She kissed a boy!

I have been told, by an apparently amused mum, that my 21 month old daughter, in front of dozens of people at a toddler birthday party, wandered 'behind' a tree with a similar-aged little troublemaker and copped a kiss! And gave him one back!!

Little Minx.

Cub goes quiet

Hardly a twitch for two days. I was brushing it off, playing down Beloved's concerns. Inside was a growing lump of dread. We are too close now, he is too real.

He is my boy, my little Cub.

Friends recently experienced such loss. I couldn't imagine their world or how they kept going, they were so much stronger than I could be if I were dropped into that place. Hell is real, Hell is sewn into the arteries of a parent who has lost a child.

As Leonard Cohen puts it:

Like a baby stillborn... I have torn, everyone, who reached out to me.

Cub is back in action, a little restrained but with enough vigour that we're taking in breath again.

I want to wrap his mum up in cotton wool and carry them both through the next 3 months...

Where the laughter goes...

So true, Schembri on the magic of children's laughter:

We envy the child. As they gurgle and coo and laugh like crazy we realise they still possess something we have lost. It's the price we paid for growing up. And what would we give to recapture even a small measure of that joy?

I have had this thought, it makes me sad. Why are we incapable of refocussing, pulling our bleeding foreheads away from the wall and the knives from each other's backs, and finding happiness?

Is this the essence of the Christian Genesis mythology, we can't resist knowledge but in the process it kills the possibility of harmony?

It is the only dark lining on the silver clouds of Bear's incessant, cackling laughter. I won't let myself become pessimistic though, there must be a better way and, together with Cub, we are going to work on finding it.

Of sick cats, airport lounges, and the utility of relatives

The Chairman is fine; the chunk of his head removed by the vet was sufficient to include all of the malignant material. He is still getting extra pats.

We hit the airport early Saturday to fly to Canberra, but were to experience a string of cancelled flights and delays that took us through to mid afternoon before we finally took off. We went through the scanners, we came back out. A couple of times. We went on the escalators. Bear took over and we went on the escalators again. And again. I plonked Beloved in a cafe and followed Bear as she stumbled and whirlybirded through the entry lounge, past the pub, 15 minutes at a time on the trains, through the gift shop with an explosive expression of toddler emotion when I stopped her pulling all the fake koalas off the shelf...

(I stood over her, feet on either side to protect her from being stepped on, and waited patiently for the change of heart that meant we could move on)

... to the red ferrari which once again was worthy of being climbed on. And on. It went.

It seems it took Virgin Blue until about 2pm to realise they would be needing another plane. Still, when we were ready to board a stewardess who had fallen in love with Bear (they mostly do) came up with a Wiggles book she'd found and held onto all day. That was a nice touch.

We flew to Canberra and hung out with the rellos. We had some stupid idea that having been through a day of hell we might get some help with Bear in the evening, but after briefly checking her out they went back to their wine and conversation and we snuck around the bathroom and kitchen in a daze doing all the usual chores.

I've learned something about relatives, grandparents in particular, and the difference between the talk and talk about wanting grandkids and the actual walking of the walk when it comes to rolling up sleeves and being useful when it's messy and hard.

(A certain sister-in-law and her partner being a bit of an exception to this rant...)

That being said, Bear was brilliant and positive, even in the airport, and made what could have been a day from hell into a tolerable family bonding exercise. Thanks Bear.

Savings Guarantee not adequate - Rudd needs a rudder fast

Quiggin is right, Turnbull is better than Rudd and Rudd is pissfarting around on this issue.

Savings accounts are the basic place people have to put their money. Philosophically, they are the place money goes when we do not want to take any risks. They are not seen as investments; interest is useless on such accounts most of the time anyway. The public do not accept any risk there and will have a 100% expectation that government will pick up the shortfall or have its collective head placed on the chopping block. Rightly so too.

Action needed, delays not needed. It's that simple.

So far so good for a world-weary cat

He is spending a lot of time sitting, legs tucked up under himself, looking displeased. He got the collar off once but Beloved managed to reattach it. He catches it on the wall, gets blocked from passing through narrow gaps, and has picked up a couple of choice brown bits from somewhere I prefer not to think about.

Bear is clearly concerned and has pointed out (and tried to touch) the stitches. Mao is tolerating the attention and not pulling away. She gave him a couple of cuddles that were received with some soft squinting and a cat smile. This experience may be a minor breakthrough in their relationship.

This morning he suddenly went a bit crazy trying to remove the collar, after catching it in the blinds. He shook around pretty wildly. Bear immediately became distressed and cried loudly, almost a scream. I cuddled her, then leaned out until I could reach Mao and also pat his back. I don't think she was scared, I think she was upset.

She's a good girl with a big heart. He's a highly affectionate and emotional cat. I think they'll end up a very good match.

Meanwhile we wait for the test results, but so far, so good.

Chairman Mao has a tumour

It is on top of his head. It looked like an innocuous wart or even some sort of small scar. It has been there several months, we intended to have it looked at but didn't think there was anything to panic about.

He is at the Vet now, about to go under general anaesthetic before it is removed along with some surrounding scalp.

Poor boy, we have not been attentive enough lately, as much as things have been improving in recent months. He is very special to us, a family member, a sibling to Minh-Minh, an elder statesman warming to Bear as she grows and learns to be respectful and gentle.

Although there is still some distance there, it wasn't on display this morning: when we put Mao in his carrying box Bear became distressed, pointed, said "Mao Mao" several times and stamped a foot. An intuitive girl, although she didn't explicitly know what is going on, she knew something that was not good was happening.

Soon, I told her, he'll be back soon.

I hope that was right. The prognosis is good, both for the operation and the tumour not having spread elsewhere. It is something called a Marcel Tumour, well that's what I heard though I think that is actually a Mast Cell Tumour. They can be bad, but not apparently in this case. I'm not completely comforted. I just want my boy home, safe.

Surprise: Career satisfaction dives after fatherhood

Not surprising from my own experience:

Dr Gray said men's job satisfaction declined on the birth of their first child. "While work would have played a major part of their lives before children, on having them they must re-evaluate their priorities, and in doing so it appears to have an impact on their workplace satisfaction," she said.

The mundane striving for recognition and hierarchical ascent suddenly get put into perspective.

This happened for me, vividly. It hasn't taken away all satisfaction, rather it makes doing worthless tasks (for example duplication or red tape hacking) particularly miserable, because you know there are more important things.

I wonder if perhaps some of this derives from primal instincts driving the career impulse. If men are subconsciously attempting to better their position in the tribal pecking order to attract a mate, then becoming satisfied with the family side of things is likely to take the wind out of their career sails. Or to put it another way, it clears the fog and allows them to see how pointless the treadmill really is.

It also, for me, strengthens my desire to do something useful that makes this a better world. I want to fix things, for her, for cub. And I feel I owe something back, whether that's to Karma, God, Gods, or just the ebb and flow of life. They're gifts and I'm not going one day without being grateful.

The Cackles

Beloved worked in the city today, so I got to ride back with her and help pick Bear up from childcare. I'm not usually there. I got chirpy as we approached and my foot started tapping.

We walked up the side ramp past the window where Bear was playing. I tapped on the window while Beloved walked ahead. The carer pointed, Bear looked and saw me. She cackled with laughter and excitement and ran to the window, mouth wide open with joy.

I was soaring with happiness. Nothing is better than this.

Hate women?

You're not alone apparently. Made my blood curdle. More by Pav.

" When I was 32 I took on Margaret Thatcher"

Truffles can do anything!!

Given Spycatcher is part of Turnbull's heroic narrative, has anyone thought to ask him whether he would have the same view of an ASIS or ASIO agent breaking Australian law to write a book today? If they published a book in Indonesia called "Terror busters" that revealed our state secrets, would that be a heroic victory against the Australian government in his eyes?

Just asking.

2 minutes to midnight

I took my frustrations out on the washing up. Beating the stuck bits on a fork with a brush is surprisingly therapeutic, to a point. Water splashed around. I think I saw a film of a Chimp once sitting in some water beating it with a branch to make some kind of Chimp point; I suppose I looked a bit like that.

Work is dry and I am urgently needing stimulation. I took a drop in money and status to come here and things, although better, aren't panning out. It is starting to give me a mid-life crisis. I don't want tonnes of money, I just want to do something worthwhile. Currently I feel like my salary should be spent on a teacher or a nurse or someone we need more of.

The house was quiet, the girls asleep, cats curled up on the couch. I get a sense of company from their prescence and the sound of the rise and fall of Bear's breathing in the monitor. Pulling on a jacket I headed into the night.

The midnight chill had settled. No wind moved through the dark, locked-down streets. I hunched with my hands pushing the bottom of my pockets and my mind slowly unscrambled. In that peace I knew what to do.

Today I am going to get things moving again. Life is too short to be a waste of taxpayer's money.

Truffles tells Kev to stay here and turn the snags

Introducing the bogan toff. Is this what we can expect, dumbed-down populism and small targeteering?

"His travelling is extraordinary and so early in his term - he seems to be constantly on an aeroplane."

Forgotten who's leader, Truffles?

Or is it just an issue of Malcolm gets into power so how can Kevin not mark this Great Event by staying here to humour the almighty? Does he not realise how brilliant Malcolm is?

Kevin, stay your course. And as for bipartisanship on the economy, I'd get my advice from someone with some qualifications in the field.

The Keilar murder- a failure of state, system and social contract?

35 years sounds about right for Wayne Hudson.

This tells a story:

As Hudson was led to the dock before sentencing, three Hells Angels and another three men who also appeared to be bikies stood up and placed clenched fists to their hearts.

In cold blood.

This also tells a story:

Hudson has a string of previous convictions, including assaults, occasioning bodily harm, possessing weapons, causing grievous bodily harm, drug possession, fraud and driving offences.

Part of the string of causation that led to the death of Mr Keilar is the fact that the state was on notice that Hudson is a violent psychopath, yet he still found himself wandering around bashing strippers and shooting backpackers and solicitors.

Should he have spent longer in gaol? Or is there is a need to change the focus when it comes to people who are violent and a danger to the community, to treat the psychological problems causing the conduct but at the same time remove some level of freedom until someone is prepared to sign off with confidence that they no longer pose a violent risk?

The state fails the social contract in cases like this. So does the tired old legal system and its focus on "doing the time" rather than fixing the problem and making society safer.

Officially a pram fascist so get out of the fcuking way pleez!

Pretty packed at the High Vibes today. Lots of waiting, taking it in turns to squeeze through narrow gaps in the crowd. All ok. Lots of people stepping over and in front of Bear's pram as if they have some birthright to push in front of small children. NOT AS OK.

At one particular junction I was waiting, some people filed through the other way, then I moved to push Bear through the gap and then one rude ingrate after another started simply stepping in front of us. After about 3 I purposefully inched forward, almost in the gap, then some flitty Gen Y in one of those stupid yellow dresses that look like a recycled shower curtain sticks her strappy little leg in front of the pram. Eager boy hot on her tails prepares to do the same.

So I simply pushed on out, ramming her in the heels in the process and attracting a glance, returned glance, passed it on to imbecile boyfriend, put my elbow and leg out past the pram's airspace and Bear and I took our rightful place in the traffic.

I trust the turds recognised the volatile sanity of the protective father and next time consider going around or waiting 2 nanomoments for their turn.

And it wasn't just the Gen Ys, there is definitely something generally noticeable, I'm sure the likes of Zoe were trying to tell me this before Bear was born, in the way parents with kids are suddenly made to feel like they are carrying signs that read "Ebola, do not make welcome" when they attempt to join in with anything involving teh coolness.