I think we all have this idea in our heads, when we’re young.
Some of us well past young.
One day, when I’m a grown up…
We think we’ll know what we want to do. Hell, we think we’ll be doing it!
We think we’ll have it all together. Paying our bills on time, raising our children right, living in the right house in the right street in the right town.
Then there’s people like me. Who stopped thinking I’d get it all together when I was about 16 and realised that I was a hot mess and probably would be for life but every now and then there’s a glimmer of hope for me and I wonder:
Maybe people don’t get their shit together in their 30s. Maybe it really doesn’t happen until your 40s for some people. And maybe I am those people…
A few weeks ago a school mum actually said to me:
“You know you look like super mum right now, right? You’ve got it alllll together”
She even waved her arms across the table my not-so-feral-that-day children were sitting at.
And then we both laughed and laughed and laughed because NO ONE has their shit alllll together with wavy arms. Right?
I guess, if you do have it allllll together, I probably don’t want to hear from you on that because that will upset my entire equilibrium.
And I don’t mean organised. PLENTY of people are organised. Admittedly there are school children more organised than I am. Lots of them.
I mean having it all together. The whole hog. All your pieces in a row, just how you planned them.
Because I have this feeling, that all those people who really did get all their ducks lined up? They have new ducks now. Quacking around and over the hills and far away and not coming back when they’re told to.
I remember being about 7 and looking out my window and thinking to myself:
I wonder what I’ll be like when I’m 16 and all grown up. I wonder if I’ll have long hair…
Holy dooley, 7 year old Daisy! I wish someone had told me then:
Darling, you’re a hot mess now. You’ll be a hot mess when you’re 16 and don’t even talk to me about the hot mess you’ll be at 32. And yes, you will have long hair. How about brushing it.
I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
It matters less and less to me, really.
I know who I want to be though.
I want to be kind. I want to be brave. I want to be generous. I want to conquer my fears. I want to raise my children to be all these things, too.
And nowhere in that job description of being me, does it say I can’t be a hot mess as well.
What do you want to be when you grow up? I still want long hair.