They Didn’t Say It Would Be Easy


Well, here we are, three weeks tomorrow since the day we left home for new beginnings.

I expected that the kids would struggle with the adjustment – I mean, it took Princess literally months to settle into school, so it was going to be a long, draw out process adjusting her to her new school. And BoyChild was much less the same at his old preschool. I was prepared for weeks of tears, tantrums and upset.

I wasn’t prepared for it to come from me.

I clearly underestimated my amazing kids. It took days for them to settle into their new routines. They loved their new schools, they made friends and connected with people instantaneously.

So, where did that leave me?

Due to careful planning and organisation, each morning we were out the door at 8:30am, and by 9am I was back home again. With nothing to do. The kids were great, they didn’t need me.

I didn’t know anyone down here, we knew that when we moved. I don’t know what I expected, I knew it would take time, but as the days went on and I spent more time in our temporary accommodation, without my usual things to keep me busy (like, my stuff), I got bored. And, I’m a doer. So with boredom came overthinking. And with overthinking came loneliness. I ran out of things to do – BabyGirl is at that age where taking her shopping is like, well, I think I’d rather stab myself with a stick. She is very independent and doesn’t give a rats when I walk away from her. So, we couldn’t go out anywhere. And she won’t sit in the pram so that cancelled out taking walks around our new town.

Before I knew it, two weeks had passed. Mr T commented that it was going “so fast”, but I felt like the time was just dragging. I sat down one night, after the kids were in bed and everything was settled, and realised that it had been two week, two weeks, and I had not spoken to another adult. I mean, I’d spoken to my husband, obviously. And people in shops, the kids’ teachers, those kinds of people. But I hadn’t spoken spoken to anyone. I missed my friends. I missed going over to their houses, sitting down over a coffee and just talking. About nothing and everything. I had already used up all of my cellphone talk time calling them and nattering away, but that wasn’t the same.

I went to bed that night, and cried and cried. Poor husband wasn’t sure what to do! I was lonely. I was busy, and it was chaos and noise and the kids were having a blast. But I was lonely. I’ve never felt that way before – in my life I’ve always lived with other adults, or had a job, or had some other form of interaction with people.

Of course, it was going to get better – it had to! But telling me it would get better had little consolation at the time. It’s a bit like buying bigger sized clothes for your kids – telling them they will one day fit them doesn’t fix the fact that they don’t fit them at that moment.

The weekend came and went, we had fun as a family, and I pretended things were looking up. Because it had to, right?

Today is day twenty. And today, the fog lifted.

A parent spoke to me at school today – said hello, introduced herself, told me a bit about herself. It was brief and innocent, but it was what I’d needed, what I’d craved for nearly three weeks. Human interaction. I nearly cried.

And then, I spoke to our new landlord and organised moving into our permanent house tomorrow. And organised our furniture to be delivered. My stuff! My baking tools, my food mixer, my clothes! MY BED!

And then, I joined a gym. I put BabyGirl into the creche (so she got to have playtime with other kids, without me there) and I had a workout. By myself. And I chatted to other people at the gym, and I chatted to other mums at the creche.

Just like that, I felt like a person again.

I still miss my friends and my life “back home” dearly, but today was the first day I was able to see myself settling here, happily.

I found a this wonderful quote last night, and couldn’t believe how apt it was to my situation.

And how, in just one day, things started to be ok. I was going to be ok.

I know you are scared right now

maybe you miss


maybe your heart hurts a little

or a lot

or maybe you’re not quite sure

of who you are

or what you want

but that feeling you

want back

it’s still here

it never really left

and one day you will realise

that the only person

who can find it again

is you





Kid-glish (Kid English)

Ah, kid-glish. I love it. Yes, I’m talking about that language our kids speak – their own interpretations of English. .

When kids are learning to talk, they come up with the most fascinating and hilarious takes on everyday words – whether they hear them wrong, or, as was often the case with Princess, was adamant they were saying it correct and you were saying it wrong, it is cute, and adorable, and you don’t realise how much you love it, until it’s gone.

Princess is six now, and, by and large, she speaks like a regular kiwi kid. There are a few Kidglish words that still creep through, and I won’t lie – I no longer correct her, because I want her to keep saying them. Perhaps it’s my way of keeping her that precocious little toddler for as long as I can? Yes, yes, I think it is.

Some of Princess’s fantastic Kidglish-isms are:

Blutterfly. She read an entire book on blutterflies to me yesterday, and everytime she said the word blutterfly, my heart smiled. I’m smiling as I write this, I love it.

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Bas-ghetti. This is a classic one, I think every kid (and half the adults I know) mispronounce spaghetti. Still cute.

Nem-a-nems. I will be sad when Princess realised M&Ms are actually, literally, an M and an M. I adore her calling them nem-a-nems!

Andy. Familiar with the movie, Annie? Princess still believes this is a movie called Andy, about a boy with ginger hair, who, for whatever reason, wears a dress at the end of the movie. When the new version of Annie came out, she said to me, “This is different, isn’t it?”. I thought she was referring to the fact that the “new” Annie was African-American. But no – she thought it was different because the “new” Annie was a girl! Who calls a girl Andy? That’s just silly, Mum.

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And of course, Princess isn’t unique in this way of speaking. BoyChild has started coming up with some dooseys as well. My favourite, hands down?

Bumbumbee. Bumbumbee! Bumbumbee! I can’t even. I just laughed and laughed when he said it, I couldn’t help it. I even corrected him without thinking, and he said, “No, mum – bumbumbee”. Oh my lordie, I will be sad when he realises what he is saying. I secretly hope he is a successful, grown man who says, “watch out for the bumbumbee”.

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Thankfully BabyGirl is still right in that age range where at least half of her words are variations on the real word. She asks for tuddles (cuddles) a lot, and lots and lots of tisses (kisses). She likes to drink wee-tar (water) and loves eating doodee bars (muesli bars). She pretends to be an a-pha-phant (elephant) and a chuck-ung (chicken).

But, alas, soon the day will come when she too is speaking in words that everyone can understand, “proper” English, if you will. I know they say kids grow up too fast, so it’s practically my job, nay, my responsibility to keep my kids speaking Kid-glish as long as I can.

And, to finish, I leave you here with this. Benedict Cumberbatch, esteemed British actor, cannot say “penguins”. He calls them “peng-wings” and it is so adorable I just want to adopt him as Child #4. Just kidding.

But not really.

You are welcome.


The Unbeatable Argument Styles of a Nearly 6-year-old Girl

Princess argues with me. A fair bit, I’ll admit. I can tell her teenage years are going to be a blast.

She has a way of arguing that is not unlike that of her father. She is right. Regardless. Which makes disagreeing nearly impossible.

And, just as when her father and I disagree, I end up backing down. They both read my backing down as giving in. It’s not – it is merely that I cannot be bothered arguing any longer.

The difference between her and her father is this – with Mr T, it is often a matter of opinion as to whom is correct. With Princess, nearly every time I can say with full confidence that am correct. But she stands her ground, so I back down. I probably should work on that!

Here is a prime example of one of our arguments. This took place last Friday.

Me: You don’t have school tomorrow, that’ll be nice to have a break.

Princess: I do have school tomorrow

Me: No, you don’t, sweetie – it’s Saturday.

P: I go to school on a Saturday.

Me: No you don’t, it’s the weekend.

P: I do.

Me: No, you don’t. It’s the weekend. You go back to school on Monday.

P: No, you are wrong. I go to school on Saturday.

Me: No, you don’t.

P: I do. At my old school I went to school everyday. You said I go to school every day.

Me: You go everyday except on the weekend. That’s Saturday and Sunday.

P: So, I do go on Saturday. You just said.

Me: *sigh* No. I said you go everyday except Saturday and Sunday.

P: But at my old school, we did news on a Saturday. Why would we do news if we didn’t go to school?

Me: I’m sure you didn’t do news on a Saturday.

P: We did. You don’t know. I did news on Monday, some kids did it on Thursday, some did it on Saturday.

Me: I …. I just don’t think you did.

P: I did do news on a Monday.

Me: I know .. I just … hmmmm.

P: So, I do have school tomorrow. On Saturday.

Me: No, you don’t.

P: I do. You said.

Me: *silence*

P, smiling smugly: I am right. It’s ok, Mum. You can’t be right every time.

Me: *facepalm*

One day I’ll learn.