February 2014

Six Months In.

by Lori Dwyer on February 25, 2014 · 6 comments

“Never regret thy fall, 
O Icar
us of the fearless flight
For the greatest tragedy of them all
Is never to feel the burning light”
Oscar Wilde


I look at this new life that we’re living. I assess what we have… what we’ve lost and what we’ve gained. There have been big shifts and little ones.

Earth shattering geographical changes- a new address, a new state. New words- kindergarten has become prep, scallops are potato cakes.

And then there’s the subtle things. The differences in behaviour that are almost impossible to notice if you’re not in the vortex of this little family of ours.

My children are closer to me, but not as close to each other. My son has blossomed and bloomed at his new school, his eyes opened to a far bigger world than what he once had. My daughter has become more flexible, more social. She is learning about change, the good and bad of it. The painful and the pleasant.

And I’m… older. More secure but somehow more scattered, much more of a mess. I feel loved and protected now. But that means dealing with a whole heap of stuff that just keeps coming. My mind vomits up all this crap, all this pain, all this stuff I never properly dealt with, and it just won’t stop. I no longer feel on edge all the time, taut and strung with my own emotions.

But relaxing hurts the muscles of my mind. Loving someone again leaves me all kinds of vulnerable and that’s difficult.

Sometimes everything hurts so much and I feel like a dick for giving up the little life we had in TinyTrainTown. I want to run screaming back to New South Wales and lose myself in a pain that might hurt less than healing does.

And then I look at what we’ve got. My kids will be the first to tell you they have a ‘new daddy’ and they love that. My son, especially. “Come with me,” he tells his friends, “I have to show you my dad!” He’s so proud of having one again. He’s so happy to be just like everyone else. It’s not something we’ve ever suggested to him- the whole idea of a ‘new daddy’ is something he’s come up with all by himself. And for his sake, I’m happy to let him run with that.

My kids love this city, and they both affectionately call it ‘ours’. Six months in and they no longer mourn for the life they had, even if sometimes I still do.

I’m still not sure if I’ve done the right thing, moving us all so far away. There’s not much I know for sure at all. But I do know my children are loved and happy. And that change is inevitable. And that the experiences we’ve had since moving here have taught all of us a lot. About each other, and about ourselves. Maybe there is no right or wrong here. Maybe there isn’t, when it comes to change and changing. Maybe what we’ve lost is worth what we’ve gained.

And, almost certainly, I’ll never know for sure. So we just keep aiming for happy. And managing any collateral damage as we go.



by Lori Dwyer on February 24, 2014 · 6 comments

Not sponsored. Just cool.


Olay asked me to do them a make-up tutorial. I’m not exactly sure why. I don’t think the “I just woke up and this is the best I can pull together” look is one anyone wants to emulate.


Olay How-to Lori1


But I do what I’m told. And I like to win stuff. And this is a competition. A few different looks are to going to be uploaded to FaceBook and whosoever has the best look wins a laptop or something. Which would be awesome. So if I could harness some jellybean power and have you all Like the post, that would be very helpful. You can me out on the Olay FaceBook page, too.

I’ve also been asked to review the Olay CC Cream, which retails for $49.99. To be honest, it’s really good stuff. Forget moisturising, applying primer and then foundation. The CC Cream does it all in one, which is perfect for the time poor and lazy such as I. And it’s light and dewy and doesn’t cake in and make my wrinkles look worse than they already are. And that’s actually the defining factor in picking a foundation for myself- the wrinkle factor. 

I think I’m getting old.



Travel Bugs.

by Lori Dwyer on February 19, 2014 · 6 comments

I have caught some kind of travel bug, and seem to have infected my children as well.

I’ve been more places, and travelled more distance, in the last year than in the total of my thirty one years before that. Borneo. Bali. The Great Ocean Road. Every town between Melbourne and Sydney. The eternal sunshine of Cobram and Shepparton. The Snowy Mountains in New South Wales, the Alps in Victoria. 

Last night we caught a boat to Tasmania. We’re going to the Tarkine- they say it’s one of the most remote, untouched places in Australia. One of the school mums got back from Tassie not long ago, and when I asked her how it was she replied in a hushed, reverent tone “Wild. Its wild, down there…”

The kidlets are excited, happy little travel bugs always ready to explore a new place, see new things. They are consummate little voyagers. I have supply-buying, packing, and hotel routines down to a veritable modern dance of flexibility, planning, and parenting.

I don’t think I did a lot of travelling as a kid, or as a teenager, or as a twenty-something uni student. It was always superficially a matter of cost, but it came down more to being afraid than anything else. I’m not even sure what I was afraid of exactly, and I didn’t want to admit to anyone that I was scared.

I want to give my kids the chance to not be afraid of travelling the way I was. Because going new places and seeing new things… it’s good for the soul.

So far, so good. As long as we can manage it, we’ll explore as far and wide as we can.

And as you’re reading this, we’re in Tasmania. A place we’ve never been before. The place where the wild things are.