Earlier, as I was kissing the children goodnight, Three furrowed his soft little brow and anxiously caught my arm as I rose from hugging him.
“Mummy, I want to go to my blue house!”
Three, for those of you unfamiliar with his parallel universe, has a whole other life with two alternative mothers and several fathers and a variety of siblings, pets, vehicles and superior toys, all contained neatly within his imagination. Most things there are blue.
I said of course we could go, which seemed to relax him slightly, and then I asked how he thought it best to get there.
“Maybe we can go with the tooth fairy. She can fly. But I don’t want to go to a tooth house”
I reassured him that we would ask the tooth fairy to take us to the Blue House, and I was sure she would be agreeable.
“A tooth house is SPOOKY” he observed, and I agreed with him.
After further grave discussions of our route we decided it was best, perhaps, to depart for the Blue House in the morning. He seemed happy enough with that and settled down to sleep without further fuss.
As I was coming downstairs I reflected that while I had had plenty of similar conversations with Six in the past, she was now at the age where she understood many more of the limitations of the physical – and metaphysical – universe, and no longer believed that anything was possible if you just thought it hard enough. I’m wondering if this is the year when someone will tell her Santa isn’t real. I am scared it will break her heart.
Or maybe I’m scared it will break mine?
I saw a photograph on FaceBook that a high school friend of mine had posted of himself aged about 15. I could suddenly see us standing outside the school, smoking illicit cigarettes, laughing and gossiping about bands and who was cool and how, once we graduated, our lives were going to be amazing, unfettered by interfering adults and, like, totally cool!
Note: We were all simultaneously afflicted by adolescent limited vocabulary syndrome which is uncannily like newspeak from 1984
We could not imagine then that we would become older than, say, 25 (really old!), and I never dreamed that I’d be looking back a quarter of a century later and wishing, just for a day or two, to go back to that time, when we were so young, when we didn’t know what we do now, when our parents were, irritatingly, still looking after us, and just look at the landscape and the people as they were. And to see my young self and tell her that things were going to turn out okay, she didn’t have to fight so hard. I also wanted to give that 15 year old friend a huge hug and tell him that I knew for a fact that the sweetness he tried to hide under his mohawk was going to stay with him, unchanged, throughout his life, and I would instantly recognise him by it when he crossed my path again, some 20 years later.
I feel so sad to think that the past is really over (and I know that sounds stupid), but I don’t think it really dawned on me until recently that when you miss certain times in your life, it’s not just the characters and scenery you’re longing for, it’s an earlier version of yourself.
It seems so unfair that you can never go back, only forward. And though there is no cure for the lost past, I believe these thoughts serve as timely reminders.
I need to be present in my own life.
This is not always an easy task for me as I have a tendency, when confronted with sadness about the past, or anxiety about the future, to whirl into action and do something about it, or make big plans which means that I neatly skip over what is happening right now under my nose.
I’m not paying attention. I don’t see it. I can’t sit still in case something painful or awkward comes up.
Then, of course, I miss out on today’s experience and it just becomes more of my past that I didn’t quite appreciate when it was happening. That I’ll long to visit again because I didn’t spend enough time there on the first pass.
Did somebody say vicious circle?
My friend and I didn’t think about being 15, except in terms of how quickly we could escape it. And although I looked forward to it, I never quite believed that Six would ever be big enough to challenge my views, make her own snacks or wipe her own bottom.
But she is.
And now Three is teetering on the edge of toddlerhood. All too soon the day will come when the only person who will want to go to the Blue House will be me.
I’ll call the tooth fairy in the morning.
{ 8 comments }
Came here via Mrs Trefusis on Twitter and very glad I did. A lovely post, thoughtful and touching, you expressed so well something I’ve often thought, but never really captured.
I remember, as a young child, counting up on my fingers, trying to see if I could possibly still be alive for the new millenium. 27 seemed so desperately old. And now here I am, a full decade after that impossibly OLD age, and its all flown by. Every day I tell my 9 that he will look back at this time as amongst the happiest in his life and he looks aghast. I find myself in happy, blissful moments squeezing my eyes shut, desperately trying to catch the mental “Kodak moment”, the scene, the feeling, the smell… wanting to catch it, keep it, and cherish it for the days when 3 and 9 will be grown with their own family. I try to look back at the ones i should have stored and I can’t find them. Will they return to me on demand when I need them? Or will they be triggered. I hope so…….
Funny how one can spend their youth longing to be older … then when one IS older, childhood and its attendant lack of responsibility seems incredibly attractive.
If I had a blog his is a post I would have written. (Though less eloquently, I am sure). We have been enduring some trying times this year and regret at moving to America has surfaced several times and I’ve found myself with the “I want to go home” refrain in my head. Of course, the home I want to go to no longer exists. It’s a state of mind, not a place.
Tess – I’m glad I’m not the only person who wondered if I’d live to see the new millennium. 🙂
Very touching post. I can’t help thinking of the John Lennon lyric – life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans. I think it’s very hard to live in the moment – looking back is so poignant but did we really appreciate those times when we were actually there? I try to think about this every morning when I am cuddling the little boys in bed. Such fleeting moments.
.-= nappyvalleygirl´s last blog ..Trip or treat Halloween health and safety =-.
That really encapsulated the way I’ve been feeling lately,my kids are getting older and I keep saying to them enjoy the moment but they’re forever rushing forward to the next stage.
You are so right Id love to go back and tell me what I know now.
.-= Northern Snippet´s last blog ..The Apprentice =-.
So perfectly put. I’m hitting a big birthday very soon, and we are looking for kindergarten for Geekygirl for next year, and I’m feeling the years flash by. I can’t quite believe I’m not still 25. Staying in the present is so important, and yet it can be so difficult. Thanks for the reminder.
.-= geekymummy´s last blog ..life- squared =-.
Much as I want to smack people who tell everyone to “live in the moment” (just what else are you supposed to do?) – it’s true. It’s been a lovely day today (in Chiacgo) and I am so glad I took the dog out for half an hour by myself. I came back in a much better mood and then it was improved even further by reading your post!
Very funny – love the imagination of your Three. Hee hee! Then you made me shed a few tears for my “lost” childhood.
Bloody hell this was a child size roller-coaster ride of emotions!
Makes me look forward to experiencing my daughters imaginations concoctions in the future. But first let me enjoy the moment… there she is giggling whilst sitting in her fish shaped walker and sucking on a penis shaped plastic submarine. Ah! A perfect moment!
Just goes to show us and you, that you love writing in this blog and need to share with us more often! I am following your tweets and love your blogposts, so please keep it up!
.-= Helen´s last blog ..Lilli on the loose! =-.
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