Today is the day ~ Glad

Today is the day when I shall focus on being glad. This is easier said than done as I am sitting here in my dining room, organising the wage run for our subcontractors, which if I am to be honest does not make me glad. The recent recession has meant that each Friday I have to practice my circus skills as a juggler, and rob Peter to pay Paul so for that reason I am not glad but if I am to practice being glad about other things I am sure I can manage that.

I am glad I have a roof over my head, and I am glad that I am in good health which is always something that one should be glad about. I am trying to think what else I can be glad about today. Well, the sun is shining and I have managed to pay everyone, and so far nobody has annoyed me. Mind you it is still early, and my daughter has yet to arise from her bed, and as on most mornings she is likely to get up on the wrong side of the bed and be grumpy. It is 8.30 on a beautifully sunny morning on the 21st May 2010, and by now you will most likely have come to the conclusion that my daughter is not an early bird who catches the worm, although on the subject of worms, the wriggly ones which can be found in the garden, and not the type that you catch from animals where you need to be wormed, I can recall a time when my daughter was four, and used to subject me to worm patrol on the way to nursery. You may by now be wondering what exactly is worm patrol? Let me explain. 

In order for worm patrol to take place, there had to be wet conditions. It had to have been raining overnight so that next morning worms would be out and about, worming along on their daily business which tended to be winding along the pathway through the park. The walk to nursery was always an eventful time as four year olds tend to be curious little things, and for most of the time rather sweet. Back then my daughter was a morning person, still in awe of the world around her and saving worms from hungry birds was the order of the day. At that time I was temping for Lewisham Council as a cashier. I would drop my daughter off at nursery, and then run to catch the number 75 bus. I was late most days, only by minutes but nevertheless late, and the head cashier would let me know it by looking up at the clock as I walked in, and then at his watch. He never said a word but the look on his face said it all. I always just said that the bus was late again. After all how could I explain that I was assisting on worm patrol. The things we do for our children, and the trouble we get in to for them!  Back then there was not even the slightest inkling that my darling daughter, saviour of worms would evolve into a tempestuous teenager as most children eventually do. That said, I am glad that we shared such times, so yes today I shall focus on being glad for the times I shared with my daughter when we were on worm patrol and be proud that I too was instrumental in the saving of worms. 

What else shall I be glad about today? 

Today is the day’ …was a collection of musings I wrote during the Peri menopause years. It’s spoken in the first person, and was based largely on my journal entries written around that time. Journalling is a wonderful way to express this, that and whatever else needs to be said whether aloud or silently…

© Liola Lee 2010

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Today is the day ~ A Little Princess

The truth is kids grow into teenagers arriving at that crossroads in life when they are neither child nor adult not fitting neatly into one camp or another and my god, do they let you know it at every given opportunity. They are a breed apart from mainstream human society. I do not use the term breed lightly as I believe there is a certain animal quality inherent in any individual between 13 and 19. They think they know it all, they accuse you of not caring and tell you constantly that you do not understand them. They are constantly bored, always critical, totally self-obsessed, self opinionated and make it their aim in life to get on your nerves on a daily basis. Where once they were endearing and cuddly, suddenly they are obnoxious and rude to the point where you really cannot believe that they are yours and that you actually gave birth to them. It seems strange that at this moment I should recall Mary Shelly’s novel Frankenstein. I guess she was not the only one to create a monster. Perhaps I am being too hard on the little darlings and they are not the least bit like monsters but with retrospect, I sincerely think not. There is definitely some connection. Teenagers really do exist. We as parents often ask ourselves what is it that we did to deserve such treatment from our offspring, when all we ever have is their best interests at heart. Surely they should be grateful to us for putting a roof over their heads, food on the table, clothes on their backs and giving lifts to concerts, clubs, parties, friend’s houses, school, shopping and of course the school run which would not have been too bad but with my middle child that meant to school and from school until he left at 16 and doing the same for his mates was a bonus for me on most days. And what about holding their hands at the dentist, the orthodontist, doctors and in the school playground, well at least until they got too embarrassed by you and would rather you kept your distance. This last observance about distance seems to last well into their teens. God forbid that their friends, most of whom you have known since infants should see them with you, their parents. On the rare occurrence where our daughter granted us with her presence, on the premise that she would get a new iPhone saw her walk several paces behind with her hood up so as to avoid recognition by any of her friends that may be loitering in the vicinity.  In my own particular case the list also included daily trips to the stable yard, and weekly trips to the local golf club. Did I mention the ballet classes and the weekly football? Yet all we get in return for our considerateness is eyes up to heaven, monosyllabic grunts, tuts, shakes of the head  and mutterings under the breath to indicate how irritating they find you. You are old and are not the least bit clued up about where they are coming from or where they are going. They speak a whole new language…’you get what I’m saying like’ and so on and so forth. I have given up correcting speech and grammar in favour of a peaceful life by simply turning a deaf ear when they do speak. However, by doing this I get accused of never listening but then why should I when the language I grew up with has been murdered and mutilated beyond all recognition. I am on my third and final teenager now. My first two are now in their 20s and parents themselves. If what goes around comes around then I will take great pleasure in watching my children suffer the storms and strops of the turbulent teens in turn, a sort of divine retribution shall we say where the Piper is paid back in kind, and when mum can sit back with a smug smirk on her face in an all knowing way. 

Just now our baby girl, currently 16 going on 26, is uppermost in my thoughts. It has been like that a lot lately. Until a few short months ago she was a wild unkempt tom boy who resembled a pikey rather than a little princess. For instance, if I had mentioned the word bra to her she would have recoiled in mock disgust at the thought of it. It was all I could do to broach the subject when she eventually developed sufficiently ample bosoms to require one. I remember one time watching Trinny and Susannah unashamedly grab the breasts of a woman they were restyling on their makeover tv show only to be accused by my daughter of exposing her to pornography. If she had seen a couple kissing on television she would have looked away, genuinely embarrassed. How times change, now she has realised that she has a fine pair of what my husband terms man magnets, a really cringe worthy image, he is a builder and such terminology frequently finds its way into the house, and she is more than a little proud of what she has in common with Jordan and not the least bit shy or modest even. Oh yes, times have certainly changed. My little girl has gone and grown up on me without warning. She is no longer my chicken in the library or my ferocious lion with sharp teeth and claws but has donned the appearance of a diva come rock chick right down to her perfectly pointed stilettos. On the subject of stilettos, she did insist on wearing them the other day to go shopping with her mates. I did warn her. My exact words were, I think “ Are you sure you want to wear those shoes?” well of course she was sure, she liked them and they looked ‘dead good’. I had to agree they looked great but mentioned that she might feel differently about them after wearing them for a few hours around the shopping centre. I was of course proved right, and there was no need to rub it in by saying ‘I told you so’. It did not need to be said…the pain in her feet and legs said it all. I do not believe she has worn those shoes since. To think that we use to watch From Ladette to Lady on television, and laugh laboriously at the dreadful pits to which these young girls would sink. It never occurred to me that I was harbouring a ladette in the making, although I like to think that she still has a few ladylike leanings but that is most probably wishful thinking on my part. Perhaps it is just a passing phase, just one of many. I thought it would be easier this time, firstly because I have done this before with two boys both delightful little cherubs when they were born, well at least for the first few weeks. They do not remain babies for long, and before you know it they soon grow into the men they are to become albeit bit by bit. If the law of attraction is true and I have no reason to believe that it is not the old saying many a true word spoken in jest takes on an entirely new meaning. Why oh why did I ever jokingly liken my sons to notorious twins. What was I thinking? Actually, I clearly was not thinking at all. How was I to know that by saying such things I was tempting providence, and unknowingly urging the Universe to accommodate me.

© Liola Lee 2010

(image is one I took of my lovely daughter who is and will always be my Little Princess)

‘Today is the day’ …was a collection of musings I wrote during the Peri menopause years. It’s spoken in the first person, and was based largely on my journal entries written around that time. Journalling is a wonderful way to express this, that and whatever else needs to be said whether aloud or silently…