In this excerpt from her memoir Reversed, Lois Letchford narrates a typical morning in her Brisbane home, outlining the household routine after her husband Chris leaves for his university job. She describes her role as a stay‑at‑home mother caring for two young sons, Isaac (still in cloth diapers) and Nicholas, who is about to start Grade 1. The passage details chores such as washing dishes, laundry, and hanging clothes, while Lois’s thoughts drift to concerns about Nicholas’s developmental milestones, his upcoming school experience, and whether his teacher will be supportive. Interwoven are reflections on her own career path—former PE teacher, work in London, and her husband’s academic trajectory—and the family’s modest financial situation, relying on a single income and one car. Throughout, a tone of quiet optimism mixes with underlying worry, revealing her desire to give her children a smoother educational journey than she had.
Chapters
Hello, I'm Lois Letchford and I'm reading from my book Reversed: A Memoir and I'm on chapter 1, Disaster, 1.3. Back home, Isaac and I begin the household duties. Chris prepares to take his usual 15-minute walk to work as a professor at the University of Queensland. Hugging tightly, we say goodbye knowing today may not be the best for our first grader. I have stayed at home with our boys since Nathaniel was born. Before I met Chris, I taught physical education for some years, then changed careers and worked in London, where Chris and I met and married. Chris received a scholarship to continue his studies in Oxford. After earning his PhD, his first job is back in our mutual hometown of Brisbane. Although money isn't abundant and we survive on one income and one car, I have a more relaxed lifestyle at home with my children. I still have my career goals, but in these early years, I want to give my sons my full attention. I don't want them to struggle in school as I did. The house is quiet with 3 fewer males. Isaac, my beautiful, dutiful follower, tags behind as I fall into my routine. I scrub the breakfast dishes in warm soapy water and wonder about Nicholas. Will his teacher be kind to him as she promised during the Grade 1 meeting last year? Will he make friends? Will he be okay? Moving outside, Isaac plays in the sandpit as I gather wet clothes from the washing machine, a never-ending task with small children. We do at least 2 loads every day and each one must be hung on the line. Isaac is still in cloth diapers. And they are a pile on their own. Placing the clothes in the laundry basket, I wheel the trolley along the concrete path to the line. The bright blue sky shines, adding optimism and laughter despite my heavy heart. Isaac takes the spade, working in the sandpit. He squats, digging to fill the plastic green bucket, before he stands up, tips it out, and starts over. I see him covered in sand and make a mental note. To wash them off before we go inside. Pegging diapers on the line is my task. Holding 3 or 4 plastic pegs, I raise my arm and hang one large square after another. My mind wanders. Nicholas. Nicholas with his low milestones, slow milestones. Ambidextrous. Clumsy. His daydreaming. I stare at the sodden fabric. How is he coping? How will his teacher survive?
