It was my birthday on Tuesday. Thirty four years on this earth, and four years in Melbourne town. This birthday really snuck up on me. Suddenly it was October! Whaaaat? Wasn’t it just March?
The day passed by without much fanfare – some years are like that, don’t you think? I could have made more time for myself but I didn’t. I did get to have a lunch out, which is a rarity these days. French toast with poached pear and strawberries and marscapone, and a latte. At a cafe which is very not-child-friendly. Boy did I take those for granted.
Thirty four is: another layer to my hair, thinking about the lost baby which would have been due this week, wondering if I’ll ever paint my fingernails again, apprehension at having to move an entire houseload of stuff for the first time, self confidence, experimenting with toddler containment techniques, always giving a cuddle, excitement for the next year to come, only pages away from finishing my first book to an acceptable readable standard!, slight addiction to marshmallowy goodies, content.
Big things will happen in the next 12 months, starting off with moving into our new house. There’ll be so much to organise – driveway, paths, window coverings, garden, lawn, decking, light fittings, mirrors, cabinetry, furniture. ARrrgh. Part of me just wishes it was already 6 months down the track with all these things finished, even though time is clearly flying by fast enough as it is. Hopefully by this time next year, we’ll be comfortably settled in, with all the major items ticked off. I look forward to the slow accretion of a home, of making this house truly ours.