Life’s a roller-coaster right now…
Well, I guess my life has always been pretty *tumultuous, *hectic, *exciting, *interesting, *passionate, *turbulent, *explosive etc… just take a pick; matching your image of me. However, it’s all good.
My 4th is doing her 5th exam today and has fully recovered from a bad episode of tonsillitis, after a ‘successful’ tonsillectomy last January (interesting huh?!). My 3rd is preparing for her exams, which will start off in 11 days. My 1st and 2nd are grown and do their own thing, hardly acknowledging the fact that it took me 20 hours and a tremendous amount of pain to bring them into this world but it’s okay. Someone once told me that children aren’t ours anyway, even though we all still call them ‘our’ children. They’re obviously not. We borrow them, wipe their behinds, do our best to raise them in the way they should go, put up with their temper tantrums, wash their clothes, tidy up behind them, listen to their endless arguments and tend to their needs.. yep… I remember those night time escapades all to well and I’m sure you do too.
Over the last few weeks I noticed that I’m becoming more emotional than ever, and I now understand that I am emotionally preparing to start life on my own… I don’t mean completely alone and deprived of all love to the moon and back (get the pun?) but after 27 years of parenting, each child seems to have grown up to do their own (successful) thing and have less and less time to tend to the emotional needs of their anxious and overly concerned mother. Which of course, I understand. Who else would like to have their mother breathing down their neck and telling them to watch out for that third guy from the left, on the second table at the right hand side, right behind that lady with the massive hat just because he looks suspicious in his blue jacket and green trousers -who on earth still wears green trousers though, see where I’m going?- and why did he had to sit at exactly that particular spot? Probably to have a good look at my child! Oops, my ‘borrowed’ child I meant. Exactly, said no child ever, not even youngster Jesus who managed to freak out the whole tribe by sneaking off at the tender, no scrap that… at the rebellious age of 12! I get it… (but still, why wear green trousers though?)
I want to see my 1st and 2nd as much as possible but they’re always busy with (girl)friends, work and school. Why? You’re young and energetic! Surely you can find ways to come and visit me after a 50 hour work/school-week, 56 hours of sleep per week -maximum amount obviously, we’re not wasting daylight here!-, 14 hours of commuting and 4 hours of playing football per week. I have calculated that one week has 168 hours, which means that they have 30 hours left to visit me. That is a nice part time job you know. Okay they haven’t cooked yet, nor have they eaten. Heck they haven’t even done their food shopping yet… so what? You can eat here, right? Thought so.
We always tell each other to focus on our ‘borrowed’ children. They’re grown before we know it and it’s true. I remember the day that I had to push an obnoxious little boy out after 20 hours of excruciating cramps in the most delicate part of my body to finally find myself falling in love with that same little boy and realizing he wasn’t obnoxious after all, he just needed more space. I also got to the understanding that this special relationship would alternate on a regular basis depending on the time of day, week, month or year he found himself in, and not just with this little peace-crusher… also with the 2nd.. and the 3rd… and the 4th! Yet we all love them dearly and bawl our eyes out if they haven’t crashed our peace for longer than a week. Simply because our peace has become the sound of voices arguing, doors slamming, music being pumped up to the point that the neighbors come knocking, only to feel those (sometimes) sticky pouted lips planting a kiss on your cheek before bed time, telling us they love us to the moon and back. Then, and only then, you know that they’re safe (especially from that guy in the green trousers).