I think, maybe I’ve had a red wine too many.
But those are the best sort of days, right? We just watched Twilight – yes, again! Shut up. I think my children are equally as enamoured as I am. Which is good. Except, I keep feeling the urge to tell them, at random moments, that boys are really not like that. “NO!” I say. “They’re not like that. Not at all. Okay?” And they sort of groan and go “we have the picture mum.” To which I reply “Do you see Charlie with his gun? Ya…that’s your dad. WITH KARATE! He doesn’t need a gun. Mkay?” And they go…”okay mum.” And I feel tragic, and old, because did you know, Siobhan is going to college next year?
Calm down, Americans. That’s high school for you. Although, I’m pretty sure they’re both smart enough for University already. They should go. I could go with them, it would be just like old times. I never mentioned that before, did I? That, during school holidays, I used to take my kids? They’d take their own bags, filled with lunchie snack things and coloured pencils, and they would draw all through the classes, while we sat up the back, and I would raise my hand, tentatively…in the classes that were taught, by hot lecturers, and answer questions which made him smile, and in turn, made me smile…because you know, no one answers questions, right? And they stand there, panicking, waiting and waiting while no one dares to raise their hand. I raised mine. Just to see him smile. I’d tell you his name, but I can’t.
Anyway! The point of that story was to tell you that, when we got home, the girls would be wonderfully inspired. Even at the tender ages of things like, 4, 5, 6, 7 and possibly 8, younger than that Siobhan was a baby when I first had to take her, and they were older too because, yes, they came to one teachers college class. Only one. I never did that again. God, what an awful experience that was. But University? They’d come home with their pictures and they’d look up at me and they’d say, “When I grow up mummy? I want to go to University like you.” And I felt extremely proud, and extremely grateful, for my life. I have, one of the best lives imaginable. Did you know that? I really do. Sometimes I think I complain, because everyone complains don’t they? They think to themselves…”If only…” And I do that too. But the truth is, internet….I am blessed.
I have a husband who indulges my eccentricities. Who allows me to be who and what I am, and never -really- judges me. We have our moments, just like the rest of the world, of course, but I am currently 32 years old. I have two tweenie aged children – which really, no one of my age should have…and I have children, who constantly amaze me. Whose idea of fun, is to begin a story and then give it to me, so that I can write the next few lines, until the story is finished and we all sit around squeaking and laughing at how ridiculous we are. Who have a white board, on the fridge, that is constantly used for “write the next word” stories. And which, each member of my family diligently writes the next word, and continues the story. I have children, who beg to bake, who offer to make desserts, who take out the rubbish, who love music, who sing and dance and enjoy theatre, and ballet, and Opera.
I am, internet, extremely blessed. I have the most beautiful family in the world. And every single day, they make me proud. Every single day, I look at them and I am amazed, and floored by the fact that, I helped create this. That I am part of something wonderful and inspiring. I can’t wait for them to go to college. For them to become adults. For this to be the house that they bring their friends back to. I can’t wait to watch them shut me out while I sit here, and be who I am, and they convene in our lounge, being who they are…talking about boys and movies, and music and just growing up.
There was a time, when I was totally afraid of this. When 9/11 happened on Siobhan’s birthday, I threw a party and it was wonderful…but the night before, or several nights…I forget now, we were riveted to the tv. We were shocked and stunned and totally horrified by what was happening in the world. I sat there and remembered when we went up those towers. I was 12 years old. And now they’re not there. And I worried, so desperately, about bringing my children into a world that so very possibly could be facing, another world war. I was devastated. Horrified, totally and utterly terrified. But we lived, and we grew and next year…my oldest daughter will be entering high school. I’m terrified, and totally ready for her to do it. I’m so excited, and so horribly afraid…and do you know what? She’s ready. She knows, she may not get into the school she wants to go to. Although I have done my fucking damnedest – besides forcing them into Christianity – to get her in. I have letters from the Priest AND the Principal supporting her.
Anyway…I’ve had a wine too many, Ollie is out on conference, and has been since yesterday, and I’m thoughtful. I’m pleased. I’m grateful. I’m happy. I’m really content with where I am right now. I wish I was earning money, and helping to financially support this growing family of mine. But when it really comes down to it? I’m happy. And they’re happy. And we may not be the best, or the richest, or the most fantastic family in the world, but we are fucking close to it. I have my parents and Ollie’s parents to thank, for making us the people we are. For being there when we needed them. For everything. Because, truly, without the trials, the successes and the sacrifices we have come through, we’d have never been the people we are. I’m proud of us.
Thanks…to all of you who still read me. Who are there for me, day after day, while I struggle to become the writer I know I am. Each of you help to shape the person I’ve become. Each of you make a difference in my life. I appreciate you all, for everything you are, and everything you’re willing to share.