Monday, June 27, 2011

When will I, will I be famous?

I had a Shirley Valentine moment at the weekend.


(bizrate.com)

(For those of you who don't know or remember this 1989 movie,
Pauline Collins plays a British housewife
(who is my current age)
who runs away from her depressing, tedious domestic life to Greece
and, to cut a long story short, "finds herself")

The day started with a fight with Mr Boozle
( I don't handle fights well.
We don't do it very often and we don't do it very well)

Then two of the spawn of Satan...er, I mean, children tag teamed tantrums throughout the day.
The other offspring was exceptionally quiet...
probably due to the fact that he was five kilometres away at a birthday party.

There was washing to be done,
a never-ending to do list of chores,
another family meal to make...

(boldsparrow.blogspot.com)
I just wanted out.
I wanted something different.
Something more inspiring.
More exciting.

If I died tomorrow, the eulogy from my hubby might go a bit like this:
"I love her to bits.
I can't live without her.
Now she's gone, I can't find the kids' lunch boxes or their socks
and I wish she'd come back just to tell me which kids eats what.
But wow, the credit card bill is healthier"

My kids might say:
"She was crabby and grumpy
and played crap 80s music
(note post title- they have a point)
but she told us that she loved us every day.
We wish she'd come back and tell daddy where the socks are.
Our feet are cold."

Do I aspire to more?
Do I want to be remembered for more than being a wife and a mum?
Do I want to be more...known...or even famous?

The funny thing is I would want anonymous fame.
I would want to have my name come up around the dinner table-
but not in that rock-n-roll or Parisian catwalk or Hollywood kind of way.


(seo-writer.com)

There would be way too many free kicks for the paparazzi
(hanging washing out with bed hair in my PJs and my ugg boot slippers would suddenly come at a price)
I can't imagine losing my privacy and anonymity.
Plus I am too old for groupies.
(ehow.com)

(Of course, I wouldn't mind financial rewards that could come with being famous either)

I've left it way too late to discover penicillin.
But if I could  knock over those bloody cane toads, I'd be in with a chance.

I could write a best-selling novel.
I am sure Harry Potter was originally a little thought over a bowl of breakfast cereal.

I am not sure where my potential for fame lies.
Or even if it exists.
I guess on my death bed,
it is my hubby and kids telling me that they love me 
that will give me a sense of achievement.

But I suspect that I am still going to channel Shirley
some days in the meantime.





5 comments:

CurlyPops said...

I often wonder what I'd be remembered for (especially as I don't have kids).... haven't quite worked it out yet!

Tin Can Daisy said...

Oh goodness....I have these thoughts all the time. Thank you for sharing and making me realise I'm not the only one whose thinking there has to be more to me than washing and folding and cooking and cleaning. I find I'm often in a turmoil as I am in fact right where I want to be and I wouldn't want to give up my family for all the world......but wouldn't it be lovely to do something really great, really inspiring and have other people say 'oooohhhh.....isn't she wonderful!!'.

The Handmaden said...

Excellent post, although I've never seen the movie!
I guess the answer to wanting to "be somebody" is that you are somebody already! How many "famous" people would give it all up to have what we have? I think at least a few must really crave love and normality, even ordinariness (is that a word?)
Would the kids remember the grumpiness or the dedication? The tiredness or the unconditional love?
Would hubby remember the arguments? No - he'd just give anything to have you back.
Keep up the good work Tas:)

Tanya said...

My kids might say:
"She was crabby and grumpy
and played crap 80s music
(note post title- they have a point)
but she told us that she loved us every day.
We wish she'd come back and tell daddy where the socks are.
Our feet are cold."...well, if my kids were there, they would think they were listening to a eulogy about me!! Except- it would say she played and sang and (sometimes) danced to crappy 80's music! And now I have bros in my head. thanks tas!

Clodagh a.k.a. Isra said...

Great post, I love your writing style!