect that it is almost here brings about an excitement like no other.
• Sand will be everywhere. You think emptying the shoes at the front door will be enough. But you will still find sand. Everywhere.
• If you ask, what did you do today at pick up, 9/10 times the response will be “I forgot”. They will then remember what they did at bedtime, and stall for an hour to tell you.

As a Year 5 mum, I am learning;

• Walking home from school with a friend on your own, is basically the same getting your P's;
• Minecraft is different to roblox;
• Fractions is harder to remember than you thought.

Two seasons. Embracing both. Soaking them all in, secretly hoping the time may slow down a little.

Whatever your chapter is. Read every page. Don’t skip to the next one.

Embrace the season you are in. Hold tight that little hand that still reaches up to you to cross the road, because the next season is just around the corner. 

I’m 42 years old.

My mum passed away when I was 26. My dad passed away when I was 31. I would be lying if I would say to you that I did not question my faith during these years.

I grew up surrounded by faith. My dad came from an Irish Catholic home. My mum was raised by Catholic parents who valued Sunday Mass. She taught Sunday School every weekend. As children, we would attend mass every weekend. My brother was an altar boy, I soon followed his footsteps.

We did our sacraments, chose our Confirmation sponsors and counted down the days until we could try Communion. Every Christmas we would join in the Nativity Play – every year I would play Angel Gabriel, never getting the coveted Mother Mary role. Clearly, this is still a sore point.

As we grew older and went through Primary and High School, us children would continue our faith journey with our parents. My mum had such strong faith that she would always instil in me. There was always a common theme that faith was at the core of our being. That faith was there to celebrate the good times and be thankful for the gifts God gave.

And faith was there to carry us through the hard times when we could not walk alone. The parable “Footprints” always hung in my room.Whatever path we led as children, mum and dad would always confirm in their own subtle way that faith led us there.

So, when mum got sick, I immediately questioned this faith. Here was a woman who was the most selfless person you would find. She volunteered at Church, she worked two jobs so we could attend our sporting endeavours.

She prayed every night. I heard her. She prayed not just for our family, but for strangers, for nature, for everyone.

She never put herself first.

And here she was. Sick, with no cure, and so young.

I remember my mum telling me not to blame anybody and to keep my faith because she could see that it was fading away. But there were many times that I sat at night while she was sick in the hospital room, wondering what God’s plan in all of this was. My parish priest told me “strong people need to deal with strong adversity.” I didn't believe this.

Then Dad got sick. And my faith again got tested.

When dad passed away, I felt more cheated. What kind of lesson was I trying to be taught during this time?

Since my parents have passed away, I have healed. But healing does not mean it did not happen. I've healed and I have also learnt lessons. That it's OK to question your faith. It's OK to find and to seek meaning. And ultimately your strength in your faith will come back -  even though you may not have felt faith at the hardest of times.

I've bargained with God; I've pleaded with God. I’ve asked him so many times why this happened to me and my family. And now as the years have passed, I feel confidence. I feel strength and I feel my faith in the fact that God has led me back to believing.

I feel I have been put through a test to see if I still believe. And I feel this has made my faith stronger. I certainly could have gone a different way and not come back. However, there was always a lingering part thinking there has to be a reason for this

So Yes  - I questioned my faith in very difficult periods.  And I think that's OK to do so.

Because if we don't question, we don't fully have an understanding and take time to think of what we are questioning. If we just believe in what we've been taught, without taking a moment to feel or see what it truly might mean in times of adversity, then what are we believing?

Our Faith journey is that. It is a journey. Like journeys, there are forks in the road, dead ends and long straight pathways.  On the journey, you may stop. You may try and go off road, but you may not get far if there is no path. You’ll be met with choices to take, and you can choose which one suits you.

It is a journey that you may take. I hope for you reading this, that you aren’t tested in this way. But if you are, I hope you see that every person's journey’s may change. A journey will evolve and  it is ok to question. And you hopefully come out stronger at the other side.

I am a strong believer you need to question things, not cruise along in life if you want to believe. Faith that grows out of questioning can be stronger than faith that is developed from practices and blind acceptance.

So Dad, I hope you are still doing the collection up there with your church mates.

And Mum, I didn't lose it. It just came back - stronger.

As I sign the Enrolment forms for my eldest child to move to High School in 2024, I am starting to feel all the feels.

Whilst this step is still 18 months away for our family, all the emotions as a parent are right there. To be honest, I'd be happy for time to stand still, but I know there are adventures that are just around the corner for my son.

So here is the letter I wish I wrote to my Mum and Dad....

“Dear Mum and Dad – Thank you.

Soon, it will be time for me to leave Primary School. It’s time for my next step. I want you with me to hold my hand – but I think I need to do part of this on my own. But before I do that, I need to thank you.

Thank you for choosing this school when you weren’t given a rule book on what I needed, what would suit me , what I would love. Thank you for allowing me to try every single school sport – only to stick to just one. I now know you spent hundreds of dollars on each different uniform that I was potentially going to go represent Australia in….

I’m sorry you didn’t realise that when you bought that new Mazda Station Wagon, it came with a taxi licence. That the licence was compulsory. To drive me and my friends to every sporting event, play date and party.

You know, the lunches you made me every single day were really appreciated. I know it didn’t look like it when I brought it home, uneaten and half moudly.

I have a secret too... I probably did lose my jumper – or it was left in my tray. I really don’t know where it is, and I am totally freezing without it, but I wont tell you that.

When I ignored you when you were in the tuck shop, I secretly loved you were there. You knew that didn’t you?

You must be a little sad too. But you aren’t showing it. I know you feel like a part of your life is moving on. I know the friends you have made won’t stop as I am leaving school. I’ve seen the way you act with them… the mums nights, the concerts, the bowls clubs chats. Those friends are like your family too – and always will be there.

I’m scared and excited Mum and Dad. Of the next step. I know I have a few friends coming with me – but I am scared. Scared of what I don’t know. Excited what I will learn, who I will meet, what new sport will be my new Olympic dream.

But Mum and Dad – thank you – as you have given me such a good base to start this next step. And I didn’t thank you enough. I should have. You were working, you were tired, you may been stressed. But you didn’t show it.  

Thank you, Mum and Dad.

Let’s find that next adventure. And maybe you can volunteer in the Tuckshop….just once… so I know you are there.

Love 12 year old Trish”

Twelve months ago, I signed up to a website where you write a letter to yourself. At the time, it felt inorganic, it felt odd. I almost didn't press send.

Today, with no warning or memory I had done this, I received that letter. Excerpt from my letter is below. 

It was warming to read what my hopes were, what i was working on, and what i valued. The consistent theme was to be present. To there. To start living more - not just surviving.

I encourage you to do this. Just once is enough - or every three months. Write to FutureMe. And report back to me in 12 months. 

It's all a process. But a good one.

19/07/2021

Dear FutureMe,

The world still has covid. It is hard. It is scary. It is life though. It’s been a hard 18 months. This last 6 been tough.

I have found it hard to let go of all the stress, mum life and anxiety. Of trying to save everyone. Of trying to make them happy.

I am scared my babies are growing up and I’m missing out on them.

So, I’m making a change.

I am being more present. I am putting phone down. I’m listening to the kids. I am making the sheet and pillow cubbies. I am cleaning later.

Alfie is 5. He is in preschool. He is making friends and learning to be a little man.

Jasper is 10. And growing into a boy that I want to be around always. Forever. He loves karate, friends, Alfie and the dogs.

My husband is loving lawn bowls. He is happy. We are so happy.

We love our caravan. And the peace it brings. We have just come back from Flinders Ranges and it is the trip I needed. To stop. To breathe. To start again.

I love running. I am proud of where I have come. I ran a marathon this year. I want to run 2 more. This year.

My brother, sisters and their partners are so strong and are amazing inspirations. Daily I feel I do not know how the do their life. I am so proud of them.

And sister, my best friend. I am so proud of her and how she cares for those in her life. She should be proud of herself. I am. She has a boyfriend now. I like him and hope it works.

I still miss mum and dad so much. Especially when life gets hard. But I feel their strength. Their love. I want to hear their voice. I’d take just hearing them once. And hope they are proud.

My in laws are wonderful and healthy. We are lucky.

I hope next year I have found more days of this calmness I am feeling today. This happiness. This living. Not just surviving.

It is a process. But I am proud.

Love Trish

I can report - i have run 4 more marathons, my caravan has not sat still. My husband still loves lawn bowls and my babies are bigger and happier. 

And I feel this calmness more. And my life - well i am living it.

There is no after party. It is all happening right now.

If you've been anywhere within 10kms of me, you would have heard that I like to run. Last weekend I crossed the finish line of Gold Coast marathon. It wasn’t’ my best race, but it will be one I celebrate that I achieved. Not from the race day, but from the journey to get there.

Like many people, I was entered for this marathon in 2021, did all the training, all the mental preparation, and a week before it was canceled due to Covid.This year, I had done the training. I had done the hard yards. I had done the kilometers and I had seen my progress build over this period.

As the day crept closer, the achievement of how far I had come to get to the start line became more apparent. I got COVID in the lead up,  suffered some little injuries but  I made it to the start line. Despite not my best race day, I also made it to the finish line.

Of course, we want to celebrate when we finish a marathon. If we get a personal best or what time we finish. But it has become evident when we live such busy and manic lives as parents, that we should also celebrate getting to the start line.

Getting to the start line of anything takes a Village. It takes commitment. It takes you putting those negative thoughts in your head into a little box and just getting the job done.In life, like a marathon, we should not just be celebrating our wins when we cross the finish line.. We need to start celebrating the small wins of our day-to-day activities. Those day-to-day tasks which we need to achieve to get to our goal.

I urge you to take this time and take a moment to pat yourself on the back. Pat yourself on the back for taking the journey and staying on the road, especially when falling off would have been easier.

Some days those day-to-day tasks feel like a marathon. Some days those tasks are almost too much to comprehend. However, once you get them completed you are that much closer to your end goal.And it does not matter if you don't ever reach that goal.

And the same goes for our little loves. We need to celebrate they did the research along the way, to make those decisions on what their project was and then completed the Oliphant Science Awards. We need to celebrate that they attended every swimming practice training, even if they didn’t get to compete in the Championship. Some days, we need just to celebrate they have walked through those school gates, on their own.

Obviously, we want to celebrate the Project or the Championship if we make it there. But if we don’t, there's been so many little wins along the way that we do need to acknowledge.

So, I ask you to take that time and take a look into your life as to what are you giving yourself the opportunity to say “Well done”.  To say “I’m proud”. To say  “I got that completed”.

Take the time to look at what you have achieved on the path to your end goal. And if you do not reach the finish line, still take that time to say well doneand congratulate yourself on getting to the start line.

Because the finish line is just the celebration. It is just the time to reap the rewards of your progress. So, if you don't get there, you have achieved so much in that lead-up.It could be a small task or big old marathon. Both are the same, both are important. Both had a road that you needed to travel to get there and that deserves to be celebrated.

Find some time during your day to celebrate the journey.

I have a Prince Louis.

His name is Alfie. He would happily allow me to call him “Prince Alfie” and treat him with the respect the title deserves.

He is, however, simply a 5-year-old boy. With energy. A lot of it – like he has taken a few scoops of my pre-workout for breakfast.

Like Prince Louis, he is just a young boy. Being a boy. Being a child.

Prince Alfie has pulled many a face at me, has happily shushed my husband with a hand over his mouth and has rarely sat still through an episode of Lego Masters – let alone a 3-hour entertainment. He has just started Reception this year, and as anticipated, is perfect in the classroom. Saving the entertaining behaviour for home.

Whilst the world watched the Duchess and her little love, the comments on parenting styles, behaviour and opinions filtered through. Everyone had one.

 Through all of this, I continued to think..

“Thank goodness the world’s eyes did not hear or see me ban Alfie’s Ipad for his entire life if he did not still for that bit longer in the doctors waiting room”

Parenthood has no manual. If it did, people would continue to have an opinion on the content of the manual. If you've wondered how that perfect parent seems to do it all, they probably don't.

I've learned recently what my capabilities are when it comes to parenting my children. When I juggle work, life, and running, I often receive a lot of messages from people in awe of how I can do it at all.

Being married, a mum to two young children, working full time, training for marathons, being Chair of the Board, and attempting to have a social life. I find it important to discuss with working mothers and fathers about transparency and vulnerability. Therefore, I am honest about what motherhood is like for me.

Parenthood should not be done alone. Even with as many advantages that parents have today in comparison to those of the past, there is still the burden of being socially responsible for your child's upbringing. There is an underlying feeling that that if one cannot or decides not to “do it all”, they have failed as a parent.

You don't need to be your family's personal Superman or Superwoman.

In a world where not doing it all feels like a failure, it's ok to show your vulnerabilities. It's also ok to make mistakes and not be the best at everything.

Children are not perfect. So parenthood doesn’t need to be either. Sometimes, it’s wonderful, sometimes not so much.

All the time it’s ok to ask for help. And to give up on the thought of being the Superhero that “does it all”.

To those little ones poking their tongues out at you, not sitting still, and talking back inappropriately, you are their parent. That is better than a superhero.

To those reading this that have their own Prince Louis/Alfie – I wish you well.

If you are in Australia, you’ve probably heard the name Eddie Mabo. Mabo day. The Mabo decision. The movie, The Castle. 

When I was 12, in 1992, Eddie Mabo passed away. Five months after Mabo’s passing the High Court ruled in his favor of Mabo and his fellow plaintiffs.

The Mabo decision acknowledged that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people have rights to land. It is probably the most significant Aboriginal rights case to go through the High Court of Australia. 

“The decision that came out was that native title existed and it was up to Aboriginal or Islander people to determine who owned what land. “-Henry Reynolds.

I learned Four Life Lessons from Mabo.

You did good.

Roll with me on this one.

I’ve talked a lot about gratitude, cup filling, and helping others in these news articles. I have talked on life lessons you can take from any experience, how you should feel grateful and the need to find a village to support you. I have asked you to look hold on to the COVID19 rollercoaster, play a positive highlight reel from experience and pray for others who are less fortunate.

I have asked alot from you. And I still want you to keep this in your mind.

But as the new term starts, and we limp towards the start of Winter Sport, it’s also ok to recognise that at times -  we are really exhausted. We feel like we are drowning. We are overwhelmed. The juggle is hard.

The lunches, the pickups, the sport training. All whilst trying to work, run a household and keep yourself, your family and maybe even your parents healthy and happy.

I’m here to remind you that It’s ok. Those feelings that you aren’t just nailing any of it. That you are drowning. That you wish you could just be a parent.... and that’s it.

These feelings are ok.

For those who need to hear this - you are enough. You are doing enough. You don’t need to be perfect.

No gratitude homework this week. Pat yourself on the back. Crawl over the finish line.

50 percent is a pass. Some days - we will take that.

You did good mum, dad and carers. You did good.

When I was 26, I ran the New York marathon. My training consisted of solo runs and no training plan. It wasn’t a pretty race, but I finished it.
 
After a good 12 year running break, like others at the start of COVID, I dusted off the running shoes. I joined a running club, did the hard training kms and quit running in my head at least 10 times a week.
 
When I was training for New York Marathon, naively, I never questioned that I could finish. I ran solo, I made up my own training, I ignored all advice. When you are young – there can be a “nothing can hurt me, nothing is too hard mentality”. I can’t quite put my finger when that mentality disappeared.
 
So, 14 years after New York, I ran another marathon. Then I ran 3 more. 

In this marathon, there was hills, wind and random foot pain that developed at the 8km mark... until the 42km mark. 

But I ran it. And I’ll do another. 

I dare you to train for a marathon and it not change you. It’s not the actual marathon that changes you. It’s the training. And that training is what taught me most. 

What I learnt, is that this life of ours that we lead - it’s a marathon. It’s long. It’s hard. There will be times when you are cruising along happy.  Then there will be hills around a corner you don’t expect. 

Like a marathon, you need a village around you to get to the finish line. There will be people around you putting your shoes back on, or running the extra kms with when the hills are too hard. This marathon journey has taught me that in life, you must surround yourself with people that fill up your cup. That help you over that finish line. 

The lesson I learnt is, you just need to get out that door, with a village around you. Pull on your shoes. And keep going. In a years time - you look how far you have run - and all of a sudden the blisters are gone, the heel pain has vanished and you will smile.

After all that training, you will be different. And you chose to make that difference. You can’t change yourself without putting in the hard kms. You can’t be the person you want to be without climbing those hills. 

So do it. Pick a goal. Make it happen. The finish line will always be amazing. But when you count the kms to see how you got there - that’s when you see how your life has changed.

Find your own Marathon.  I dare you. 

Anzac Day. A moment we reflect on all the service men and women before us.

My Dad was in the Vietnam War. He used to talk about it being the only lottery he won – and the one he didn’t sign up for.

Throughout my childhood – he only ever talked of the friendships he made, the experiences he had, and memories of this time. He would tell us of the time he slept through night watch, only to wake to see the Lion’s Footprints around their tent sight. He would tell us of the late-night stories around campfires, writing back home to loved ones and the plans of what they would do when they got home.

He painted the time in a way that as a child, I wanted to hear. And my heart hoped that these were the main moments he also remembered. As I have grown older, I have understood that these weren’t the only experiences he had.

Anzac Day was a big day in our family. We would line the streets to wave at dad - whilst his mates would “high five” us kids. They were the scruffy group, the fun group, the group dad always described.

As we got older, we would meet Dad and his mates at the British for a beer and hear that Lion story over and over again. The first year after dad had passed away, we did the Anzac march, went to the British, and a beer was placed on the counter for dad. It stayed there all day. At dad’s funeral, not one of his war mates wore a suit – they laughed, they smiled, they still were the scruffy group.

What I learnt from this, is that each experience we have, we will have so many different lessons to learn from it. We will have hard times we want to hide, and good times that we want to highlight. It’s which memories we want played on the highlight reel that will define how we cope with these moments.

This lesson is one we can embrace for our little ones. We want them to feel, acknowledge and deal with the difficult moments. But then we can keep those happy, joy filled laughter memories attached as the highlight reel. The ones that can replay over and over – when we need it most. We can choose the highlight reel we want to play

On Anzac day we remember . We are thankful. And we honour our service men and women.

Thank you, Dad - for what I have learnt. That each moment in our life will have different lessons – and it is which highlight reel I choose to play, will help me cope with each moments.

We are still climbing the mountain. We have hung on, experienced the highs and lows, and, at times, enjoyed the view. However, COVID-19 continues to cause anxiety because the situation is unprecedented and uncertain. People are craving answers, security, and comfort. COVID-19 Information continues to develop moment by moment.

What can you do if you or your loved one is experiencing anxiety during this time.

Implementing practices into your daily life may help ease your mind.

Write yourself a permission slip to take a step back. To take a breath.

There are things we can't control during the pandemic. That includes the virus itself, what the media is reporting and how another person is handling isolation and restrictions.

There are things we can control such as following health advice, engaging in positive coping strategies, and our reaction to the situation.

Whilst this mountain seems to be getting steeper some days, implementing the following strategies may assist to help you hang on a bit longer.

Keep a Schedule. When you spend a lot of time at home, it can be easy to fall into unhealthy routines. The simple act of not having a consistent schedule may only add to the stress and anxiety caused by a pandemic. Set a schedule—and add some fun elements to it as well.

Take a Break from Social Media. Social media can be a great way to stay connected, but it can also become a real source of stress for adults and children alike. When you're with your family at home, set up a “phone free hour” or "no social media Saturday." Routines that require you to unplug will help you disconnect from the stressors and connect with loved ones instead.

Prioritise Exercise. Whether you've joined the Strava running club and signed up to several marathons or fully embraced at-home workouts, there are more exercise options than ever before. If you need fresh air, get outside. Go for a run or walk. Take your kids to the playground or bring your furry friend to the dog park. Research shows that exercise is one of the most powerful ways thanks to the burst of endorphins you get after breaking a sweat. Releasing endorphins is an effective way to fight stress and anxiety and to give your mind a break.

If the climb does not look like it may end yet, find a way to hang on. Understand that at times of the hike, there will be flat moments where you can rest. In the flat moments, you can take a breath and look around and see how far you have climbed.

When you reach the top, you will have grown. You will have learnt. And you can use the strategies you have developed at a different stage of your life when you need it.

Hang on that bit longer. And make the choice to enjoy the view on the climb. No matter how steep the challenge, write yourself the permission slip if you need a break.

400. It’s a big number with a lot of different meanings.

Whilst marathon training, I ran 400kms in the last six weeks.

$400 was the amount I spent on groceries in a fortnight.

It will take probably 400 minutes to wait in line at Port Elliot Bakery for donut of the month.

This week I heard that 400 was the number of Ukrainian schools and preschools that had been bombed by Russia in the last 25 days.

400 schools and preschools. Gone.

At a time when children need stability, their lifeline and safety net has been taken away.

We are halfway through Lent, with families and schools focussing on sacrifice and compassion. The news of the 400 schools being destroyed instils the deep sense of gratitude for what is around us.

With the war in Ukraine being so far away, it is easy to lose sight of it. If you have current COVID19 pressures, family issues, bills to pay, a war that is removed from your everyday tasks is easy to silence. You can switch the TV off; you cannot read the news. You can actively forget it is there.

In this Lenten period, I urge you not to turn the news off and keep reading the articles. I urge continue to pray for Ukraine and peace. And I urge you to practice gratitude.

In the busyness of each day, the Lenten period will give us time to stop, breathe, and write down one thing each day that we are grateful are.

Gratitude is a funny thing. We think it must be the big things. We forget that waking up each day, being able to send our child to school is something to be grateful for. This period can highlight that even during the toughest days, there can be one thing that can still shine. It may be seeing the morning sunrise, runs in a cricket match or making it to school on time.

During this Lenten period, our hope at CSPSA is that this is a time of reflection.

A time to stop. A time to pause. A time to breathe. A time to pray for peace.

400 is a big number.

Photo credit: theirworld.org

Catholic Education SA has been educating children and young people and playing a vital part in our community for over 175 years.

Funding Principles

The funding of Australia’s education system is underpinned by two distinct but related principles:

1. Each child or young person is entitled to a high-quality education funded by the taxpayer.
2. Families, as taxpayers, should be free to choose the school that best fits their children’s needs, and matches their own values and beliefs.

Matters of Importance for Catholic Education South Australia

As we head towards the 2022 State Election, Catholic Education South Australia has a number of matters that are of utmost importance. Catholic Schools Parents SA (CSPSA) supports Catholic Education SA in these matters.

The South Australian Commission for Catholic Schools – on behalf of the tens of thousands of families who choose our Catholic schools and centres for the education of their children – is seeking firm commitments from each political party on important matters.

These commitments are outlined below and further explained on in the State Election Backgrounder from Catholic Education South Australia.

Make your vote count for your child’s education

Catholic Education SA has asked Political Parties to respond to specific questions regarding Catholic education.

This flyer provides a simple summary of political party responses to the seven key issues that Catholic Education South Australia believes are important to ensure that every child receives the best education possible.

We encourage you to make an informed decision when you vote in the State election on March 19.

Download Political Party Comparison Flyer

Full statements by each Political Party

We encourage you to read the full statement made by each party.

Download Labor Party statement

Download Liberal Party statement

There are things people don't tell you before your child starts school.

What you do know, is that as a parent, you will get to see your children grow, learn, and develop into little people in front of you.

What no-one tells you – is what you, as a parent, will gain too. How important that is. And how much you will treasure, and value it.

What you were not told is that you will find a new Squad. A new group. A new family. You will find and meet other parents and look back and wonder how you got through the years without them.

Your school community will become your new circle.

You will spend Saturday mornings together on the sport side lines without makeup, post gym, cheering your kids on – maybe even watching a minute of the game between talking. You will learn a whole new set of children and parents’ names. Your phone will now feature names such as “Max’s Mum Kristen”. Good luck ever being able to call her just “Kristen” for the next 5 years.

You may get sick, and your new friends will be the ones you call . You may lose a parent, and your new school community will be in the back rows of the church to support you. You may get a new job, and your new family will be the ones you celebrate with.

It will soon stop being a concern if your children still play together or go to different high schools. As you realise this won’t change your Squad.

As we see the restrictions from last 2 years beginning to ease, we are starting to see more events, more functions, and more opportunities to gather in our school communities return. There are class play dates, parents’ nights and 80’s theme quiz nights creeping back in.

If you are new to your school community, take the time to try to go to these – you won’t look back. It is daunting to begin with and may be hard to make the first step,  but trust me, it’s worth it. Building your new circle from your new school community is such an important task.

If you are old to this game, get prepared to return… and start thinking of quiz night tables and outfits.

So, thank you. To my new family. My new squad. I didn’t know that you came with school deal. And I am so glad you did.

On one drive, my primary school son asked what they were, what they meant, and what each person stood for.

As we lead towards the election on March 19, I urge you to take the time to review each political party’s promise, with a strong interest on their stance on education. Catholic Education South Australia (CESA) has been a strong advocate for ensuring fair funding models are met and that all matters that are important to Catholic school communities are heard by each political party. 

CESA are seeking seven-party promises:

1. Recurrent funding
2. Capital funding
3. Preschool education
4. Fair access to rural and regional buses
5. Year 7 transition funding
6. COVID-19 responsibilities
7. Vocational education and technical colleges.

As the key parent body for families within Catholic schools, CSPSA support the position CESA has outlined of the commitments sought from the elected political party looking to form a government.

The recurrent theme emerging for the parents centres around the government commitments to maintaining and increasing recurrent and capital funding.

It's not a secret that navigating economic recovery from COVID-19 has been difficult. Parents and caregivers have faced uncertainty, unemployment, and major financial implications. As we lead towards the polling booth, families require the elected government to continue a commmitment to funding structures, that enables them to have confidence their children’s education will remain accessible.

Therefore, as the key parent body, accessibility to education is a strong factor we continue to be calling for. Fair access to regional buses, with a commitment to increasing the state government contribution to regional and rural bus services, is strongly supported by parents who face the practical day-to-day issues in accessing this service.

CESA has always been a strong advocate for Catholic school families and ensuring they receive the funding that they require.

As the upcoming election nears, CSPSA will be seeking a commitment that the elected parties’ policies and procedures provide a pathway on how their elected party will be the party for each child.  

When developing education and funding policies, it is our position that the government should have every child’s education in mind. Therefore, fair funding processes need to be created to ensure that each child, who is looking at faces on the corflutes of stobie polls, knows that the faces looking at them, will be supporting them. And every other child through education.

As we teach our children the importance of the election, we are teaching our children the importance of having a voice. To have a voice we need to understand the issues.

The election is also an opportunity to work with the elected government to achieve the goals we have for Catholic education. Whilst we continue to advocate with CESA for these commitments, we take it as an opportunity to work together. So that the elected government and each stakeholder walk a pathway ensuring each child has the best opportunity to access an education.

So, as we drive to school and the questions continue, CSPSA invites you to think about how you will answer those questions and how you can ensure those faces on the corflutes you see, will be looking out for all those faces around you.

As we lead towards week 5, with each school managing their own new COVID-19 procedures under the guidance of Catholic Education South Australia , we take this time to recognize the work that has got here to date, the achievements of our schools, and the resilience of our families.

We always have known that this hasn't been the start to the school year we are used to. It has been different, but there is something to be gained from what has been achieved through this time.

I’ve reminded myself and my family of this, as we’ve side stepped our way through the first four weeks.

Yes, it’s been different, but it's been just as pretty. And we can embrace this difference.

We've had different types of firsts during these last few weeks. We've had children learn resilience on walking through school gates on their own, with their parents waving them behind. We have seen children display independence whilst learning from home. We have seen schools adapt and provide an engaging learning platform to begin the year on a positive and successful note.

As a parent, I have seen children not only manage these differences, but importantly, enjoy, grow, and strive through this time.

As we lead towards the changes scheduled for week 5 onwards, I encourage you to look at back at this time, pat yourself on the back, and smile that you got here. Adding that hopefully you not only that you got here, but that you enjoyed it.

CSPSA as a parent body, takes this time to thank Catholic Education South Australia (CESA)  for their clear guidance that they have provided schools and parents during this period. CESA have worked tirelessly under the SA Health guidelines to ensure that each school, each leadership team, and each family has felt heard, understood, and supported. They have been advocates for change, and, through this time, have always had the child's best interests at heart.

So as we lead towards week 5, we look back and show our gratitude for the support and guidance that has started the year on a positive note. Remember you made it.  You should be proud. It's OK that some days felt like you limped over the finish line.

Because you still got over that line in the end.

Remember to embrace the differences. Not all things that are pretty need to be the same. 

Written by Mel Makin, Brad Hayes, Demi Lovelock and Charlie Jones - Yr12 Boarding Leaders, Sacred Heart College

To whom it may concern,

Given the recent media attention on the impact of COVID in Boarding Schools, we thought it was important to convey the perspectives of those of us experiencing this on an everyday basis in our home away from home - Boarding School.

As a SHC Boarding Family, we are very close with all of our boarding peers and the advice that has been put forward by SA Health has meant that our boarding experience over the last few weeks has been very different to what a boarding experience should be.

Being treated as a high risk residential facility has definitely presented it’s challenges for us teenagers. What has been particularly difficult is the ‘cohorting’ of groups of boarders, meaning that we are unable to mingle with our friends and siblings that are in other cohorts or year levels. This has been particularly challenging as we are unable to associate with those we normally would on a day to day basis as has been the case in our previous years in the SHC Boarding House.

Of course, the wearing of masks in our home away from home has also been a difficult adjustment for us, especially given we are required to wear these during the day at school as well. Whilst the day students can go home and be mask free, we go to our home and are still required to wear masks wherever we go. Due to COVID as well, all of our meals have been converted to single serve takeaway style meals that we are required to eat outdoors, which has been an interesting adjustment also. This not only impacts us and we can only imagine how much extra work this is creating for our amazing Kitchen Staff who take great pride in their work and now have to pre-package all of our meals and deliver to the separate Boarding Houses.

As with every year, we have a number of new boarders joining our boarding family this year and we have been unable to welcome them as we normally would, with special events and even new boarder get to know you activities needing to be put on hold. In the past, these have been extremely effective with finding connections with new people from similar regions,  building relationships and also discovering what we have in common with one another. As Yr12 Leaders, we had planned some great initiatives to help make everyone feel welcome and to continue to build a positive culture within our Boarding Community and although we are still keen to implement these, it is really difficult to do so with the restrictions that are in place and the inability for us to engage with other cohorts.

Acting on SA Health advice, our leave has had to be heavily restricted and although we are very grateful that SHC are doing all they can to engage us in activities and recreation outdoors, it is a far different experience than what boarding has been in previous years. We are also thankful that our wellbeing is closely monitored and we are doing our best to work with the school staff to make our own fun, whilst also ensuring that everyone is kept safe.

Following on from this, we are currently required to do surveillance RAT testing three times a week which is quite unpleasant and stressful and heavily inconveniences our everyday routine, which has already been completely turned on its head with the current COVID restrictions. The 15 minutes seems endless every single time as we nervously await our results and those of others in our cohort. It never gets easier, despite how many times we do this.

We are extremely grateful to our teachers who have supported us with online and face to face learning in recent weeks. Their job does not get any easier, nor does ours, when we are forced to be sent home and need to try and learn remotely if deemed to be COVID positive or a Household Close Contact. For us in the most important year of our schooling, we are at a significant disadvantage because of these requirements and being from the country, it is not always a simple thing to work from home and remain connected.

Finally, the greatest challenge that we all face, especially our parents, is the uncertainty around when we may be sent home as a Household Close Contact if someone in our cohort tests positive. Although we accept that these rules are in place to keep us safe, it is hard to understand how we can be sitting next to someone in a classroom who tests positive, yet we have to do nothing if we have no symptoms. However, if we sleep in a dormitory in our Boarding House with a positive case, even if their room is a single room 30 meters away, we are still classified as a Household Close Contact and need to be urgently collected and quarantined for 7 days. Many of our Boarding Families are interstate or over 800km away and it is incredibly difficult for them to drop their lives to collect us at short notice.

Although we are appreciative of everyone’s efforts to keep us safe, ultimately this is not what we thought boarding school would be like and we are just grateful that the staff at SHC are doing all they can to look after our wellbeing and help us keep on top of our studies, despite the significant challenges that we face.

I hope this letter provides some context behind what we are going through and how sometimes we feel like the forgotten faces of the impact of COVID in schools here in South Australia.

Yours sincerely,
Mel, Demi, Brad and Charlie

Home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.  And the uncertainty for boarders who are facing potential isolation if identified as close contacts, is making that feeling difficult.

The frustration, concern, and anxiety of parents in remote and regional communities has been highlighted over the past 3 weeks as boarding students return to their boarding schools.

Practically managing the requirements for boarders who are deemed as close contacts, has been unviable.

The current direction is placing students and their families under considerable stress. Of most concern for parents and caregivers is the impact this is having on students learning, and the potential of ongoing impacts should multiple isolations be required.

Whilst it is understood that directions are provided for the health and safety of the boarders and staff, the implementation of the procedures is impractical. 

In multiple cases, parents have travelled significant kilometres for their children to attend school, some travelling a round trip of 20 hours, only to be called immediately to come back to collect their child to isolate at home. The prospect that this isolation process may continue is untenable. 

These families and students need support during this difficult time. Whilst they are at school, the boarding house is their home. Students and families need certainty, to not only feel safe, but to manage the rollercoaster of COVID-19. The student's wellbeing is increased significantly when the boarding house feels like home.

Within the current procedures, regular RAT tests are required, students are required to wear masks whilst at their boarding school, eat individually packaged meals outside and are unable to socialise and begin to establish connections with new boarders. This is expected of them, in addition to the overhanging concern they may be deemed a close contact and require isolation. Their home is different, and they are facing significant challenges.

Implementing an alternative approach is continued to be requested from SA Health. We, at CSPSA, will continue to support families who are affected by the current situation. We welcome affected people to reach out and connect, so we can continue to provide real day-to-day examples of how unmanageable this situation currently is to the relevant authorities. We can assist you by being your voice.

Home is where we should feel secure, safe and comfortable. It's where you find light, when all is dark. It's where memories are created, and the stories are written. This is the home we need and want our boarders to return to. And stay, with certainty. 

Read more about the experience of the boarding students at Sacred Heart College.

Tomorrow is a big day. For us all. As your child starts their first day, either in the classroom or remotely, it is a big day for you all as a family. New classes, new teachers, new friends and of course, fresh new haircuts. It’s all a bit new. Adding the additional “new normal” with the added disruptions of COVID-19 may take it is toll on the family. 

Each child and parent will experience the new normal on different levels. Dealing with COVID-19 anxiety is not about conquering the fear of your worries or concerns and making them go away. It is about creating strategies to manage the anxieties and tolerate the uncertainty.

As a parent or caregiver, managing your anxiety can be the first step to being able to help your child on this rollercoaster. 

Learning online can be overwhelming. Your school communities are working hard to make this time not only manageable, but also an enjoyable experience for you as a family. Resources for learning online can also be found here.

To assist, we have added some resource links below that can provide guidance on coping mechanisms for both the adult and the child. In addition to the direct links below, Catholic Education South Australia has a broad range of information to assist families in during this period.

There is a range of resources available online which highlight the strategies that can be developed to make the ride a little less rocky. Creating a routine, having open communication and remaining calm are all common themes in the resources.

Remember, rollercoasters have their ups and downs. It is your decision when you are on the rollercoaster, whether to scream, hang on or enjoy the ride.

Resources

10 tips for managing anxiety during COVID-19 (Blackdog Institute) 

Supporting your child to cope with the COVID-19 pandemic (Royal Children's Hospital)

Supporting children during the COVID-19 pandemic (Emerging Minds) 

How to communicate with your child about COVID-19 (Emerging Minds)

COVID-19 and children in Australia (Raising Children)