At some point in my kids lives I’ll go from hero to zero. I’ll go from being the número uno person they want to hang out with, to a rather uncool individual that doesn’t know anything and exists solely to encroach on their privacy.Cue incident at friends house yesterday..Post Nicola answering her sons mobile (it was his sultry Eastern European girlfriend calling) he commented that “she was devoid of any concept of privacy” and “could you never, ever take it upon yourself to answer my phone again ?” Ok then, kids are clearly getting a bit more articulate with their insults. In my day it was simply ” I hate you” Indeed, my rather inarticulate response to my friends son was ” If you don’t like it then fuck off and move out smartarse, or at the very least don’t leave the bloody thing sitting around” Teenage kid : 1 point , Mothers friend : big fat zero for sounding like a northern fishwife.
Moving into middle age, I have started to Mother my Mother.I find myself shaking my head in exasperation and bemusement at some of her one liners and anecdotes.For example, my Mother whilst watching Deal or No Deal (I know) commented “That Judy Cator woman gets a lot of work doesn’t she? She works on the National Lottery too you know”
Erm, that’ll be the “Independent Ajudicator” Mum..Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the donkey help me. Just this morning, she was telling me how she tried to telephone her brother overseas and ended up dialling a wrong number ” It was ok though as I got a lady I spoke to for forty minutes.She had a few problems and she said it was always better to chat to a stranger” What the Fuckkkk???Only an old person would entertain that shit.. Add this to the never ending list of stories she has regarding her very frequent funeral attendance and my ears are in a permanent state of meltdown.
What’s interesting though is, when you yourself have kids, they seem to rediscover that old hero magic in the crazy old coots. That hero magic that you’ve maybe lost a bit of over the years. My friend told me how when her little boy lost his balloon, his late Grandfather ran straight to the shops to buy him a whole new packet of them so he wouldn’t be sad. Hero. Fact. It comes full circle. Bring on old age. It seems you get to be a rock star again.
This post is dedicated to Mr Kim Constantinou and all the other heros out there.
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