Nearly a year ago today marks the day where I totally lost my shit, track side.

My son Harry had his first athletics carnival, and like you do when you have your first baby in Kindergarten, you go to the opening of any school envelope. I went to the athletics carnival with one of my BFF's, Mrs Finlayson, whose daughter Heidi was also competing.

We stood behind the fence, for it seemed like 4 hours and in fact it was, to witness their athletic prowess. Standing next to all the other latte-sipping, puffer-vest wearing, sensible bobbed mothers, I swore about the heat and the flies and asked Mrs Finlayson if we had time to duck down to Chatswood Chase to do a quick assault on the yum cha place.

My son Harry, aka the Chunky Monkey, is as flat footed as a duck. And after witnessing Heidi gracefully lop into first place and Mrs Finlayson greet the win with grace and grins, I was sure I too, would display similar decorum when Harry won his heat.

Harry lined up with the other little boys and the gun went off. As I watched him shove his shoulders up to his ears and shuffle 100 meters down the straight in the sideways style of a disabled nuggetty crab, something came over me as I began to cheer (warning - turn your sound down now).





I was in tears I was so proud. And when Harry came shuffling over to me saying "I came first last Mum!" and said "You did indeed my love." and I could not have been happier. I lost my voice for 2 days after this 21 seconds of banshee-like screaming. And all the mums silently crossed my name off any future invitation lists for any upcoming Tupperware Parties.

Anyway, the athletics carnival rolls around again tomorrow, and as Mr Woog packs up his ski's to take Harry to Perisher for the weekend, I am a little sad I will not have the chance to repeat my impersonation of Demir Dockic.