Forty: my second favourite F word

I turn forty later this month, and since the start of the year I’ve been turning thoughts about that over in my head, trying to come up with a funny, perceptive blog post about what it means to hit this milestone age.

But I’ve failed.

Perhaps that’s because my creativity is fairly dormant just now. I’ve been spending a lot more time on writing for work than I have for on writing for pleasure, and while I trust that my voice will come back eventually, it doesn’t currently feel like I have any great insights to share.

Or perhaps it’s because I quite genuinely don’t have any big feelings about turning forty. It doesn’t fill me with horror about ageing; but nor does it fill me with enthusiasm and excitement about reinventing myself over the next decade. I’m already enormously lucky to be living in a place that makes me happy, with people who make me happy, doing a job that makes me happy – I don’t have much need for a dramatic life change.

So, other than my GP using it as a reason to refer me for a veritable smorgasbord of tests and screenings over the coming months, I’m not sure that forty is going to be much different to any other birthday. Continue reading

DorkySon Turns 11

a young boy seen from behind walking through some trees near Nutgrove Beach in Hobart

Last year when I started scribbling down notes for DorkySon’s birthday blog post, I thought it would be the trickiest one I would ever have to write. We had just spent a week in Auckland for his 10th birthday, and I was struggling to work out how I could fit in all the chat about our trip with my usual reflections on the year that had just ended. There was just too much to say.

Ha.

How I wish that the hardest thing about this year’s blog post was how to fit birthday cake, a business class upgrade, and a busy weekend in another city into 1200 words.

Instead, I’m wondering how to write about turning 11 in the middle of a worldwide pandemic.

* Continue reading

Double Digits

10 Birthday Cake

We are at the airport on the way to Auckland. There were air miles that were about to expire, and that’s as far as they’d take us, so we are headed across the Tasman. After recent events in Christchurch we imagine that it might be a strange and subdued time in New Zealand, but perhaps that makes it all the more important to visit and share some love.

DorkySon turns 10 while we’re away. I’m a little worried that an international trip, flying business class, sets the bar too high for future birthdays. But I also know this boy has never asked for a party, and that you only enter double figures once.

He has his headphones on as we wait to board, and sucks a berry smoothie from a glass bottle. Nine-nearly-ten is a funny age. I can see traces of the baby he was, and traces of the man he will be. He is serious, and self-contained, but has a beautiful smile and loves to laugh. Continue reading

Seven

IMG_1540

It was DorkySon’s birthday at the end of March. Seven. Goodness.

As with every year previous, we asked if he wanted a party, and as with every year previous he said no. He is nothing if not predictable – still a boy of simple pleasures. On the day itself he took in some sweets to share with classmates, and asked to have dinner at a local brewpub. (Pulled pork sandwiches for the win!) His present requests also remained modest – books, Lego, and a big shiny balloon. The weekend after his birthday we took a boat trip down the river – an opportunity to see penguins bobbing in the water and sea eagles soar above our heads – then went for fish and chips, and ice cream. He is a boy after my own heart for sure. Continue reading

Now you are six

DorkySon

So now you are six.

You are not a wee soft thing anymore. There is still a slight curve to your belly, and enough for a squeeze under your chin, but otherwise you are all angles and lines, long skinny legs pink with the sun.

What a year we’ve had together. This time twelve months ago you were still settling into kindergarten, sometimes nervous around other children, struggling to hold a pen the right way. But you are in the perfect school. It is a community that has nurtured all your strengths and found the right way to help with your weaknesses.

Like us, they have realised that you like to do things in your own time, unhurried. They know that gentle nudges towards independence work far better for you than rough shoves. So now, one term into prep, it is all falling into place. The building blocks of reading and writing are coming together so fast we can hardly keep up with you. All the life skills – cycling, swimming, socialising – are getting better each week. And at home you are proud to help and get involved – dressing yourself, carrying plates, pouring drinks – you become more confident and less clumsy with every day that passes. Continue reading