But wait, there's more...

The Little Travellers are in week six of their school holidays. They've had six weeks of being completely spoilt by Grandparents, Aunties and friends. Six weeks of rediscovering their love of a finger bun and a pie with sauce. Six weeks to invent the intriguing game of lets tie someone to the basketball hoop while we skate down the driveway and throw balls at them. Don't ask. I have no idea either, but it keeps them entertained for hours and we've only had one blood nose.

The phrase "go outside and play" is a popular one in our household, but as any parent knows, sometimes the television can be handy, especially at about five in the afternoon when Mummy has just poured her first bottle glass of wine.

The Little Travellers are enjoying their annual fix of Aussie TV but I'm afraid it's not just about Masterchef, it's the bits in between. It's the commercials.

The Little Travelers live in a relatively commercial free world in Qatar, partly because local TV is in Arabic and mostly because they tend to watch DVD's and downloads. The result in Australia, is I now appear to live in a house full of infomercial wannabes. If you're looking for a slogan or catchphrase, please contact your closest Little Traveller.

As we made our way through the supermarket last week, The Third Traveller made a comment as I looked at the shavers, "you have to get this one, it's revolutionary" he told me earnestly. "It gets closer, it's the blade - revolutionary".

Perhaps I could have just dismissed it, but when The Second Little Traveller squealed with excitement at the discovery of a particular mop "this will be your new best friend, it has a fillable handle, you won't even need a bucket" I knew we were in trouble.

Over dinner I foolishly entered in to a discussion on why we couldn't have cable TV. I was quickly told it would provide "the best entertainment options and would keep the ENTIRE family happy". I mentioned it may also keep the ENTIRE family poor. They said something about affordable monthly installments. I checked behind their ears to see if I could see where the Aliens implanted the chips.

There are six more weeks of holidays left. It's possible, if the infliction continues, you may see them selling exercise equipment on late night television before we go.

This weekend is the annual girls weekend. The Little Travelers will go to Granny's house and a group of women who are old enough to know better will proceed to forget about mortgages, schedules and facial hair and instead will think only of food, wine and friendship. Even though we're not going to Vegas I'm thinking if I show The Little Travelers this commercial they may give me a leave pass, especially if I tell them it's Chin Chilli Day.

After watching this I decided that perhaps some commercials are okay, particularly the ones that aren't about mops, cable TV and shavers.






Do your children have a favourite television show or are you a commercial free zone?

Belinda

Does an expat ever really say goodbye? Or do they just agree to meet at the next location?

I'd been in Jakarta for about three days when the first person asked me if I knew Belinda. When I met her, I realized it was more of a statement than a question. It was a you really NEED to meet this girl, which was usually followed by a "she's great fun, you'd love her".

About a week later, I was sitting at a backyard bbq when a pregnant woman with curly blonde hair, walked through the door. She had a huge smile, it wasn't one of those token pleasant nice to meet you smiles, it was a grin, an infectious lets get this party started grin. You couldn't help but grin back.

After we were introduced we began to join the dots. Not only were we both Australian, pregnant and from Adelaide,  our babies were due within weeks of each other and we had both chosen the same hospital in Adelaide to deliver. It was to be the first baby for both of us. I couldn't believe my luck, here I was miles from home and I'd found a kindred spirit.

When Belinda told me about Dave her face somehow changed, you could see that she was genuinely in love with him. She talked about their wedding and how gorgeous the day was. When I asked how they'd met she giggled like she had a secret. She explained they'd met at work, how she'd "scored" the boss. She said Dave had had to sack her but it was worth it! We both laughed conspiratorially.

I was envious of Belinda. She appeared to have unlimited energy, she just got on with it. She spoke Bahasa (Indonesian) really well and knew how to find her way around town. She was an increidble chef and had an eye for a bargain. She was always on the move, pregnancy didn't slow her down.

It would be fair to say I didn't embrace my pregnancies, my maternity wardrobe was dull and of tent size proportions, I resented the weight, the fat ankles, and never felt quite like myself. Pregnant Kirsty and non pregnant Kirsty were two completely different people.

Not Belinda.

While I bemoaned not being able to have a drink and feeling fat and frumpy, Belinda laughed and organized a cocktail party, a really bloody good cocktail party.

When we knocked on the door that evening you could hear the party was in full swing, Belinda greeted us, six months pregnant and in a hot pink dress with feathers, she looked fantastic. "Come and see Dave" she shrieked "he looks bloody gorgeous!" As she led us towards the bar through a crowd of people, she pointed in his direction, he grinned, his hair was slicked back and he was in the full swing of making cocktails. Over the years I would learn this was classic Dave and Belinda, they were the ultimate hosts. It was always fun.

Over the past eleven years I think we've covered roughly 14 different locations between us and although we've shared a few cities, only once was it at the same time. Somehow though, whenever we got together, the conversation would just flow. Whether it was Adelaide, Melbourne, Malta, Dubai, Tunisia or Jakarta you knew it was going to be fun, for everyone, especially the kids.

When Belinda sent me the first email about "the big C" as she called it, I was sitting in my car in Houston. I sat motionless, reading and then rereading everything she'd gone though. When I rang and asked why she hadn't told me earlier it was pure Belinda. "You couldn't do anything, I just wanted to get on with it".

After G spoke to Dave this morning, to say we'd heard the news, he relayed the message to me "remember the good times, no need for flowers, maybe just write the kids a note and tell them about the happy times you've had with Belinda". And I will B, I promise. I know your circle of friends is huge and we are just one of many, I'm sure we all have a memory to share.

In the meantime though, when I'm not reminiscing about the old days, the days when you somehow managed to turn three scoops of ice-cream and some fruit in to the most amazing parfait I've ever had.  I will think of you getting everything ready at your next location, learning the language, bartering at the markets, furnishing the house and putting the drinks on ice.

Until then my gorgeous friend. I'll catch you at the next location.

Three minutes.

There wasn't an inkling, a sign or a hint. Perhaps it was because we were away from the norm, the everyday. Away from our house in Malaysia with the monkeys across the road swinging in the trees and the fat lazy snakes in the front garden.

From the moment G announced he had work to do in Australia I started picturing the first Little Traveler and I back there, soaking up its normality.  Morning TV in the background as we ate our toast, regular supermarkets packed with familiar brands and trips to the park with old friends.

It took three minutes to pack.

Within a week I'd found the Nirvana I'd dreamed of. I'd snuck away for a slice of the old life. We'd gone back to the same coffee shop, the same menu, the same table. Girlfriends, really good girlfriends, together again, ordering coffee after coffee. We talked non stop while we slurped and chewed our way through breakfast. When we were done someone said  "Let's go and have our Tarot Cards read". We'd all done it before, sometimes with freakishly accurate results.

It took three minutes to pay the bill and go.

Her name was Annie, we found her at the same table, the same stall. Her smile came from somewhere deep behind her eyes, she seemed happy to see us all again and was mildly amused with our excitement. We all crowded around her table, reminding her of our stories, our previous visits. We congratulated her on the parts she'd got right and politely didn't mention the bits that didn't make any sense.

When it was my turn she told me about future moves, more countries. She said she could see me writing, I believed her about the first part but thought she was crazy about the second. She asked if I had any questions. "Do you think I'll have another baby?" I asked. She looked confused. "But, you're pregnant now - right?"

We all laughed. Someone raised an eyebrow. I assured everyone that I wasn't pregnant but thanked them for the vote of confidence.

Later, I arrived home and retold the story to G, he laughed. He then recalled his trip to see Annie a couple of years earlier, how she'd perfectly described the cities we would live in. More importantly though, he thought about last nights dinner, how I'd proudly announced that I'd roasted a chicken, except I hadn't. There was a baking tray full of vegetables but no chicken. Somehow, I'd 'misplaced' it. He discovered the raw, lonely chicken in the laundry, in the washing basket.

It look three minutes for him to suggest I go to the pharmacy and buy a pregnancy test.

Three minutes and two blue lines later - our second Little Traveller was on her way.

Tomorrow, you will be nine.

You have eyes that make people sigh out loud and behind those eyes is a thinker. I watch you, watching others, I watch you thinking. You love to cuddle. You have a short fuze but it's always doused with a fast apology. You always laugh the loudest and longest.

There wasn't an inkling, a sign or a hint. There was never a prediction. You were always a statement.

Free range

My hometown, the one I grew up in, the one where my parents live, is about a four hour drive from the beach house. It's a drive I think I could almost do blindfolded. It's the drive that took us on 'trips to the city' when I was a kid. For a few years it was the bus ride to boarding school, later it was the trip home for camping trips, 21st parties and weddings. G and I made the trip for our own wedding. Now, it's the drive I make with the The Little Travelers to see Granny Max and Gramps.

Whenever we catch a re-run of McLeods Daughters, it can be guaranteed that I will sigh dramatically at some stage and say "look at the scenery, isn't it gorgeous, doesn't it look like the trip to Granny's house", one of the Travelers will groan and say "Mum, you say that EVERY TIME and yes it does, because it IS on the way to Granny's house". I just like to remind them. Whether I'm watching it from my snow covered house in Canada or my baking hot compound in Qatar, I envisage myself making that trip and remember when it was that easy. I imagine being able to just walk outside, jump in the car and go.

After dropping G at the airport on Sunday we made the trip back to the beach house. We were all unusually quiet, I kept picturing G checking in and making his way to the gate, knowing he'd be thinking about us. There was now an empty seat in the car and then a very empty feeling when we arrived home. It immediately felt different without him. It's still my little piece of paradise but when he's not here it looses a bit of its glimmer, particularly in those first few days while we adjust to him not being around. The Little Travelers show signs of feeling the same way, they talk about him constantly. Where is he now? What would he be doing right now? "Daddy would laugh at that commercial wouldn't he Mummy". It takes all of us a few days to adjust.

Perhaps that's why, when we decided to buy a board game for rainy days and the children suggested going to Big W at Granny's (a four hour trip away) I agreed that it was a fabulous idea. It made no sense. We had to be back at the beach house the next day. I didn't care. We loaded up the car, set the alarm and The Little Travelers sat with their list of towns, ready to tick them off as we drove through them.

We were at Granny's for about 24 hours. Enough time for cuddles, giggles and ice-cream with topping. Enough time for a post bedtime glass of wine or three with Granny and Gramps, talking about everything and nothing.

On the way back to the beach house today we stopped to see my sister. For the Little Travelers this meant a hunt for Aunty Michele's freer than free, free range chickens. These chickens couldn't be any more free, imagine chickens with bulging backpacks and dreadlocks, chickens that play guitar and roll their own ciggies. They wander throughout the rows of orange trees that surround them, lay their eggs under the vines near the house, drink from a huge bowl on the back verandah and every night they return to sleep in their shed at the back of the block.

They were off on an adventure when we were there, there were plenty of eggs to be found, but not a chicken in sight. We looked everywhere. The Little Travelers wanted to know when they were coming home, they needed logistics.

"How do they know when to come home?"

"I don't know" said Aunty Michele "they just always know when it's time, they just come back....I guess because its safe".

I thought about the board game in the back of the car.

Sometimes we just know when it's time. We just come back. Sometimes, just because we can.





Do you have a drive? A familiar trek?