A letter to my unborn child: my hopes for you


Life is funny. And by that statement I mean both that life can be amusing and it can be downright weird. Often there seems to be more of the latter, especially if you have the poor luck to be born with your mother’s pessimism. And so, read on, my dear, for some nuggets of wisdom that I have managed to glean from my 31 and 3/4 years on this funny, funny earth.

Being kind is more important than being clever/right/rich/powerful/beautiful. You probably won’t believe this until you’re at least 30 but it really is true.
Your teenage years are NOT the best years of your life. That’s not to say that they will be terrible, or fantastic, or even mediocre. But they’re just more years, just a handful (I hope) of many that you will be lucky enough to experience.
Your parents don’t know the answers to everything, and they are not always right. I vividly remember the moment that I realised that my parents were in fact just people and consequently didn’t have all the answers all of life’s burning questions (or even, sometimes, the more simple ones). This came as quite a shock, having spent my previous years taking every answer they gave as gospel. Granted, these were usually not the answers to the most pressing of questions. We’re talking more “Where does lightning come from?” rather than “What is the meaning of our existence?” but as a child if you can be bothered to ask the question in the first place then chances are the answer’s going to be pretty important to you.
How people make you feel is more important than what they do for you. They may shower you with gifts and swanky beach holidays, but if they leave you with an empty feeling in your stomach they’re probably not people you want to hang onto. Material goods are well and good, but that’s not what really lasts, that’s not the legacy that is left behind by people.
You really will feel better if you eat more fruit, more vegetables, drink more water and get more sleep. No, we’re not just nagging you about these things for the hell of it. Science and medicine is on our side. So listen.
Travel to new and interesting places. Don’t just stay where you were born. It’s a big, beautiful, multicultural world and how are you going to know any of that if the closest you get to any of it is staring at a TV screen? It’s there for you to experience as much of as you can and frankly you owe it to yourself to do just that. Sure, you probably won’t have the time or the money to see everything and go everywhere but that’s no reason not to try. Also on your travels you’ll discover that there are infinite different types of people. Some you will love, others you will no doubt despise, but it’s so important to know that these different types of people exist. Just as you can’t have a well-rounded view of the world if you’re stuck in one place, you simply cannot have a well-rounded view of the human race if you don’t get out there and meet some of them.
Speaking of the human race, people can be mean. Girls can be especially so, particularly in their teenage years and en mass. Boys tend to be a little more straight forward in their meanness and a lot less bitchy. And words can hurt. Really, really sting. Try to remember this when you speak to other people and be conscious that what you’re saying and the actions you take can (and most probably will) have a profound effect on them. It’s perfectly ok to get mad, to shout, to tell people that they’ve pissed you off, but remember that it’s impossible to take words back once you have spoken them.
Don’t be afraid to make mistakes. Mistakes are how we learn, how we grow, how we vow to ourselves to be different next time. Sometimes you’ll have to make these mistakes for yourself before you’ll listen (certainly if you’re anything like me).
Keep regrets to a minimum. If at the end of your life you had the time and inclination to sit down and tally up all of your regrets, you would most likely find that you will regret more the chances you didn’t take than all those times you did or said something only to later think “that was not my finest moment”. Trust me on this one, the dreaded ‘if only…..’ will be the death of you if you let it, and where’s the fun in that?
I hope that you are never afraid to dream, even if your dreams seem ridiculous. Sure, some dreams are just unachievable but don’t ever let anyone tell you that it’s not ok to dream them.
I wish for you a circle of family and true friends. Don’t worry if you find that most of the family you choose for yourself are not blood relations, it doesn’t matter. Blood doesn’t mean much without love (remember my earlier observation about how people make you feel). Choose these people well and once you have found them do everything you can to keep them in your life. The people who really love and care for you will want you to be the best version of yourself you can be, but they won’t judge you when you do something that’s more indicative of the worst version of yourself, and they’ll help you to pick yourself back up in the aftermath.
I pray that whatever you decide you want to ‘be’ in your life that you do so with passion, regardless of whether this is passionately working at KFC or passionately working to cure cancer. Don’t do anything half-assed – there are too many mediocre things in life.
Which leads me to my final piece of advice – matters of the heart. Oh, the heart. Love is the best and the worst aspect of life. Nothing will bring you more searing pain or exquisite joy. Some say you can’t appreciate one without experiencing the other, but I hope with all that I have that you experience so much more of the latter. Try to have an open heart. This doesn’t have to mean that you leave yourself more vulnerable, it can mean simply that you let more of the good stuff in. Treat it kindly though, and if it gets bruised, take the time to tend to it as you would a broken friend. It will thank you in the long run.

Remember – you are unique. You are an undefinable wonder. And you are so loved.

Thirty Days of Joy: the finish line


Huzzah! We’ve made it through thirty days of trying only to focus on the good things in life. Are you exhausted? I’m exhausted. I’m not gonna lie, I struggled with this task. Searching for the positive does not come naturally to me and some days, I really had to search my arse off to find anything worth waxing lyrical about. But here we are. I want to say something profound like “it’s been more about the journey than the destination!”, but quite frankly, I’m quite looking forward to not writing anything for a few days.
What I have learnt though over these past thirty days is that if you look hard enough there’s always something worth focussing on. Sure, some days that might be an essay on your new pair of shoes or the delicious chimichanga you ate last night, but if it genuinely bought you joy then that’s all that matters. Life really is what we make of it and how we choose to spend the little time we have doing the things we love, with the people that we love.
On occasion (sometimes seemingly more often than not) life can suck, and I mean SUCK. Like a hooker with a hoover. But I’m here to tell you that it’s ok, it really is, because if it didn’t, from time to time at least, we wouldn’t be the people that we are. And I think we’re pretty darn awesome.

My conclusion then? The biggest Joy of all? Life. It’s life. And everything that exists within it. I promise you.

Day Twenty Nine: cheating

Sometimes, you’ve just come home from watching The Fault in Our Stars for the second time, you’re exhausted and kind of in need of therapy…and to be honest can’t really be arsed to write your blog. On these occasions I like to refer to a simple Joy known as cheating.. Like posting an explanation of why you’re not writing a post. That’ll do, pig. That’ll do. ‘Night all.


Day Twenty Eight: kisses


According to good old reliable Wikipedia, kisses can be divided into several different categories; love, affection, peace, respect and friendship, with obvious amounts of overlap. Personally I am a big fan of all five. Also worthy of a mention are butterfly kisses, using your eyelashes to tickle someones cheek, and eskimo kisses, which involves the rubbing together of noses.
As a very tactile person I often have to check myself and remind my wondering hands that not everyone shares my feelings on this topic. I have so far avoided being punched or arrested for being inappropriate with the wrong person at the wrong time, but neither would surprise me all that much. I’ve always considered kissing to be just as intimate (if not more, somehow) than sex, and I’ve never really understood the concept of going out on the town of a Friday night and seeing how many strangers I can swap saliva with. But that’s a mixture of being a diehard romantic and slightly OCD when it comes to germs. Mostly the germ thing…

Some need-to-know facts about kissing that will change your life (maybe);

  • Under the Hays Code (1930-1968), people kissing in American films could no longer be horizontal; at least one had to be sitting or standing, not lying down. In addition, all on-screen married couples slept in twin beds…and if kissing on one of the beds occurred, at least one of the spouses had to have a foot on the floor. Because, y’know, that way you can be sure it’s not going to lead to any funny business.
  • When two people kiss, they exchange between 10 million and 1 billion bacteria. Yum.
  • The insulting slang “kiss my ass” dates back at least to 1705.
  • Two thirds of people turn their head to the right when they kiss.
  • On average, we spend about 20,160 minutes of our lives kissing. That translates to about 336 hours which is 14 days. That doesn’t seem like a lot, but imagine nonstop kissing for 14 days straight.

Kissing another person’s lips has become a common expression of affection in many cultures worldwide. In some situations a kiss is a ritual, a formal or symbolic gesture symbolising devotion, respect, or sacrament. Other times it’s a couple of horny teenagers going at it hell for leather in the back of a Ford Focus. Both are important. Both matter. I’ll certainly never tire of either kind.

Day Twenty Seven: laughter (really is the best medicine)

Laughter is good for you. Fact. It can strengthen your immune system, boost your energy levels and diminish pain. It’s also contagious. You must have seen those videos floating around cyberspace showing little kids completely losing their shit over daddy tearing up pieces of paper (if you haven’t seen this, stop reading immediately and go find it). It’s pretty much impossible not to be caught up in the moment and I dare you not to start giggling. It’s been proven that even faking it can do the body good (and yes, we are still talking about laughter you dirty bunch).
People tend to fall into different camps of laughter styles. My personal favourite is what I like to refer to as ‘the silent laugh’. You know the one – when something has become so amusing that sound has completely left the building and all that remains is a maniacal, horrific, open-mouthed silence that looks, quite frankly, terrifying. I belong mostly to this camp.
I have a strange sense of humour. It’s sarcastic, dry, silly and, more often than not, extremely rude. I am very lucky to have friends and a partner that share my sense of humour and are unlikely to disown me because I’ve just spent twenty minutes laughing to myself about a road sign that says ‘humps for 100 yards’. Most would, but mine are special, and I am thankful for them everyday.
There’s a lot in life to feel grumpy about and it’s so easy to become overwhelmed by these feelings, to drown in the negative and the scary and the dark. So I invite you all to stop what you’re doing right now and head to YouTube. You’ll find no shortage of inspiration for a good old belly laugh. May I suggest ‘Scenes from a Hat’ from Whose Line is it Anyway, anything by Eddie Izzard, or the aforementioned ‘little girl goes nuts over torn up paper’. If none of those get you giggling it’s quite possible that you’re a robot. Or dead.

Day Twenty Six: sunshine


I am definitely not a vampire. Of this I can be sure. I live for sunshine, I’m miserable without it and no amount of time spent in front of a UV light box is going to help me. I love walking barefoot on tarmac and feeling the warmth under my feet. I love wearing flip-flops every day. I would be happy to never have to wear a coat ever again in my entire life.
I’ve long since believed that I was born in the wrong country. I was simple not designed to be cold. I was always that wimpy kid during school swimming lessons who would cry every time we had to get out of the pool and make the freezing cold walk of shame back to the (equally freezing) changing rooms. I still sleep under a 15 tog duvet in the middle of summer. I was still going to bed clutching a hot water bottle until March.
So imagine my horror when during my very first week in Australia it began to snow. Fortunately the weather soon picked up (moving away from Ballarat was a good start) and I even started sporting some very sexy tan lines. At first I was made fun of. During a very early spring day my hosts came home to find me dressed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. They were still wearing jackets, and did a bit of a double take when they saw my attire. “You’re looking very…..summery.” they smirked. “It was bloody hot today!” exclaimed the naive tourist. Cue lots of laughter and head shaking. “Oh, Katy……..no…….no. This isn’t hot.” At this point I’ll admit that I did have a momentary panic thinking that I might not be able to hack the heat of an Australian summer after all, but I soon got over it and spent the next eighteen months enjoying every hot, sticky, sunburnt moment.
I spent today in Ely. Not quite Australia, but even I have to admit that it was beautiful. The flip flops were out in force and the usual cappuccino was replaced by an iced latte. We’ve got a while to go before there’s evidence of anything even remotely resembling a tan, but I do have a slight white patch on my wrist where my watch sits. And that counts, right?

Day Twenty Five: babies


It’s not that babies come this far down my list of Joy’s but more that I’ve been struggling to word this in a way that doesn’t sound creepy and/or vaguely paedophillic. Hopefully I’ve succeeded. If not, thanks for reading! Come back tomorrow.
I’ve been hopelessly broody since I was about sixteen years old. I was never really surrounded by young children growing up so it didn’t come from that, but I did love dolls. The more realistic the better as far as I was concerned. I was always after the newest model of crying, peeing, belching baby on the market. I had the toy crib, the pushchair, the highchair, the summer and winder wardrobes hung on miniature clothes hangers. Loved it all. I’m pretty sure that I’ve just been biding my time since then until I can do it for real. Luckily I also have a reasonably sensible brain to go alongside the broodiness so I’ve also managed to avoid simply going out on the town and impregnating myself with the first sperm I happen to come across.
This was all fine and dandy until most of my extremely selfish friends decided to get pregnant, seemingly all at once. Now there are beautiful babies everywhere. EVERYWHERE. There is no escape. It’s wonderful and torturous in equal measure. Being broody is a bit like when you buy a new car. Suddenly you start seeing the same make, model and colour of car everywhere you go, having never noticed it before. When you’re trying to avoid thinking about having kids you’ll find that you start seeing pregnant women in every direction, people with pushchairs left and centre, cute, well-behaved toddlers the world over. Like an eclipse, you try desperately not to stare directly at them but the temptation is nearly impossible. I’m sure that eventually it’ll be my turn to be a mum. Until then, I get to be “cool Aunt Katy” to several pretty awesome little people.
Life doesn’t get much more magically than creating another human being with the person you love. It’s a privilege, a wonder, and most definitely a joy.