I had such a good time recently on air on The Arts Program on 99.9 Voice FM as a guest presenter, that I’ll be doing it semi-regularly. Sitting in the studio is always a beautifully nostalgic place for me, because it takes me back to my formative years and reminds me of how connected I am to my parents.
In the past I’ve been very against Mother’s Day. The marketing machine dictating that mothers like all things fluffy, pink and scented annoys me. It’s a cop-out to give the woman who you should really know very well a off-the-shelf on a certain day of the year for doing a job and maintaining a relationship that she is obligated to.
This poem about my Nanna, who passed away in October 2016, was written shortly afterwards. It was then part of the Minerva Speaks project in March 2017.
Yesterday, my eldest child started school.
I’ve been counting down for five years until this moment. I thought I would skip off merrily after dropping him on the first day, and with a big sigh of relief have myself a mid-morning cocktail and a rest. I was sure I wouldn’t cry.
I hope everyone had a good day yesterday although I’m aware that this is absolutely not “the most wonderful time of the year” for a lot of people. And despite my attempted avoidance of all things Christmas (see my previous blog post), I did end up opening presents under a tree with my children at seven am and Santa is definitely gaining a foothold in reality.
I wish I was boycotting Christmas, but I can’t.
I’ve threatened to “go bush” over Xmas for a few years now (both metaphorically and literally). This year, I naively thought I might really do it. No tree, no presents, no family, no food, no cakes, no carols. I was all for being the biggest Scrooge-Grinch and flying my anti-Xmas flag in the face of popular convention but it’s too hard.
I don’t know exactly when I wrote this poem, but it would’ve been sometime when my son was still an infant. It’s quite weird to read it back and be taken back into the anger and frustration I felt about becoming a mother. Continue reading “Flashback Friday – Poem “Pram Pusher””
I am currently sitting at my desk, drafting thank you notes to the cast of The Sum of Us – the fab four – in preparation for tonight. Being closing night, I have the equally awesome and awkward task of accepting thanks and accolades for a production well done and showering the cast and crew with the praise they deserve.
Around this time last year, I wrote a poetic portrait of my son and our kitten. Both have shed their baby looks since April 2017. And they are more used to each other now, him less heavy handed and her more patient.