A funny thing happened at the playground…

I picked my godchild up from school this afternoon. I’ve been doing the occasional school run to help her mother when she’s had to start work early or finish late. It’s the least I can do as I’m staying with them temporarily while I try to get my life in to some semblance of adult like functionality… How’s that going for you? Well, being jobless and homeless after being back in Melbourne three months is difficult, demoralising, and also strangely freeing. I’m not sure if this ambiguous detachment is a segue from the previous feelings (or lack thereof) which were caused by/ are a coping mechanism of living through the earthquakes of Christchurch, my recently quitted home of 2.5 years.

If I was still living in Chch, I would go and visit Tunahau, counsellor fulla par excellence tomorrow (today)afternoon. Tuesday afternoon at 3pm was our standard weekly time for me to talk flat out for at least an hour and for him to ask the occasional question. I liked it best when he asked me to spell a word, possibly give him the definition because I would not only spill my guts about how I was feeling, give him all the work and family related gossip (which is hilarious as he knew all of my NZ family and work colleagues personally), I would also introduce him to different philosophical and critical theories someone had turned me on to. Working at a university and being a very talkative person meant I was always learning something new. None of my years of education or talking prepared me for the untamable natural force that is an energetic five year old let loose on a playground they have never visited.

I know I didn’t ever have that much kinetic force blasting through my body, at five or twenty five. I am ‘dependent’ free by choice. I didn’t like being a child, I wouldn’t force that life (truncated and transitory situation that it may be) on to someone that I’m supposed to love and care about. Tunahau always found my views on whanau (family) to be very original and quite challenging as he was a father of nine. Which in Maori families, even in the 21st century is S.O.P. My views on ‘less being more’ have not changed being around a little person but I think my views towards the big people who produce little people are swinging towards “are you quite sure you are not completely insane?” I understand that parents have special feelings and attachments to their offspring that makes all the hard stuff insignificant, there is probably a brain chemical/ neural inhibitor that helps with this process that I am lacking. I don’t know how parents have the stamina to raise children, but fair play to you and yours. I’m going to quite happily stick with being the occasional chauffeur or rarely encountered swing/ ‘whizzy dizzy’ pusher and keep doing the things I’m decent at: words, books, talking, film, thinking, drinking, dancing, cooking, laughing. Kids are hard work and I’m trying not to do that kind of work. The easy kind with boring meetings at too early o’clock is the only work I’m looking for.

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