I am feeling very Scottish this week. It’s hard to define what that actually means, but I am.
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Tag Archives: Nostalgia
Reasons to be Cheerful
We are celebrating two anniversaries in the Dorky House this week. If that’s not a reason to be cheerful (and an excuse for lots of cake and champagne) I don’t know what is!
Yesterday was our fourth wedding anniversary. In honour of the occasion, I finally hauled my mud and beer stained wedding dress out of the wardrobe, and sent it to be cleaned and boxed. I’m struggling to decide what to do with it next – I’m tempted to shove the box under the bed and keep it for some ‘just in case’ moment in the future. But I also think it’d be nice to give it to charity and let someone else get some use out of it. I’m going to keep pondering it for a while.
We took some during the week to look back through our wedding photos, which were taken by the lovely and brilliant guys at Jack Photography. And by happy coincidence, when I was rearranging some computer files, I found the epic wedding recap that I wrote shortly afterwards… all 2000 words of it!
I can’t believe how many things I’d forgotten; like the fact that I broke the zip on my bridesmaid’s dress half an hour before we were due to leave; and that the minister messed up the words and asked me if I’d take DorkyDad to be my ‘lawful wedded wife’. “Umm, no,” I said. “But I’ll take him to be my lawful wedded husband!” I’d forgotten that one of our guests joined the band for an impromptu session playing the spoons, and that shortly after leaving the wedding he was dragged back by his wife, having pocketed those spoons and forgotten about them. I’d forgotten just how good our food was, how my feet hurt from dancing and how my cheeks ached from smiling.
I’m one of those annoying people who can honestly say that their wedding day was one of the happiest of their life. No drama, very little stress, just a lovely time surrounded by family and friends… and the knowledge that it was the start of something special. The last four years have passed so quickly, and been packed so full of interesting events – I can’t wait to see where we are another four from now.
Our second anniversary this week was marking 6 months since DorkySon started nursery. It seems strange to admit it now, because those two mornings a week at nursery are so much part of our routine, but at the time it was definitely the hardest decision I’d made as a parent.
I had intended to stay a full time parent until he turned three and started his funded nursery place, but as he approached 2nd birthday in March it was becoming clear that he needed more stimulation, socialising and challenges than I was providing, and I needed a few hours a week to myself otherwise I was going to go nuts. I think the awful weather last winter exacerbated the situation – there were too many days when we were stuck inside and full of pent up energy.
We were so lucky to find a good nursery nearby – it’s small enough that all the kids and staff get to know each other, and has a lot of outdoor space. It is reasonably priced and is literally a five-minute walk from home. Despite the fact that there were a lot of staff changes soon after DorkySon starting, he settled in quickly and seems to have had a blast. He’s had the chance to do lots of activities that he wouldn’t have done at home (they had a fire engine visit last week…), his confidence has grown massively, and he never stops talking about how much he likes the people there.
From my point of view, it has been brilliant to have two mornings a week to do some bits and pieces of freelance writing, schedule appointments, do paperwork and even *pulls guilty Mummy face* go for the occasional coffee or take a nap.
I’m not sure why starting DorkySon at nursery stressed me out so much. I was deeply aware of how lucky we were to be in a position where it was through choice and not necessity. I guess part of me felt like I was somehow failing in my motherly duties by admitting that need for some time to myself, and part of me was worried that he wouldn’t adjust well to it and would be unhappy. I’m thrilled that hasn’t been the case, and now I’m just hoping desperately that when we move we can find a new nursery where he settles as quickly as he did at this one. (I’m also hoping I can pick up some more paid freelance work to justify it!).
So yes, two big occasions being marked this week, and two big reasons to be cheerful. Happy anniversaries to us!
To see other bloggers reasons to be cheerful, check out the linky over at Mummy from the Heart.
For Sale: 2 Bedroom Flat, scuffed paintwork, full of love
It’s strange how – when you know you’re going to be moving – you start to look around where you live and see things in a completely different way. Even before the For Sale sign has gone up outside, and the first potential buyers have stepped in the door, it stops being quite so much of a ‘home’ and starts turning back into just ‘a house’.
You refer to it, in emails to estate agents, as your ‘property’. You start to notice the cobwebs in the corners, and immediately add ‘long-handled duster’ to the shopping list in your head. You spot the scuffs in the paintwork, the cracks in the cornicing, and all those trails of spilled smoothie on the cream carpet. You realise that you still haven’t fixed the hole where the neighbour’s hamster chewed through your wall. You wish you’d had the time and money to do the bathroom, the den, and the windows.
Jeez, you think. Where are we going to put all these books? And paintings? And rugs? Maybe, you think, it’s time to get rid of all the old baby clothes.
You try and remember how the wardrobe comes apart, what angle you have to hold the dining room table at to fit it through the doorframe, and where you put that special screwdriver; the one you need to disassemble the bed.
You start to become very objective, about it all, very distant. And then a draft of the particulars arrives in your inbox – all adjectives and professional photos.
Gosh, you think, what a lovely house.
There’s the dining room, where you sat with friends over long dinners, drank wine and whisky in front of the fire. There’s one bedroom, where you were helped into your wedding dress; and there’s the other, where you stood over your new son in his Moses basket, and leaned in to hear him breathe. There’s the kitchen, cosy and cluttered; pureed blueberry spattered on the wall, music always playing on the radio, family photos pinned to the corkboard. There’s the den, where you took family naps on the sofa; and the hallway, where entire cities were built out of Lego.
Gosh, you think, what a lovely home.
Haven’t we been lucky to call it ours? We have warmed up the old, stone walls and filled the rooms with laughter and love. We have tended the garden, mended the fence, and added a beautiful piece of stained glass to the entrance hall.
There is an advert for something – I forget what, perhaps a watch – that says ‘You never own it. You merely look after it for the next generation.”
It’s a good way of thinking about material things. We have never really ‘owned’ this house, just made it our home until it was the turn of another family. I hope they don’t mind the scuffs in the paintwork. I hope they keep the walls nice and warm. I sure hope I remember where that screwdriver is.
Mummies Can’t Get Sick
This was originally published as a guest post on the excellent parenting blog Are We Nearly There Yet Mummy? Thank you to Laura for giving me the opportunity to borrow her readers for the day!
The DorkyBoys are sick. It is truly a pathetic sight.
DorkySon has created a little triangle of activity to make sure everyone can see how sick he is. First he stands in a corner of the room, swaying slightly and sucking his thumb. Then he walks slowly round my desk, trailing his hippo lovey along the floor behind him and occasionally fixing me with a somewhat baleful look. Finally he comes over, puts his head in my lap and sighs. I rub his hair, give him a sip of juice, and send him on his way to start the whole routine again.
DorkyDad isn’t a whole lot better. “Can I have a lemon tea?’ he croaks at me from the sofa. “Can I have a painkiller?” he whimpers. “Do you think I’ll be well enough to play golf tomorrow?” he asks, sticking his bottom lip out slightly. “Why don’t you Google ‘head cold and golf’ for me…?” Continue reading
Perfect Sandwiches
So, can we pause for a moment to acknowledge the awesomeness of sandwiches?
Hugh Fearnley-Whatshisface had an article in the Guardian last Saturday all about them, and while I agree with his assertion that we need to cut down on the number of soggy supermarket sandwiches we eat, I think it’s unrealistic to imagine that we all have time to make the thirteen-ingredient pan bagnats that he includes a recipe for. Continue reading
Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 