Not long after I pressed publish on my blog post yesterday, I had a Cat’s In The Cradle epiphany about my daughter.
My girl is just like me, she’s was growing up just like me …
I arrived home at 7.30am after walking the dogs to the cafe for my morning coffee to find my ex-husband’s car in the driveway.
He was driving the youngest to the gym, but she didn’t have a drink bottle and was having a mini-meltdown in the kitchen trying to find one.
I dug one out and she raced out the door.
She’s intent on getting super-fit to increase her chances of going to the World Jump Rope Competition next year, so she’s going to the gym six days a week, relentlessly, no excuses.
She jumped on a bus after the gym for school. I was instructed to be at the school gates at 3.20pm ON THE DOT when the bell rang, with her work clothes and snacks, as she had a 3.30pm shift at the bakery. She shovelled down two sugar-free banana muffins and wrestled out of her school uniform as I hooned down the road. Then she worked for three hours.
Next week, skipping training will be added to the mix three times a week. And, as the year races by, studying for the HSC will be crammed into the schedule too.
It’s bat-shite crazy, which is ironic coming from me, the queen of overdoing it.
Suggesting my daughter slow down is met with derision. In fact, opening my mouth risks being met with derision. When the youngest revealed her plans last night to save up for a campervan and drive around Australia surfing, I told her it was good to have dreams.
“Dreams?? They’re not dreams!” she snapped. “They’re goals! Goals!”
As for advice, you can’t tell a 15 year old ANYTHING. You may have almost 54 years of life experience, but in their eyes you know NOTHING.
So I’m not quite sure what to do about the Cat’s In The Cradle situation, other than try and set a better example.
Good luck with that … says the woman who was still working at 9pm last night and starts again at 8am this morning …
Song of the day: Ugly Kid Joe “Cat’s in the cradle”