Creating consequences

Ok. Confession time. Apologies if this is the naffest thing you've ever read but I have started to write a book. The idea of writing a book is a romantic concept that I have fleetingly entertained over the years. Mostly I've disregarded it as a pipe dream unlikely to be fulfilled. For one thing I don't have a wood panelled study in which to be earnest and scholarly whilst shaping my prose. Another issue is that I don't even know what prose is.

But I have had two ideas floating about in my head for some time and a few weeks ago I was overcome with the urge to begin. I've written bits and pieces over the past few years that will loosely form part of it but last week I wrote what I imagine would be the introduction. It's not long but it made me realise it's a project I really want to pursue.

Now I realise how naff and lofty this sounds. Writing a book is an idea lots of people contemplate; it's a project slightly fewer sit down to finish; and at the end of that it's only a very scarce few who will see their book published. I have an idea in its infancy that in all likelihood will never see the light of day, so why am I risking any dash of self respect I have by telling you? One simple reason. I hope by telling you I help make it happen. And not because I'm assuming there are publishers among you*.

Last year through work I met a young man who started a business with his brother at the age of 21. Two years later they were selling half a million dollars' worth of merchandise from their parents' garage. Almost a decade later through persistence and passion they have created a substantial global business that turns over more money than you or I could imagine**. Inspiring? Very.

A conversation I had with the older brother and his wife really struck a chord. They talked about the power of writing down dreams and ambitions. For both of them, in many instances, jotting down their goals has led to them happening. With complete sincerity he commented how incredible the world would be if each of us wrote down our ideas.

Now I have heard this sentiment before but there was something about these two saying it which resonated. I suspect it had a bit to do with the fact they really walk the walk. It's simplistic but I walked away persuaded.

I've had one experience of this myself.

Earlier this year I interviewed some entrepreneurs about their business goals for 2012. One said that by articulating your goals to your employees, friends or family, or putting them on paper, you substantially increase your chance of accomplishing them. Alternatively if you don't tell anyone what you're hoping for, you give yourself the option of pretending you weren't really trying when it doesn't come off. Taking the step of telling people what you want to achieve is a commitment that seems to create consequences.

So you're on notice. I have a project I'm committed to finishing. And now that all of you know maybe it will write itself??? Do you have any goals you're reluctant to talk about out loud? If so please share, anonymously, if you like. We can do an experiment and see if this caper works!
*If you are in fact a publisher, Hi! Want to publish my book???

**Unless of course you're also exquisitely rich, in which case, I'm still holding out for my invitation to your house.

When Joyce came to town

Hello! It was nearly a blogging-free weekend as I've had one of my nearest and dearest in Sydney town for a few days and happily devoted every spare minute to her. As she's based in Brissie we don't see each other that often so when we do time is of the essence. Sadly, she's jetting home now but while she's in the air and Miss I is having a nap, I'll fill you in on my lovely friend and our weekend of fun.

Aside from being a very loyal friend, Joyce is a very loyal commenter on NABM. If you've read her comments you will know she's a very funny girl. I always read them and laugh, then feel lucky to know that in real life she's every bit as amusing as her words. Joyce is not her real name but, in grade nine, for reasons her parents have never quite grasped, we began calling her Joyce in favour of the perfectly chosen name they designated at birth.

This weekend was a particularly special treat for Joyce and her lovely husband, Mr Joyce. Not because they got to enjoy the company of the NABM household but because Mr Joyce's parents looked after their beautiful baby boy in Brisbane. It was their first baby-free weekend in ten and a half months. After their recent trip to Sri Lanka (read Joyce's summary here) a few days footloose and fancy free was just the ticket. Of course this did mean I missed out on some quality time with their little man but I was willing to let that go. I would never stand between the parents of a small child and some free time.

On Saturday morning Sydney put on its best display of torrential, miserable weather so we shelved our tentative beach plans in favour of a trip to the Eveleigh Markets. Being undercover, away from traffic and stocked with delicious food it's an ideal wet weather activity for small children and adults alike. Mr G and I hadn't offloaded Miss I so we plied her with yoghurt and cupcakes while we devoured coffee and crepes. We tasted everything on offer from rib eye steak to olive sourdough with hummus, to goat's cheese to handmade ravioli. If you haven't been to these markets in Redfern I'd highly recommend a visit. Wet or dry I promise you'll enjoy.

After that we brought the Joyces back to our apartment for a tour. That took thirty seconds and we then lounged around briefly before heading back out. The rain had dried up and our next stop was the Paddington Markets where Brisbane label Alexis Dawn was hosting a stall. I didn't buy anything despite a strong urge to whack down my credit card. If I had splashed some cash it was going to be for the Gaya jumpsuit here in coffee and white. Pretty isn't it?? We met up with some other friends and then meandered our way down Oxford street popping into the various stores. I should add that Miss I sat out this activity. Despite my best efforts she is yet to demonstrate any real aptitude for shopping.

We had a late lunch at Fiveways before going our separate ways. Once home I lay down to read the paper and woke up TWO WHOLE hours later when Mr G and Miss I arrived home from their afternoon activities. Night-time called for a babysitter and dinner out. We picked a popular spot in Potts Point called Ms. G's, which despite its uncanny similarity with my husband's pseudonym on this blog, bears absolutely no resemblance to our house. Which is lucky because why would we pay a babysitter to go somewhere that's anything like our own house?!?

Ten of us feasted on plate after plate of yummy, yummy, food. My personal favourites were the prawn toast (ridiculously good), lamb ribs, barbecued corn cobs with parmesan, coriander and chilli, and pork belly sliders. Throughout the evening we caught up on all the big issues; motherhood, quirky office politics, upcoming weddings, work wardrobes and plenty of everything else in between.

This morning before the Joyces flew back home, we met at Nielsen Park for brunch. It was, as it always is with close friends, great fun. We drove away very sad to say goodbye but who am I to stand between a bouncing baby boy and his beloved parents?? Hopefully our next catch up won't be too far away. For now the friendship bank is well and truly flush.   

What did you get up to this weekend?

Champagne days

Disclaimer: If you are at all like me, the following post may invoke some feelings of jealousy towards NABM. To alleviate any such feelings please refer to posts such as this, this or this. I can assure you my life is never as genteel or sophisticated as it was for a few short hours on Thursday.

Now I don't know about you but my working life rarely involves champagne. And by champagne I do mean champagne. On Thursday mine did and I won't even pretend I didn't find it entirely thrilling. One of the perks of writing for a magazine is receiving the occasional invitation to events. Being a business magazine the functions I'm typically invited to are of the corporate conference/round-table-discussion-on-tax-liability variety but sometimes this extends to quite glittering parties.

And the Veuve Clicquot Business Woman of the Year Award lunch at a fancy Sydney restaurant glittered. Brightly. The room was full of fabulous frocks, fashion types, magazine editors, television stars, the royalty of Australia's female business leaders and at least one, star-struck, business writer. Namedropping obviously isn't cool which is convenient because neither am I. Very familiar faces included Vogue's Kirsty Clements, Grazia's Kellie Hush, Channel Nine's Georgie Gardner, Channel Ten's Sandra Sully, Sass & Bide's Sarah-Jane Clarke, Carla Zampatti, Heather Ridout, Maggie Tabberer and her Excellency Marie Bashir.

I can imagine if you had to attend such festivities regularly it might become a tad tedious. Actually I can't imagine that. Who am I kidding? I can imagine, though, that it would be hard to get things done and that real life would start to appear a little dull if you spent the bulk of your working life eating delicate canapés, sipping on the latest vintage French champagne, overlooking the Harbour. But when it happens, say, once in a lifetime it's pretty splendid. Particularly when the $29 Sportsgirl "statement necklace" chosen for the occasion* garners compliments from a few famous faces. That, my dear readers, makes for a pretty good day at the office.

What's the best day of work you've ever done?

*Naturally I put in a little bit more effort planning an outfit for Thursday. Nothing like a good excuse to make a bit of sartorial effort I say. On Wednesday night I trialled two different options. Mr G liked the first one but when I showed him the second he said "Yeah definitely wear that one". I then actually asked him "Did you hate the first outfit?" At that point he rolled his eyes and told me if behaved like that he'd give me no feedback. A torrential rainstorm on Thursday morning meant I had to make a few adjustments – I swapped some bright tangerine wedges for a tan ankle boot and added a cream cardi for warmth.

The big A

Anxiety comes in many shapes and sizes. It can be triggered by big and little things and can be a big or little thing itself. I say this with some confidence because it was once a very big thing for me. I worried about everything and anything unaware there was any other way to be. Happily, there is another way. (One day I will write about how I made that realisation but I'll warn you in advance that it wasn't pretty.)

Nowadays, for the most part, anxiety is a small thing in my life. Occasionally, though, I slip back into my well worn ways. I know I'm crossing the line when I begin fretting over details that even the most fastidious worrier needn't worry themself with. For example, when I begin to quietly panic about whether I will get to work the next day, or wake to my alarm, or whether we will use all the vegetables in the fridge before they wilt, I know it's time for some stern reflection.

If you're not inclined towards anxiety, you might read that and think I'm having you on. I'm not. I've actually spent time scared about things as inconsequential as that. And worse. I was once so accustomed to having a blanket of fear lingering over me that if I found myself without a specific qualm I would panic over that and quickly find something to worry about.

For me anxiety's unique quality is its ability to render me incapable of distinguishing between necessary and unnecessary concerns. When I'm in anxiety's clutch my physical reaction – shortness of breath, dread, heart racing, heart sinking, fear - is the same regardless of the utility of my concern. Some things do warrant apprehension and a physical reaction is sometimes inevitable. Before a job interview, or an exam, or giving birth.

The issue is when you can't make any distinction. Because everything is greeted with the same agony. That's when I know the little a has become a very big A and that's not particularly sustainable.

I bring this up because recently I crossed the line. If we're friends on Facebook or you follow me on Twitter you might know that I had a big win in the childcare department recently. Miss I has got a spot at a fantastic childcare centre just around the corner from where we live. This is hugely exciting for several reasons.

For one thing it means navigating public transport during peak hour with a pram and a toddler, twice a day, is about to become a thing of my past. A very dark thing from my past. The other big win is it's substantially cheaper. It's impolite to talk about money but the weekly saving is equivalent to almost two whole extra days. So it's good, good, news all around.

I was ecstatic for 24 hours before my elation turned to unease. A few days later I listed the various doubts and fears I had entertained since hearing the news. And when I say entertained I don't mean for a fleeting second. I devoted many, many, minutes of real time worrying about each and every item on this list. You might notice that some of them contradict each other. That's all part of the fun.

• Is it too unsettling to move Miss I?
• Are we mean parents for being excited to save money on childcare?
• Is it bad that I won't be spending as much time with Miss I each day because although the commute is hellish at least we're together for it?
• Is it bad that I've put her through seven months of public transport?
• Will Miss I's current carers be sad that she's leaving?
• Or worse, will they be happy that she's leaving?
• Will they think I don't like them or think they didn't do a good job?
• Will Miss I like her new carers?
• Will her new carers like her?
• Am I selfish for changing her?
• Am I selfish for working?

In hindsight, the list is comical. At least it would be if it weren't true. Each concern comes from a place of love and wanting what's best for Miss I but nothing was achieved by my fretting. Particularly because we'd already made the decision. A decision that I had no hesitation in making because it was such a no-brainer.

If we were undecided those issues would absolutely require some thought. But we had made the decision. And yet I was consumed with fear and worry anyway. And that is the lingering curse of the big A. The good news is it forced me to snap me out of an old habit. Or in the words of Caitlin Moran, it made me shut up.