My heart sank when an email popped in to my inbox about a Jubilee Garden Party at DorkySon’s nursery. What a way to spend a Saturday.
I have documented my dislike of parties on the blog before, and when you add in the Jubilee element, that dislike only intensifies. I’m not massivly anti-monarchy; I just genuinely couldn’t care less about the Royal family. And flag-waving of any kind – be it Saltire or Jack – is not something that has ever appealed to me.
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Do you ever feel like you’re in the middle of a baby explosion? Like every time you turn on your computer there’s another pregnancy or birth announcement from a friend?
It’s a warm, cosy, cockle-warming place to be. There is nothing more lovely than when people you love and care about have good news to share.
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This is an old photo, but it’s one I love.
Mother’s Day is now twice as special as it used to be. I’m the daughter of one of these people, and the mother of the other. What a wonderful thing that is.
Wishing a Happy Mothering Sunday to those of you celebrating with family today, and sending much love to those of you who are missing a loved one.
Caroline is Mum to two girls – one who never stops looking at herself in the mirror and another who can scoot at 32mph – and currently juggles part time working with her itch to write. She started writing at Scribbling Mum but can now be found writing at her new blog Letters from your Mum, lurking on twitter as @scribblingmum and writing at various other places around the internet.
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This is a guest blog from one of my favourite people, Adam Ramsay. When he’s not being an uncle, you can find him tweeting as @AdamRamsay and blogging at Bright Green and 101 Ways To Cook Mushrooms. Adam has previously posted on DorkyMum about being an uncle – he enjoyed it so much he’s back to do it a second time.
“I’m going for a walk in the dark and the snow,” I declared. It was my last night at home. The white which has in recent years appeared just in time for Christmas had instead turned up right as I was packing to head south for Edinburgh’s Hogmanay. “Who’s with me?”.
The library was snug – warmed by the log stove, ten bodies and just enough booze. In turn, each of the members of my family declined. But then a voice piped up: “I want to go for a walk in the snow.” My three-year-old nephew. Always intrepid. I got into warm clothes, found his snowsuit, hat and gloves, took his hand, and we walked out of the back door. “Will we fight monsters in the woods?” he asked me.
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Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 