Are you out of your tree?

I’m not.

I’m currently very firmly in mine.

Literally.

I’ll explain...

I have a huge jacaranda tree in my garden. It’s a beautiful old tree – dappled shade provider for us, carefree tweeting sanctuary for the birds (though to be honest, the springtime downpour of little purple flowers really gives me the sh*ts). Many times it has flickered through my thoughts how perfect it is for a tyre swing for my son, or maybe a treehouse one day, or how fabulous it would be to climb...

Now I’m not so great at child’s play. I’m definitely a multi-tasking playmate - my favourite hide-and-seek spot is in the laundry so I can whip through a load of washing whilst being hunted by an excited two year old, and my pushalong car’s racing route always speeds via the scattered duplo for collection along the way. 

Yes, my inner child is seriously stifled by the efficiency fairy.

But after a particularly frantic triple-tasking game of toddler backyard cricket (involving repotting a yukka and planning out a retaining wall), my son threw his bat down and quite justifiably got immensely upset at my inability to play ‘properly’.

After I’d curbed the subsequent toddler tantrum, I was led to some serious parenting soul searching. We’ve all done it. Must listen more actively, must stop referring to Dora is the babysitter, constant bribery with smarties will not be effective in the long term... and I do not deserve a snake just because I ate all my peas… 

So I decided to see if I was actually capable of unequivocal play by taking myself back to my favourite thing as a kid. There was a day when the first thing I’d do when I saw a tree was climb it. Didn’t need a reason, didn’t need to think about it. Just saw a tree and the first and only response is  ‘great, climb it’. And everyone around the world would agree that this is perfectly acceptable rationale for a 9 year old.

Hence right now, I am sitting on a branch, 15 feet above my lawn, in a jacaranda tree.

And it’s a magnificant place to be. It’s truly amazing the alternative perspective on the world a simple 15 feet can provide. Maybe I will be able to play as devotedly as my son craves in the future (cue shining light and choral music).

But maybe not. Unfortunately the moral of the story is not typically about embracing your inner child and subsequently becoming a more enriched and nurturing parent… however delightfully Disney and predictable that would be. 

The real moral of the story is to always have your mobile in your pocket when you do something childish and stupid, as thankfully I did. Because then not only could I really use this time effectively by writing my blog from up in the tree, ... but also... erm... help… I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to get down...

What's Your Thing?*

 So, this weekend I’m doing something special, something that I rarely do nowadays and something I really cherish… I’m going out dancing. No, not hens-night 80's, or aussie rock tribute... I’m opting for the old-school, dance your pants off for 9 hours, reach-for-the-lasers kind of dancing.

Some people just roll their eyes at this sort of behaviour and move on.

But many others prefer to very quickly file me away in the (Dum Dum Dum) ‘Bad Parent Corner’ (it looks a lot like the naughty corner but it thankfully comes with a well stocked bar fridge).

Now, just for the record, I’m not strapping glowsticks to my toddler’s stroller and parking him in front of the sub-woofer. I am very sensibly leaving him at home with a grown adult to take care of him for the night.

My question is, when you become a mother, why do other mothers expect you to lose your identity and begin a strange competitive struggle of who is less perfect?

I unfortunately missed out on the hormone surge that provides women with the ability to cook a wholesome 4 course meal whilst crocheting a place mat. That hormone surge also didn’t wipe out every element of my personality and replace it with that of a Stepford Wife.

Most people have a Thing right? A Thing that is an integral part of your make-up, something that makes you feel complete and whole and makes you ‘You’.

For some people it might be building model airplanes, some riding a motorbike, some growing vegetables. What’s yours? (nothing illegal thank you)

Well mine is trance music. I make it, I collect it, I share it, I dance to it, I live by it, I love it.

This is a Thing that courses through your veins, it means the world to you, it connects you, it is part of you, and its meaning transcends almost everything else on this world for you (yes, yes yes, my child does come first!). Some people don’t get it, and that I totally understand, but every person should respect it, and nobody has the right to condemn it.

Women give up so much of themselves when they become mothers. The priority list often goes something like this: Children and family always come first. Work second. Cooking nutritious yet tasty meals third. Playdates, gymberoo, dance, junior soccer, all come in a close fourth. Housework next. Your own friends end up low. Hobbies are even lower, and time to look after yourself definitely last – I couldn’t count the times I’ve been forced to wear jeans in summer because I’ve had no time to attend to the scariness growing on my legs!

So come on people – be happy for anyone who has a Thing and has snuck a moment to enjoy it, something that makes them so utterly alive, complete, and ridiculously happy inside, whatever it may be. It’s what makes us all unique, and what makes you You, and me Me.

Parenting isn’t a competition, and having a passion such as this doesn’t make me love and care for my family any less. In fact, being a happier person gives me the ability to love a whole lot more.

*No children were harmed in the writing of this column.

** Just a joke people, even if it wasn’t very PC.

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