I am 42. And I thought I'd be better at this thing called Life by now. Which reminds me of that meme I've seen floating around Facebook, which says something like: I miss being the age when I thought I'd have my shit together by the time I was the age I am now. Yeah, THAT.
There are so many things I thought I'd be better at by now. Such as:
Growing up I always believed that I would magically 'come out of my shell' one day, just like everybody kept telling me I SHOULD. I MUST. I felt certain there was a bubbly, outgoing chatterbox inside me just busting to get out. Eventually it would happen and I'd suddenly find myself sprouting verbal diarrhoea with the best of them. I was going to be extremely witty, droll and just plain LOUD. The anti-thesis of this mute, shy, introverted girl. I would shine. Stand out in a crowd for once, instead of being instantly forgettable. More than twenty years later, it hasn't happened. I am still the quietest person in the room, wherever I am. People still say things like "You're the quietest person I've ever known." Worse still, they will sometimes even talk about me as if I'm not even there. It's true. I still rarely speak. People forget that I'm there. I fade into the furniture. That bubbly, witty person is figment of my imagination.
As a child I was a total off with the pixies space cadet with my head permanently 'up the Faraway Tree'. Nothing has changed as an adult. This is not extremely helpful when you are meant to the person in charge of running a house including three small people. My attention span is worse than the average two year old. Knowing that this is something to do with having Aspergers means I now understand why. However, the problem does not go away. For example, one of the boys may ask me for some two minute noodles. Dutifully, I go the monumental effort of pouring sachets and boiling water on them, then walk away to wait for the allotted two minutes. Half an hour later, a ravenous child whines:"Where's my noodles?" Oops.
While I do have a license, I didn't get it until I was 36. At 42 I am still on my P Plates. I am one of those pathetic people who actually drives around for 15 minutes or so, looking for another, easier parking space so I don't have to parallel park. In fact, I haven't done it once since I passed my driving test. I also avoid driving to unfamiliar places, at night and in heavy traffic. In other words, I might as well have never bothered getting a licence. But least I now have photographic ID for those times when we go to an extremely classy RSL club. We are dedicated bogans, after all.
When Mr 11 (soon to be Mr 12) was born in 2001, I became I relatively good parent. Surprisingly, since I was a 30 year old person who had zero experience being around babies and children. In fact I had possibly only ever held a baby once or twice for a total of ten minutes. Still, I managed to puree home made food, read bed time stories every night and generally do an okay job. Naturally, in my naivete, I believed this meant that I could only be a better parent to any subsequent children. After all, I now had experience. HA! It turns out that it actually gets harder with more children. Who knew? Second time around I had to factor in that now I not only had a squalling infant, but a demanding toddler as well. My standards dropped. I didn't manage to puree baby food quite so often. I fed Mr9 so much mashed banana and yoghurt as a baby that I think I have permanently turned him off those foods. By the time Mr 4 arrived we slowly but surely progressed to the wonderfully varied diet we now enjoy as a family these days. It consists of two minute noodles, sausages, fish fingers and lumpy mashed potato. Yum.
Basically I'm a big scaredy cat about anything of a medical nature. I thought I'd be well and truly over this phobia by now. Wrong. A routine blood test still has me shaking. Even entering a hospital for any reason at all, makes me feel wobbly. I could never have been a nurse. The thing is, as you get older there is a more pressing need to have all sorts of medical stuff attended to. Considering that I'm lucky enough to be in relative good health I should be able to just get over myself and get on with it.
After a year of this blogging business, I thought I'd most likely become better at it. Sorry folks. Hasn't happened. I continue to clock in a spectacularly underwhelming performance just like a typical lazy 'she'll be right' bogan. I don't have a niche. Or understand anything about RSS or SEO. I thought they were possibly LOL text type talk. Are they? Meh, whatever. I briefly attempted to raise the bar the other day when I noticed a Blogs and PR concern on Twitter on the lookout for Lifestyle Bloggers. I tweeted back that I do, indeed, blog about my bogan lifestyle. No response. Can't think why.
My photography skills are non-existent. I've still never taken a selfie. Instagram is complete mystery to me and likely to remain so. There is no point in even bothering when I am such an abysmal technophobe. Who wants to see my woeful attempts at photography. On that note, I'm not even going to bother adding images to this post. There is no point.
So basically what I'm saying is, I thought I'd be better at EVERYTHING by now.
I'm very excited to be linking up for the first time ever with The Lounge which is being hosted this week by Tegan from Musings Of The Misguided. If there is one thing I'm certainly good at, it's lounging around. And I'm getting better at it all the time.
What did you think you would be better at by now?