I, like most people, have a phobia. Some people are afraid of heights, some people are afraid of the dark or spiders. I am and have always been afraid of snakes. To me, anything that can move that quickly, without any limbs, and eat its food whole is just wrong.
However, I have noticed as I have aged that I seem to have an ever expanding bank of fears which have developed over the years.
One of these relates to driving. I am not keen on driving if I can help it, particularly in places that I am unfamiliar with. Having said that, since I have learnt to drive, I am not comfortable as a passenger either.
Shortly after my sister in law and I had both learnt to drive we went on a short trip together. We were going on a hen do together and she offered to drive as it was in an area I did not know very well. At the time I considered myself an adrenalin junkie but it was an experience neither of us will forget in a hurry.
We were driving around in her little Peugeot 106, we are talking away and I see a sign that we are approaching a roundabout, I am enjoying the conversation and I become aware that she does not seem to be slowing down. Before I know it we have gone over the roundabout, I am screaming “brake”, stomping my right foot in the footwell and she has had to pull over to wipe away the tears that are streaming down her face from laughing. Apparently my face was a picture.
After several little incidents throughout the journey involving roundabouts, traffic lights or junctions when we finally arrived home I was just thankful that we had survived.
There was another time when we were car sharing to work. Once again, she was in the drivers seat, it was raining heavily and, for some reason, her wipers got stuck halfway across the windscreen. Luckily, I have a limited knowledge about cars having owned an old Austin Mini, so after she reluctantly pulled over I managed to get the wipers working properly again. The blades only needed a clean for them do their job properly and we were able to carry on, albeit a little delayed and wet by the time we got to our respective offices.
It is the same with my husband. When he is driving I am often making strange noises from the passenger seat as we approach oncoming traffic, in the single track lanes, or cars that are travelling slower than us on a dual carriageway or motorway. I have started to leave my glasses at home in the hope that if the path ahead is blurry it may alleviate my worries. It hasn’t helped, I am still squeaking and gasping, the hedge always seem so close on that side of the car, I cannot help it.
If I am in the driving seat I am generally ok. I know my driving is safe and I know Mildred (my current Mini) although there have been occasions that I have frightened myself. Not due to speed but I do have a bad habit of forgetting where I am on routes that I drive regularly. When I was working it was really bad, especially in the mornings. Do you ever find yourself at a point on your route and you cannot remember how you got there? That happens to me, not as regularly now, thankfully, but it has happened in the past which can be concerning at the time.
Now I was never scared by horror films. It was my favourite genre, still is (so long as it is an old school horror). However, once I had my children horror films seemed to have new meanings. I can remember watching a film called “Sinister” when our children were very young. If my memory serves me correctly, the premise of the film was that families moved in to a house and mysteriously the family would be hideously murdered by someone. If you haven’t seen it then “spoiler alert”.
So the families are murdered, the murders are filmed, and one of the children of the family would disappear. Effectively, the bogeyman would take the child, but the child was the one that killed the other members of the family as per the bogeyman’s instructions and the films are found by the next unsuspecting family that takes up residence.
Needless to say, horror movies that have children as the culprits or behaving strangely creep me right out and I now have to avoid them. If I do watch a film that involves children I need to make sure that there is enough time for me to watch a Disney film (normally the Lion King) before I go to bed.
There were a few new discoveries that I made following my 30th birthday. The first was that hangovers are real and can last for several days. I had never had a hangover before I turned 30, now I can be ill for a few days at a time , after just a couple glasses of wine it can take three days before I resemble a human again, let alone my “normal” happy self.
The next was that the recovery time from the Waltzers is now significantly increased. In my younger days my friends and I loved riding on the Waltzers at the fairground when it came to town. However, since turning 30 it can take around the same time for the world to stop spinning after a ride on this ride, as it can to recover from a fun filled night of drinking.
In addition there is a new fear of looking old. Skin care is now a priority for me which it had not been before, especially now the children are older. Now they sleep through the night I do not have any excuse for looking “rough”.
During lockdown I will admit I watched a few makeup tutorials on Facebook or YouTube with a view to learning how to make myself look beautiful and wonderful, like a model.
I haven’t succeeded but there were some scary sounding trends. Apparently, there is a thing that was called “baking”. When I first heard this term my reaction was something along the lines of “baking is what you do to a cake, not your face! Please do not tell me that people are now putting their heads in ovens to bake their faces?!”
I did wonder whether it was one of those stupid dangerous trends that do the rounds. Sometime ago there had been a trend where people were eating the laundry pods, I thought maybe baking was in a similar vain as that. It isn’t, I don’t know what it is and, if I am honest, I gave up trying to learn. My face is my face and I am going to make do with what I have got. Anything more is too much like hard work, thank you very much.
I like sleeping too much to getup any earlier than I currently do. I am the “what you see is what you get” mum on the school run. Nothing fancy, just me rushing around like a blue assed fly to get my kids to school on time with my hair out of my face, wearing jeans, a baggy jumper and a really old coat. If I have overslept, or if its really cold in the middle of winter, I will admit that on occasion I have pulled my clothes on over my pyjamas in an attempt to gain some extra minutes in my nice warm bed.
I admire the mums out there who always appear immaculate, whatever time of day it is. I just accept that is not going to be me. I am what I am. I have no idea who I am at the moment without my labels. I know what my labels are, there are a couple. I know I am a wife, I know I am a mother but other than that I am not sure where I fit.
Having said that, since I turned 30 I am not as concerned about other peoples opinions about me. I do not have any interest in any additional drama. I am quite happy in my own little bubble. I am still afraid of snakes and I have many other fears now which I never had before but that is ok.
The main thing is I am trying really hard not to pass my fears to my children. That is part of the reason why I play the fool with my kids. For example, by putting leaves in my hair, comfortable in the knowledge that it made my children smile and brightened my day even though I may have received some strange looks.
Maybe if they witness me doing something like this it will give them the confidence to not allow others opinions prevent them from having fun or doing something that they want to do. Maybe it will give them the power to ignore any dream stealers they may encounter and to go for it anyway, just because they can.
I can but hope…right?
Mumma Bear Roars 