I have been an avid booklover since being very young. I’m pretty sure my parents have photos of a little preschool me, sat up in bed pretending to read to my teddies and I actually once heaved the full bible in to their bedroom to read it to them at about 5 years old. Just call me Matilda.
I’ve always loved Roald Dahl as an author and had many of his books growing up. George’s Marvellous Medicine was probably one of my favourites and even inspired me to create my own “medicines” in the garden… I’ll let you join the dots with that one. I even had many of these stories on cassette tape and just writing that I now feel incredibly old.
So, as you can imagine, World Book Day has always been a source of excitement for me. Especially the presence of the book fair in the school hall where I got to excitedly spend my book tokens, spending an age browsing through the shelves for that perfect read. You probably won’t be surprised to hear that my idea of a fab trip out on a Saturday morning is to head to the big library in town. My husband is just as big a book nerd as me so this is truly an epic family adventure for us.
Yep, that’s right. Last weekend I turned 30. I was actually having a discussion with my friend, who turned 30 this weekend, where we both admitted to not quite feeling adult enough to be 30 which is crazy really seeing as we’re both married parents. But, it does sound like I’ve aged about 50 years overnight.
Despite being in lockdown so all our original plans having to be scrapped, I really did have a lovely day. I was spoilt rotten by my husband and son, my family and my amazing friends. I received a beautiful video message montage, put together by my sister, which had me laughing and crying in equal measure.
So, now what? Am I meant to feel different now that I’m 30? Well, I actually do. I feel like I’ve taken my life back in my hands. I’ve started working in my dream job. Yes it’s a training year at the moment but I am so determined to smash my way in to that role. I’ve started to take more pride in my appearance; skincare and make up mostly. With this damn lockdown finally almost over, I’m excited to get out in the world again and I want to really make the effort for that first date night, that first family weekend away. Also, we work bloody hard so why not treat ourselves now that we can.
Good lord above, what did I do? In my former life I mean. Did I shoplift? Did I live a life of giving zero fucks about the environment by not recycling? I ask because … come on!
Look, he’s even giving me side-eye because I am daring to ask if it’s time to tidy up!
Don’t get me wrong fellow bloggers. I adore the fact that our house is a messy, lived-in family home. I’m not saying I’d change it, of course I wouldn’t. If you’ve read any of my other posts (or if you know us personally) you’ll know what we’ve been through to get here. But, every time I step on a slightly angled plastic knife, or a discarded piece of fruit (I would say plastic fruit but it’s not always the case), I cry a little inside.
I’m not quite sure why I’ve chosen now to write this post. Well, that’s a lie. It is partially because I now have Noah so I can write this with a clear mind in a way that will bring comfort, hope and an aspect of realness (I hope) that others may be searching for. If I’d have written this at the time, it wouldn’t have made for very pleasant reading. I was a mess, I’ll be honest.
I also think it has something to do with conversations I’m having with The Divorced Dad (We’ll call him Dave, mainly because I’ve been listening to “The Twelve Daves of Christmas” on Absolute Radio and it’s obviously had an impact.)
Where to start? “At the beginning” I hear you say. Well of course. So,