My post earlier in the week about life as an introvert seemed to strike a chord with some readers of DorkyMum – it’s always nice when that happens – so I thought I’d expand a little bit on one of the specific challenges I’ve faced.
Knowing when to say yes, and when to say no.
*stands up*
*shuffles nervously*
*clears throat*
Hello. My name’s Ruth and I am an introvert.
Would you believe that it has taken me 31 years to say that?
Most of those years have been taken up with saying other things. No, I’m not anti-social. No, I’m not shy. No, it’s not that I hate people, or that I hate you, or that I’ve been badly brought.
I’m just an introvert. Continue reading
What a lovely little weekend that was.
It was the winter solstice here on Saturday. The shortest day of the year was a sunny one, filled from dusk until dawn with light and brightness.
DorkyDad and I went out to the Winter Feast on Saturday night – a loud and lively celebration of local food. It was the only DARK MOFO event we went to together. DorkyDad had been to listen to poetry and music at the Odeon Theatre last week, and DorkySon and I spent a merry afternoon with our mops at Yin Xiuzhen’s ice sculpture, but Saturday night was special.
There is a bit of a box theme running in this house at the moment.
One of DorkySon’s favourite playthings is what he calls his ‘random box’ – a large, lidded plastic container filled with an assortment of absolute tat. There are those dreadful cheap toys that you get free on the front of magazines – shaky little vehicles that lose a wheel the first time they go out on the road. There are golf balls that have been liberated from DorkyDad’s collection. There are pieces of tinsel and sparkly rosettes with small scraps of Christmas paper still attached. There are assorted collectors cards – Australian animals, Disney characters, Phillies players from the 2009 baseball season. There are slices of cardboard pizza that smell of basil – sort of. There are empty Kinder Surprise cases, and a couple of old phones with the batteries removed. There’s an egg timer and a magnifying glass, a plastic fishing rod with assorted sea creatures in lurid colours, a few pieces of doctor’s kit… Continue reading
DorkyDad and I were lying in bed the other night. We were laughing.
“He’s like you,” he said.
“No, no, no. Don’t blame that mess on me,” I said. “He’s all you. Every last bit of it. It’s all your fault.”
It was a shock to have a son. It was all a shock, actually. Pregnancy, labour, birth… that deep intake of breath that came when I was handed a solid little body for the first time.
I was so sure it was a girl. We had chosen her name. She would arrive calm and quiet in a rosy glow. Instinct would kick in and the rest would be easy.
Ha!
That’s what DorkySon says now. ‘
“Ha! Tricking you!’
Wee bugger.
Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 