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It was a rather hellish journey to New Zealand from Thailand, punctuated by beautiful moments, but mostly back breakingly exhausting. I shouldered 100kg all the way home, totally solo on a 40kgs frame - oh plus a toddler who mostly chose to use me as a donkey. I had 3 hurdles to cross and passing them all, arriving in Auckland was literally one of the happiest days of my life. Getting married is supposed to be that... this was better. To recall the feeling of setting myself free and coming home. Two beautiful sensations to feel in your heart simultaneously. To be home. Finally home. My actual childhood home no less - we’re staying with Dad until we find a place for us and our Thai strays.

I just wanted to savour the sensation of falling in love again. When your admiring gaze finds beauty in everything. The recognition of your soul in another - I saw little pieces of myself reflected back in the greenery and that grassy fresh scent that only smells like New Zealand. The merriment in my step as we make our final sprint to the finish line. The swing of Edward swaying about in his baby carrier – drunk on jet lag and boredom – suddenly the 100kilos of luggage felt like 1 when customs waved us on through, just fully letting me sprint thru the final doorway. Giddy with disbelief and relief, we burst through the exit into my sisters waiting arms. The one who saw me off.

The way people treat women travelling solo with a baby, reveals the true colour of societies attitudes toward women and children. Mostly my obvious battle with the bags made people uncomfortable. Your personal struggle = their gaze of discontempt. Bigups to the wondermums and abfabdads who appreciated the task/s at hand and assisted in the most practical, efficient manner of all. Kind strangers who empathise despite any practical parenting knowledge, restored my faith in humanity.

My sister has an actual treehouse in her backyard for Edward.

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