Wednesday, September 15, 2010

THE PLOT IS LOST

The camel is broken, I’ve lost the plot and, quite frankly, it’s been absolutely liberating. Cue sharp intake of breath…. I went to my children’s school this morning clad only in my purple dressing gown, accessorised with sunglasses, polka dot gumboots, and carrying my undergarments in my pocket. Granted, I didn’t alight from the car, so for all those peering through the windows of my highly utilitarian people mover, I could have been wearing a very fluffy hoody, but it was the stand I was taking for all us working, stay at home, full time carers, students, mothers, nurses of elderly parents and juggling women that mattered most to me. I ‘took one’ for my diverse sisterhood, and it’s the best thing I’ve done for myself for quite a while.

I became the antithesis of everything a nice eastern suburbs matron usually strives to portray to the neighbours. Of course, the children were aghast, but they were also mildly thrilled by my rebellious and obviously quite insane attire. For the kids benefit, I threw in a few cackles on the drive to school as we wove through Hawthorn’s peak hour traffic. (As I was car-pooling, I must remember to ring my 9 year old daughter’s friend’s parents and explain.) But you know, today, something simply had to give. I had a choice, either hurl myself into the usual school-run hysteria of screeching exhortations at the children and issuing thundering threats, whilst attempting to cram my harassed, sleep deprived person into clothes, makeup, and style my hair as I simultaneously answered a work related phone call on my mobile (who the hell rings a woman with children at 7.57am?), received a text from a media outlet requesting an interview, injected a blood thinner into my stomach and dealt with my dementia stricken mother in law on the landline, as I filled lunchboxes and medicated the dog for epilepsy. Or, I could decide that by capitulating to the sadistic gods of time and removing one element from my daily schedule, I could gain 6 minutes and the key to a laughing gaggle of kids, instead of a chastened bunch of under 10’s strapped into a speeding vehicle as they listened to an overstressed, hyperventilating, cursing female attempting to be too perfect.

That’s the thing isn’t it, as we try to be everything to everybody, and meet all the commitments of our daily lives, we somehow lose our grip on the importance of being more than a schedule follower and timetable adherer. And in that push to be perfect, it’s so easy to lose the joy of the ridiculous and the simple pleasure of acknowledging we are not superhuman; because we can fail and fall and pick ourselves up and start all over again with a laugh. Never see many truly joyous, guffawing superheros out there do you?

So as a woman caring for ailing in laws, four kids, a husband, epileptic dog, health issues, work deadlines, an 80% renovated house, three books I still haven’t finished reading and various regions of the body that need to be either knitted or clipped prior to summer, I declare 31st September, National Dressing Gown Day. Are you game to join me? If so, I’ll see you for a coffee at 9.30am Adelaide time at Georges in Camberwell. Bayside venue to be announced. Gumboots optional, lipstick not required.

11 comments:

  1. haha that's amazing, you go Jacqueline :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. This is exactly the side of you that makes it so easy to be your daughter.. no 'living up to the perfect Stepford wife/mother' syndrome developing here! I love you for all the giggly days you have given and are still giving me even from afar!

    ReplyDelete
  3. i'm there with my gumboots on!!!

    ReplyDelete
  4. I wish I lived closer. Maybe I can host my own Dressing Gown day in Sydney.

    ReplyDelete
  5. You're so very very funny. 31st of September. Man I am slow.

    ReplyDelete
  6. That is awesome! Thank you. Here via PMM

    ReplyDelete
  7. I'm with you all the way - until you get caught in an accident and have to alight in your lovely dressing gown, sans underwear. Or get stuck in a traffic jam that goes so long you wonder why your wearing a winter one and not a summer one. Teeheehee. Cherrie

    ReplyDelete
  8. Hi Jacqueline, my name is Paula i'm 27. I'm from Brazil and most important i'm a huge fan. I've read 2 of your books that are availible here. You must be tired of hearing of how an amazing and extraordinary woman you are. I just want to say that someday i've a dream to meet you. My grandma passed away 2 years ago and i was raised by her. She was a great teacher who'd studied with our former president Fernando Henrique Cardoso. She woul be extremely proud for everything that you've become.

    ReplyDelete
  9. I really like your site and the way you write.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Hi Jacqueline,

    I am not sure where to post this or how to get hold you. I just finished reading your book "Once I was a Princess" and was so captivated by your story. I am astounded by what you went through and how you managed to use your circumstance to aid others in need.

    Your story is amazing, and I found I could relate to so many things that you have experienced in so many ways. Its like my story could be taken and fitted into the same mould as yours. I have always been inspired to write my own book one day (I am a pursuing journalist) and after my mom read your book she gave it to me and said "Lisa, someone has written this for you"

    Nonetheless, you have inspired me immensely and I hope one day you will get to read my book.

    I hope this reaches you. You're a great woman.

    Lisa
    (lisa.isaacs8@gmail.com)

    ReplyDelete