Our first blended family holiday

It’s a strange thing, a guy says to me at a recent wedding, how two people decide they’re going to shack up and suddenly everyone’s expected to be part of a happy family. The ‘‘happy family’’ includes the guy talking, who at 30-plus, now has a new dad, five new brothers and sisters, and a giant entourage of aunties, uncles and cousins.

I think of our own mixed family – a teenager blended with two boisterous boys (6 and 9) and a chaos of dinosaurs, Lego, makeup and tampons in a onebedroom house.

For months, we’ve been hanging out for our first holiday as a new family. It’s carried us like a mantra on days when Dunedin has shown its coldest side. We’re transported to a tropical island from bleak greyness with one word: ‘‘Fiji.’’

I’m made for beach holidays. Reading in the sun, swimming all day, I have no need to be stimulated in any way other than ‘‘just being there’’ on an idyllic island. My plans for our holiday are simple: get to the island, swim, read my book, and do whatever else comes up.

I’ve done zero research except for speaking to a friend who had been at the same resort a fortnight earlier and – thankfully – advised about bringing food, camping plates and cutlery, and hiring bikes on the island.

The fact that wi-fi is expensive and limited only makes the holiday more appealing. It’s been years since I’ve been able to disconnect, so it comes as a surprise to me that the teen isn’t so keen on being without social media – or that she struggles to find a replacement.

While Oli sings to himself underwater and Jasper runs off with newly discovered friends, the gorgeous girl I have got to know over a magical 18 months transforms into an alien.

‘‘Adults don’t get bored,’’ I announce to her, after one particular session. ‘‘Because having time to do nothing is such a rare occurrence that it’s never boring.’’

We fizz and circle each other, we glare and ignore. Bure doors are slammed, while outside the sun sinks, glowing perfect orange-pink light.

But there’s also snorkelling among hundreds of brightly coloured fish, bike rides across bumpy tracks, sneakily executed breakfasts and dinners taking advantage of the boys’ ‘‘kids eat free’’ offer, fire dances, discos and endless swims.

Back onboard Fiji Airways, I sit next to a man leaving Fiji for the first time, aged 56. As I help him fill out his arrival card, I point out my family sitting three rows behind me.

‘‘What a beautiful family,’’ he says. ‘‘How lucky for you all to be in Fiji together.’’

I beam, looking at the teen’s freshly braided head bowed over photos on her phone, and the Boyfriend helping Jasper with his headphones.

‘‘Very lucky,’’ I say.