Drama Queen

Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the biggest drama queen of them all? Abe. It's definitely Abe. But, hands up. I did teach him everything he knows...

I probably don't need the certificate that shows the world I got an A in A - Level Theatre Studies to prove to anyone that I am a drama queen myself. I mean, I probably didn't need it for anything at all to be honest. Theatre Studies? What the actual fuck? I can't say it's opened doors (or curtains) for me in the 20 years since I obtained it. But still. It was a bloody interesting course and I had a great time doing it - and the process is, after all, what I'm all about.

I have gotten a little less dramatic over the years I must say. I no longer scream 'we're all gonna fecking dieeee!' when there is turbulence on a plane. I have the decency to cringe a little when I look back on the time that I sat down on the floor and cried and cried as we rounded the corner of our walk from Zenner to St Ives and saw the St Ives bay because it was still 'sssssooooo far, and I've stubbed my toe'.

In my defence, on that Zenner walk I was sunburnt and hungover and the walk, which according to the sign was supposed to take approximately 45 minutes, had taken us almost 4 hours. Add to that that we were woefully unprepared with only 500 ml of water between us on a rare UK scorcher of a day and maybe my meltdown is understandable. Though there was no such drama from the even-less-prepared-than-us old lady in her slippers going the opposite way who, while as shocked as I was to be scaling cliffs and that she'd been going for so long, remained good humoured about it all, so perhaps I could have tempered my manic a bit. (I don't know who was in charge of the signage for the path, but they were clearly having a right old bloody laugh).

I will confess, that if there is a spider in the same room as me that has the audacity to use its eight legs and actually move then I will still scream, shout, swear and panic so much that you might wonder if it's not just a spider but a special acid spitting spider armed with nunchucks and an AK-47 that's heading for me. Mind you, I do I live in Queensland; it could totally be the first bit.

Despite dramatics in relation to spiders though, I'd say that my displays of incredibly strong emotions are less frequent and enthusiastic than they once were*. Though, every now and then my tendency to overdo it does still rear its ugly head.

Recently I found myself telling Eric from Optus that he and his equally inept colleagues had wasted hours of my life to not solve my technical issues, to belittle me and to, on two occasions HANG UP ON ME! and I would be telling Richard Fucking Branson all about it! (I may have lost sight of the fact he's the Virgin man in my frustration). I also pulled a muscle in my neck just last week throwing the nappy bag across the living room in a fit of anger about something involving Abe, shoes and Bananas in Pyjamas. All details were lost in the aftermath of pain and the scent of Deep Heat.

The most worrying part however (yes, even more so than the fact I still throw things and stamp my feet) is that I seem to have passed on my incredibly extreme reactions to Abe. In the last few days he's sobbed his heart out about the fact that we've run out of Jack and Jill toothpaste and he has to use the kind you're required to spit out and he often refuses to sit in his car seat until it's been covered by a muslin if it's in the sun because it'll be 'so hot he'll blister'. He has tried to slug Sean with a foam cricket bat because he shouted at his sister (who was about to kill herself doing something dangerous) and yelled at the driver of the car in front until he was well out of sight for flicking a cigarette butt out of the window at the traffic lights. He may also have used a red word in doing so...

Like me, it seems, he is not the take a deep breath and walk away kind, the turn the other cheek kind, or the let it go kind. And I wonder very much if this is something that is going to get him into a fair whack of trouble as he heads rapidly towards 'school age'.

But, also, like me, he is not indifferent in the face of injustice.

Like me he is not able to rein his frustrations in, in the face of dick-headery.

Like me he is not happy to stand by and let anyone else take what is his.

So, along with the ridiculous, I am starting to see a glimpse of the righteous. And that's not a terrible thing, right? Unless he uses the word fuck to underline his points again. And then it's probably not ideal...

*Sean does not agree that this is a fact and claims my meltdowns are the same in number and intensity, but I am just better at waiting until I am in the privacy of my own home before I unleash the full power of my paddies so I appear to be less of a nut job these days.

#Motherhood #child #Son #Parenthood #parenting #DramaQueen