I recently got a little bit boozy and danced with headphones on my kitchen.
The headphones were because my kids were sleeping and I wanted it loud and the boozy was because, well, alcohol.
As I was busting shapes on the linoleum I thought about how awesome it felt to dance. I thought about the hundreds, if not millions, of hours I spent in clubs dancing on podiums in tiny little strappy things and knee high boots, or muddy and stinky at festivals wearing Blundstones and cut-offs, with a Hawaiian shirt over a bikini top, topped with a cowboy hat as I gurned the weekend away thinking I was going to be young and fabulous forever.
Now I dance in my slippers in my own private silent disco hoping to God the neighbours can’t see in because whilst my club moves were fabulous on a 20 year old, on an almost 40 year old they possibly look a tad epileptic.
I don’t quite know where that person went.
I still love music and dancing but it’s a rarity these days due to life. In so many ways I feel like that same person. I don’t feel like I have my shit together a great deal more than I did then, but I guess I’m not tending bars in nightclubs, flirting with guys for a gold coin tip in my jar, and swilling tequila as if it were water.
Life has become a whole lot slower.
I love my kids, and I love my life.
It’s not that.
I always knew I wanted to be a mother. I’ve loved babies for as long as I can remember but I really should have paid more attention to the RSCPA ads, because a child is not just for Christmas.
You have them for a really long time, or at least until they move out and apparently you never stop worrying about them even then.
(Sorry, Mama. I know I sent you grey.)
I don’t think I really considered the consequences of juggling the wellbeing of more people than myself, and juggling the desires of more people than myself, and juggling a career when I have only limited hours in the day because I need to be looking after small, funny smelling people.
I don’t know how working mums manage and I take my hat off to them. A normal work day is 9-5, and then you throw in some travel time.
How do people work if they don’t work for themselves and have no family to help? What do they do with their children before and after school?
I never considered the commitment of never being able to have a hangover in peace again, or to go where I would like to go on holidays because at this current juncture I need to consider everyone else’s needs before my own. Is there stuff for the kids to do? Adequate, affordable babysitting in case I don’t want to go to bed at 8.30 in my room every night with them?
Obviously, I realise I’m blessed to have such first world problems but believe me if the 22 year old backpacker me heard me talking about going to a resort with adequate child minding so I can have a few days peace beside a pool with a swim up bar she would have laughed and laughed at how pedestrian I’ve become.
Where is the adventure?
Or am I just a grown up?
When I was in Varanassi in India, sitting by the Ganges, I saw an Australian family (Bedreaded, wearing only Indian cotton and slightly smelly looking, but I was pretty funky at that time) spreading vegemite on toast for their toddler, a smaller baby strapped to the mother’s body and I vowed that I was going to be that kind of parent.
I so am not.
The thought of my children picking up dysentary after eating something off the ground in India makes me want to wash their mouths out with disinfectant and steel wool.
People keep telling me it gets easier. And sure, it really does. But while soon I won’t be shackled by naps times and routines, I’ll be shackled by school terms and extracurricular football and dancing and swimming all weekend if I want to be a really good mum.
I don’t regret becoming a mum in the slightest, in fact, my children are my greatest achievement to date, but I do at times lament the old carefree me who thought I would live a life less ordinary than worrying about the mortgage and being a single mum living in suburbia dancing drunk in my slippers.
But I guess I never did become that superstar actress I dreamed of.
And I should really be grateful.
Because if I did then maybe I wouldn’t have these glorious human beings with sparkling blue eyes and cheeky smiles that call me Mama and cuddle into me for comfort.
Maybe I should be grateful because this somewhat ordinary life allowed me to become me. With really comfy slippers.
And wine delivered by the case.
Want some more? Why not like my Facebook page now?
You can also subscribe via email, or follow me on Instagram and Twitter at The Holsbys to be sure you always Keep up with the Holsbys.