30.

I’ve always said that the year I turn 30 will be the year I settle down and grow up. This is that year.

A disclaimer before I get into it: This is a lengthy post. Covering 8 months of the most eventful year of my life.

Quick recap:

My last post was on the 2nd January 2018. Stine and I were starting to think about getting married in the summer and had an idea of “popping a baby into Stine’s bellybutton” some time after. My contract at school is set to expire in June and our rental contract would need to be extended in August.

January 5th: 

Stine passes her theory test (only one error... Soz) and begins driving lessons. This turns into a nightly drive in the worst conditions in a rusty old Golf  - “if you can learn in this, you can drive anything”. Despite being a noob driver, at no point did Stine manage to get the Golf stuck on a mountain like I did the month before.

The rest of January: 

The most tragic event to happen in my life. My cousin, Josh, was found in a critical condition and rushed to Addenbrookes hospital where he was kept on life support. Stine and I got the next possible flight back to the UK to join the family in hoping that Josh would make it through.

I remember the warmth of his hand, the rising and falling of his chest, the peace in his expression. Despite the intrusion of wires and mechanical breathing,  I felt as I always did in Josh’s company: calm and happy. Memories of earlier times flooded back: at the age of two, telling my mum to fuck off - the rest of us desperately trying not to laugh while mum questioned him: “What did you say?!” … “I said fuuuuck oooff”. The time he battered me at golf. The time he grew his hair like his cousin’s. The time I carried him onto the pitch at The Abbey when United got to the playoff final.

As we said our last goodbyes, Stine and I promised him that we’d make him proud.

Josh passed the following day and will never be forgotten.

*Insert cup of tea here*

February: 

We decide that we should have a small celebration for our wedding: nothing crazy, no unicorns, selected traditions. We set the date, find a venue and get the invitations sent out (by Facebook Messenger obvs).

Later in February: 

We introduce a suspicious Kompany to our new family member, a cordless Dyson vacuum. Life changing. 

March 1st: 

Conversation turns to baby-making. It was time to hatch a master plan to have a child in 2019, avoiding Christmas at all costs. I mean, who wants a birthday right next to Christmas? Plus, the school years run from January to December here, so it would also mean that they would be the youngest in their year group, watching their mates turn 18 and legally buying alcohol months before they do. So mathematically, we’d need to conceive at some point after April. Not before. After.  Also, we would need time to prep our reproductive organs - an improved diet was devised and we started to walk on the mountain every evening.

March 19th: 

Stine passes her driving test with flying colours. Genius child.

March 24th: 

We watch one born every minute. I cry as I always do (it’s the moment when the baby is handed to mum while the dad stands awkwardly with a look of complete bewilderment and awe at his family). We momentarily forget about our plan and make sweet sweet love. “It’s going to take a couple of months anyway, so good to get some practice in now”. After the deed we even go out and purchase a babygrow to hang over the (not yet) marital bed as a good luck charm for the coming months. Stine sends a photo of this to some family members who don’t even notice the babygrow and just think we’re a couple of weirdos who share too much information. Either way, I’m thoroughly excited at the prospect of spending the next few months taking on the role of baby-making-machine.

Just normal human beings.

April 5th: 

Stine feels strange and buys a pregger test while at work. It’s a dud and gives no results whatsoever.

April 6th:

Cheeky romantic break to Oslo to coincide with getting my affirmation to be married. We spend the day being tourists, eating ice cream, pointing at stuff, promising the British embassy that I'm not already married.  At night we go to dinner with cousin Stian, his partner Jacob and their little Frenchy, Einar. Stine refuses red wine which is very much out of character so on the way back to the hotel, we stop at an apotek to pick up a pregnancy test. Well, two to be sure. Back at Thon hotel (excellent facilities and superb breakfast), Stine pisses all over the first stick and sets it on the side. She drags me out of the bathroom to let it do its thing, but as we walk out, I catch a glimpse of the stick and could already see the lines beginning to appear. A couple of minutes later we return to find a big fat plus in the little display window. OK, let's double-check this. Same result - we’re officially with-child. At first, we are a little shocked at how quickly it had happened, then relieved that things are working as they should, then just plain happy (apart from my genitals who were a little disappointed that they’d done their job a little too well, denying themselves a daily double-dose of deliciousness). Stine then sent me out to get a fancy stick that tells you how long you've been pregnant - this revealed that it must have been the one-born-every-minute-bang that sealed the deal. 

Double positive

So that means some big events coming up in 2018 - wedding in a couple of months and then giving birth (all being well) in December. Yep, the plan was well and truly screwed but fuck it: we’ll throw the baby a birthday party in the middle of the year and sort him/her out with a fake I.D or something.

April 12th:

Determined to make life as difficult as possible, we decide to try and buy an apartment. It had been on our radar for a few weeks - had a meeting with the bank etc. to assess our options. We go to view a lovely apartment in town. Whenever we have looked at places in the past, Stine has known within minutes whether she wants it or not. Sometimes before we go in. This was one of those times - I could see the little smile as we walked around, the smile that says “mhm - I’ll have a bit of this”. Luckily, I loved it too.

April 13th:

We put an offer in slightly under our maximum budget. We get an email at 3pm to say that it had been rejected. We quickly reply with a final offer - 4pm passes and we’ll have to wait until Monday to find out.

April 16th:

Bosh! Offer accepted. We are now firmly in the deep pocket of the bank and no longer pissing money away to landlords. We manage to agree to an early exit of our rented apartment and set the date to move in on 2nd July.

May 17th:

My first experience of this wonderful national celebration in Norway. These dudes love their country. The streets are packed with people wearing their national dress (bunad), waving Norwegian flags and parading to the sounds of drums and trumpets and all the rest of it. Mum and Matt come to visit and stand with Stine while I parade with my year 3s and the rest of the school. Stine joins in and we make good use of the best excuse in the world and take my pregnant lady back home for a little rest.

May 26th: 

My 30th. In my 20’s, I had always imagined my 30th to be a crazy affair with a huge party somewhere exotic, seeing in the early hours with fat cigar and another glass of whiskey. What I didn’t realise was that by the time I reached 30, I would rather have cake in bed for breakfast, a full English breakfast for lunch, enjoy a few beers with a massive steak for dinner, watch the champions league final and go to bed all full and content. So that’s what we do, and I bloody love it.

One lucky Mr, indeed.

June 5th: 

In Norway, you get your first scan at 18 weeks. We can’t wait that long so go to a private one on the 12th week to see our little baby. We are full of dread in the waiting room, praying that everything is OK and that the little boy or girl hasn’t got 3 heads. I’ve seen other people’s scans and thought “I have absolutely no idea what I’m meant to be seeing here, but you’re saying its a baby and I believe you” but for some reason when it’s your own, it's as clear as day. We get to meet our baby for the first time, seeing its little heartbeat pounding away twice the speed of its mother’s. Just the one head. Everything fine and perfect. I cry, obviously.

You see a blob, I see a bubbah.

June 6th - 20th: 

Now that we have a littlun on the way, a mortgage to pay and a wedding to fund, I turn my attention to extending my contract at school. For me to do so, I need to find a uni course and actually qualify as a teacher. I’ve spent many years doing perfectly well without a formal teaching qualification but now is the time to get shit done. I find an International PGCE Education at Sunderland University and apply. I get accepted, school are happy and extend my contract for another year. This year-long course will qualify me as an international educator practically all around the world. Ironically, not the country it is awarded by. To be honest, we have no plans to live in good old Brexit-land any time soon anyway.

June 30th: 

Stine´s 28th birthday. She asks for another scan as a birthday present.

July 2nd:

We collect our IKEA order from the depot and drive the hired van over to our new gaff, sign all the paperwork, receive the keys and start moving shiz in.

July 3rd:

Second scan time. This time, we're really shitting it. We are all too aware of all the things that can go wrong during pregnancy and we are at a critical point at which the risk drops significantly if everything is OK. The earth-mother blobs on a load of gel and within seconds we're looking at a beautifully proportioned little bubbah with fingers and toes and a spine and a heart and stomach and bladder and kidneys. It's grown a lot since we last looked and is happily hiccupping about, unaware that England face Columbia that evening in the World cup. We ask if we can be told the gender but the earth-mother can't say for certain, but is 80% sure it's a boy. I cry. 

Later that evening, England win on penalties and I explain to our probable son how amazing that is and that we have Sweden in the next round. 

July 7th: 

England destroy Sweden.

Celebrate the win by assembling a BBQ that took so long we didn't have time to actually have a BBQ.

July 11th:

England lose in the semi final against Croatia. I cry. I then explain to our baby that England did really well and played with heart - sometimes we win, sometimes we learn.

20th July:

We go to our first official, government provided scan up the hospital. Baby is doing great and the earth-mother confirms that it is indeed a boy. I cry my eyes out. Although, of course, the most important thing is having a healthy baby... If I'm completely honest, I did want a boy first. I cry a lot this day. We spent the afternoon preparing the venue for the wedding with my bro, Frode, Emma, Mari Ann and Ole. In the evening we meet up with peeps at Molo for some pre-wedding drinks, burgers and shuffleboard.

He's lovin' it.

  

21st July:

With everything going on, we didn't have time to be nervous for the wedding. We were pretty sure we had everything sorted and with the help of the incredible Nina and Ellen, we knew everything would go fine. I meet up with the laaaaaads in the morning to play football while Stine gets prepped with the ladies. The football goes well, no injuries and I scored some goals - this would have ruined the entire day had I not. I may be teaching our little Hunter James to be gracious in defeat, but I fucking hate losing. My brother and I arrive at the ceremony, suited and sandalled, in time to mingle a little and get people sorted before Stine arrives. I am reminded by the person marrying us that I need a passport. I rush back with Onkel John to get the passport and begin sweating. I get back in time, all the guests are upstairs at rådhuset waiting so I stay outside to greet my magnificent lady. She looks absolutely frigging outrageous! I cant stop looking at her as we ride up the elevator to the 11th floor, and walk in to a round of applause. I have a little cry. The service is spot on - all the vows are actually real - life marriage vows, none of this obey bullshit. Even the God-bits were relevant. And just like that, we're actual husband and wife - the Myklebust-Hampshires. Ellen had arranged a new Volvo 4x4 beast for us to drive to the party venue so we get in with Matt, Frode and Emma after attaching some cans and a just married sign (one of the selected traditions we thought we'd keep) and clanged our way through town to do the photos. A massive group of tourists walked past and stopped to talk to us and take photos. That's nice, I guess.

The party is wonderful. Everyone is relaxed and mingling away. The 28 large pizzas arrive on time (we were meant to have Fish n chips but the guy who owns the venue had a stroke the week before...he's recovering) and we smash them to bits after my glorious speech (half in Norwegian), during which I revealed the gender of the bubbah - my Dad gets up faster than he has since he was 30 and gives me big hug. I think he wanted a grandson.

Some emotional words are shared by Ole and Onkel John, a surprise keyboard performance, songs by Ingeborg and a sweater presentation by the aunties. Oh, and about 43 cakes (another selected tradition). The sun sets and people gather outside to drink and take pics and we're very happy with how everything went. To be married to the best person I know, in front of the best people I know is something I will always remember.

Laaaads

Natural, sort of photogenic.

Princess Mathea

Sign of the twine, mate

Bros

July 23rd:

We get our asses off to Greece for the honeymoon - finally, a chance to relax and reflect on a crazy year. Any holiday time we've had over the last few years has been spent moving house or even moving country. We sleep, we snorkle, we sunbathe, we eat. We also feel Hunter James kick for the first time! Well, Stine does. I manage to a few days later :) 

First time eating king crab. I won.

Hunter James enjoying his first holiday while making his mum look like she sunbathes completely naked.

August:

Then August comes. I go back to work, we make our beautiful home even more beautiful, Stine's bump grows larger and larger while she gets more and more tired, we prepare Hunter's bedroom and I write my first blog in ages. 

Today:

Well, I am completely knackered from writing this bad boy. You're probably bored reading it, but one day I'll show it to Hunter and hopefully he'll enjoy it. This year still isn't over but it has already been by far the best year of my life. I am unashamedly proud of what Stine and I are achieving - we work hard to make shit work and have each others back every single day. We are by no means perfect (I keep my pregnant lady awake every night cos I snore... Bastard) but that's fine. I am so incredibly excited to be a father and will do everything I can to raise a happy, compassionate and open-minded human being full of love. He'll probably have a big nose and forehead but he'll have to just deal with that. 

Nuff love, 

James Philip Myklebust-Hampshire,

30 years of age, 

Brother, son, cousin, nephew, grandson, godfather, husband and soon-to-be-father. 

__________