My baby just turned seven.  It hard for me to believe that it was seven whole years ago that I was giving birth to this beautiful dark angel...so chilled - even back then.  Happy Birthday Surfer Dude...I love you so much.

Ok, I don’t claim to know any more than the next person when it comes to this highly emotive subject, but I recently found out some information that I previously hadn’t known (being away from England etc) so I thought if I post this here, then more people may see the info and therefore….well…therefore I hope she will be a little closer to being found:

I just read a news item entitled “New Lead Takes Police To Morocco Over Missing Toddler Madeleine McCann”

by Sally Grover - AHN Staff Writer. It says : “Portugal (AHN) - The hunt for missing toddler Madeleine McMann continues with a new lead that could find her in Morocco.

Portuguese and Moroccan police have been tipped off by a female tourist who believes that she saw Madeleine six days after she disappeared.

The police are exploring the possibility that Madeleine, age four, has been taken to the Marrakech area. The girl described by 45-year-old Norwegian tourist Mari Olli was wearing blue panamas and in the care of a man “who could not have been her father”…

…Meanwhile, Madeleine’s parents, Kate and Gerry McCann, have been attempting to create sense of normality for their two other children while encouraging media interest to continue.”

There is currently also an email being forwarded (that I received today) stating that as her hair could have been cut and dyed by now, please look into the eyes of any toddler that you may suspect to be Madeleine…she has a distinctive pattern in one of her eyes:

As I said, I don’t claim to be an expert on how this feels for her parents or how this must affect her siblings or extended family. I just know that if it were me, I would hope that people would do what they can to find her. So tell every-one. Please. She is just a baby. There is of course the possiblilty that this may have been a false sighting, so keep alert WHEREVER you are in the world.
Madeleine disappeared from her parents locked hotel room on May 3.

So Himself may be working FIFO* before long. We knew it was likely to happen, but made a point of having his contract stipulate that it wouldn't be happening for two years plus...(NOT very realistic!). Seven months in and here we are. He's going away soon.

"We" have mixed feelings. Of course, I would like him to be home every night tucking the children into bed as is our privilege now (and so would he). The children love that when they are eating dinner they can glance round and at any time see Daddy's cheeky grin appear through the window...home from a long (5 am- 6 pm people-!!) day's work.

I love that I can call him and say "please could you pick up [blank] on your way home, because I forgot earlier". Or "do you fancy a bottle of wine tonight? why don't you stop by the bottle shop?". We'll tuck the children in together, we'll eat dinner, drink a glass of wine, take the piss out of each other mercilessly and then fall into bed happy and contented with at least one of the little ones already in place in our bed to kick us in the head all night...just how we like it!

Now we are going to be going back to snatched time and separate lives described to each other via email and phone. It's what we're used to. It's Himself's industry, and my industry all over. In the Entertainment industry, there's no such thing as a "normal" life. In the construction industry, you can only plan for as long as each job takes. It's what my parent's did before me (Film industry) and what Himself's parents did before him (Construction Industry). We have become our (wonderful by the way) Parents. Time away. Lots of space. Absence makes the heart grow fonder (and other cliches)...

I am lucky. I have work to do on the magazine. I have suppliers to ring and emails to send. I have children to run me ragged all day so that I fall in to bed at night and (try to)sleep until morning**. I have Pilates classes and new friends. A great laid back city to exist in and make my mark upon. When Himself returns, it will be for a week at a time instead of a weekend. We will share the school run and spend time alone. We will sing and dance and celebrate our time together. We take the piss out of each other mercilessly. We will laugh and tell stories of our new separated lives. It will be fun.

But for now I am allowing myself a moment of self pity. A moment to grieve the last few months of Wierdness that is normality for many people working nine to five jobs. A moment to irrationally burst into tears and say "I'll miss you". Because I will. And so will the boys.

*Fly In Fly Out

**in between children crying; various requests for drinks; bad dreams; diahorrea and sickness (at times); other miscellaneous night time interuptions - you get the picture.

We all take our eye off the ball sometimes:

On Monday, Jasper burned his hand on the grill whilst I was merrily toasting Raisin Bread as a mid-morning snack for us. It was horrible. It happened in an instant. I was standing right next to him when it happened, just about to scoop him up and shoo him out of the (Open Plan With No Place For Safety Gates) Kitchen. Suddenly he screamed. There was a smell of burning and second later I am calling a cab (quickest mode of transport in the city) to the local children's Emergency Room.

I had the forethought to pick up Panadol and a box of crackers before the trek down our Riduculously Long Driveway. I also picked up an Ice Pole for him to hold (it's far more appealing to a one year old than a bag of frozen peas) as he fought me for the duration of the "calling the cab phonecall", tooth and nail to yank his arm away from the cold water I insisted on holding his littel fingers under.  (Cold running water is by far a better solution for burns than ice by the way, as ice can cold-burn the already burned skin).

Needless to say, there was a wait at the ER, but really, it was totally bearable and frankly, the calmest couple of hours of the day and it gave L Junior chance to munch his way through some of the crackers I had brought. The Panadol kicked in and then all I had to worry about was Other People's Children crying and screaming. Oh, and:

• the fact that whilst we have private medical insurance, we haven't gotten around to aranging Medicare so the cleric was looking at me like an idiot*;

• the fact that I had been neglectful enough to stand next to my one year old son IN THE KITCHEN** and allow for him to be injured;

• the fact that I had no idea how long this hospital trip was likely to take and the Older Boys required collecting from school so as not to add to the case for Social Services***

• and also the fact that the whole incident meant that I was starting to breath shallowly and felt dizzy, with the shock of it all.

Japser however, was oblivious to all of this and was merrily playing with his big brother in the play area of the waiting room. Nerves of Steel that one.

The day was zipped up nicely by the treatment being some white cream and a bandage until tomorrow when the blisters would be de-roofed (which sounds positively horrible). Queue mad rush for a taxi to deposit me somewhere near Older Boys' school to collect them a half an hour late (dont' worry, mum, if you are reading this, I called to appologise in advance and they kept them "in the office" with some colouring pencils).

Hubby arrives at the School ten minutes after I do to a frosty reception from me; I mean, how dare he take the car****on a day when I was likely to do something so ridiculously stupid. Jasper waves his new white boxing glove around in delight as he sees The Parent Who Would NEVER Let Him Burn Himself On The Grill. Hubby is all smiles and placating hugs for me. I am spiky, cold Ms Guilty Knickers as I have finally absorbed the horrors of the day.

Fast Forward to the next morning and I have deposited the three Older Boys at School and Kindy. It's 8.50am and Jasper and I are driving around and around the one way system that circumnavigates the Hospital of yesterday to attend his 9am Deroofing appointment. The are no b***dy  parking Spots within miles. I call the Burns department and speak to a Doctor who is lovely and thanks me for bothering to call to say I will be late. Half an Hour later and I am forced to call her again. Still no Parking. She is untroubled, I am mortified. Two and a half hours later, we find an unlikley spot on the most Major of all of the roads that we had been driving along. I call the department. She would be happy to still see Baby J. I am astounded, this is nothing like England where my appointment would have been auctioned to willing bidders at the slightest sniff of me being late.

We are in and out within ten minutes. Job Done.

We find a Coffee Shop on said Major Road and as we duck under the sheltered outdoor seating area, we are just in time to witness the most torrential rain I have ever seen in Australia to date. It was wonderful. After the crap couple of days we had experienced, it was so lovely to sit and watch the big fat droplets of rain drench the pavements, people and cars. Jasper whooped and giggled and I joined in, ignoring the snoots in the (quite posh as it turned out) Coffee Shop. We spent the next hour or so, letting the day run away from us, spilling couscous and coffee down my lap and watching everyone running for cover from the downpour, it was quite magical. Time well spent. The previous traumas were washed away. There was suddenly a familiar odour and at first I thought it was the newly wet pavements, the way that London smells when it is wet. No. It was Jasper. Time to leave for the dry comforts of home. So we did.

* which of course I am, but that's not her look-out
** seriously what was I thinking?
*** I am being trite, incase that need to be pointed out
**** we are waiting for his brand spanky new one to arrive