As I was trimming my beard on the evening of my 36th birthday, it struck me that I might have lost a bit of my sparkle.
My husband had asked me earlier in the week what I would like to do for my one special day of the year and I responded with “nothing”. As it turns out I woke up and decided that I wanted to go and buy some tea towels I had seen in the Bed, Bath and Table sale catalogue. So I rang my best friend and off we went, for a cup of coffee and some tea towel shopping.
You see, sparkle, not here, gone, departed. Sparkle has left the building.
I used to be so much fun, the wild one, the party animal, the bungee jumper, the risk taker.
Then I became a Mum and I changed, I became the sensible one or, as officially described in my house, the “safety officer”.
“Slow down, don’t ride your bike so fast.”
“No running around the pool.”
“Don’t eat too much you’ll get a sore tummy.”
My days are filled with endless instructions, guidelines and requests for my children to remain safe and out of harm’s way. I understand it is my duty (one that I take very seriously) and role as a mother to protect and be responsible but sometimes I crave to feel like that carefree person I used to be. I crave a bit of the extreme, some danger, late nights, maybe even an evening when your bestie has to hold your hair back. Just letting loose, going for it, screwing the consequences, streaking at a cricket match or something. Give me anything that doesn’t involve me being so responsible, so good, so well-behaved!
Last year I went out dancing with the girls (one might call this clubbing but I couldn’t bring myself to writeit), I was having the time of my life and dancing up a storm. You know those memes that go around with two pictures that say “What you think you look like when you’re dancing” and “What you actually look like when you’re dancing” – need I say more? I was in my element, shaking my booty until I looked down at my watch and saw that it was 3am. I told my girlfriends I had to leave and ran out the door like Cinderella as she left the ball, I flew past some random guy who yelled to me, “Where are you going in such a hurry?” to which I replied, “I’m taking my kids to see Disney on Ice in the morning at 9am”.
I had a secret vomit in the toilets at Disney on Ice but you couldn’t wipe the smile of my face that day. I had got my wild fix and the old me was rejoicing and the Mummy me felt back on track and ready to take on the linen cupboard for the hundredth time without too much resentment.