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When I grow up.....
Is it possible to believe that someone of 43 can still think about the things she will be or do when she is grown up? I do. Honestly.
I think about how one day I will have a tidy car...how is it that I can keep a house relatively tidy and almost always clean but my car is a place where most sane people would feel obliged to wear masks and gloves and bring a blanket to sit on? why can't I keep it clean? I drive past a lovely lady and her 2 little boys every day on the way to and from school, knowing that she lives near me and has a hill the size of everest to climb on her way home and yet I don't offer her a life because I know she would just hold her breath in case she caught something from the inside of my car.
I look at lovely older ladies in their immaculate frocks and shiny shoes, jewellery and perfect hair and say quietly to myself " I hope I'm like that when I'm her age" I am 43....I live in jeans and baggy t-shirts, if I put on a skirt my kids think I am going to church, my hair hasn't been cut for 18 months and is dragged back in a pig tail every day because it is so curly and so wild I would get lost in it in so much as a slight breeze. Isaac brushed past my leg last week and said " Hey, Hedgehog" don't even think about my armpits ( no, really DON'T think about them)
I do make every effort to smell clean and fresh and if I fail, my most heartfelt apologies to all who meet me in real life, I wash and brush everything that needs washing and brushing but somehow that's as far as it goes. Why then, do I feel there is the slightest hope that at some stage on my way to old age am I suddenly going to become poster girl for the Edinburgh woollen mill? Will my children begin to buy me silken scarves and fake pearls for christmas? ( please don't!)
I don't want to think that in reality I shall be a polyester slacks kind of old gal, slopping around in bendy soled slip on shoes and mismatched cardigans but it's terrifyingly closer to the me of today.
I want to be the kind of woman my mum is, all quietly spoken and chairman of the W.I material but if I am brutally honest it isn't going to happen because I am LOUD. I swear rather more often than I want to admit and find crudity and sarcasm so hysterically funny they would throw me out of the Womans' Institute without so much as a by or leave.
I CAN, however, see myself becoming the jolly person whose door is always open to feed people. I can see myself in a pinny, welcoming children and grandchildren into my toasty warm home with happy music playing and feeding them until they almost burst. I can imagine being a grandma that can keep good secrets and confidences and dish out wisdom and hugs. You can do that kind of stuff in comfy old clothes and I'm pretty sure that there are few people in this world who would choose to spend time with a blue rinsed whispering posh lady over a fat old cosy bird serving up hot pies and laughter......maybe I'll stick with what I've got, sometimes it's better than what you think you need.
I think about how one day I will have a tidy car...how is it that I can keep a house relatively tidy and almost always clean but my car is a place where most sane people would feel obliged to wear masks and gloves and bring a blanket to sit on? why can't I keep it clean? I drive past a lovely lady and her 2 little boys every day on the way to and from school, knowing that she lives near me and has a hill the size of everest to climb on her way home and yet I don't offer her a life because I know she would just hold her breath in case she caught something from the inside of my car.
I look at lovely older ladies in their immaculate frocks and shiny shoes, jewellery and perfect hair and say quietly to myself " I hope I'm like that when I'm her age" I am 43....I live in jeans and baggy t-shirts, if I put on a skirt my kids think I am going to church, my hair hasn't been cut for 18 months and is dragged back in a pig tail every day because it is so curly and so wild I would get lost in it in so much as a slight breeze. Isaac brushed past my leg last week and said " Hey, Hedgehog" don't even think about my armpits ( no, really DON'T think about them)
I do make every effort to smell clean and fresh and if I fail, my most heartfelt apologies to all who meet me in real life, I wash and brush everything that needs washing and brushing but somehow that's as far as it goes. Why then, do I feel there is the slightest hope that at some stage on my way to old age am I suddenly going to become poster girl for the Edinburgh woollen mill? Will my children begin to buy me silken scarves and fake pearls for christmas? ( please don't!)
I don't want to think that in reality I shall be a polyester slacks kind of old gal, slopping around in bendy soled slip on shoes and mismatched cardigans but it's terrifyingly closer to the me of today.
I want to be the kind of woman my mum is, all quietly spoken and chairman of the W.I material but if I am brutally honest it isn't going to happen because I am LOUD. I swear rather more often than I want to admit and find crudity and sarcasm so hysterically funny they would throw me out of the Womans' Institute without so much as a by or leave.
I CAN, however, see myself becoming the jolly person whose door is always open to feed people. I can see myself in a pinny, welcoming children and grandchildren into my toasty warm home with happy music playing and feeding them until they almost burst. I can imagine being a grandma that can keep good secrets and confidences and dish out wisdom and hugs. You can do that kind of stuff in comfy old clothes and I'm pretty sure that there are few people in this world who would choose to spend time with a blue rinsed whispering posh lady over a fat old cosy bird serving up hot pies and laughter......maybe I'll stick with what I've got, sometimes it's better than what you think you need.
posted by The other me | 9:40 pm
5 Comments:
Well, I know that I would certainly prefer you in a pinny, with cheerful music and wholesome foods(and the not so wholesome ones too :))
That last part reminded me of my Nan(the one that lives in Budleigh). Much more appealing than a stiff lipped W.I. woman :)
In my opinion anyway :D
~Lisa~
My grandmother's a prim and nasty old bitch... Thank God my father talked me out of naming Chloe after her!
Me, I'm Tante Julie... known for her comfy boobies ... seems to be a far better feature than blue rinsed hair and polished toes :)
We can visit in our old cardigans and rubber clogs some day and talk about our gardens ... that would be simply lovely!
baby steps. don't fix everything at once. :)
Well, it looks like we are the same age and unfortunately at the same stage. I too think of all the things I want to do and be when I grow up, my car, as I just told some one is a garbage can, there is every-kind-a-piece-of-crap every-where in it. dont worry yourself, I'll be your quoet friend, standing next to you and giggling at your crude jokes
Comfort and love over posh and stuffy anyday!!!
I suffer from the same "messy car" syndrome.
Why is that? (mine is a messy minivan)
I'd gladly sit in your cozy front room, giggling with you about life in general. I suspect we could send each other into hysterics. ;)
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