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.