Love, Marriage Equality & The Debate 

Unless you have been living ‘beyond the wall’ these last few months, you will be aware of the postal survey whereby Australians can vote yes or no to changing our laws to allow same sex marriage.

Our social media accounts have been filled with ‘love is love’ slogans, rainbow profile images and postal votes with big yes ticks. There is an overwhelming feeling of positivity, hope, acceptance, peace and complete, unwavering love. Finally there is a movement and it is beautiful, it bears no judgement, it is all encompassing and it is gaining momentum each day. 

As with all glowing, beautiful streams of light, there must be a shadow. For to have light, there must be darkness. Yin and Yang.. Or in this case, Love and Hate. 

Whilst I feel passionate about this debate, what has spurred me to write was witnessing such hate, on signs, by humans, slowing traffic on our Perth freeway. 

These humans (I use the term loosely), had decided to make room in their weekday to stand on a footbridge over the freeway holding signs of hate. Expressing, as is their right in this country, their views against marriage equality. It affected me to my core, I was so utterly outraged and disgusted. I felt angry but I also felt immense sadness, how ignorant and even worse, how completely horrid to live each day with such hate inside you.

In the many conversations I have had over the years when this debate is raised, I am always taken back to being a child, probably around 10, where I was starting to wonder about my sexuality and what that was. I was enjoying a family dinner with extended family where the topic of homosexuality was raised. The view was of disgust, and, I believe if my steel trap memory serves me correctly, even an immitation of something filthy and unfathomable. Now, I’m no spring chicken so this is just shy of 30 years ago where ideals and thoughts are much different to today, however, this reaction affected me deeply.

What if I was gay?

What if I liked girls? Quite obviously my family would not accept me, what would that mean? I struggled with this, I didn’t know which sex I preferred, I had strong female friendships, did that mean I liked girls? I was still very much a child, I didn’t understand anything except that what was right was that I should be with a man, what was wrong was if I choose a woman. Love didn’t seem to matter, only the ‘right’  gender.

Now I grew up to like boys and I was allowed to be married not just once, but twice. I am currently married to a man I love, I can call him my husband, and I am his wife. It is recognised by the government, by our family, friends, work colleagues and most importantly, our children. We didn’t have to fight for our marriage, even as someone with a divorce under her belt, it was easy, it was accepted.

Am I lucky? No, this is my right, it’s not luck. It’s my right to share my life, my name, my children, with someone I love. Whether that person is a man or woman is irrelevant, what is relevant is acceptance. 

Whilst I am writing this I know that there are so many who feel the same way that I do, feel passionately for equality, for love. For those of you who don’t share my opinion, I ask you this… There was a time that women were viewed the lesser sex, goodness, we couldn’t even vote, did changing our rights make this world better or worse? There was a time where a person of colour had to drink at a different water fountain, whilst this fight for true racial equality is still ongoing, did acknowledging racism make our world better or worse? And most importantly would a child raised in an abusive home whereby the married parents are male and female be better off there than in a loving home whereby the married parents are of the same sex?

This change to legislation affects those who want to be acknowledged, who want to build stronger families, who want the right to say, this is my husband, this is my wife. It doesn’t affect those of us who already have this wonderful right. Their plight is love driven, how on earth can that be wrong? 

Make it equal.


Restoring Our Little Lady’s Facade

Re post from our sister blog ..

Our little cottage is an original post WWII house, complete with timber frames, skinny jarrah floors and asbestos walls. At the end of WWII, the Government found themselves in somewhat of a housing crisis here in Western Australia, with the Doubleview northern corridor being one of the suburbs selected to build homes for our returning soldiers.

Originally, our cottage was on the front of a full sized block, however, at some point, a developer bought two blocks of land side by side, picked up our lady, popped her at the back of one and developed the other, making our original 1948 home unique to its rear location.

I love that in the last 69 years she has seen so much, she homed a returning war hero and his family, she has raised families, listened to children squealing, laughing and their tears, homed moments of sorrow and joy and of course, been a drug house before we rescued her.  Continue reading

Nostalgia and the Hippy Skirt 

I recently experienced my first moment of pure envy.

For my 38 years in our world I have appreciated and admired other women. I admire their never ending capabilities as they morph between gentle mother to shrewd business woman; their physical beauty and their hearts which often have no end of love and compassion.

Women have such strength, such resilience to adversity, we all deserve to be admired and appreciated, especially by each other.

Continue reading

For Always | A Wedding Planners Journal

I am a self proclaimed wedding queen.

I’ve got two under my own belt, had the absolute pleasure of being a bridesmaid 7 times, have been to over 20 weddings as a guest and have planned and/or styled countless weddings for clients over the years.

As I said, self proclaimed queen.

My favourite moment is when I meet my bride at her car, she is always smiling nervously, overcome with the enormity of emotions. Some chatter, some are quiet, all are breathtaking in their glow of anticipation. Continue reading

Being an imperfect Mother .. the great feeding debate

Before a woman embarks on the journey of motherhood, most have an idea of how they would like to give birth to their child, how they plan on feeding and generally how they are going to raise them. I can assure you, as all mothers reading this will agree, it often goes out the window when you realise how little power you have when it comes to how your baby arrives and how you will feed them.

As a mother who is just shy of 13 years on the job, I have been blessed to have experienced this whirlwind threefold.


I am pro breastfeeding, I am pro bottle feeding, I am also not pro the pressure to do either.

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How I learnt the true definition of home

When I met my husband, I was just about to move from an in between rental about an hour out of the city and into a teeny tiny rental in Doubleview, a beach side suburb, nice and close to the city. Noah and Holly were just 7 and 4 years old at the time and I was moving to bring us all closer to my work, my family, our friends and make a new start. The timing to meet Matt, who only lived a few minutes away, was uncanny. My first marriage had broken up a couple of years earlier and I was not in the financial position to purchase a home, despite previously owning homes in my marriage… divorce is expensive.

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Our Nursery

When I entered the third trimester, a panic set in, where you realise the baby is coming, sooner rather than later, and perhaps you should buy a few bits and bobs and make a room habitable for a small human.

I suggested to the husband that it was time to build in some walls and turn the somewhat open study into a cosy nursery for our wee man. So, we .. the husband .. got out the carpenter belt and started demolishing and rebuilding. Click to squiz more on this post

Harrisons Story.. Our Joy and Heartache with Baby no. 3

Baby no. 3 for me was baby no. 1 for my husband. Noah and Holly are from my first marriage and although Matt has taken on my children as his own, there is truly nothing like watching your baby grow from a freckle to a fully fledged human. I think every parent would agree that watching your child be born is the most wonderful and in explainable joy you could ever feel. My need for my selfless husband to experience this joy was so great, he wanted a child of his own and to be able to give this gift to him brought me immense happiness.

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The Life That Love Built .. Howdy

Jill of all trades.. Master of none (except maybe the gift of the gab, applying mascara & some fairly OCD organisation skills)

A 1978 baby, Libran, lover of all things pink, Fleetwood Mac & partial to a glass or 5 of a lovely red wine, I am an Australian girl with some Scottish blood thrown in for a stubborn streak. I’m obsessed with warm weather and truly start to wilt by mid winter each year. Click to squiz more of this post