ANOTHER SUNDAY AFTERNOON IN MOTHERLAND

Felicity Fox - 19 Apr 15

I’m watching my two as they sprawl themselves over the couches. Watching and waiting, I’m ready to respond to whatever is asked of me today. This can range from questions about their anatomies to the theoretical differences between McDonalds and Burger King. Most answers are given the same response; ‘but why?’. ‘Just ’cause I said so.’

I may sound weary, but I’ve been on duty for two weeks now. Annual leave and I have dedicated myself to motherhood. I’ve legally held this position for some seven years, on and off, but for the last two weeks solid, I have mothered and smothered mine. They say seven years makes the man, so I’m focused on the younger one now: I’ve done what I can with the elder. In our house, I’m responsible for education and Dad’s got health and wellbeing. We are trying to raise responsible human beings, successful learners, confident and effective contributors. We’ve high hopes for our little global citizens.

I’ve brought Harry Potter with me, but they’re not interested. I wish they’d sit just for an hour, maybe two and build on their capacities. No, they’re reading the Beano and spelling out loud: words to label each section of their digestive system, loud and clear to frazzle me. They excel at anatomy. They’re both asking for more from the menu, while the contents of their plates litter the floor.

There are two women opposite us and they’re clicking fingers at the waiters and hollering across the cafe, looking for lemon to be added to their glasses. They’re more childish than their neighbours on high stools. I offer them unspoken words and stare awkwardly at their brashness. I think of moving my weaponry closer to them and restoring some balance to the waiters. It’s the least I could do, so I send my youngest for a wander to lighten them of their worries and soon they’re forgetting all about their lemons. It’s the little pleasures that come with parenting, unexpected triumphs. Motherhood suits me at moments like this.

We go out to the park as one of the other duties bestowed upon me is to look after the family dog. My bold dog sniffs the nether regions of every passing pooch, seriously disgusting stuff. The park is full of posh little terriers and Shih Tzus, little shits so aptly named. Owners with dogs on their leashes look at those without and there’s no exchange of smiles. They just don’t make people like they used to. No one speaks to one another, but at least the dogs are mostly friendly.

The swing park is full, it’s dry and it’s free. Sometimes I think I’m a bad parent, until I go to the park. I’m not great and there’s certainly room for improvement, but it takes all kinds, this parenting. There’s over indulgence, there’s neurotic, there’s arrogance, there’s spoilt, and there are some who are pleading. Literally, they are asking theirs to leave the swing, begging. Is it wrong to intervene? They are loudly declaring that they need to learn to share. ‘Well, show them!’ I’m screaming inside. ‘And you need to learn to…’

You can’t say it aloud. More unspoken words, more staring.

But we all share one common characteristic, we’re all on our phones. Clutched in our hands is the little portal device which connects us all with the real world. They’re hanging upside down: ‘Just hang on a minute, I’m checking last night’s status and posting my delights and showing just how good motherhood is…..’

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Felicity Fox

Hello, I'm Felicity Fox and I'm writing my own happily ever after…

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