Current potential book title: Will she ever learn?
Chapter One: Will she ever learn, a cacophony of doubts. Chapter Two: Cads & Bounders, the cut throat world of hospitality. Chapter Three: Repeat to self, not everyone has morals. Chapter Four: The rise and fall of the teenage mood. Chapter Five: Parenting, survival of the fittest. Chapter Seven: Who do I submit my resignation to? Chapter Eight: The day I decided to make it easier and just become a pirate.
In the boot, in the huff
I am fairly certain the makers of my car intended their people carriers to be utilised with all seven passengers sitting IN the actual seats.
I doubt they envisioned an old, frumpy, Scottish wifey sitting in the boot, arms crossed, bottom lip petted, sporting a petulant huff, refusing to come out lest the world gets any meaner. Yet here I am.
Having decided crawling into the boot seemed the best place for me. The mister is trying to lure me out, Hansel and Gretel style, using a bag of sweeties.
Lure of tiny confectionery
He knows my powers of refusal are useless against tiny confectionery. Why is that by the way? Why do we all ooh and ahh over mini anything? It’s not like a I couldn’t buy a curly wurly and chop it into pieces myself. Yet I’d rather have someone else do it and place it in an overpriced, air-filled bag for me.
Why am I in the boot? It just made sense. The mister is attempting some caff based plumbing repairs while I am try to work online and wanted to sit down. It was a little ‘blowy’ standing outside and the car boot was invitingly open.
Do you remember being told not to crawl into dark, small spaces when you were little? Apparently advice that didn’t stick for me.
So here I am, getting waved and tooted at by passers-by. Thankfully none of them stop, they’re used to my mildly erratic behaviour and probably believe there is ‘nothing to see’ here.
What happened to respect?
Which, to be fair, there isn’t really, just someone, somewhere not playing ‘nice’. Sadly, this is the state of business today and those ‘once upon a time’ silly notions of respectful and collaborative behaviour have long since been abandoned by some.
I, however, stubbornly try to hold onto it – how very pre 2020 of me.
In my cramped space ‘moment of need’ I turn to my no nonsense, sharp talking, Jiminy Cricket-esque cousin for reassurance.
There will be no ‘gently gently’ soothing approach here as she informs me the universe is pushing me in another, more lucrative direction, bringing less hassle with it. I just need to find out what that direction is. Easy right?
We all have that friend…
We all have that friend. The one who randomly disappears on a night out, returning two hours later with new friends they met in the smoking area. Covered in bruises.
Having lost their phone and brandishing two packets of crisps and a mountain goat. That’s our Elaine.
She is also an entrepreneurial, self-employed, working Mother Legend. While I sweat the small stuff. The medium stuff. The big stuff. The stuff that’s not even statistically likely (and all stuff in between) like the giant sweaty mess I am, she cracks on, sending me encouraging messages even if her life is a hot mess too.
She helps normalise running a business and raising a family. Reminding me I don’t need to soldier through without sharing how stressful it can be and how often you feel alone, over it and unsupported.
Ah, motherhood
Before we had kids, we thought we’d be the coolest mums. But mostly because we didn’t know they’d break all the things, never sleep and take three years to get in the car.
We now accept parenting can be like riding a bike on a gorgeous sunny day. Other days, it’s more like riding the same bike but with flat tyres. And it’s raining. And you’re towing a caravan. And both your legs are broken.
It’s all about balance. So I am grateful for my supportive cousin-mum-friend, who also tends to overshare, disappears occasionally, forgives me for not texting back and never judges.
Bonus points for her love of kitchen parties, ’90s jams and sharing her crazy business-mum life journey with me. Emergency mini curly wurlys are in the post to say thanks.
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