My dear, sweet DorkySon turns five today.
Where do I even begin writing about how he has grown and changed in the last year? It is beyond anything I could ever have imagined. He has always been fun. He has always been smart, and kind, and made me laugh, but in the last twelve months he has become a person I genuinely enjoy spending time with. Not because he’s my son, or because there is any obligation, but because he rocks. Continue reading
I’m doing something a bit different for Week 13. Instead of just posting one image I’m posting a mini collage of all my Instagram photos from the last week.
I’ve only joined Instagram recently, but I’m really enjoying it. It’s a visual equivalent of a notebook – I snap shots on my phone camera of daily life – as I’m walking DorkySon to kindy, as I’m cleaning the house, or out to dinner – and then I can choose whether to share them through other social media channels like Facebook and Twitter too. Some are fun. Some are silly. Some are terrible photos, but they capture an important moment.
Because I’m getting on so well with Instagram, I’ve decided that I won’t be blogging the rest of my Project 52. The whole reason for doing it was to consciously take more photos, and now I’ve found another way of achieving that. There will still be room for some photos on the blog, just not as a weekly exercise.
If you’re on Instagram yourself and you’d like to come over and say hello, please do.
About this time last year, we welcomed someone new into our lives. He comes with us to the supermarket, to restaurants, and on holiday. He even hops into bed with us most mornings.
His name is Jake, and he is DorkySon’s invisible friend.
One of my favourite things about where we live is the twenty minute walk to and from DorkySon’s kindergarten twice a day.
When we’re walking together it’s our time for making up stories, chatting about the weather and the changing seasons, and watching the boats coming in and out of the harbour.
When I’m walking alone it’s my time to think, to appreciate the space and sometimes – like today – to just stop for a few minutes and watch the water.
I have always disliked swimming.
Show me a warm, soothing sea and I’ll happily bob around in it all day; floating for hours as the sun warms my face, diving down to pick shells from the sandy seafloor, and emerging occasionally for a piña colada and another chapter of my book.
But lengths of a pool? Proper swimming? I hate it.
Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 