Adventures, adventures, adventures

WHEN I think back over the last few months and comb through the memories, I can’t put my finger on when it happened. When, my Little Mister, did you become such an independent adventurer?

We have had two little trips away recently and both have made me realise how grown up you are. And that you love exploring . A lot. You, my Little Mister, must be on the move at all times. Unless you are very tired from all the moving about. You aren’t walking yet, but you are pushing around everything you can find that goes. Being outside is also a million times better than being inside. Getting your hands into mucky stuff like cobwebs and dirt and oily car wheels doesn’t bother you at all.

Up north, you loved your grandfather’s dogs. You exhausted them and had no fear. Down south at a wedding, you amazed everyone at how fast you could go, accelerating and then suddenly being nowhere to be found. Where has the baby gone, they would say? I always saw.

You always have your eyes on the next adventure. Usually, you don’t mind if I’m there or not. You can figure out all these games by yourself and, in fact, that’s the way you prefer. I’m glad you’re so brave, and so inquisitive. Your life, Little Mister, is a million miles an hour right now, just in case you miss anything out. It’s so much fun for us grown ups around you – but sometimes we struggle to keep up!

It’s been a special summer. You have two top teeth, and you didn’t complain about them at all. You met your great-grandmother, and you loved her. You discovered garlic bread and it kept you quiet and still in a high chair. You learnt the meaning of some new words – ‘rain’ was your least favourite because it meant staying indoors. But best of all, you showed me that you just want to have adventure after adventure after adventure. And I reckon that’s great.

 

 

Our First Christmas

CHRISTMAS was wonderful. The Little Mister loved every second, and he was as excited and happy as I hoped he would be. I had promised not to go overboard on presents, but he still thought opening them was just as much fun as playing with them. He particularly liked the tags, but was kind enough to me to figure out that the main event was the shiny, music-making plastic stuff inside.

Our little family went to the park, had a delicious barbecue in the garden, laughed, played, and spent a day very, very happy. It all happened under a boiling 29 degree heat that next year, in England, we will look back on while we shiver. The Little Mister spent most of it playing in his bath under the shade of our trees. Happy first Christmas Little Mister. I didn’t make your stocking, you weren’t surrounded by cousins and grandparents, and we didn’t have a tree, but it was wonderful.

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‘Twas the night before Christmas

and we waited for Santa. With stockings hanging above the fireplace, a bedtime story about reindeer, and kisses filled with wishes of sweet dreams, we waited for the Little Mister’s first Christmas.

I wasn’t meant to buy many presents, because they’ll just have to go into boxes for shipping across the world anyway. But the Little Mister has been so very good this year, that I reckon he deserves some fun and games with wrapping paper tomorrow. I bet it will taste good. He tried to get into some of the wrapped up parcels tonight. But he gave up when he couldn’t figure out how to open them. Toys already out of boxes and on the shelf won. He didn’t seem that excited. Yet. After all, it’s only the night before Christmas, and he is only nearly one.

Happy first Christmas Little Mister.

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The Kiwi grinch that stole Christmas

The excitement, the anticipation, the festivities and feasting – I’ve always loved Christmas. The Little Mister is going to love it too, because we will make a fuss, and I won’t be able to stop myself. But that might be in the years to come, years, that is, in the Northern hemisphere.

Because this year, on baby’s first Christmas, I’m struggling and I’m going to have to keep my excitement in check. Christmas will consist of just our little family being together on the day. The Little Mister, his mama, and his dada. For me, Christmas at home was always a big family get together, so it’s hard to think that this little boy won’t have that. But then, to make the blow easier, it’s also true that he won’t remember a second of it anyway.

And do we spoil him? Well of course I will. But, with a removal company coming two weeks later to ship our boxes to London – do we really need to buy more toys just to send them half way across the world? (Where he will of course be ridiculously spoilt on arrival.) The Little Mister’s favourite toys right now are cardboard boxes. Is it mean to wrap a couple up for him? I know he won’t remember, but there will be photos. Fast forward ten years time to Milin looking at photos of his first Christmas. He’s alone with his parents, there’s no tree, but he’s opening big presents, beautifully wrapped, and perfectly box-shaped. “Mama,” he will say, “what was in those presents you gave me for my first Christmas?” What will I do? Lie? Or tell the truth – “We didn’t get you presents darling because we were leaving town soon, so those were just empty boxes. But you really did have fun with them, promise.”

The not-getting-a-tree-thing is something I’m still undecided about. Part of it is because my Little Mister is so adventurous these days that it would need to be somewhere up high and well out of reach. The lights would NEVER be on while he was awake, courtesy of these southern hemisphere long daylight hours at this time of year, and there might not be many presents under it. So do we get one? Just for the three of us?

I have brief pangs of worry that Godzone has turned me into a Christmas grinch, with its lack of all things festive. There are no roasting chestnuts, few lights, fewer window displays, and no Christmas markets. Instead, there are barbecues, camping trips (not for us), and a distinct lack of Christmas-themed festivities.

My reasons for loving Christmas are of course not religious, but they have a lot to do with history. As a little person, it was always a time when the whole family got together. Everyone was on holiday. It was an excuse to spoil each other, to be extra good to each other, a time to be grateful for each other and forget about our worries. So what if I’ve bought into the commercialism of it? I have no apologies for using a few public holidays each year to be happy and try and make others feel the same.

But this first Christmas for Milin will be different. It will be a little quieter, a little less extravagant, and perhaps a little less festive. We will still sing to him, spoil him, make sure no work is done, laugh with him all day, and of course dress him up in his Christmas best. But it will be a very southern hemisphere Christmas.

(I got my first chance to dress him up yesterday, by the way. He missed the Santa parade as it unhelpfully clashed with nap time, but we made it, briefly, to the Christmas party at Waitangi Park. The music was a bit too loud for him, and the tree wasn’t lit up, but he liked crawling on the grass.)

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Getting ready for the Christmas party with Aunty Julia

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Christmas parties in the sunshine, not particularly Christmassy.

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Our first family Christmas is a-coming