Teenage Delusions

So motherhood happened. Not once but three times. Yet despite my experience I really don’t feel like a mother nor do I feel like a grown up. It’s like a poster I saw on Facebook. I think they call them memes or something even though I have no idea what that means or how to pronounce it. When a crisis occurs and you look for someone more adulty than you. Woah there Nelly. I’m the adult. Well I must have missed that memo.

adult.

My son told me I was just a kid cause I still had a Mammy and Daddy.  And yes he used the word kid. Because, yes he watches too much American television. He even asked me for candy one day. I was like I’ll candy stripe your arse for you and attempted to get him to watch Fraggle Rock on tg4. That’ll snap any Yankee notions out of ya boyo.  By his estimation I’m not an adult and I’m beginning to think he’s wise beyond his years.

I asked my mother when did she really start feeling like a grown up and she said it was when her own mother died. When there is no one to look up to for advice. You then hold the most senior position in the family. The buck …. I mean euro stops with you. After assessing all this information I’m delighted with myself that I am in fact a teenager because my mother is a sprightly young woman and is going nowhere for a long time.

Despite my new found teenage status I have noticed a few aspects of my life that might give the game away. Small little clues that to the fact I am almost middle aged.

I recently got excited when there was a competition on Facebook for a washing machine. Extra large drum capacity. Timer and a quick wash setting. In my wildest dreams. It was a thing of beauty. Staying in the subject of household appliances. I actually sent a picture of my new Hoover to my mother. I was giddy when the lead was so long that I don’t have to unplug it to reach the whole ground floor. This was expressed in the message, to which my mother replied that I shouldn’t be so smug. Some people less fortunate than I have to unplug and replug in order to complete their hoovering. I should really be more sensitive. Religion, culture and those with appliance issues need to be treated with tact.

I have recently engaged in the not so hip hobby of line dancing. And I love it. I love the music I love the moves and yes I will buy a hat! I was one of the ones with tickets to Garth.  The legend that is Mr Brooks was due to come to Ireland but alas it was not to be. We are in his hearts and I actually believe that we are. That calibre of showmanship is what the entertainers of today lack! Doubt Kanye weesus eesus south east would sell five nights in Croker! Well each Kardashian would need two seats each for their arses! Now now let’s play nice. Moving on.I’m genuinely interested in the price of petrol. I go to the same outlet once a week and put what I need in. The cheapest place in town obviously…. How do I know this because I look at the price of every one as I drive by. If I have to shop elsewhere I mourn the pennies I’ve lost and scold myself for my bad organisational skills.

 

Spontaneity is gone out the window. No more last minute plans. An outing cannot occur without at least three weeks written notice. Not only would I not have the financial ability to go last minute because that €30 that I might spend on an enjoyable meal is allocated to one of the rug rats for clothes or swimming or some shite, but the sheer logistics of it. It goes something like this.

If I have a glass of wine I can’t drive the car and if the kids have bread with their tea then I might need to go to the shop for the lunches in the morning and if I’m not here to take the clothes out of the machine then his one tracksuit that is too small for him anyway might not be dry for the morning and I have to fill in that consent form that I got three weeks ago but is due tomorrow and I need the pps number for that but I can’t find my address book, it’s probably in one of my handbags which are still in that last box that I haven’t unpacked since the move so…… in essence going out is not gonna happen.

That being said although I don’t always feel like the most adulty person I know. I do feel that with age I am improving. I only make the same stupid mistakes three times now instead of five. I manage my money better and I know myself better and I am learning to self assess instead of looking to others for council. I have learned to surround myself with people who accept me for who I am and to not care about the ones that don’t.There is a night out planned for the end of the month with some of my fellow teeny boppers I am having pre drinks at my house. That’s what we call it these days. Hoping someone will ask me to dance when the slow set comes on…… See I am young….. Aren’t I?

Be Well

Ellen

 

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