A friend of mine recently put up on her Facebook status that she may have the smallest feet in the house but she has the biggest shoes to fill.
It’s a hell of a statement. It’s not untrue and we all instinctively know it but she just put it in a way that makes you stop and think.
Sometimes I do forget the enormity of the role of being a parent. And not to just provide the basics like food, water, shelter and love; but the person we try to create, mould, explore. We are charged with bringing out their strengths and helping them overcome weaknesses.
It must be the only occupation in the world where I need to show no qualifications and work experience to get the job. Holy crap!
I haven’t grown up yet. I mean I have matured enough to know right from wrong but there are those days when I couldn’t be stuffed and suggest to my kids that they’re not going to school and they are welcome to forage through the pantry for food.
Mr 5 lost his mind that day. He really wanted to go to school. Hmmm…. I’m pretty sure he’s mine. Might have to do a DNA test.
And for how long do I have to have to carry the mantle of ‘biggest shoes’?
Until they turn 18? 25? 42?
When they are independent? When (If) they become a parent?
That’s a little daunting. I am looking forward to a little irresponsible behaviour once the kiddies all move out.
A more laissez faire approach to life. You know when you open a bottle of wine with a friend and you drink and chat until 3 am and you wake up with a hang over the next day.
They don’t have to know all about that do they?
It would be nice to know I won’t have little people looking at me and then having to explain to them the perils of alcohol.
Will they ever overtake my shoes? Will they be bigger and better than I?
Love & stuff