My creative happy space is being able to write a regular column for the Geelong Advertiser’s gt magazine. I often share images like the one above on my instagram feed and have had several requests for the column to be added to my blog.
So here is my Personal Take (published 12 April).
“Bachelor of Parenthood”
I spent seven years at university.
For most people, this means that they are working in the medical profession. They have extra letters before their name and an alphabet after it.
What I have is a degree of French and Chemistry, which should be handy the next time I need to use a Bunsen burner in Paris.
My French language skills indicate that I should have no problem conjugating a regular verb. Except I can hardly tell the difference between ma tête et mon derrière.
In reality, what this weird combination of tertiary degrees means is that I am the most over qualified person to stand at the kitchen bench making unlimited rounds of sandwiches for small people.
My ability to submit a 10,000-word dissertation may be impressive, but it is useless when it comes to counteracting the wrath of a five year old that cannot find her whizzy skirt. No good is the sparkly one, nor is the bright pink one as life can only continue with the WHIZZY skirt. Apparently Tuesday will be the “worst day ever” if she is unable to wear said item of synthetic, highly flammable clothing.
My overqualified role as Chief Sandwich Maker meets the criteria for my self-appointed position as CEO of Domestic Repetition. If domesticity had a magnate, then I would be bankrolling it with Richard Branson. I may not be worth $4.6 billion but this is approximately the amount of times I have said, “because I said so,” in a spate of parenting laziness.
Based on my highly skilled career as a shoe picker-uperer combined with my exceptional tolerance for nagging, bothering, begging, crying and loud noises, I believe parenthood should be a nationally recognised degree.
One such offering could be a Bachelor of Laundry with a major in ‘Sorting the Washing’. In this class you will be given tips on dividing dirty laundry into darks, whites, colours and tutus. This will become useful when completing the compulsory unit, ‘How to deal with the wrath of a five year old.’
It is worth noting the fine print: you will never complete this module. Any parent knows that just when you think you are on top of the washing, the kids get undressed. The NeverEnding Story continues with you cast as the main character.
Also available is the Bachelor of White Lies, which you will excel at and earn an honorary degree. You will fail the ‘Financial Management’ component because unfortunately the degree only specialises in conversations with your children and not those with your spouse. You will need to find another way to justify those new shoes.
Scholarship prerequisites for a Masters in the Search and Rescue of Small Pieces of Plastic and Pretty Much Everything Else in the House include being able to crawl in and out of small spaces. Extra marks are awarded if you can answer the questions that your husband asks as well. Especially if it is, “Where is the yoghurt?” before he has opened the fridge door.
At the end of your long study period, you will qualify for a PhD in Patience with a major in Familial Law Enforcement. You will be well equipped to answer the barrage of questions that start at sunrise and continue until sundown as well as referee sibling scuffles. All tasks will need to be performed with six hours sleep.
But no amount of studious determination can prepare you for those sentences that come out of your mouth. Like the stunned words of disbelief that only a mother can say #43: “Please don’t eat yoghurt on the toilet.”
Followed closely by, “Mon dieu!” of course.