I can’t believe it’s mid June, it was January a minute ago. Literally a minute ago. I turned to put a wash on and suddenly it’s June. They say ‘time flies when you’re having fun’. But really it’s ‘time flies when you’re a working mum who never stops to sit down, ever’. Obviously I do sit down, sometimes. Usually to check my emails, design a poster, peel some potatoes or see if I can work out the meaning of Pi on a calculator. Even when I’m supposedly ‘relaxing’ watching TV, I’ve become more of an avid listener than watcher. I’m listening to Scrubs while deconstructing Pi. Does anyone actually watch TV anymore? Or are we all on laptops reading Twitter feeds about the latest dead pop-star and a certain celebrities’ awful new handbag? Are we all just half watching/ half listening to the TV while repeatedly checking our email, wasting evenings waiting for password recovery emails to log into websites purely to unsubscribe from their email bombardment about garden furniture and weight-loss G-strings? Modern life really wastes as much time as it saves.
“Modern life really wastes as much time as it saves”
Yes, washing laundry is quicker than it was 70 years ago. I save hours not having to mangle to just spend them trying to remember passwords. Half-term has come and gone. Did we not just have Easter? They’ve slipped in another holiday. Then it’s only weeks ‘til the long stretch of summer childcare issues. I mean summer fun-times. I’m glad I’m not living 100 years ago, having to home educate. I’d soon be a white-haired nutter requiring electric shock treatment. My child refuses to listen when I teach her anything. From how to hold a fork, to how to write the letter ‘D’. Her way is always best and her way is absolutely not. She cannot attempt to cut her fish finger up without spilling the whole contents of her plate on the floor, nor write the letter ‘D’ without adding ‘tails’ that do not belong there. When asked why she was adding decorative ‘tails’ onto all her letters (you could not understand her writing at all) she replied that she wanted to be ‘different’. Oh. I spent my childhood wishing to be like everyone else – normal. I was short, gobby and my hippy parents knitted my clothes. I wanted to be quiet and wear polyester. I’m sure when I bought my first trainers (Adidas) my mum exclaimed: “But I could have made you those!”.
So my child wants to be different. This is as disappointing to me as discovering my child wants to be a junkie when she grows up. I’d hoped she’d become a solicitor or doctor, not Lady Gaga (bet she writes tails on her letters). Anyway I’m wasting time, I need to half listen to TV and Google how to get Blu-Tack out of carpet. Time flies when your busy being normal.