Home.  Safe, sound, and extremely tired, but we are definitely HOME!

In my room, and I have exactly 60 minutes to write a blog before I get to go and pick up my two middle children from school and take them to music lessons.

Three of our four children have given us welcome home hugs, and there’s just our eldest son left to see since landing back in Auckland after THE MOST AMAZING FUCKING MONTH OF AWESOMENESS IN RECORDED HISTORY!

Steve and I reconnected and got pretty real with each other.  To say I Love that man and his enormous heart and brain is feeble and words can’t begin to describe how lucky I feel/am to have found him.  He’s still an asshole in a lot of ways, but I am no prize pig myself to be fair. Together we work. I have no idea what the reason for this formula is.

We got to see friends and meet new and phenomenally intelligent people.

Sadly, we missed seeing some very special people including Eva and Bill and Alicia in Denver (flights grrrr) and my wonderful family in Livermore… And just missed seeing a handful of other friends by mere moments as the power of social media informed me that I was very close to dozens of new and old friends as I galavanted around the planet.

Landing at home was perfect.

We timed the trip through customs and immigration just perfectly it seems, as there were no lines and it was a breeze to get through without any children in two.  Didn’t even stop for duty free and sailed through straight to the X-rays (that I wouldn’t have to bother with if I bothered to get my Kiwi passport… DOH!)

Arrived in our drive to tears of joy from our daughter Stephanie, and excited bounces and squeals of joy from Adam our five year old.

Steph came out for a super quick breakfast at our local cafe, where everyone knows us, and beamed to see us back.

Returned home and our friend/nanny Lou arrived moments after we arrived with our baby James.  He’s changed so much.  He is no longer a baby.  Prior to leaving I was concerned about his speech, as he is two now, and the other three children were all speaking in complete, if not, broken sentences by this age.  I needn’t have worried.  He knows his colours, he talks, he’s secure and happy and content and has thrived under the watchful eye and warmth and nurturing of Lou and her family, as well as his weekends with my parents and his three older siblings.

He did not cry or make strange when he saw us, he just beamed and craved cuddles and asked for mummy and daddy to pick him up and his requests were gratefully fulfilled.

He also counts.  But there’s something about his counting that hit a chord and piqued my metaphorical sensibilities.

If you say:  1.2.3… He jumps in and says: 8!-9!-10!!!!

And you can correct him, and tell him that he missed 4-5-6, and he’ll sternly look at you with his two-year-old-toddler-resolve and say:

“No! 8-9-10!”

Here’s the thing about that.  I have no idea what this year is going to bring.  I have no idea what battles I will need to fight personally or professionally.  It feels like as a family, as a business, and as a human being I have set the foundations for some really cool shit to happen.  So with lots and LOTS of help, I have made it through the 1.2.3.

I know what the goal is.  I know what 10 looks like.

I want to hug my kids, fight with them, listen to their stories, hold them and stroke their hair when things get tough, or they are sick, or the inevitable broken hearts that loom on their adolescent horizons occur.

I want to stand with Steve and all of our friends and partners and build a better world however I can.  If that is fighting greed and stupidity with sensible solutions, transparency and kindness, then that’s what I want.  If it is improving air quality and encouraging energy independence for New Zealand by doing everything we can feasibly think of to help expedite the uptake of green technology, then LET’S FUCKING GET THAT SHIT DONE!  If it is fighting misogyny and discrimination by trying to embrace a meritocracy and constructive conflict and growth that is going to make the world a place where my boys can choose to be nurses and my daughter can decide to be an engineer and NOBODY even BOTHERS to talk about traditional fucking roles… then BRING THAT SHIT ON!

I am not entirely sure what the next bit looks like.

I know it is going to be busy, tiring and there will be times I want to give up and move to our little off grid patch of paradise north of island and stop pushing ahead with our many personal and professional projects.

So 4-5-6 is upon me and my entire family.  So in good faith I shall take the metaphorical lead from my absolutely delicious two year old son James, and I will just keep smiling and reaching out to grab hold of 8.9.10.

Hope that all made sense.

I am going to go collect my children.

Thank you for reading, and if you’re one of the many people with their eye on the same prize as us, THANK YOU for your strength, and idealism and effort.  We will get there by working together, I’m pretty confident about that fact.

XXOO

Dee