I laughed, I cried, I drank my glass of wine. This one is perfection - illustrating the pendulum of irritation and utmost admiration for the spawn that we helped create. Love it!!!!! Also side note - watched this amazing series I think you’d enjoy, “fifteen-love” on sexual assault in elite sports. I’d be keen to hear your thoughts! X
A beautiful letter Sian. You had my heart as I read this morning. I have 2 boys, a little older than your boy, but both were ‘truck lords’ - I learnt so much about diggers and heavy machinery in their toddler years, spent hours on the footpath watching road construction, or digging on the sandpit. I think we carried 2 green plastic diggers in our car for years, just so they could get out and dig when ever we stopped. After reading your letter I realise how much I miss those days. Our children do remind us of what’s important, it’s so easy to be all adult and boring. Thank you for this lovely reminder.
Hahaha yes you become an encyclopaedia on trucks etc don’t you? 😂 I correct my husband on the truck names regularly. It’s easy to wish the days of endless narration about the ‘digger digging a hole in the dirt’ but they’re so precious too!!
Its been just over 10 years since we met in Bali. I was on a family holiday and you were living your best “gap year” (or was it gap years?) life. To me, you were living the dream that “infant me” had…..to join the circus. Although I was happy with my life, part of me undeniably envied you.
In addition to admiring the performances you put on for us overfed tourists, I remember you taking my underconfident son under your wing and with patience and care, encouraged him to face his fears and fly. No, not an extract from the Book of Cliches, you literally taught him to fly on the trapeze!
You nurtured the little(ish) boy that was initially too scared to climb the ladder, and worked with him to complete the “catch” on the trapeze! The smile he wore afterwards was unique. His chest (and mine) literally swelled with pride (ok, maybe that one is from the Book of Cliches). At the risk of sounding dramatic or nostalgic, it was a kind of turning point in his development and confidence.
Based on my personal experience of muddling through my son’s early years, it became obvious to me then, that one day you would make a brilliant mother, and I remember privately hoping that you would also one day be blessed with the joy of a son.
When I read “Feelings” this morning, it was like opening my own book of life to a chapter 7 years before I had even met you. Your words triggered a strange mix of envy and relief of a time when conflicting thoughts competed in my mind. Was it harmful (or even possible) to “overlove” a child? How strict was too strict? Was unbridled laughter sufficient compensation for risk of head injury from somersaulting off the back of the couch? Did ingesting garden fertilizer warrant a doctor’s appointment or was it genuinely good for building a child’s immunity? Was it ever ok to negotiate with a toddlerist? Was standing outside a building site for 35 minutes watching the truck pump out the Porta-Loo normal behavior? Was going to bed clutching a plastic dump truck instead of a Teddy Bear something to worry about? Was there anything more painful than the initial Daycare drop offs? Was there anything as priceless as a hug offered with the words “Wuv you Daddy!”?
Fast forward to today when my still truck obsessed son drives his ute to work on building sites every morning. Watching him confidently climb 9m of scaffolding still triggers an overwhelming desire in me to yell to him “be careful!”, but I know he is fine. The dirt on his clothes and shoes are no longer restricted to good old garden soil, but now the washing machine is treated to a cocktail of sand, cement and plaster with a garnish of brick dust. Like he did 17 years ago, he finishes each day tired but content. His fear of heights is a distant memory and there is now a familiarity to the smile on his face when he manages the perfect backflip off the back of our friend’s boat.
Last week that now familiar smile was evident when he achieved a goal I’m sure he set before he even knew the word “goal”. He successfully obtained his “HR Licence” (for those of us normal people who don’t necessarily carry that term in their daily vernacular, HR is Heavy Rigid Vehicle Licence – yep he can now drive a tip truck!). I’m proudly claiming some credit for guiding his early years and helping him achieve his “infant dream”.
Thank you for sharing your words, thoughts and feelings and I look forward to reading more instalments in your life journey with the Truck Lord. I still welcome any form of reciprocated affection from my Truck obsessed spawn, but there is a much-needed wariness of fast movement when dealing with a 6 foot 3, 110kg, 19-year-old! Fortunately for me, he still thinks its ok to hug his dad, and he is still happy to say “ Love ya old mate!”……which is what makes me realize that I am living my true dream.
Stephen, this was the most beautiful comment to read and return to again 😭 are you sure you don’t have a book in you??? I loved your stories of Matthew and can see him so vividly now. It’s so heartwarming to know what a confident and wonderful young man he is now (and was always going to be) ❤️
Beautiful love letter to the little truck lord 😭😭❤️ also now I’m in hk for a while very very tempted to borrow Selling Sexy!
It’s so interesting Riva!!!!! I learnt so much about the lingerie industry 😂😂
I laughed, I cried, I drank my glass of wine. This one is perfection - illustrating the pendulum of irritation and utmost admiration for the spawn that we helped create. Love it!!!!! Also side note - watched this amazing series I think you’d enjoy, “fifteen-love” on sexual assault in elite sports. I’d be keen to hear your thoughts! X
The pendulum is swinging like MAD at the moment 😂 I’m putting it on my watch list just for you xx
A beautiful letter Sian. You had my heart as I read this morning. I have 2 boys, a little older than your boy, but both were ‘truck lords’ - I learnt so much about diggers and heavy machinery in their toddler years, spent hours on the footpath watching road construction, or digging on the sandpit. I think we carried 2 green plastic diggers in our car for years, just so they could get out and dig when ever we stopped. After reading your letter I realise how much I miss those days. Our children do remind us of what’s important, it’s so easy to be all adult and boring. Thank you for this lovely reminder.
Hahaha yes you become an encyclopaedia on trucks etc don’t you? 😂 I correct my husband on the truck names regularly. It’s easy to wish the days of endless narration about the ‘digger digging a hole in the dirt’ but they’re so precious too!!
Sian
Its been just over 10 years since we met in Bali. I was on a family holiday and you were living your best “gap year” (or was it gap years?) life. To me, you were living the dream that “infant me” had…..to join the circus. Although I was happy with my life, part of me undeniably envied you.
In addition to admiring the performances you put on for us overfed tourists, I remember you taking my underconfident son under your wing and with patience and care, encouraged him to face his fears and fly. No, not an extract from the Book of Cliches, you literally taught him to fly on the trapeze!
You nurtured the little(ish) boy that was initially too scared to climb the ladder, and worked with him to complete the “catch” on the trapeze! The smile he wore afterwards was unique. His chest (and mine) literally swelled with pride (ok, maybe that one is from the Book of Cliches). At the risk of sounding dramatic or nostalgic, it was a kind of turning point in his development and confidence.
Based on my personal experience of muddling through my son’s early years, it became obvious to me then, that one day you would make a brilliant mother, and I remember privately hoping that you would also one day be blessed with the joy of a son.
When I read “Feelings” this morning, it was like opening my own book of life to a chapter 7 years before I had even met you. Your words triggered a strange mix of envy and relief of a time when conflicting thoughts competed in my mind. Was it harmful (or even possible) to “overlove” a child? How strict was too strict? Was unbridled laughter sufficient compensation for risk of head injury from somersaulting off the back of the couch? Did ingesting garden fertilizer warrant a doctor’s appointment or was it genuinely good for building a child’s immunity? Was it ever ok to negotiate with a toddlerist? Was standing outside a building site for 35 minutes watching the truck pump out the Porta-Loo normal behavior? Was going to bed clutching a plastic dump truck instead of a Teddy Bear something to worry about? Was there anything more painful than the initial Daycare drop offs? Was there anything as priceless as a hug offered with the words “Wuv you Daddy!”?
Fast forward to today when my still truck obsessed son drives his ute to work on building sites every morning. Watching him confidently climb 9m of scaffolding still triggers an overwhelming desire in me to yell to him “be careful!”, but I know he is fine. The dirt on his clothes and shoes are no longer restricted to good old garden soil, but now the washing machine is treated to a cocktail of sand, cement and plaster with a garnish of brick dust. Like he did 17 years ago, he finishes each day tired but content. His fear of heights is a distant memory and there is now a familiarity to the smile on his face when he manages the perfect backflip off the back of our friend’s boat.
Last week that now familiar smile was evident when he achieved a goal I’m sure he set before he even knew the word “goal”. He successfully obtained his “HR Licence” (for those of us normal people who don’t necessarily carry that term in their daily vernacular, HR is Heavy Rigid Vehicle Licence – yep he can now drive a tip truck!). I’m proudly claiming some credit for guiding his early years and helping him achieve his “infant dream”.
Thank you for sharing your words, thoughts and feelings and I look forward to reading more instalments in your life journey with the Truck Lord. I still welcome any form of reciprocated affection from my Truck obsessed spawn, but there is a much-needed wariness of fast movement when dealing with a 6 foot 3, 110kg, 19-year-old! Fortunately for me, he still thinks its ok to hug his dad, and he is still happy to say “ Love ya old mate!”……which is what makes me realize that I am living my true dream.
Stephen, this was the most beautiful comment to read and return to again 😭 are you sure you don’t have a book in you??? I loved your stories of Matthew and can see him so vividly now. It’s so heartwarming to know what a confident and wonderful young man he is now (and was always going to be) ❤️