My Mum was a bit of a tomboy when she was younger. Never hugely into boys, wanted to live on a farm, didn’t like children, joined the army and took her older brother's antics head on.
That is until she met my father at 2am in a bar she worked a second job at in South Africa. After they got married in New Zealand and settled for a while running a roast chicken shop in Western Australia, she found herself, much against her usual nature, chasing him around the lemon trees in the backyard, yelling after him that she wanted to have a baby.
I turned out, for the most part, a little different. Always falling in love with a mosaic of men and bruising my heart. Without siblings to tease and a head eternally stuck in the clouds. But, like my mother, I do want to move to the country and I also never really thought much about having children. Until, towards the end of my 20’s I caught myself daydreaming about a skinny, shy little boy with my husbands freckly slouched shoulders, gentle bookish nature, incredible musical talent, long eyelashes and flopsy hair or a little stompy girl who preferred jeans and T-shirts bearing her Dads favourite punk bands to frocks. A girl who ran with dogs her own size and came home with grubby cheeks and mud-soaked gumboots. So when we found out on New Years eve that we were going to be bringing a new little family member into the household, I suddenly felt very, very ready and excited for this new chapter. All going to plan we’ll be holding a squirmy little Virgo in our arms at the beginning of September, though we do believe the Tremp nose will trump my husbands fine features.
p.s. I won’t be taking any wedding bookings from mid June – October ’12 but will be ready and itching for the chance again after then.
