It’s said that the way you spend the first day of the year is indicative of how the rest of the year will be.

I spent the first half of New Year’s Day spending money on my children and the second half nursing a broken toe. Doesn’t bode well, if you ask me.

Despite the broken metatarsal, or whatever it is, it was actually a relaxing day. Having kept the children up until 11pm the night before (at which point, we couldn’t figure out who was more tired – us or the children), we were allowed to sleep in 90 minutes longer than normal. My eyes popped open at 7am, Scott’s a few seconds later. We looked at each other in amazement and agreed that we’ve never felt so refreshed. “Sleeping in” until 7am. How sad is that?

Scott’s aunt started a tradition a few years ago of sending us a bunch of English pounds at the end of each year to spend on a “day out with the children”. Being that the Pound is about 200 times stronger than our Rand, (I’m only half joking), we grabbed said money and headed for the Aquarium at the Waterfront. It was one of the only venues we could think of that wouldn’t be mobbed at 9am, one which we knew James enjoyed and wouldn’t have him moaning on the way there, “but what’s at the Aquarium?”

A full two hours and many delighted screams at sharks, penguins, rock lobsters and puppet shows later, we left in search of some lunch. A brief spell sitting at a table in a corridor of fast food places convinced us both that we deserved better than this on the first day of the year, so we headed for the Spur, a kiddie-friendly restaurant that serves half-way decent meals at fair prices. A few bites into the meal, Hannah fell fast asleep in my arms, something she hasn’t done in a year or more. Looking at her perfect face in repose while I ate my meal reminded me why I want to have another child.

The rest of the afternoon was spent relaxing, reading the newspaper and trying to keep the children calm at home. It was late in the afternoon, as I was trying to avoid bumping into Hannah, that I stubbed my toe on the back of one of our armchairs. I knew immediately that it was broken, because I’ve never felt such intense pain. It radiated up my foot into my leg and throbbed and ached well into the night. Scott was the model husband, bringing me ice, administering anti-inflammatories and positioning pillows.

I’m not sure what all that says about the rest of the year for us. Probably very little, since I’m not even remotely superstitious. I’d like to continue the trend of seeing my children active and occupied, curious and loved. I’d like to see more of Scott, and continue to wake up next to him, refreshed and in a good mood.

Not terribly ambitious goals, but good ones for our family.