If these walls could talk…
I believe it would have a voice that sounded like Harry Enfield doing an impression of Margaret Thatcher.
Reciting codes of conduct, while side whispering pervy incidents to you while you sleep. Anytime you would mention a problem outloud the walls would swiftly open in on one of many tragic stories from its 100 year existence as a school, to showcase how good things are in the present. These stories fill the listener with gratitude until ultimately it begins slipping into sexist rants. “Women shouldn’t be allowed to vote while menstruating, it clogs up their decent judgments. That is science!”
You might be able to tell I am losing the plot.
I got sick. Then real sick. Then real real sick. And now I am just sick. Sick of being out of the social realms of life. Sick of feeling crazy tired 24/7. Sick of being in pain. Sick of fevers. Sick of being sick.
I cannot hold my concentration. I cannot work on my resume - which needs some tuning up! I cannot be a good wife, good house parent, good mum or a good me!
I have not been this kind of sick in a long time, my entire immune system just went on holiday. Leaving me to smush what is left back together.
What do they say when you are ill?
What can you not do at all when a stay at home parent…. you got it.
That part is the worst. I feel like crap. Peaches just wants to show me everything ever - as she is jazzed about everything. “A fly, mum. A fly! Fly!” Baby Girl, mommy is sick and does not give a rats patootie about what you can see in the windows, love of my life.
I am grumpy. I am grizzled. I just want to wrestle this illness into submission - but for now. I will take advantage of the girl being at nursery and take a nap.
Cold sweat forms on my brow as I carefully look over the information on the screen. I go to push the button and the last decade flashes through my mind. My head begins to float as I try to remember purchasing my first one-way ticket to London.
But I can’t.
I remember selling my car to pay for it. I remember having to purchase it last minute. I remember thinking how foolish I was for not saving more over the last year. I remember sitting with my parents trying to both “kill” time and make it stop while waiting in the airport before the first leg of my journey. I remember trying to burn my families’ images, voices and embraces into my brain. I remember trying not to cry too much and to focus on the moments ahead.
I remember trying to appear strong but feeling like I was made out of sugar glass.
Things are very different in America now. As am I. A girl left but now will return as a woman. Have I changed for the better? How has my family members changed? How has the job market changed? How has the political atmosphere altered? These are all things running through my head.
It’s bought. Three one way flights to the U.S. It’s happening. BLIMEY. Not that this is a spur of the moment decision. We have discussed it for years, it took 14 months for us to go through the Visa process, several months of downsizing / packing up family possessions and a month to make Peaches an American citizen. So. This is happening!!!
Wait, I’m confused, what is happening…..
...oh let me explain. In July my South African partner and British daughter are moving to America with me. There will be some alterations to the blog/instagram as we transition. Some further delays in posting may be possible (as we do not even own laptops anymore… whhhhhhhhat. #DOWNSIZING). But. I will keep the writing up - in whatever form it may evolve into. I am still a dummie. The writing will continue, I hope you dear reader, will come along for the ride.
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.
Not an instructional blog but the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth - so help me Mom.