I can feel myself slowly slipping away into the obscurity of an ageing woman. Thinking less about what I could accomplish and more about my daughter's (and any other offspring's) future.
Dressing to hide myself. Make myself less noticeable. Wearing more black to look smaller. Yet picking out the brightest, jolliest and flashiest apparel that we can afford for the child.
Keeping my opinion to myself instead of barfing out the first notion that comes to mind. Picking and choosing how or who I react to. Don't want to seem too pushy, outspoken or bossy, Thor forbid. And still egging my daughter to use her words, her voice and let us know her thoughts.
Is this what happens?
Is it society's fault or bullshit or both?
I see the marketing changing from '' YOU ARE THE FUTURE '' and '' WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO NEXT '' to '' ARE YOU REALLY THINKING ABOUT YOUR CHILD'S FUTURE '' and '' WHAT WILL YOU LEAVE BEHIND ''.
Ouch bots. Ouch.
Well I refuse to have a mid-life crisis. It is not a crisis, it is going to be a revolt. A midlife revolt. Take the Consumerism Spies. I am not yet mid-thirties, I am not going to be ignored as I am the now. We are all the now.
Happy Rant-urday muchachas.
Never have I ever thought I would be living in a Boarding House in England and working as a House Parent. Never having ever experienced or really thought that much about boarding and the lifestyle surrounding it - how could it have been on my radar?
Preconceived assumptions of the kind of students that attend boarding school come from films and television*. The majority of which showing Boarding School used as either a punishment or a coming of age hormone fuelled ''awakening''.
Except for the Harry Potter series. So I prepared by putting myself in the mind-set of Hogwarts' House Parents/Masters/Mistresses. I was going to hone my Professor McGonagall and maintain a strict but endearing personality with the boarders.
And then I realised our House is more looks more Slytherin than Gryffindor (Even our school colours and Coat of Arms). And going by all the rules I am slapping up on the walls, I am more Dolores Umbridge.
I know. It surprised me too.
Never have I ever thought I would be looking after a handful of international student let alone teenagers. Have I always wanted to adopt an older child? Yes. This is far from that. Did I ever consider fostering? Yes. Did I ever consider multiple teenagers at once? No.
I figured there would be some hiccups in the beginning as we were setting up for the new school year. No worries, as I had my trusty HP characters to fall back on. Yet again, I hiked up my bra and put on my Molly Weasley cap. Rules because we care.
And then I realised that teenagers do not consider why there are rules but instead sulk when you try to enforce them. That they are stuck in this weird limbo of a vast stretching future of independence creeping into their sight of vision but they can't call their GP to make themselves an appointment. They hate when you repeat yourself as that is nagging but then they turn around and do exactly what she just said not to do while arguing with you how ''they did not know''.
We recently rewatched the Harry Potter films, shock! You had know idea, right?
I now feel for the Professors and Heads of House. I want to shove away the HP storyline and delve into how Minerva McGonagall came to her position. What Severus Snape says in the staff room after receiving another eye roll from the HP Gang.
*Of which I have seen or read, not assumptions including everything from all time. Doi.
Over the years hubs and I have discussed the possibility of downsizing our humble abode. Whether through buying a small house, living in a caravan, renovating an old bus or building from recycled dumpsters. Were they were just passing fancies of wannabe hippies? Very possible, as we ended up moving into larger accommodation.
Upon entering our apartment, you will find yourself knee deep (and shoulder high) into an echo chamber of boxes. We are in the midst of a massive downsizing. Why? Because we are kooky and it is how we get our kicks?
Next month we are moving from our roomy 2 bedroom flat into, drum roll please : a studio apartment. Hooray!! *Gulp, gulp, panic-panic-panic, it will be fine, gulp, barf, freaking out, deep breaths, I am so zen, oh no, poo.* Wait, that’s not all - a bedsit located inside a school!
The husband and I are taking up a joint position as House Parents to Sixth Form boarders, as if parenting a 20 month old was not hard enough! *Nervous laughter*
For reals, we are just excited/nervous about this new adventure. It is going to be a MASSIVE, let me rephrase that, I MAHOOSIVE change. What is life without change, hey?
The difficult task at hand is the weeding out of possessions.
How to decide what goes and stays? To be honest I did not realise just how much stuff we even had until now. Originals, back ups, and variety of colours of clothing, linen, kitchenware, toys and more.
So the new rule is - no more back ups. 1 of whatever it may be, when it is dirty, we wash it and reuse right away. Beloved items are being boxed up and put into storage as it is going to be difficult to keep little destructo from getting into things. The same with our library. Everything will have a specific place or it has got to go!
Whew! Sweating just thinking about it all. Oh, and here comes the melancholy that shows up with every move.
I am fine.
Let’s have some fun with it..
Not an instructional blog but the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth - so help me Mom.