I gave a farewell toast to my eldest child’s first and second names in my sister’s spa last night.
A mini bottle of Prosecco with a gold straw. Cheers!
My ex submitted the paperwork this week to change them.
It’s been a little confronting to say goodbye to the names I lovingly chose all those years ago. The department of Births, Deaths & Marriages even makes you return the original birth certificate.
Actually, I found that part more than a little confronting. So final.
The eldest decided a few years back that their names didn’t suit them any more. They’ve been using different ones for ages now and hassling us to make it official.
It’s been hard getting used to saying the new names, but I’m almost there.
I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned this a thousand and one times, but nothing prepares you for the unique challenges of the teen years. Everyone talks about how tough the baby years are, but they ain’t got nuthin’ on the transition to adulthood.
The loss of your first-born’s name shouldn’t be such a big thing, but somehow it feels immense when it first happens.
I may have shed a few tears.
There are no instruction manuals for it. Ask Dr Google about “sadness over child changing name” and it returns naught.
Fortunately, my major mourning period passed long ago. This part is just a formality, one that will mean far less hassles for everyone when all forms of identification finally match.
OK, it’s still a bit blah.
But I’ll live.
I saw somewhere I don’t fancy doing the living yesterday.
You know you’ve reached peak Sydney fatigue when this photograph of the latest RSL Art Union home – a small two-bedroom apartment in Rose Bay valued at $2.3million with amazing harbour views – makes you go meh.
While I gazed in awe at the view, I thought nah, don’t fancy the neighbourhood.
I’d be happy to visit, especially on New Year’s Eve, but for most days of the year it wouldn’t twiddle my knobs, aside from that gobsmacking balcony.
I have zero desire to live in Rose Bay, although I spent many years there in my youth. I can’t remember if it was two or three apartments I shared in the suburb with my friend Jodie and my sister at various times.
We had so much fun, but I’ve moved on. I want the beach and peace.
I suppose I could always sell it if I won …
Anyways, I’m dreaming of something on the Northern Beaches with a Hamptons feel to it.
Though I’d have punted Sydney altogether if I hadn’t fallen in love with DD.
My previous dream was to return to Newcastle one day. I’m not sure that’s on the cards anymore, DD adores his life on the Northern Beaches.
So I’m going with that in my fantasies. I have visions of lots of uncluttered white rooms filled with cane furniture and shell accessories, but I look around my current abode and wonder if it’s really me.
I spent Tuesday night tweaking the kitchen/family area, moving another old bookcase into the space to make it feel more homey.
The room is filled with my ramshackle collection of art – amazing stuff by the eldest, beautiful photography, paintings I’ve been gifted, sculptures …
I quite like all that originality surrounding me. It wouldn’t work in a Hamptons space.
But who knows what the future holds. I need to focus on the now for now.
PS I don’t use the kids’ real names on the blog for a reason. If you know what they are, please don’t mention them. Thank you.
PPS WordPress just informed me I have blogged more than 3000 times. Far out!
PPSS My sister thought my leftover apricot chicken was deeeeelicious and is going to try it out on my nephew.
Song of the day: Paul Simon “You can call me Al”