The letter came a couple of weeks after my crisis of identity last November. At first reading I was convinced it was a scam, one of those seemingly magical deals that hook you in and later reveal all the damning fine print.

It was a purported initiative from the 'Emma's R&R Awards Team' and I was the lucky winner of a (very generous) treatment voucher for the Peninsula Hot Springs, a dinner for three at The Epicurean in Red Hill and a night away with Dave at Mantons Creek Estate. It turns out that the incredible girls of Open House (thanks to Kerrie-Anne's exceptional organisation) had secretly pitched in to send me off for some relaxation and recuperation time!

There is something very humbling about accepting such generosity. I would vascillate from feeling anticipation and excitement to being overwhelmed that people would contribute towards such an amazing experience for me. As the holidays continued and I again had the benefit of Dave's help and assistance with the kids, I began to feel as if there were so many more deserving recipients that could do with recharging and guilt reigned.

At the same time, I knew that to waste such a once in a lifetime opportunity by being mired in self-doubt would be to squander the benevolence of kind-hearted friends, so I chose to be in the moment and just go with it!

I felt like I may as well be the owner of a yacht as I slipped on the white robe and tiptoed down the corridor for my treatment. Apart from an awkward native smoking ceremony that had me repeating to myself with a poker face 'turn off your brain, just turn it off!', the remainder of the massage was very therapeutic. I can't even remember the last time I have been able to lie still during the day for more than a couple of minutes, let alone over an hour with someone actually attending to me and using expensive products on my skin. It was bliss. When I met up with Naomi after the treatment, I was thoroughly relaxed. 

The best part of the day was being able to kick back and relax with fellow friends and mothers. Naomi, Monica and Kerrie-Anne all joined me for various parts of the day, and it was rejuvenating being able to have deep conversations without interrupting ourselves constantly to bark orders or tend to the seemingly desperate pleas of our children. We wandered through antique warehouses, indulged in expensive starters at The Long Table, sampled a large assortment of cheeses from Red Hill Cheese, lounged on the chesterfield couches at Mantons Creek Estate and enjoyed a sumptuous feast at The Epicurean for dinner.

We discussed philosophy, theology, our wayward (or uptight) youth, idiosyncrasies of our children, marriage, babies, friendship, the Enneagram, dairy farming practices and countless other issues. I'm beginning to realise that friendship of this depth isn't actually that common and it must be pursued and reinforced by vulnerability and authenticity of both parties. We are each so different in our outlooks on numerous areas of life, but our commonality isn't derived from similar views, but by our shared experiences and values in the fundamentals.

 

After our epic feast, Dave joined me at the accommodation, having soloed the kids the entire day and put them to bed ready for his parents to perform the overnight (and morning) shift. We had the entire Lodge to ourselves but ended up crashing pretty early as a solid night's sleep sounded pretty alluring to both of us. Morning came, and with it an entirely brisk climate, though we still managed to enjoy a fresh breakfast on our balcony overlooking the leafy vineyards. We made the mistake of calling the kids on our way to Mornington and Eli's morose pleas for us to come home were hard to shake off. We still made time for a visit to the Coffee Traders and a mandatory jaunt through an op shop before making our way back to the chaos zone. 

Perspective is such an elusive thing. While I was enjoying the peace and freedom of a day with the girls, it was hard to even recall the tough side of the everyday struggles with the fragile emotions of young children and their shifting demands. As soon as morning hit, it was difficult to just kick back and enjoy the break, knowing that we were homeward bound just made me want to get back early to surprise the kids. Their 'phone voices' just sounded so little and fragile, and every conversation just made me teary.

Then, deep in the chaos of nap time that afternoon, with kids popping in and out of each others' rooms like yo-yo's, I had the opposite problem. How far away those soothing hot springs felt, with people just lying back on their banana lounges and relaxing. Where signs requiring limited noise actually beheld obedience and where leisurely conversations could be entered and continued at length. Did I squander my opportunity by heading home early?

And yet, despite the unpredictability and anarchy of these four walls, it is good to be home. To be in the zone of intense significance again, where keeping kids alive is the main game. If heading off to the spa or to a long lunch was something I had the freedom to indulge in daily, I suspect it would hold a fraction of the meaning and rejuvenation that it had for me at this stage of my life. And the fact that my friends were willing to gift such an experience and opportunity, while it still makes me squirm, is one of the most overwhelmingly incredible realities, and the thought of it will hopefully get me through many crazy moments this year. Because it means I have company on this journey. That fellow friends and mothers 'get' the struggle and are walking it alongside of me. That, more than any sensory experience, has had an incredible impact on my soul.

Up until this point, Christmases with kids haven't been that great. Mismatched expectations, being heavily pregnant (on half of the occasions), and herding overwhelmed and tired children in crowded houses just didn't really lend itself to experiences of peace, hope and joy. 

This year, somehow, it just worked.

 

My 'baking gifts' were pared back from four types of Christmas goodies, to a half hour (slightly burnt) batch of salted caramel popcorn. The present shopping was mostly done online or in local (and quieter) locations. We ditched the traditional roast menu in favour of a salad, cold meat and seafood alternative. Our presents to the kids were sparingly dealt out over a 'Twelve Days of Christmas' attempt, which had each child take it in turns to receive a gift (or part thereof in Hudson's case as we gifted each piece of his kitchen appliance set separately over the period). We chose low key hangouts with friends over a frenzy of cleaning, preparing and setting up at home. In short, we 'did' a lot less and shook off much of the previous (self-imposed) pressures.

Not that it was necessarily any quieter.

On the weekend before Christmas we worked with neighbours to set up a Street Party, and then had our Open House Christmas Party on the very next day. The Street Party had the misfortune of coinciding with a 38 degree scorcher, which saw a lot of the people who had planned to attend drop out. Surprisingly, the intensity of the weather actually brought the people who did show up together much more effectively than any milder alternative, as we all ended up running around like lunatics in the midst of a massive water fight, spraying and shooting people we had met only moments before! The water fight's grand finale was a torrential drenching from above which saw everyone huddling in the park's only (tiny) shelter, awkwardly laughing at the absurdity of the experience. Eli was right in the middle of getting his face painted as 'The Hulk' and relished the newfound audience, jumping off the chair deep in character and growling at all who looked in his direction.

The Open House 'Inside Out' themed party was just as epic, with an amazing turnout from our community and extended networks and a solid showing from the Finglish to English group as well. For the last year Open House has been connecting with a group of Persian refugees, most of whom arrived by boat and have struggled to assimilate and learn the language with the (thankfully recently overturned) prohibition on working which effectively closeted them in their own enclaves with little to look forward to or focus on. For some of these guys, our invitations to picnics or barbeques have been the first of such since they have arrived in our country. The addition to our community has been incredible- the Persians are so generous, fun-loving, helpful and kind, lavishing attention on the children and relishing the opportunity to teach them how to take 'selfies'! (Though, let's be honest, in Hudson's case he didn't need much instruction.) The whole emphasis of the Christmas party was a good excuse to learn more of their stories, discover more about the Persian culture and fundraise so that courses and education can be funded and so that the Finglish to English lessons can be more inclusive and meal-driven next year. Dave, Naomi and Dwain did a fantastic job dressing up as 'Anger', 'Joy' and 'Sadness' and the whole event had such a festive, fun-filled vibe.

As for our family Christmas experience, it was surprisingly relaxing.

We hosted the Christmas Eve celebrations and Mum came well equipped with ten water pistols for an epic battle. Even Ivy participated, though mostly in the receiving sense, as she hovered by the little pool and got happily drenched by all the crossfire. Thankfully we had the good sense to take the family photo before this exchange, as we all stumbled inside looking rather bedraggled. The feast was spectacular, with Greek Lamb Salad, Chicken and Apricot Salad, Chicken and Beetroot Salad, Pear and Baby Spinach Salad, Chargrilled Prawns, Turkish Garlic Bread, Mango and Quinoa Salad and a selection of cold meats with gravy. We stayed traditional with the Pudding for dessert but Loren made her Walnut Cream Cake which was a worthy addition. There were no meltdowns or tantrums this year, and Eli played his role as the Elf to perfection, handing out gifts, picking up rubbish and giving instructions as to when the recipients were allowed to tear off the wrapping. After the kids conked out, we upped the hilarity with a few rounds of Family Feud, which will have Dad forever known as the 'Baby Snatcher' after an unfortunate confusion of idioms whilst crowing at a recent win ("like snatching a baby from.... oh, hang on..."). A round of 'Jay's Balls' in front of the Carols was a perfect way to wind down the evening.

Christmas morning saw the kids sleeping in... for an extra ten minutes... and then the whirlwind began. Presents were unwrapped, balance bikes put together, pajamas hastily packed, salads thrown into the esky, as we eventually made it out the door to Mum and Dad's for a delectable brunch. Fresh fruit, Burek, homemade Stollen, Creme Brulee, Pancakes, Egg and Bacon bites... it was all delicious!

Afterwards, it was off to the Hughes side of the family for a Traditional Roast lunch. Pat and John outdid themselves with the feast, and we had a lot of fun laughing and reminiscing at the long table. Though tragically, a nasty stomach bug felled Nathan and Julie at the last minute and they were unable to join the celebrations. The water pistols made another appearance and the myriad of presents were redistributed to their new owners. After a relaxed dinner of salads and cold meats, a bounty of desserts (Pavlova, Gingerbread House, Candy Cane Cookies, Truffles) we hauled the kids home to bed. What a day!

 

I love Christmas, though I love it a lot more when I completely relax my expectations and move with the experience. So often in the past I have become stuck in a picture of how I thought the day 'should go' and miss out on the magic that was happening instead. The days weren't perfect- kids still fought over sharing, annoyingly turned lights on and off, I got Dave completely lame (but pratical!) gifts compared to his abundance for me, Hudson suddenly needed lots and lots of cuddles and Ivy spent a fair amount of time attached to me in temporary shyness- but I didn't have any artificial construction in my mind to compare the experience to, so it came pretty damn close.