I’ve taken up a new hobby. Scrapbooking.

I know what you’re thinking. Another hobby? Why don’t you finish the scarf you’ve been knitting for Miss 17 since 2014? When is your ADHD assessment? And to answer your questions: I’ve lost one of the knitting needles, early September and yes, but hear me out.

Not actual scrapbooking. Unhinged scrapbooking.

See, I’ve tried to write a column every day this week, and we’ve had lots of fun adventures that would be great for it. But I haven’t been able to make it work this time. It’s been a week of fun moments, happiness, loneliness and, above all, fear, and I’ve had too many emotions to process. So I’ve decided to express all of that in collage form.

I’m on a budget, though, so instead of pretty borders and gold lettering, I’m armed with a bunch of scrap paper, Miss 12’s pencil case from school, and seven old copies of Orange City Life that I’m going to cut letters from, like an old-fashioned ransom note.

My first page will document this week as it actually was, not the polished version. Starting with a clinical trial rejection that brought me to my knees.

For those not in the know, clinical trials are how we make advances in medicine. I dare say they’re the reason a lot of us are still alive. So, when my doctor told me there was a trial being held right here in Orange that specifically targets the genetic mutation that makes my cancer so aggressive, it felt a little bit like fate. Unfortunately, I’m not being included. And while I know there are good reasons for that, it still felt like I’d been sucker-punched.

But that's the beauty of unhinged scrapbooking. I don't have to find a lesson in any of this. I can just glue it to a piece of paper alongside everything else that happened this week.

Like our $3.50 challenge, where I gave each of the girls $3.50 to spend on an item to make a commercial of from The Reject Shop and somehow ended up filming myself throwing things at Miss 17.

There will also be a photo of the dairy-free caramel slice I made, which oozed so spectacularly when we cut it that we renamed it caramooze. It still tasted amazing, and I ate far too much of it standing at the kitchen bench.

Miss 12 decided this was the week she was going to completely reorganise her bedroom, which meant removing almost everything from its usual place, and we spent days walking past her crime scene of a room while holding our breath. But in the end, against all of our predictions, she completely sorted out her wardrobe, and it looks amazing. I’m choosing not to look under her bed though.

I drove west at sunset on Friday to our CWA meeting and sat alone in the cool quiet of Nashdale Hall for 30 minutes before the room filled with women I adore, chatter, wine, charcuterie and cake. It was the reset I needed. I didn’t tell anyone about my week. I just was. Nothing was fixed, but it helped.

Also, I pooed on a stick. Twice. Apparently this is 46.

And so, this morning I walked to Officeworks, printed off all the photos I took this week and I'm going to spend the next few hours cutting, gluing and documenting the whole weird mess.

See, normal scrapbooking is about preserving beautiful memories, family holidays and special occasions. Unhinged scrapbooking is for the weeks where you get sucker-punched, throw things at your children, make caramooze and poo on a stick.

I've already decided what my first page will be called: S*** WEEK. Subtle, but I think it really captures the theme.