And really, in this modern time, 34 is still young, 40 is the new 30, I think they say. Some of my friends who are the same age are yet to settle down and have children.

My children are nearly seven years old and nearly four years old. Children seem to have this magic way of simultaneously making you feel old and making you feel young. They are a great reason to buy lego and spend time on playground swings. On the flipside, I gave birth nearly seven years ago? It really seems like yesterday that I held my baby girl in my arms. Her father and I were quietly panicking and wondering who on earth would give us the responsibility of another human life.

Now that baby girl can unload the dishwasher and sing along in the car with me to our favourite songs. Her brother can operate the iPad with ease. These are my babies and as they get older, so do I.

Funnily enough, I’m working in a place where I have to take the age of the clients and this has the opposite effect on me – most of them look far older than the age they give me. Which means I feel like I look pretty good for my age. Really though, I don’t smoke, I look after my skin, so I should. If I got some more sleep, I’d probably look somewhat more rested.

Ironically, as I’ve aged, I’ve also become more confident. I care less about what people think of me and I have more confidence to make the decisions I do. If only I could tell the 16 year old me that I wasn’t fat!

So, while I might be getting older, watching the years speed by, I try to make the most of my time here, to do what I believe in, to do what I love. I try not to spend my time bogged down with jealousy, envy or pettiness. Life is too short.

I’m at uni today, to finish off my literature review. It’s the quiet end of the semester – like me, those who are here, are here to get things done.

I hope that I’m around long enough to see you go to your first rally or protest. More to the point, I hope that I can raise you to believe in the power of such events and their inherent worth.

This rally was about fair pay for fair work – people employed by non-government organisations in the community sector get paid about 18% less than those in government organisations. A legal challenge has found that this is unfair and should be changed. Of course, one way to do this is to employ less staff and so have more money available for wages. This is a lose-lose situation, particularly for clients. The other way to do it is to campaign the federal and state governments to chip in for increased wages, which is what we did today.

It was amazing walking down the middle of King William St in the middle of the day, dour policemen looking on as we marched by. I was reminded of all the people who had protested before me, for the right to vote, the right to be counted in the census, the right to equal pay, the right to abortion, against nuclear power, against uranium mining and so on.

I was standing here, about to get in my car to go home after work one day. Willow was quite young, about 10 months old. Now, I am not sure if it was a premonition or just a fleeting thought, but I imagined a son. A little boy for me. It was about another 18 months before that became a reality.

Dexie is a funny, clever and charming little boy. He’s everything I could have imagined, everything I ever wanted in a son. He loves counting the rectangles on the ceilings as he falls asleep in my bed. He loves kissing my face, naming each part as he kisses it. He can count to one hundred and he is very pleased with himself when he does. He thinks that the words bum-bum and poo-poo are hilarious and is getting very good at standing up to his bossy big sister.

I write this blog for my children’s sake and although I don’t always keep up with it, I trust that they won’t need it to know how much I love them.

In case you can’t see it, the little yellow sticker says WORRYING. As in, stop worrying.

Our Family Day Care lady gave them to us, along with a couple of lemons, which I also used in the jam. I’ve never eaten one before, so I hope they taste nice!

Ok, so it has turned into more of a feijoa paste. Regardless, it’s delicious!

Edited to add: Apparently they are not feijoas at all, but some type of guava. Shows how much I know about tropical fruit! I do feel better knowing that feijoas and guavas are from the same genus…