Between holidays and preparations for Peaches' birthday party, things have been busy here. To add to any lurking sense of anxiety, my boss is no longer my boss. She's gone. Resigned and left the building. I blame it on a personality clash with senior management and feel bereft by her departure.
Not many people can be creative, energetic, compassionate, inspiring, demanding and on the ball whilst retaining a genuine and easy sense of humour.
Despite home/work life commitments, I still have no excuse for failing to recognise by brother's 40th birthday. He lives in Melbourne having emigrated about three years ago with his wife and twin sons.
I WILL eventually put the card and present (sitting on the shelf in the office downstairs) in the post to him. He might even like the present and I hope he'll forgive me for being a slack-sister. I have a pretty poor track record of birthdays. Recaro keeps track of them and has to remind me to send cards to my parents...
Since he's a sometime reader of this blog (my mum and dad aren't. Somethings can just stay between me and everyone else in the world. Alright.) I'm going to tell a story that I think he'll enjoy and may not have heard before.
In the midst of a discussion about how beautiful Peaches is, my Dad (my brother's Dad too, we're a bit dull like that) he agreed that parents are biologically programmed to see their first born children as gorgeous.
Quite what this meant about me as second child, I didn't choose to dwell on. It's at moments like that, that I realise there are some answers I don't want to risk hearing, particularly since it would have involved what an odd nose I had at birth and for nine days after. Pesky birth canal didn't treat me too kindly apparently.
As I joked to my Dad about some crazy people not complementing me on how lovely Peaches is, he told me that when my brother was a babe-in-arms he and Mum entered his photo into a local newspaper's Beautiful Baby competition.
It came as some surprise to them both a few week's later, that Bro had not been named as the winner.
Needless to say, they were astonished by this fact.
Just as I was about to chip in with my usual sisterly-jibes about how that really wasn't so surprising, I had blinding flash of understanding.
Dad still couldn't understand why Bro hadn't won. He HAD been the most beautiful baby in my Dad's eyes and time had never dulled his belief.
Happy birthday, Brother. So glad to see you had an excellent surprise party thrown in your honour.