I Remember

I remember what it was like as a nine-(nearly ten) year-old trying to find my way. I remember feeling either exhilarated and excited about growing up, or nervous with increasing self doubt. I remember the despair of arriving at school to find that my best friend didn't want to hang out with me any more, and I remember the disappointment when I'd worked really hard on a project or test only to piqued at the post for an award by some other kid who I secretly thought of as a dumb bunny. I really remember always coming second. But I got over it...I really did. The thing is, nobody told me that when I had my own child I was going to be reliving all of those conflicting emotions again. And it is so much worse the second time around. When I see angst and disappointment in the eyes of the precious being I created, the one I've loved and nurtured for the last nine (nearly ten) years, I remember how I once felt. And it cuts me to the bone to know that I am powerless (just as my mother was) to take the pain away. Suddenly I am no longer able to protect my child from the nasty world.

Knowing that it will all be ok in the end doesn't make it any easier... and try telling that to a nearly ten-year-old. All I can do is say "Yeah Babe...I know... it sucks!" (because it does) and keep on encouraging and supporting and loving. I wonder which child I will be picking up from school this afternoon. Will I be greeted with jubilance or tears? Please, please, please let it be jubilance.

I Wish I Could Draw

There's an ad on television at the moment promoting a new 'super toy' for kids, it's an interactive TV game. To make it work the child has to pedal on a bike, if they stop pedalling it stops working. Great idea...or not. Instead of parking the kid in front of the TV all day with a packet of chips and a soft drink, parents can rest assured that little Johnny or Jenny is getting a good cardio workout while enjoying the wonders of multimedia recreation. I think they are going to sell millions of this thing. First time I saw it, I thought what a pity this wasn't around a couple of years ago. But now I'm not so sure. The kids now aged between 7-12 are all at risk of becoming obese, with RSI (repetitive strain injury) from constant toggling with Play Station controls. So, according to media reports, there's going to be a load of fat teenagers with deformed thumbs wandering around in the not too distant future. But imagine what the now 3-4 year olds are going to look like. I'm seeing entire kindy classes with massively bulked up legs (from years of pedalling), and underdeveloped, atrophied little upper bodies (except maybe the thumbs, they'll still be big and muscular), and in generations to come, they will probably have huge heads to accomodate a huge brain (this toy also claims to increase brain power). I really wish I could draw. Whatever happened to monkey bars and trips to the park. And here's a novel idea...what about interacting with the children personally instead of relying on a disembodied electronic voice to teach them.

Just Do It

I can't stand gunnas. A gunna is someone who is always talking about what they are gunna do without ever actually doing anything. You know what I mean...I'm gunna get a job, I'm gunna lose weight, I'm gunna write a book, I'm gunna travel, paint, act, sing, make a garden... Everyone knows at least one gunna. The truth is, when you first meet a gunna you think they are really interesting because gunnas love to tell anyone who will listen about all the things they're gunna do, but after you've spoken to them a couple of times you realise that they are really very boring. A gunna will have an arsenal of excuses to explain why, whatever it was they were gunna do didn't come to fruition. Inevitably it's someone else's fault, the universe tends to conspire against gunnas. So they go through life feeling extremely hard done by, and wondering why people are always moving away from them at parties. A long time ago I decided that I was never going to be a gunna, instead, I was going to be doer, which brings me to this point in time, writing my first post on my first blog. Wow! It's kinda scary. It took me about two hours just to think of a name for my blog. I'm not going to tell you how long these couple of paragraphs have taken to compose. The way I see it, I can only get better lol.

Writing is like any other form of creativeness (Is that a word? Maybe it should be creativity), in that whenever you produce a written piece, you are laying bare a part of yourself to the world, thus exposing that self to criticism and god forbid... ridicule. It was for this reason that I almost became a gunna myself. Yes it's true, although I've never actually uttered the words "I'm gunna", I have used language that has taken me dangerously close to the mark. As an editor/proofreader I am often asked if I write myself. I've realised that I invariably answer with "I might... I should... I'm thinking about... or I'd like to..." Does that make me a borderline gunna? Oh no, not me. So today I gave myself a stern talking to, slapped myself around the chops a couple of times and just did it.