2015

Surrounded by 'It's a Girl' balloons, three Paddington bears and a pink Mother Goose, Millie giggled at me.

'What?' Curly purple ribbons fell in front of my eyes.

'You look like you just farted a glitter bomb.'

'Charming.' I adjusted the sparkly bonnet on my head and straightened the 'Who runs the world? Girls' sash across my chest. 'It's a good thing Emilia can't pick up words yet. Mill, I think this sash was meant to be for a hens night.'

'Well, we can save it for your hens night when you marry lover boy,' teased Millie. 'Tell me more about this silver fox.'

'How do you know he has grey hair?'

'Penny texted me.'

'That Penny!' I shook my fist in the air.

'Who is he? Do you really like him? What's he like?'

'One question at a time!'

'I'm just looking out for my sister.' Millie looked down at the seven pound human attached to her nipple.

'Does it hurt?' I nodded at her boob.

'Like a mother fucker. Now tell me about Colin.'

'He's smart and I get the very strong feeling that he's kind – despite being a total bastard at work.'

'That's hot.' Millie winced and Emilia's tiny hand reached up to rest on her boob. 'Continue please.'

'And...' I paused for dramatic effect. 'He's got a kid.'

Millie chuckled. 'A baby? A toddler?'

'She's 13.'

'Just as well. I can't imagine you burping a baby or changing a nappy.'

'Oi! What's that supposed to mean you bee-otch?'        

'I'm teasing! So should I call you the wicked stepmother now?'

I gave her a pleading look. 'Millie, what should I do?' I wailed.

'God, I haven't heard that tone of voice since you were 13.' She made a big show of blocking her ear with a finger.

'I'm serious!' Somehow, my voice sounded even more juvenile.

'Okay Sammy – do you like the guy?'

'Yes. He's great.'

'Why do you like him? Count the ways!'

'God, you're such an actress.'

'I try to quote Elizabeth Barrett Browing in general conversation as much as possible. My whole career is what Joey Tribiani calls smell the fart acting, so I have to do all I can to sound smart.'

'Okay, that's the second time you've said fart in the space of five minutes.'

'Answer me! What do you like about him?'

I stared at the back of my niece's head, gathering my thoughts. 'Well, I told you – he's smart, he's kind, he doesn't take any shit, he has his shit together, he's the shit – all the good types of shit, really – and he makes me feel sexy and safe.'

Wow, I'd never articulated that before.

'Aw Sammy, if a tiny person wasn't on my boob right now, a hand would be on my heart.'

'Yeah, but there's this other guy I'm not sure about.' I bit my fingernail sheepishly.

'This reminds me of one of my love triangle storylines on Lust for Life,' said Millie. 'Go on.'

'It's Blair Bradley from high school.'

'Oh, is he that Jesse Spencer dreamboat you had a crush on?'

'Okay, one – you perved on a younger boy, gross. And two – dreamboat? Did you go to high school in the '50s?'                                                                                                    

'He was a cutie! How the hell did you hook up with him?'

'Funny story, actually,' I said, realising that I sounded like Robin describing how she'd met her husband. I then launched into my tale of feeling up a stranger in the dark only to realise it was the guy I'd secretly pined for at school. Millie gave the expected reaction of shock and laughter.

'So list the ways you like him,' she prompted. She rested Emilia over her shoulder and gently rubbed her back.  '

'Well, he's changed a lot since high school and apologised for how he teased me.'

'More like tormented you,' she said to me. To Emilia she cooed, 'That's a good girl.'

'He's hot, he likes dancing to cheesy music, he encourages me to follow my dreams and he gives me that butterfly feeling in my stomach.'

'The best advice I can give you is to follow your gut and your heart,' said Millie. 'Usually the decisions you have to think about the most are the wrong ones. And if it doesn't work out, at least you'll look back and know that you did what felt right for you at the time. No regrets.'

No regrets.

'Motherhood has made you wise,' I said with a nod. 'And speaking of following your gut, I want to tell you what I'm about to do... career wise.'

'Go for a promotion?' Millie covered her boob back up.

'No - the opposite, in fact. I want to look for a job that doesn't take up so much of my time and energy so I can take acting classes and go for auditions. I have a little bit of money saved to make up for the drop in income. I'll do it the sensible way. What do you think?'

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi. I exhaled. Millie was taking so long to answer. To be fair, she was distracted by the baby but Millie's opinion was the one that mattered the most. After all, she was living the dream. She'd done it. She could let me know if she thought I could hack it or not.

Finally, she spoke.

'Sammy, don't tell mum and dad I told you this because they'd think I was giving you reckless advice, but I think that's wonderful.'

An excited shiver ran over me, like the type you get when the winner of a reality show is announced. 'You do?'

'Of course. If performing about 50 million plays with you growing up showed me anything, it was that you're an actress. I can give you the names of some fantastic acting coaches and, when you feel you're ready, some decent agents.'

'Oh, that would be amazing! And oh my god, remember how we used to make our friends sit through our terrible re-enactments of Grease 2?'

'Don't remind me.' She laughed. 'And Sammy, if the acting thing doesn't work out, at least you tried. You can just go back to fulltime marketing again. You're at the right age to experiment a bit with your career. The advice I gave to you about picking a man also applies to picking a career path. Say it with me Sammy – it's better to...' She held a hand up to her ear.

'It's better to regret what you have done than what you haven't done,' we said in unison.

****

I spent the evening updating my CV – I'd packed a lot into my role at Smith. I'd take junior marketing roles, part time marketing roles, whatever it took.

I closed my laptop and looked out the window. Not even the sight of a topless man cooking in his kitchen in the building opposite could distract me from my thoughts. Before I took my first baby step into my new working (and perhaps love) life, I needed to finish what I'd started and put on a great god-damn show for the class of '98. It would be the best of 90s Sammy and the best of 2015 Sammy, all rolled up into one awesome package.

The school play, I said to myself. I visualised the school auditorium, the cardboard trees, the floral arch, the smell of hairspray and the sound of Mr. H clapping his hands together and telling me to 'break a leg.'

I placed a pink pill on my tongue, sipped my water and swallowed.

Down the hatch.