"If you don't get a job, Loren, no worries, just get busy and make some babies."

"Emma, you need to stop wasting your life! Go back to work and use your education!"

Family. Where else can you find such an endless source of conflicting and unhelpful advice?

I've just returned from a last minute trip to Sydney where we celebrated Baba's 80th birthday. After our trek up there for the wedding in October it was decided (by Baba) that it would be best if we all didn't come up again so soon, given the considerable effort it takes to lug a family of five over the border. Then, a few days before the event, Dave started making suggestions. "Why don't you just fly up with your family?" At first I didn't give the idea any consideration, particularly in light of the fact that I would have just returned from a spa getaway a few days prior, it didn't seem fair to land Dave with the kids for three nights while I was off on another jaunt.

But he was insistent, so I did.

Being reunited with just my immediate family (plus Artur) was decidedly odd and very familiar. My day to day reality is so completely different that to just play the role of daughter and sister again felt like picking up a bag that you expected to weigh a tonne and finding it weightless instead. I was chauffeured around, train tickets paid for, plane tickets organised, cooked for and fussed over. My sisters and I fell back into an easy banter and the family dynamics of repetitive jokes that set off a Mexican wave of laughter returned. At one point each member of the family was visibly twitching on the train to provoke a frustrated Hali as she earnestly tried to explain the new gaming phenomenon.

The old fights returned also, with Loren and I getting into a doozy after I reacted against her clear condescension in an argument. It didn't last long, thankfully and we have agreed to disagree once again.

We acted like kids, challenging each other to reckless trolley races around the streets of Cabramatta, playing rivalrous games of Trouble, Gin Rummy and Candy Cane. At one point we were all lounging in Mum and Dad's room, Loren and Hali draped over the bed, reading out Reddit stories about amusing pets. For a moment it was like time had circled back once again.

The time warp that is my grandparents' house was slightly altered this time, thanks to the recent storm that swept through Cabramatta, slaying the Foxtel connections of every house on the street. Without his safety net, Deda was decidedly more social- sharing memories from his childhood (he was a tank driver in Slovenia), provoking many religious debates (he is a staunch atheist) and giving each of us lectures on how we should make decisions.

Usually, I clash so violently with Deda (in a passive-aggressive sense) and end up leaving the house completely undone. As a person devoted to pleasing others (particularly authority figures) the lack of straightforward paths to acceptance absolutely kills me and I just feel completely destabilised. A few visits ago, in the midst of the dark hole that was Hudson's first year, the relentless (and contradictory) criticism of my parenting ("You are too soft on them!"... "They need some more discipline!") left me shredded, so much so that I refused to even share a car ride to the station with Deda and walked sobbing all the way there instead.

This time, however, the recent discoveries about my identity provided a good foundation for the emotional onslaught and I refused to fall into the familiar trap of helplessly defending myself. Instead, I turned the focus back onto Deda and asked if the fount of all wisdom concerning meaning and happiness was in fact happy himself? "No." was the immediate answer.

"Have you ever been happy?"
"Yes... when I was working as an electrician full time and then working on the flats that we owned every night".

That was twenty-five years ago.

I've just finished 'A Spool of Blue Thread' (Anne Tyler). It is a tale of family, expectations, generational links and repetition, clashes and the importance of location as the backdrop of the entire story.

Really, at the heart of it, every family shares so much similarity in the way conflict is raised and buried, the roles that people play and are expected to adhere to and the wistfulness of the aging as they watch everything slipping out of their hands. Baba is convinced, with a tinge of desperation, that her fortnightly feasts prepared for her son and grandchildren are the only thing propping them up.

She needs to be needed.

Deda is horrified that the university education he demanded that we pursue has not resulted in a wholesale rejection of spirituality as his entire worldview ('only stupid, emotional people think that religion is worthwhile') is at risk of being shattered.

The young, idealistic versions of themselves are trapped deep inside as they are relegated to figureheads of the family, caricatures that sit back and smile, hollowly, as their family mingles around them.

Aging can be a brutal, destabilising process. Particularly when you are so intent on gripping onto the threads of those around you and yanking them into your own ideals of character and ambition. When you try with all your might to suppress certain qualities in the next generation, only to witness them in raging bloom even before your grasp is loosened. I've been convicted about my own 'designs' on my children and attempts to mould them beyond basic pursuit of values and virtues.

And yet, where else can you witness the legacy that is passed down through family? The ordered, methodical way that Baba approaches the preparation and clean up of every meal is eerily similar when I look at my own habits (and those of my parents). Deda's stubborn passion for knowledge, history and truth oozes out of myself and my sisters, albeit in slightly different ways. Expression of love through food and hospitality, methodical tending of a garden, devotion to tireless work, a sense of achievement in personal efforts.... this yarn is woven into our stories and will no doubt continue to exhibit in generations to come.

The walls of the retro home are lined with tapestries. Lovingly and painstakingly created by Baba during an era where her fingers were uncurled and agile. A young girl sorrowfully collecting sticks in the snow, couples of French nobility coquettishly flirting by a calm lake, deer watchfully grazing in the forest. These scenes speak of a wistful life, a woman torn from her homeland by the duty to her family. A woman seeking to create colour and life where little existed.

The brash advice that is so liberally dealt out undoubtedly arises from Baba's fears of this harsh world and her fierce love for all her offspring. Eighty years on and she has undoubtedly left a significant legacy already- her recipes unchanging- bringing us together over schnitzel, chicken lasagna, jelly cake, fried potatoes, beef goulash, cherry cake and countless other favourites. There is a moment, when everyone is enthusiastically dishing out large helpings, where she pauses with the corner of her mouth upturned in a slight smile and surveys her family.... and she is happy.

Family. It's a shifting, confounding, incredible, frustrating and miraculous masterpiece.

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.

Sometimes, when we stumble across a really cool town or cottage on our journeys, Dave and I will look at each other and say, "How cool would it be if we could come back here with friends one day?!"

Over the weekend we had the amazing opportunity to fulfill that kind of wish, having been invited to Tathra for Tom and Bree's wedding. These guys are like the golden couple, both so genuine, engaging and just fun to be around. In the lead up to the wedding they had come over to hang out a number of times, to do the wedding paperwork with Dave and to discuss their hopes for the ceremony. The first time Hudson met Bree, he ran straight to her with arms wide open and returned for a cuddle every few minutes after that. Eli is completely in awe of Tom, who always takes the time to watch him jump on the trampoline or perform tricks on his bike and is completely unfazed by the usual chaos that tends to reign around dinnertime.

We decided to head up early on the Friday as we anticipated the six and a half hour journey may take a lot longer than that, when adding in all the playground and toilet stops. Sleepy children were carefully transferred to their waiting seats and we set off.

Secretly, Dave and I find road trips quite relaxing now! I'm not sure whether it is the mentality that it will be a hard day so you are prepared for whatever might come, or whether the chance to catch up on reading and podcasts during the daylight hours feels like an incredible bonus. Sure there is the constant contortion poses required to hand back snacks and catch flying missiles of rubbish and the fielding of the inevitable question 'how long until we get there?', but overall, with the kids in their own separate zones mostly entertaining themselves, what's not to like?

The weather was perfect as we pulled up to our accommodation on the hill, Rushy Glen. The nautical style four bedroom home echoed with happy memories and the kids were delighted at the size of the backyard. We decided to seize the balmy weather and share fish & chips on the beach for dinner.

We have never been a 'beach family'. Excursions have been sporadic and random in the past, but something about those Sapphire Coast beaches kept drawing us in. I could sense our family DNA shifting as the kids shrieked with delight, stripping down to undies and rushing at the waves. Ivy's tiny fingers kept busy searching for sticks and shells and we had to repeatedly convince her that they weren't for tasting. Time seemed to pause while we sat, hands sifting through tiny grains, pondering our relative insignificance.

Tathra is a fascinating place. Stunning views of the ocean and rugged coastline, friendly locals and an air of relaxed adventure. I made a beeline for the local op shop and the kids returned to the playground and skate park any chance we got. Didn't manage to find any good coffee though, I guess you can't expect everything! There was also zero reception or wifi connectivity, except if you propped outside the local Friendly Grocer so we quickly got used to our phones being useful only for their camera functions.

It was such a random feeling to make your way down the street and bump into friends and acquaintances from Melbourne (or even Beijing and Hong Kong, such was the dedication of a number of close friends to make it to the event). If you just looked around you, you were almost guaranteed to see someone you knew! It seemed as if the whole town was celebrating when driving past Fat Tony's we spied Yapper and Fiona 'updating' the chalkboard menu sign to read 'Tom & Bree'.

My Mum and Dad selflessly and sacrificially drove up to Tathra on the Saturday and stayed with us for two nights, so that they could look after the kids during the wedding. After our last experience with kids and weddings, it felt reassuring to have an alternative plan.  Actually, having Mum and Dad there was really fun, despite the days being filled with parenting battles and managing moods and emotions, the first evening was filled with games and laughter bringing back memories of our trip to Poland for Loren's wedding. Having the emotional support and acceptance of my parents in the tough moments also meant a lot. I imagine it is pretty rare to have parents who can be so vulnerable and real about their own fears of failure and attempts to try every strategy when things didn't work out. Dad often herded the boys outdoors to run off some energy, and Mum would have the kitchen spotlessly clean before I had even finished whatever kid-related task was most pressing. We also got to fit in a beach/playground trip and some mini golf which had Eli wishing out loud that Nanny and Pa could be HIS parents!

As for the wedding- the whole experience had that air of magic, like you knew in the moment you would remember every detail forever. The ceremony was in the Memorial Gardens, the sparkling ocean encompassing the clifftop from three sides. The (unintentionally) late entrance from the bride simply increased the anticipation as we all nervously eyed the black clouds gathering ominously and pictured ourselves shivering in a wild downpour. Dave spoke meaningfully (despite microphone malfunctions) about unconditional love and the power of this force in our lives and Tom and Bree's nephews and nieces were all thoughtfully included in some way whether by a reading or walking down the aisle before the bride.

The reception/after party was hosted at Fat Tony's Bar and Grill, a quaint converted historic house that had lashings of character and nostalgia. Guests congregated in the front garden behind the white picket fence, listening to live music and sipping on champagne while the flower girls and page boys gleefully wrestled on the grass and played chasing games. We had the privilege of being seated in the specially constructed adjoining marquee which Tom had built to maximize the seating capacity of the venue. The menu was delicious, ranging from fresh seafood and lamb to pork belly with crackling, finished off with chocolate mousse cake and a lemon/lime tart.

The speeches had all of us in fits of laughter (and tears), reflecting on the importance of family in both Tom and Bree's lives and the longstanding friends who had been a part of the journey. These days speeches like these make me look forward to our own kids' weddings and I wonder what stories they will be telling and highlighting as part of their formation of identity.

For us, a night out is a rare event these days, so despite both of us battling headaches and slight nausea we were determined to make the most of it, Dave with his meaningful conversations (particularly with James and Pither) and me with Blake and Kerri... on the dance floor! Having provided the music for just about every event in this circle of friends in the past five years, Tom made himself right at home as the DJ, a wide grin on his face as he looked out over the crazy revellers tearing it up to Hanson, Beyonce, Nelly, Taylor Swift and Ice Cube. Midnight came far too quickly and it was time to head home.

Our kids must have felt bad for us and wanted to keep the party going, so they did... at 1am and 3am Eli woke up which also roused Ivy who was sleeping in the same room. The next morning we somehow managed to stumble around packing up, leaving around 8:30am, and finally arriving home at 5pm.

I have a hunch that weekends like this don't happen very often in one's life. Particularly getting to have a memorable extended family holiday in the middle of term on top of all the festivities! I'm pretty sure we will be remembering this one forever.