Holiday blog

Day: Thursday, 17th December 2009
Place: Manaba Beach (actually it’s Bianca No. 7)
Listening to: Jesus Culture (and loving it)
… Do you remember when you’d write letters in school and start them like that? Mood … happy … I love … someone … heheee …
Anyway, L and I are away on holiday at the beach and having an amazingly relaxing time just enjoying ourselves and our last holiday alone. We’re constantly saying, “Next year this time we’ll be …” fill in the blanks with something to do with our little bundle of joy that should arrive soon. It’s the most bizarre thing and I don’t think we’ve done it since getting married. But it is very exciting.
I keep imagining us on the beach, with our little girl, looking like those happy people you see in the magazines and it got me thinking, “Will she make us happy? Does having her on holiday with us next year somehow make us happier?” It is so easy to fall into the trap of everything being about our little girl – and forgetting about LBW (life before Wombie). I don’t want to forget. I want to remember that:
· We were best friends; before we married and while we were married.
· We laughed so hard we cried.
· We fought (until I even kicked the car to prove a point).
· We could sit alone in silence and feel like the only two people on earth.
· We could talk into the early hours of the morning (and later into marriage until we fell asleep).
· Making love was the most amazing experience (PERIOD)!
We have a life and I love it. I hope and pray that our little girl will be a part of that life. That she will benefit from being around two people who loved and liked each other. That “this time next year” she will be a part of something that already existed and flourished and was fun and hard at the same time.
What I’ve learnt so far:
Date: Thursday, 17th December
Place: Manaba Beach
Time: 19:21
Listening to: Kim Walker (Jesus Culture)
Mood: So stoked
Thinking of: You
In love with: You and only you
Just wanted to say: In about 9 – 11 weeks you and I will have a beautiful little girl! I love you so much. See you in English or Maths (Yuck)!
Wha wha wha


Friday, 25th December 2009
‘twas the night before Christmas and … well not exactly. It is Christmas and all is going well. Well, not exactly … although it is Christmas it doesn’t feel like it. There’s a Christmasy feel that just isn’t here. L woke up with a sore throat this morning, it’s raining outside, and the usually Chistmasy feel just isn’t here. Not that that is a bad thing … after all, we don’t celebrate Christmas.
But it got me to thinking, as tends to happen lately for some bizarre reason. I remember Christmas growing up was a day that was so different to every other day the year, even birthdays. It was always hot. It was always loud. It was always chaotic.
Christmas was a day when we all got together. Not just brothers and sisters, but EVERYONE! It was a strange mix of people. There were of course the seven of us, and the seven from my dad’s sister’s side. But added to this were the Ellis’s (the two brats, the very loud aunt and the scary uncle who pinched bums inappropriately – although they didn’t always come) and my alcoholic grandmother (who was usually pissed by the time lunch was served) and my dad’s other two brothers (who drank just as much and were even me inappropriate), and then other people/relatives (who knew what they really were). We’d go to church in the morning (us and the other seven) and they’d get the party started early.
This I mostly remember from the time we came to South Africa until I was about ten, so there weren’t too many but they stood out for me. I can’t tell you what I got from Santa, or what we had for lunch. I can’t tell you what we did, or what was said. But I remember it all! I remember the people, all talking, laughing, telling stories and later, when enough alcohol had been consumed, the arguing. I have the memories and they are special.
There is something amazing about growing up together; fighting, laughing and living it up. I want this for our daughter. Not the hype over Christmas, or the stories of a magic-man in a red coat that brings presents, or the pagan believes. But I was the memories whoever creates them. I want the days where chaos reigns and people o stupid things and kids play together and everyone goes home exhausted (relieved they don’t have to see each for another year).
I miss those hot Christmas days where memories were made.
So … watch this space. I’ll be making big plans (my own celebrations may not be baby appropriate, but what the heck!).
What I’ve learnt so far: Dammit but the due date is getting close!