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What you know at five years old…

These two met in primary one:

Now we’ve got kids of our own starting primary one and it’s a proper headf**k.

In our heads we’re not old enough – or mature enough – for this.

But turns out half of us are 40 now. Not me, I am but a spring chicken at 36.

Last night Lorna (above), her husband Dave, Helen, John and other old friends got together for Jen’s 40th. We love her parents (they let us use their fabulous Florida villa for our honeymoon) and it was a very special reunion for the kids who met at school and grew up and away and came back again.

We must have been extra-lucky, Rod and I, because we’re both still close to our primary pals. There’s something weighty about friendships that have withstood adolescence and university and careers across continents.

I want that for our kids.

You can’t help but project when your 4 year old informs you: “I’m going to marry Ailsa Murray”, the same day he tells you he does  “really love Willow, I can’t stop hugging her” and asks repeatedly if Ella can come to play.

I’ve only been in Edinburgh three years but I’ve gathered a group of wonderful women around me, whose kids I love and whose lives I’m totally in tune with. It makes me so happy to think of us all growing up together. I particularly love it when their daughters talk about “Auntie Kim” and ask me to paint their nails and braid their hair. “God she should have been your daughter,” they laugh as I reply “She is – I just get the best bits then hand her back.”

[“Well I’m sending her to you when she gets pregnant at 16” is usually the tart reply]

We got a bit emotional last night as everyone drunkenly told each other how much they meant to them. Jen’s mum, whom we love to bits, put her arms round Rod and I and reminded us how hard you have to work at a marriage, but you do it because you love each other.

It’s our 12 year anniversary today.

We got married when I was 24.

We met when I was five.

And no, it’s not all easy, and you do have to fight through the hard bits, but I love him endlessly. He bought me flowers and -gasp – wrote me a card today, so I reckon he probably loves me back. It looks like I knew a good one when I saw him.

Perhaps KD has met The One already true enough…

PS Rod wants me to add that I got him nothing.

Well, I wrote him this.

 

 

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Filed under anniversary, celebrations, Edinburgh, Kid free, love

My Little Pumpkin

It took some getting used to, but this Hallowe’en the wee man dressed as a pumpkin

“Noooo mummy, I wanted to be a racing driver”

On Sunday we followed very specific directions to a warehouse with a velvet rope in front of the door. It creaked open to reveal what can only be described as A Supersweet First Birthday… Soft play, disco, facepainting,Organix on every surface… The wee man had an absolute ball with all his wee pals from Buggyfit and beyond. He wasn’t even on too much of a sugar high to drive us home

“Left at the next junction, right Dad?”

The costume survived and was hauled out again on actual Hallowe’en as a surprise for my mum who looks after him on a Wednesday. She just about burst into tears, my sister burst out of the living room and much Instagramming and Facebooking ensued. He was still wearing it when I picked him up at 5.30pm. “I couldn’t get it off,” Mum admitted.

My favourite moment, though, in this week of celebrations, was the one I shared with my little pumpkin today. His streaming cold had made him cranky and clingy all morning. His lunch had been violently refused and he cried his wee heart out as I changed his nappy before his sleep. Distressed, I gathered him up in a big cuddle, wrapped a big cosy blanket around us and sat in the rocking chair, singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. He snuggled in, looked up at me and didn’t squirm once. His eyelids drooped and within four minutes he was asleep, snoring occasionally as the catarrh caught in his throat. Every time I decided to get up to put him in his cot I’d drop my nose onto his hair, press my lips on his wee head and promise myself a few more minutes. In the end I sat for nearly an hour. I had a million things to do but I couldn’t bear to break the spell. I was suddenly aware of how quickly he was growing up – in a few years he’ll be too big and probably too cool to snuggle up to his mum. So I just let myself spend the hour with my wee pumpkin and enjoy a special moment in a great week.

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