Exactly two years ago today, after I had heaved and pushed and struggled and spat out several words of little eloquence, she, assisted by her and her, delivered my baby.

It was love at first byte.

Like all new mothers, I was immediately enamoured by my child. I believed she* was the most beautiful in the world, unmatched by her peers. A lot of people agreed with me, and of course, I believed every one of them.

Quite a surprising amount of people took an interest in my newborn's life, but unfortunately that initial enthusiasm and popularity were short-lived.

For the first few months of her life, my babe had a healthy orange glow to her skin.

A few months later – on my birthday, in fact - I awoke to find that she had turned blue overnight! Since she had already been quite lethargic and unusually quiet at that point, no one was particularly alarmed. In fact, I was rather deelighted by her new look and thought it was an exciting change!

Her new hue was not due to what many had mistakenly thought to be a rare virus, and she survived, which is a good thing, since her skin has remained blue ever since. (But just in case - and some people might find this peculiar and slightly macabre - I have already composed a few epitaphs on her behalf.)

And speaking of survival. We've been through a lot together, the two of us.

She has tolerated my trips down memory lane, my rare travels away from her, and the general neglect she suffered when I ignored her, and when I was too lazy or too busy with other things to spend time with her.

Like a champ, she has endured my cooking attempts. She has been a faithful, uncritical witness every time I attempted a new hobby.

Together, we’ve survived an almost devastating blow, and every day, we are getting through the somewhat arduous, definitely strange process of repatriating to a homeland that she has never known before now, except through the stories she has heard from me.

But there have been good times too. A year ago, on her first birthday, we received well wishes from one of our heroes, none other than Pulitzer Prize winning columnist Connie Schultz!

And when she was a few months old, she miraculously won a contest!

I know I didn’t have her in my life for 29 years, but now I don’t know what I would do (and often would have done, over these past two years) without her. You have to believe me when I say that she has changed my life for the better.

Whenever my life in the United States, so far away from home, seemed bleak, she gave me a reason to get up, to write my nonsense and in so doing, to connect with others. It has led to friendships in unexpected places, and even to a few exciting ‘real life’ encounters.

She has been a conversation starter, a secret, a passion, a load off, a joy, an amusement (well, to myself at least, even if not to others!), a haven, and a friend. But most importantly, she has been the one thing that has remained a faithful constant in my life at a point when so many other people and things and dreams turned out to be false and fickle.

Today she is officially entering her terrible two’s. Luckily, I’ve lived with my two-year old nephew, so I believe that I know a bit of what’s in store for me.

Besides, even before turning this infamous age, she has already displayed some shocking behaviour (like running up shocking phone and internet bills – granted, that happened with my help).

Dare we ask what could happen next**?

Happy birthday, blog. I love having you and I’ll be forever grateful to Emily for having that contest which brought you into my life, and for everyone who, for reasons utterly beyond my grasp, keeps on reading and egging us on with their comments.

* I'm sure there's a rule somewhere in the infinite cyber blogosphere stating that one's blog should be the same sex as you are. Which would therefore make Red a girl. (WHADOYOUMEAN Am I sure?!?)

* Swearing? Tantrums? Even MORE whining?!? Well, she can start cursing like a right sailor, for all I care, as long as she starts absorbing a LOT less spam.