Sunday, 29 July 2007

Growing up

Growing up for me was fairly easy - I barely even knew that I did it. I was a shy little girl, wouldn't say boo to a goose, frightened of my own shadow. Then I became a teenager, not a terrifically rebellious one, no smoking, no drugs, I'd like to say no drinking except I'm looking out of the window and it's apparent that today is the day when I could indeed be hit by a thunderbolt. I may have stayed out a couple of nights without letting my parents know where I was, and on one of those occasions my mother did indeed feel it necessary to call the police. But I maintain that on the whole I was a good girl. My glimpse of rebellion was to turn vegetarian, a concept that my mother never got to grips with. Sundays was always a proper roast dinner, which I had minus the beef, so not too bad there. Strangely the problem was mainly salad - I must have told my mother 50 times that "just because ham is cold, it doesn't mean that it isn't meat!". In the end it didn't matter, because I fell into the temptation of a bacon sandwich, and despite my ethics I've never really looked back. Something strange must have happened, because by the time I went to sixth form college to resit nearly all my 'O' Levels and do some 'A' Levels, I'd turned into a young woman who had an opinion on anything and everything, and for a while was a political animal. The outspokenness has never really left, but I like it, it defines the person that I am.

Maybe you don't see the growing up that you do yourself because it's too close, but today I saw it in my son. He left this morning with his dad, so grown up, ready to be an usher at his aunt's wedding. He's going to be wearing a cravat, and telling people where to sit. ("I know what to tell them mom, I'm going to say do please sit here and spread out. No, not there! THERE! No, that's too close! I SAID SPREAD OUT!"). And today I'm so proud of my little boy that my heart could burst.


Swearing Mother said...

At the risk of sounding like a mother (and not even a swearing mother at that!) presumably your doctor has checked for glandular fever, post-viral fatigue syndrome or one of those auto-immune system problems? They can be a b*gger to shift and not always easily diagnosed (except for the glandular fever of course). Do hope you feel better soon.

Thanks for visiting my blog, lovely to meet you. Please feel free to mention me and if I ever find out how to put a list of recommended blogs on mine, you'll be on it!

Take care.

Tina said...

Hello SM, your blog just gets funnier & funnier - if you were a book, I'd buy you & insist my library stock you. I think the doctor is fairly clueless - not helped by the fact that I thought his name was Dr Coocachoo, but I thought we could get over that. My doctor (not the coocachoo one) was fairly convinced that I has some sort of thyroid issue & just tested me for that. Now it isn't that, I'm having a whole new barrage of tests which may or may not include cholera, scurvy and cat scratch fever. I'll keep you posted.

Thanks for dropping by, you're always very welcome!


Rainbow said...

Yep, seeing them growing up makes your heart want to burst - especially when you can still remember them as tiny babies. (Mind you, they wouldn't thank you for getting out the photos...)

Have just tagged you as a Rockin' Girl Blogger
so grab the badge and wear it with pride!

Tina said...

I am so flattered! I haven't been awarded anything since (long pause) well I might not ever have been awarded anything! I'd like to thank all of my friends, my mother, my agent, everyone on the film set...