20 July 2010
A wise person once said, "People who are wrapped up in themselves, make for very small packages..."
In the past, for far too many years, I was way too wrapped up in myself. Too self-conscious and paranoid about the way I look (my size, my shape, my cellulite, my baby-tummy) to go swimming. Or get on a bike (how wide is that butt???)
I hid behind the camera, I sat by the pool with my book, I documented and observed and recorded all the fun. But I wasn't part of it.
Too self-conscious, I was in hardly any photographs. You never saw me in the family videos. I managed to avoid it by being Photo-Girl Extraordinaire.
Then one day just over a year ago a light switched on. What if something happened to me? What if I contracted a rare fatal illness or got knocked over by a bus while crossing the street...? What would my kids have to remember me by?
They wouldn't have photos of me to gaze at and weep over (sound of violins)... flickering images of me jumping with them in the waves would not be replayed again and again to remind them of all the fun times we had... no such images existed.
They would watch the family movies and ask... where was mummy?? They would look at the photos and think I wasn't even there. They wouldn't realise I had been behind the camera.
And fun memories? Crazy adventures together? Hardly. They would remember me reading and watching on the sidelines (if I was lucky). How would they know how much I loved them??
Horrors. I had better start getting over myself.
This holiday I pulled out all the stops.
I packed my togs. And I put them on and went swimming on the first day (start as you mean to go on, I say). It was wonderful! What can beat having your toddler's little body wrapped around you in the water, clinging on and plastering you with wet salty (snotty) kisses?
Is there any better fun than your big boy and his new pal playing water tag with you? And thinking you are way fun and cool??
A funny thought struck me. If had been back at the apartment with a book and missed the whole thing while daddy went riding, do you think I'd remember which book I read in a month's time? Or a year? I doubt it. But I will never forget those moments. And neither will my kids.
Me and my girl rode sick-making rollercoasters together. We drove dodgems together and screamed with laughter as we chased and bumped daddy and Dash. We got soaked together on every log ride possible, and I took her to get her hair braided - a big girls treat.