My son recently turned four. And just because any such event requires it, I have to say - where has the time gone?! Four seems to be a magical marker for becoming a “grown up” because we’ve had many conversations since that begin with “Now that I’m four, and grown up, I can ….”

And the truth is, he really does seem to have grown up a lot in the past couple of months. He seems to have shed the last traces of baby/toddlerhood and is now definitely a preschooler. He no longer fits so comfortably on my lap, he’s getting tall. I know my days of voluntary cuddles are numbered so I savour them while I can get them.

For the first time we had a party to celebrate his birthday, with the added excitement that his birthday conveniently fell on a Saturday. It was not a large party by any means, about ten children and various parents and siblings.

He had a killer cake (no, I didn’t make it. I wanted him to like it!). We had a pinata … although, a “pull the string” pinata, not a “beat the crap out of it and ended up attacking it with a pair of garden shears when it doesn’t break, to get the lollies out” pinata. There was pass the parcel. There was face painting and balloon animals (with thanks to my talented family for providing!). There was fairy bread (even though the thought of sprinkles on bread makes my stomach churn, and not in a good way).

And I was a nervous wreck. I’ve read enough threads on scary parenting forums (is it even necessary to say SCARY parenting forums?) to know there are mothers out there who abhor taking their children to birthday parties where there is (God forbid!) lollies. And cake. And all those empty calories! And stupid cheap plastic toys in the loot bags.

I was worried that I was meant to be providing macro-biotic organic fresh produce, a tofu cake and educationally accredited activities.

Seriously. I really was.

Fortunately, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, and if the mummies thought there were too many lollies, and the toys were too tacky - well, I haven’t identified myself on any narky parenting forums yet so maybe I got away with it …

I saw a newborn yesterday.

I am over the baby thing. All done. I have my two and very happy I am to be moving past all those newborn/baby issues. We’re sleeping through most nights, Sophie is starting to get verbal so there are less tears (well, less of the frustrating “I don’t know why she’s crying AND SHE WON’T STOP” kind), Hugo is out of nappies, it no longer takes 45 minutes to get out of the door (and that’s AFTER we’re all set to go).

Sure, this stage brings a whole new set of challenges but it’s also really wonderful. They play together more and more, I feel really settled with my family, there is no sense of anyone “missing”.

And then I saw a newborn. And it all came crashing down on top of me, those warm floppy bodies, just made for cuddling, that newborn smell, the soft downy hair, tiny limbs in tiny clothes … that blissful baby-moon phase. It was really out of left field, totally unexpected.

The thing is, I know I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to go through pregnancy again, the tiredness and the discomfort. But then again … those first kicks. I really don’t want to go through the newborn phase again. But then again …

I know the reality is so different to my rosy-viewed nostalgia, that this is nature’s way of ensuring the human race continues but I really wish I could find the “off” button on my cluckiness. Until then … keep those babies away from me!

There’s only about four? months to go until we leave. We’ve just had it confirmed that we *will* be in Copenhagen, so yay … although I’m not sure for me if it would have made that much difference.

I don’t know why I’m not panicking yet though. I am the biggest worrier, even just for holidays, I worry about all the what ifs and maybes, so the thought of moving for 12 months should be enough to put me in the loony bin but I can’t even work up a sweat about it, even when I’m concentrating on it. I don’t know if it’s because I’m blocking it out, or if it’s so big my brain isn’t really comprehending it, or if I’m actually just excited about the experience.

We need to book tickets, I think we are going business class which is really exciting because WE GET PYJAMAS!!

And of course, being the only non-EU passport holder in the family, I need to organise visas and all of that. Grr. He asked me casually the other night “Were all of your grandparents born in Australia?” and I’m thinking, “what? Why are you asking me that?” and then the penny dropped. “You know, you have to believe me when I tell you I am NOT eligible for an EU passport. I’m just not. There’s no way it’s going to happen” … “oh, well … I just thought I’d check …”

Having just an Australian passport has caused us a few minor issues when traveling, that are usually resolved quickly when they realise I am married to a British citizen. Our first trip to the UK after Hugo was born, I was asked a huge list of questions. Hugo was a month old, we’d just been on a plane for 24 hours, I was trying to make sense of what they were asking me about why we were visiting because at that point, I was seriously wondering myself, what had possessed us to hop on a plane with a newborn and travel to the other side of the world.

“I don’t know why … we’re here to visit family!” - “Oh! You have family who are British citizens??” - “Yes, see over there, that’s my husband and son, they’ve just been through the EU queue” ….. “Well why didn’t you say so? Just go on through”.

Or the time we drove to France for lunch (ah, how the other half live!) and the confusion caused by the lack of a stamp in my passport on entering France when we tried to return to England. Apparently the French were happy to have me, the British weren’t so keen when I tried to return.

And one time in Germany - let me make it clear, we weren’t even supposed to be IN Germany but our airline had delayed a flight, sent us to a different airport and we’d missed the connecting flight. We were starving, there was no ATM on air-side and we had no deutschmarks so we had to go through passport security to get DM and food. Except that there was no-one checking passports in that direction so I just walked through, fine, until it was time to go back, and there was no record of my having entered the country.

“WHERE haff you come from?!” …”The ATM” … “Which COUNTRY haff you come from??!” and the conversation descended into a terse discussion regarding the incompetency of their national airline, their lack of passport security and the general rudeness of the entire nation. Not one of my better moments. See why I’m not keen on travel?

Ok, I think I feel that panic starting up now …

A little while ago, maybe two or three months, I had one of those strange experiences that start as a small, insignificant moment and become something quite different.

I saw a woman who was a mutual friend with one of the girls I lived with in student accommodation while I was at uni. I’d fallen out of contact with my former housemate some years ago, and had been thinking for a while that I’d like to contact her just to see where she was up to. I casually asked our mutual friend if she’d been in contact with my former housemate and the outcome of that question, that I almost hadn’t even asked, was to discover my friend has a very young child who had been diagnosed with cancer and was undergoing treatment.

Tonight I learnt that her little boy is not going to make it. There’s nothing more that can be done. And while I’m crying for that tiny boy who in his short life has experienced more pain and suffering than anyone should have to go through in a lifetime, I keep imagining what it must be like - but I can’t really.

How can you face life without your child? How can you pack a lifetime of love into the pitifully few shorts days you’ve been given? How do you even stop thinking about the nightmare long enough to savour those precious moments ou have left? How do you contemplate a life that’s hardly begun being over so soon? All your dreams and hopes … I don’t know how you can face that and stay sane.

It sounds so banal to say it but it makes me realise and remember how very blessed I am. When I’m frustrated and tired and sick of it all … I can’t even finish that sentence, it makes me feel sick.

I am uncomfortably aware that everything I’ve written is the same thing everyone says in a situation like this but the situation itself is so wrong, there is a kind of numbness that goes with it, and you can only think in cliches and banalities.

Sometimes, life really sucks.

Preschool started today. He was soooo happy to go, it was all he could do to kiss me goodbye.

With all my ‘free time’ (I love how there is an assumption I have so much free time while he is at preschool) I decided to go to the supermarket and have a look at Target and KMart … we’re having a family “Christmas in July” on the weekend and I need to get some small gifts for the Kris Kringle.

So I unwittingly wandered into Target and it was like I’d accidently fallen into another universe, filled with wild-eyed women with heaving bosoms, grabbing at everything they could lay their hands on, staring maniacally into one another’s trolleys in case *SHOCK HORROR* someone got something they wanted! Jostling for position in the laybye queue, blocking aisles with their multiple trolley loads. It was really intimidating.

I’ve spent enough time lurking on parenting forums to know these sales always bring out the worst in people, but I’ve never actually experienced the insanity first hand until this morning. Target has had toy sale bunting up for so long now, I just assumed the sales had been and gone. And the loads people had … I think my children are spoilt with toys, but even I was shocked at the amount people were buying, I’m telling myself they have lots of children or were buying for others.

I can’t help but wonder if the dollar value of the savings is worth the stress of it though.

*November 29th is International Buy Nothing Day.