I’m slightly weirded out by the “interview” – I mean what could they possibly ask me?  Am I meant to “dress up” to impress them??   Also, I realised the other night, that in my application frenzy I forgot to update the cv I did for the purposes of the MBA – wherein I state that my goal is to update and upgrade my managerial qualifications with a view to blah blah.  That actually made me giggle at 4am.  I wonder if they will ask me about that?  And also (in my frenzy) my application letter was charmingly old-fashioned, in that it was actually HAND WRITTEN, because I am unable to achieve a functioning printer.  HAHAHA.  In my covering note, I almost made some apologetic remark about the fact that everything was handwritten and that I *would* be able to access a typewriter at some future point for the purposes of an assignment…… but then I felt that was too self-deprecating and I should be unashamed in my use of the ball point pen.   (Plus, I don’t want to get their hopes up.)

It reminds me of my Dad’s various assignments – written in long hand – that he had kept from the various degrees that he never completed;  and like the undutiful daughter that I am, I threw them all into the bin.  God I miss my Dad so much.  He would be appalled that I was thinking of going to university:  ”Why are you going *there*?”  An unanswerable question.  Let’s hope they don’t ask that.

Mother’s Day is generally my worst day of the year. Expectations breed frustrations, and all that.  My very first mother’s day, P went for his usual Sunday bike ride.  He was baffled to return and face my fury that he had gone out  - on MOTHERS DAY!!!  Since then, he has been aware that this is not a day that he goes out doing his own stuff.

The real issue, is that in my mind, mother’s day is my “day off”.  What a ludicrous expectation – mother’s don’t get days off.  It would be easier if our family did gifts.  They could buy me an expensive gift and that would be it.

Day started well – breakfast in bed.  My novel reading was *fairly* interrupted by J, who couldn’t quite grasp why I was still in bed.  Even as I was getting irritated by his lurking presence I was questioning myself – it’s “mother’s day” and I don’t want the kids around.  More evidence for my internal courtroom:  I am a “bad” mother  - I am not always lovingly available.

Then I launched into action.  We were going on a picnic with some of our extended family – a newish mother’s day tradition.  I had thought about buying pre-prepared stuff to take on the picnic as our family’s offering, but I have become a miser and am determined to stick to a budget, so I had planned to make tarts, salad and banana bread.  Started well – I can actually enjoy a good cooking session…… but with the deadline of the picnic looming and the kids wanting to “help” with all the cooking, I was starting to get harried.   My kitchen was trashed and would need serious attention when we got home from the picnic.

The picnic was pleasant.   On our return P said he would tidy the kitchen and I got to read my book for a while.  As the afternoon got later, I thought I should check in with P that we were both on the same page…… namely that he was organising dinner.  I checked in – no we weren’t on the same page, and when I looked, the kitchen was not to my standard of complete organisation….. oh and the vacuuming that P had said he would do was (I deduced) forgotten about.  So I spat the dummy.  Completely unhelpful and unreasonable, and now I have to apologise profusely, which no doubt will give P the chance to reiterate my (many) character flaws.

Which leaves my wondering….. why do I think that Mother’s Day should be a day when I don’t have to do any mothering?   And it makes me realise so much of what I do – the work of mothering & household management – is all the planning and organisation that goes on in my head.  What we will eat, when the food prep will need to start, when we need to get out the door, the moment in the week for vacuuming that fits our schedule – all this invisible stuff that I do automatically I don’t even realise I am doing it…..  but when I perceive a chance to dump it…….  that’s my idea of a holiday.

I realise having written this, that this is thematic for me right now  - wanting a rest from holding responsibility for “organising”, “making things happen”.  I wonder if I’m tired of being an adult.

First hike up the mountain

Wonderful.  Did the Rim Walk.  I have realised that the harder the hike, the better, in that it really holds T’s interest that we are scaling a mountain, or clambering over large rocks, wading through water……  but the downside is that on these hikes P has to pack J pretty much the whole way….  a complete work out.

then around the rim

Todd River flowing

P was marginal about going, but I was insistent….. an iconic Australian town!  Plus, we have friends there.  On the day we arrived the Todd River flowed, which was quite exciting.  The next day we got caught in the heaviest rain of the trip – drenched in 5 seconds.  Had a great lunch with friends.  Alice was great, with one exception.  We had to go into the tourist bureau to get info on where to get our permits to travel through Aboriginal land.  While we were getting them, I picked up a brochure for tourists…..  the dos and don’ts of Alice Springs….. including *don’t* give money to beggars and *don’t* try to intervene in any altercations.   I just felt uncomfortable as officialdom advises against any empathic behaviour – surely this isn’t the answer to (any) community dysfunction.  We had also been advised by someone previously that if we were to hit someone with our car in Alice Springs, don’t stop, but rather drive straight to the local police station instead.  I didn’t say anything to that person (a character issue of my own that needs further work……  I think it’s important to present alternative world views…… but whenever opportunity presents my natural response seems to be *not* to do so) but I wondered to myself…… I don’t think I could actually do that – hit someone with my car and then *not* stop.  I know that is the advice in other parts of the world too – in some parts of India I believe – but what if someone died as no-one else was on the scene to administer first aid…… or you were the only one that would have known what to do…..  or even just the vomitous view that you would then have of yourself as a hit and run driver.  This type of advice, to shut down empathy and “save yourself”  from possible “danger”….  maybe I’m just naive…..  but I *like* being naive.  There’s a link here between naivete and hopefulness….. and new possibilities.

Anyway, all the tracks around town were closed, so we hit the bitumen again.

Trying to get to the Painted Desert

Given the rain seemed to have abated, and the signs stated that all roads were open, we headed in from Cadney to the Painted Desert, planning to go from there to Oodnadatta, then up to Finke and into Alice on the old Ghan track.  The road into Ackarinka Station (Painted Desert) had a few muddy spots but was generally OK.  We didn’t pull into Ackarinka till round 4pm, and the guy advised us not to stay, but to head back to the bitumen or we’d be rained in for days.  The road signs hadn’t been updated….. the roads ahead were closed. 

My poor stoic boys.  We had to turn around *back* to Cadney, and didn’t get to camp till after 6pm.  They didn’t complain once.  What troopers.

Going down to camp at Coober Pedy - no, not the middle east

Our cave

Loved Coober Pedy.  Total end-of-the-world stuff.  As P said, the apocalypse could come, and these people wouldn’t notice.  Camped underground at “World’s Only Underground Campsite”.  Also “World’s Most Inconvenient Campsite” as our whole rig is based around the car, which of course can’t go underground.  It was worth it though.  It’s very peaceful in the burrow.

We took the boys noodling for opals.  J was *particularly* keen to do this.  After a few minutes he advised me that “I haven’t found any noodles”.  Met some great characters – it seems everyone there doesn’t really want to be there – they’ve either got opal fever or they’re trying to get out.  I’ve realised again that if I ever want to resurrect my public service career I can apply for postings at these locations.  I can be an office drone and P and the boys can seek our opal fortune.

We’re currently having an audio-visual crisis.  At a Tasmanian op-shop we bought car speakers for $1, which P installed in the back, so we didn’t have to have our eardrums blown out in the front in order for the kids to “hear”.  Have worked perfectly, until now.  So no music.  We bought our *third* inverter of the trip in Clare – we use these to run movies on the laptop on long trips.  Each time one has died we’ve bought a more expensive one.  This one, an Engel, “a legend in reliability”, lasted one day.  So no movies. 

We’re now strictly old-school.  I Spy all the way.

J noodles hard

Home for the night

Back into Marree for supplies, then headed out on the Oodnadatta Track to William Creek – essentially a pub and a campground.  The track was excellent – so much so that we were feeling somewhat smug about how ‘this was nothing compared to what we’ve done!’  However at William Creek we met a family coming from the other direction.  They were completely mud-splattered.  And shell shocked.  The 4WD travelling behind them had rolled badly and was a total write off.  Luckily no one was seriously injured.  The rains had come and were heading south.  The track was now closed from Oodnadatta to Marla.  That night we set up in this sort of half shed, and then had to move the car to block the driving rain.  Spectacular lightning.

PS.  I’ve determined that the veneer of civilisation is about two days thick.  After two days we are feral.  Dirty.  J’s regulation bird’s nest has turned into dreads.  T’s shorts are patched with insulation tape.  T has to reprimand me about my language.  “Mum, you shouldn’t say ‘shit’”.

Propping up the bar at William Creek

Farina ruins

Kept travelling north.  Through Leigh Creek, Copley to Farina for an overnight stop.  Then on through Marree.  Asked Bob at the Lake Eyre Yacht Club what we would see if we went out to Lake Eyre.  He advised that there was no water…. but being a true enthusiast he said it was “definitely” worth going out there, and then provided some obtuse (to me) detail on the posts that we would be able to look at.  OK.  So we camped up at Mulroonie Station, and later in the day set off for the Lake.  Only 20kms in we could see the Lake shimmering on our left.  P was of the view that we had now seen it.  I was of the view that we hadn’t – there was another 30kms to get to the posts.   Hmmm.  Was it that broken fence?  Was it that star picket?   On we travelled, and eventually came to the end of the road.  Bob was vindicated.  It was defiinitely worth going there.  (Though it was only days later that someone revealed to me that those four posts must have been the sea level markers)  At 15m below sea level we were at the lowest point in Australia – always good news for T, who likes to be at the extremes of things.

Later that night the station owner said we should come back next year – there’ll definitely be water then.

Road out to Mulroonie

Through the Dog Fence. Longest fence in the world - another hit

J. Fun at Lake Eyre.

Flinders Ranges

We camped at Wilpena Pound, despite lots of outback types recommending other, “better” camping spots.  P thinks I’ve gone soft, but if the nearest campspot for 30km offers flushing toilets, hot showers, kids activities, shop and pool…. I am SO THERE!!  I took T along to a “Junior Rangers” event – there was only one other participant, a boy a few years older than T.  I was sort of heart-in-mouth when I realised that it was one of those events where the leader asks a rhetorical question and looks to a child to answer it.  Not that my child is going to be exposed as somehow imperfect, but that *I* am going to be exposed as the neglectful “home ed” parent.  Fortunately, on this occasion, I was able to glow with pride as T blitzed the field on bush-related questions!!  Phew!!