It’s hard to put into words all of the things I want to say.

There are mixed emotions for me, you see.

Fourteen is going to be an interesting year, I can tell.

Maybe not easy but amazing nonetheless as I watch you grow from boy into man.

Try and go easy on me.

Please.

Happy birthday sweet boy.

Fourteen.

Oh dear.

One of the other members of the forum happened to advertise their personal blog in a forum post.

I clicked over for a look.

It only took that one personal blog for me to become hooked. It was fantastic!

I have always been a bit of a people watcher. I’m the person who loves all of those dreadful reality shows that people complain about. Reading people’s personal musings amounted to the ultimate in voyeurism.

Pretty soon I was cruising for more blogs to read. It was actually quite difficult to find blogs at first, I didn’t know where to look. Eventually I stumbled across a blog that I liked to read and OHMYGOD they had this thing called a “blogroll”. How convenient! A list of other blogs to lurk around and to read. More blogs than one girl could ever need!

At first I was just remembering the names of the blogs I liked and checking back on a regular basis for new posts. Sometimes I would check several times in one day. Googling the blog names so that I could find them. Pretty soon  I had bookmarked several of my favourite blogs and I’ll admit, it was only a small step from there to a feedreader bulging with subscriptions. I was completely dominated by my addiction. Spending hours each day reading blogs.

It was about this time that I found I sometimes had something I wanted to say to the writer of the blog I was reading. One of those days, my need to make a comment won out against my shyness and need for anonymity. I could interact with people in this “blogosphere”. It only deepened my addiction.

Finally matters came to a head. Beefcake had noticed the obsession that had seized me. He knew he had to do something to help me. I think he considered holding an intervention but instead he chose to tease me. To goad me.

“You should start your own blog” he said, “It’d be fun”

“Naaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh, I’d be too embarassed” I would cry, “Anyway, who would want to read anything I have to say, it would be boring as shit.”

We went on like this for some time before I finally realised that I didn’t care if anybody read it. I realised that nobody would find it unless I wanted them to anyway.

So, on this day, one year ago, I wrote my first blog post.

I have been subjecting the world to my poorly thought out, incoherent ramblings ever since.

My blog really is as boring as shit and I am quite embarrassed by much of it.

BUT

My little blog has given me so much. I have made friends all over the world and close to home that I never would have made without it. It has become such a valuable support for me.

I know I am  lucky to have my blog and all of my wonderful bloggy friends.

Happy blogaversary to me!

Wait, did I just say four? I can’t quite believe that.

Four means big things my darling. It means moving up to the “big group” for your swimming lessons, something which you are incredibly proud of.

Four means that we have entered the year that you will begin kindy. You will begin to be away from us for the first time. Four is the first year that we are not your whole world. These are big things, little one. I don’t know if we are ready for this, your Dad and I.

Four is about you finding out that you will be fine somewhere without us. That you can make friends on your own. You can have fun, you can unleash yourself onto the world.

I am both thrilled and frightened for you. Thrilled that you are my big boy now, you are growing and doing and being in so many wonderful ways. Frightened that your spirit might be cracked or crumpled in some small way. I’m terrified I might not be there to prevent that, no,  I know that I can’t prevent that.

You are such a remarkable, magically shiny creature, my son. I revel in all of your energy and shout and bounce.

You are sweet and caring and loving in ways that continually surprise me.

It has been a hard year for you. Learning to share your Mummy and Daddy with a new little person. I understand that it has been rough at times but we really mean it when we say you are the best and most loving of big brothers.

I’m so proud of you boy.

Love Mummy.

I’m one billion and three

I look like an old hag

And I smell like baby wee

(but I have had a pretty nice day in which I had three and a half child-free hours alone with my husband so I’m okay with it).

She looked exceptionally prettiful.

This is her in birthday outfit showing Beefcake that she had found one of Pudding’s battle chopsticks. She was pleased.

Then there is this one of her having had a little stack in the kitchen. Note pretty birthday shoes. Stylish with first class ankle support. Just what you want. As you can see, Pudding had been “helping” me with the cake decorating.

Here is the cake. A bumble bee for a busy bee of a girl. I think it turned out quite nicely, despite any assistance I may have had. Regular guests at our family birthday parties are accustomed to these creations of mine. Sometimes they are more successful than others. This is a very successful one. Make of that what you will. I will just say that Rhubarb has had both an accidental gay pride pirate ship and a wizard’s hat that made everyone have green poo so on a sliding scale the bee is an outright masterpiece. Talented, I am.

Finally, the grub:

Despite the fact that she quite liked the flouncy skirt (and kept showing it to people) she is, I fear, not the kind of girl to eschew dirty and dangerous activities in favour of sitting about and looking like a pristine china doll. She spent half of the day attempting to climb the slide and the other half banging things with a toy hammer and playing in mud. Oh well. She likes dollies too so I suppose it all balances out.

Off now to continue what has been an absolute fail day as far as healthy diet goes. The leftover brownies and cake and lollies have called to me and I have not let them go unanswered. I figure I may as well continue on this way and start afresh tomorrow. Better to get it all out of the way now. You know, so I won’t be tempted tomorrow.

It is a day for hiding indoors in darkened rooms with air conditioning on full-bore.

The piss poor air-conditioning in our rented house is not up to the task.

I don’t want to go outside.

It is our nephew, Spawn#1’s, 3rd birthday and so I must.

They’d better have ice-cream.

I laboured long and hard to bring you into the world.

I was eighteen years old.

I looked into your face when you were placed onto my body, after your not so gentle entrance into the world, and I wasn’t afraid. You were beautiful.

We have grown up together, in a way. I would not be who I am, if you had not come in to my life, just at that time and made me a mother, turning me aside from other paths.

You are awesome and you’re actually turning out to be a lot like me, which is both scary and cool.

I look at you today, heading so quickly towards being a real, live, adult man and I am proud…..

….and very glad that you can still muck around and have a laugh  with your Mum.

Happy Birthday darling boy, you are beautiful.

Mum

xx