Saturday, March 24, 2007

Older, but maturity still eludes me

















Sometimes I pity my daughter, Sapphire, I really do. Take this recent conversation (the term is used loosely) we had on the way to school, for instance.

Me, singing gaily: "What do you do if you want to do a poo in an English country garden..."
Sapphire, tugging my hand and whispering: "Shoosh Mum, we're nearly there."
Instead of stopping, the immature little kid inside just got the encouragement to behave even more badly: "Pull down your pants and fertilise the plants in an English country gar-"
"MUM!", she whispered as fiercely as she could.
"Go find a leaf and wipe your underneath in an English----"

Sapphire, gritting her teeth and hissing out of the side of her mouth, said those words that a parent doesn't expect to hear until they're teenagers. "Mum, you're embarassing me."
Inside I was mortified, but my immature evil twin took that feeling and gave it a really good wedgie as I continued to sing, "Then get a spade and bury what you made in an English Country Garrrrrr-den!"

With a frustration and anger that was entirely justified, a red-faced and fed-up Sapphire flung my hand away from hers and stalked angrily towards the zebra crossing, her blonde hair bobbing up and down in time with her huffy strides. The gesture would have been so much more powerful if she didn't - as per her upbringing and daily conditioning - pause at the side of the road and wait for me to say - which I did out of habit - "Wait there Sapphire, hold my hand while we cross the road."

Luckily, she has a very open and forgiving nature and most of her cards, stories or drawings about me tend to have me dressed as a clown with 'Your (sic) a Funny Mum' emblazoned across them. Her father, Love Chunks, on the other hand, is always depicted as a strong, smart man, complete with weights and/or laptop keyboard, but hey, he's another story entirely...

If only sweet Sapphire knew how immature I am when she's not around..... A few weeks ago, my boss, Queen B, decided to shout us, her fabulous team, to a Labor Women in Politics breakfast at which Sharan Burrow, President of the ACTU, was the special guest. We all listened intently to her speech, ate breakfast at a leisurely pace and dutifully bought a few raffle fund-raising tickets each. Then the Secretary of SA Unions announced that there was going to be a prize awarded for Best Bra at the Breakfast.

A few old gals shyly pulled out a strap and muttered things like, "Oh, it's black because our union colours are black" and so forth and we all clapped politely. My evil twin suddenly had the stand. I grabbed the shoebox sized, 'Your Rights at Work, Worth Fighting For' bumper sticker, stuck it on my rack, grabbed the uneaten bunch of grapes left on the fruit platter in the centre of the table, rammed them down my cleavage and announced my entry. "THE FRUITS OF OUR LABOURS" I yelled, flashing the audience of perfumed, stilettoed and stunned ladies.

Naturally I got the prize - no chocolate or wine unfortunately. Three kid sized union t-shirts, a Ronald McDonald sized pair of black thongs with 'Don't walk all over me' printed on them in orange and a hat that I'd only ever be caught wearing on a drunken dare. Oh well, I did it, no-one held a gun (or melted chocolate wrapper) to my head and I will hopefully use this pointless piece of show offyness as a lesson in being able to restrain my inner child from doing anything that doesn't get me at least ten grand, a luxury holiday in Queensland or a re-saleable family car.

At least, that's what thoughts were occupying me as I stood waiting for the pedestrian lights to turn green at the corner of Magill and Glynburn Roads. My right hand was clutching a green enviro bag full of groceries and my left had my over-loaded backpack. A huge gust of wind swept down from the gully and expertly blew my layered peasant-inspired skirt right up over my head. Sure, my evil twin wasn't responsible for that act, but I didn't have to wave and curtsey to the laughing jackal in the white minivan when the breeze died away and my skirt revealed my face again.....

5 comments:

TOM said...

Hold on to your inner child, It's a lot more fun!! Love the song!!

Deep Kick Girl said...

Oh MM, you're a winner too! That's fantastic. The image of you at the Bra Contest will make me giggle all through the day.

Don't feel bad about your inner child. We all need to hold onto them and enjoy those silly moments. There is too much seriousness (?) in our lives. More silliness I say!!! POO!! BUM!! WEE!!

franzy said...

Inside child?
I'm still struggling with the outside one...

redcap said...

The looks on the ladies' faces must have been truly priceless :)

Business Energy said...

Great information, but for goodness sakes mate, get to the bloody point. I;m a small business owner, so, der, I am busy. Cut to the chase, say it don't spray it.
Sorry - it's a great opportunity, but, please oh please, get to the point. If i want a long lecture I'll go waste time at the movies/