When I was 15…

Husband suggested I write a blog about how differently my life has turned out to the way I imagined when I was a kid. I’m sure he meant it in positive way … Before he made the suggestion, I was going to write about how (unexpectedly) lovely it was to have a teacher’s strike until 11am yesterday, despite it occurring on Relationship Rehab Day. It was bliss. I got up at 6.30am, fiddled with my blog, let the chickens out, waited for Sprogs to emerge, finally gave up on them and went for a walk at the gloriously belated hour of 7.30am, ate a leisurely breakfast while Husband worked with Sprog 2 on her home readers … But, you know what? Come 10.30am I was in exactly the same stressed condition I’m normally in at 8.30am: half-dressed Sprogs with dirty teeth and my panic levels rising. So I might go with Husband’s suggested topic instead. The hopes and dreams of 15-year-old me …

THEN: I dreamed I’d be married at 21 and have a baby at 23. NOW: I finally got married at 32 and had a baby at 36.

THEN: I wanted an emerald green car with tartan seats. Yes, they did exist. NOW: I drive a very battered, very old, silver four-wheel drive.

THEN: I wished my last name was “Green” instead of “House”, so people would stop calling me House on Fire (inspired by my red hair) and asking where my windows were (hardy-ha-ha). NOW: Even after marrying, I kept my last name, having grown rather attached to it over the years. Also, adults don’t usually make fun of each other’s last names (at least not to their faces).

THEN: I briefly flirted with the idea of being a pharmacist so I could mix medicinal concoctions, before conceding I was hopeless at science and resolving to be editor of Dolly magazine instead. NOW: Bizarrely, I’m friends with numerous former editors of Dolly, but never quite managed it myself.

THEN: I wanted a daschund, like my Nan used to have. But Dad said a dog’s place was in the bush, so I cuddled a toy one instead. NOW: I still have the toy daschund, but prefer to cuddle my four chooks, much to their horror.

THEN: I prayed to God every night to help me meet Kevin Bacon (after watching Footloose 23 times). NOW: Footloose has been remade and I haven’t seen it once. I went and saw Crazy Stupid Love instead, and almost wept at the sight of Kevin’s old-man wattle.    

THEN: I was what my father would later describe in his speech at my 21st birthday party as “a bit strange” with “all these oddbod friends”. I wore tartan sneakers, Dad’s old green raincoat and a red cap to school, plus a black armband when Split Enz broke up. I was hassled mercilessly. NOW: Husband reckons he’d have hassled me too.

THEN: I was so desperate for my first kiss, I played tonsil hockey with a guy with no front teeth, to the soundtrack of “Nutbush City Limits”, at a school disco. NOW: I’m married to a man who, when we first met, said women sometimes compared him to Harrison Ford. Can’t really see it myself.

THEN: I was painfully shy. NOW: I’m quite capable in social situations, despite considerable inner anxiety. I’ve even been described as “outgoing” by those who don’t know me better.

THEN: I sported a dreadful Farrah-Fawcett-inspired flick hairdo, painstakingly created with curling tongs, that dramatically wilted as the day progressed. NOW: My hair went naturally wild and curly after I had the Sprogs.

THEN: I loved ’80s disco music. NOW: Still lovin’ that ’80s disco music. Sad.

THEN: I wanted to be an exchange student in the United States, but was too shy to go. NOW: I got to be a student’s wife in New York three years ago. No prom though.

THEN: I built a gazillion Lego dream houses and my grandmother photographed every single one (I’ll invite you over for a slide night sometime). NOW: I bought my first house when I was 26 and never looked back. I’ve worked my way through two houses and six apartments. I’ve never met a property guide I haven’t wanted to pore over or an open house I haven’t wanted to visit.

Ooops, better stop, it’s turning into another epic.

TONIGHT’S DINNER: Homemade meat pies, a request from Sprog 1. Thanks to Jennene for the recipe, it’s a goodie! I’d include it but the blog’s too long – tomorrow, perhaps?