As some of you may have read in this post I’ve recently commenced my mid-life crisis.
And far from being the relaxing slide into self-absorbed indulgence I had thought it would be, the crisis has actually turned out to require a fair bit of input from ME!
Soul searching, navel gazing. I tell you some days it’s just one more ting on my fucking to do list!
This internal “stock take” has been a bit of a double edged sword.
I have been able to congratulate myself on my achievements which are, in no particular order…
– Three children who are
well-behaved, quiet ummm, let just say they’re “characters” full of spark and wonderful little quirks
– A career that, although it has taken many twists and turns, is at least now pretty much on track
– Fantastic friends both IRL and online
– A good relationship with a man who, apart from his habit of leaving his socks on the lounge room floor, is as good a man as you could want.
But I’ve also had to face the fact that there are some things I definitely thought i’d be better at by now. This was a less comfortable list to write but here goes…
– I still drink far too quickly for the first two drinks at any party.
I think it’s a combination of nerves and the feeling (which any parent will relate to) of having to cram as much fun into an evening as possible, since it may be several months until I have another opportunity to get out and socialise.
– My relationship with exercise is still very much an “on & off” affair.
After an awesome period of being “on” last year, exercise and I are currently very much in the “off” stage of the relationship cycle. So once again I am trying to re-kindle the spark there.
Believe me I could go on and on but in the interests of not boring or depressing you I’ll only add one more point.
There is one thing I definitely hoped I’d be better at by now and that is…
Need an example? Picture this if you will…
I’m in the shopping centre with my boys. We’re standing at the deli counter with our ticket waiting for the teenager behind the counter to notice we exist.
And then it happens.
One of the boys, looking aimlessly at the olives, cheeses and smallgoods in the cabinet, will suddenly have a brain-wave…
“Mum, can we make home made pizza?”
Innocent enough you may think? Sure it is – on the surface. But you see I know what’s coming next and it strikes terror into my heart.
“I know! We should get some salami while we’re here at the deli. We can put it on the pizza”.
Cue a chorus of excited “Yeahs” as the other two boys congratulate who ever it was on having the foresight to not only suggest a dinner that is practically take-away, but also for suggesting an ingredient that will make it taste even more like the real thing.
Here lies the tragedy… that salami will never make it on to the pizza
What will happen instead is that at regular intervals throughout the afternoon I will be drawn, as if by an invisible force, to the fridge. Once there I may put up a token resistance…
“No… no, I mustn’t. I shouldn’t. Oh God help me!!!”
To no avail. The primal call of the salami is too strong and I succumb over and over again until finally late in the afternoon I’ll go back one last time.
All that will be there is a small, sad, empty plastic bag. A bag that was once full of so much pizza-ish promise. Now empty.
So there I stand forlornly in front of the fridge knowing that I have just eaten ALL the salami. Slightly ill, full of salami and remorse I think to myself…
I’m almost 36 years old. How can I not know when enough salami is enough?
What about you? What makes you lose your self control. Is it something wicked and decadent like pate or dark chocolate. Or is it just plain gross like salami?
What did YOU think you’d better at by now?
Linking up with The Lounge over at Musings of the Misguided because losing your self control is not only encouraged it’s damn well expected!