A matter of self preservation...

Do you ever feel slightly overawed by organised people? You know the ones who seem to have life sussed and have time and money to do the nice things in life like have their nails done professionally. You know grown-ups.
Well I ain't ever going to be one of those people. It just isn't me and I can try with all my might to be organised and sussed and it just won't work. I think I lack the will or else I am clinging all too tightly on to the fact that I really don't want to grow up at all.
I have never wanted to grow up. At the age of seven I asked my Mum if it was possible to grow down and stay seven years old forever. She didn't take me seriously.
So it comes as rather a shock to realise that as well as growing up, even if somewhat reluctantly, I am also the mother of a seven year old. And a four year old.
It seems as though my life has happened by accident and I haven't really had any input at all. I am sort of bowled along in the wake of myself and I wonder has anyone noticed?
Good God! People might think I do this on purpose, that I have a plan. I promise I am making it all up as a go along, well actaully I am not just doing that I am actively lying about it to make it seem like I sort of know what I am doing and where I am going.
I do believe this makes me more flexible in the long run able to nimbly alter the direction of life but I have a funny feeling that as I get older and the detrius of my life, in terms of husband, children, dogs, cats, chickens, house, garden and other hangers on, gets more complicated, I am about as nimble as a tanker on the high seas trying to avoid a flotilla of small ships.
I fear the time has come to grow up. It's not a matter of wanting to, it's a matter of self preservation. But I so don't want to, it seems like such a lot of hard work and there are so many other things I want to do! Although I cannot name any in particular right now, but they are there...
I have been doing the big clear out, the grown up thing in my attempt to get better organised and sussed, and I will admit it does make me feel good. It's not quite been done in 30 days but I am over the hump and at the end of it at least I will know where everything is and what we have got. To all intents and purposes that is quite grown up don't you think? You never know the next thing I might do is nip down the beauty parlor...

And if you want to read how everyone else in teh Juen Personal Challenge did why not pop over to Tiddlyompompom!

Dusty old barns and memory lane...

Cleaning out the barn of the detritus of the past ten years of our lives has been like a visit to the psychotherapist in that you have to go places you would rather not ever go again.
As you start to delve into musty old boxes covered in grimy layers of dust which you can’t help sneezing up and making your nose twitch you are confronted by memories, good and bad and/or embarrassing.
I cringe at the evidence of my poor taste and wonder that I ever wasted so much money on so much tat. Although the boxes and bags were put in the barn nigh on ten years ago the stuff that is racked there, goes back way longer. I mean I even have my toys dumped here; not that I mind, as I have given them to the boys for what is a toy if it is not played with?
I remember packing them away in 1981 before we embarked on our first major overseas posting in a decade. Each one was lovingly wrapped and sadly bade farewell by name. I was crying and then I was furious because my sister and her friend, five years younger than me, had heard me and were sniggering on the other side of the door. Hell hath no fury like a 15 year old teenager caught out and embarrassed. I think my sister was forcibly told to erase the whole episode from her mind forever. Since she has never mentioned it I can only presume she took my advice.
So now the toys are out again and I am afraid I don’t remember all their names and the memories are both bitter sweet and welcome.
Not so the memories engendered by my dubious taste in jumpers, purple plastic bead necklaces and faux suede pussy pelmets. God I must have looked a sight but I bet I thought I was the bee’s knees….