I have a wedding to go to this weekend.
It’s just a small one, but there will be a handsome groom and a beautiful bride, standing together in a wee room in Scotland that is just busting with love.
There is a reasonable chance I will be the only one there with a camera, and I want to try and capture some of that love. So tonight I am reminding myself that I have more than one lens for my camera.
This shot has reminded me to focus on the details.
A friend and her daughter came round to visit the other day, and as the wee girl was standing in our kitchen I smiled at her and asked, “Would you like a fruitie? We’ve got pink or orange.”
She gave me a bemused look.
I laughed. “A smoothie, I mean, sorry! Not a fruitie!”
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Just over a year ago, I set myself a challenge. I decided to write about my marriage with DorkyDad publicly, for the first time. We were dealing with some nonsense in other areas of our life, and I felt the need to stand up and tell people how much I love my husband, and how proud of him I am.
So I wrote a short piece about us, which was first published on Offbeat Mama. Then a good friend at the Guardian suggested that their Family section might be interested in a longer piece. That was published right about this time last year.
It was my first attempt at getting us pinned down on paper. This is my second.
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It’s funny. I’d always assumed that friendships between boys were much less complicated than those between girls. Certainly when I was at school it always looked that way. Girls were forever falling in and out of love with each other, creating cliques, promoting and relegating each other to and from the position of ‘best friend’. It was stressful stuff.
Boys seemed to just get on with it. They were either friends, or they weren’t. No drama.
Recently, DorkySon has made me reconsider that view.
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I’ve been feeling a bit guilty recently about not being more involved with DorkySon’s nursery. Because he only goes two mornings a week, he misses quite a lot of their big events. We did make it along to watch his nativity play before Christmas, but we didn’t make the Christmas Party or the Santa visit, and last week we missed the Easter Bonnet parade too.
So when one of the staff asked a few weeks ago if I would come in and do a twenty-minute storytelling session for DorkySon’s class, I felt obliged to say yes. We agreed a time and a theme, and I knew that with a couple of weeks to prepare I could come up with something fairly informative but entertaining too. All was well… until I shared the news with DorkySon.
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Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 