Gluestick always seems like such a great invention…in theory. A handy little stick that keeps things together without bonding your fingers together. Brilliant.
In reality it’s not so great. I remember my first Gluestick experience at the age of 8, making cotton wool Easter bunnies that we’d seen made on Blue Peter. It looked easy, especially with the use of Pritt Stick rather than normal, runny PVA glue. The cotton wool stuck to my fingers, but not to the paper cut-outs I was trying to attach. My bunnies were mutants. Gluestick was a massive disappointment.
Yet, 30(+!!) years later, it seems relevant to how I feel about my role at home. There are eight of us, spread over four generations and the three floors of our crumbling house. And there I am, in the middle, trying to hold everything together with ineffective glue. Luckily my family is more resilient than my cotton wool rabbits and aren’t mutants.
There’s Eve, my first, and Indy, her excavation-loving twin sister. The excavation stuff could come in handy should Eve become trapped in her pit of a room. Then there’s Boo and Noodles, both who can veer between utter joy and total Drama Queen. Plus Husband, who can drive me insane like no other human on Earth, and my Dad, King of BIY (bodge-it-yourself). And more recently Eve’s boyfriend and Teddy the baby. All us crammed into 3 floors of West Norfolk real-estate. It’s hectic.
But I’m sure that I should feel more grown-up and sorted by now. On paper I’ve been a proper, fully-fledged adult for more than 20 years. My mum only lived for another 11 years and she was always a grown-up; sorted and responsible and with grown-up dreams. I still feel as though I’m just playing in her shoes and would become a Disney Princess given half the chance.
And so I muddle through. I try to do the right thing, but I mess up. I get annoyed about stuff. And sometimes life just seems so ridiculous that I just have to throw my head back and laugh. You’re more than welcome to join me as I wade through.
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Having you read my ramblings makes my day. I like likes, I adore comments. They help me feel as though I’m not just ranting away at myself. Play nice though. No one likes a troll.
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