Friday 4 November 2011

Living the dream

I had a bad dream the other day, the stabby, slashery kind. I woke up when in my dream I got so scared I couldn’t breathe. Bolt upright, heart pounding, trying the shake the feeling of imminent danger that was hanging over our lives, I attempted to rouse the man from his slumber. I told him I was scared because I had a bad dream, he just said “oh bless” and turned away, still snoring. So I had to get over my dream myself, sitting in the brightly lit bathroom, doing breathing exercises and reminding myself that I was safe. And feeling like a right tit.

The dream was so vivid and real that it got me thinking how does my brain manage to conjure up these images?

Like many people, my imagination (conscious or unconscious) can easily put me into most scenarios – good and bad. My mind makes connections with things I see and goes off in it’s own little world. I could see a National Lottery sign and imagine the feeling of getting the final number, then spend the next twenty minutes shopping in Kings Road and eating at The Bluebird (anyone else watch Chelsea?). On the other hand while waiting to cross the road, I might see a lorry, and imagine what it would feel like to be crushed beneath those huge wheels, bones shattering, brain exploding all over the road. It wasn’t my mind that thought that up. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve seen people run over in films or TV programmes. What can I say? I’m from the Casualty generation, I can’t have a chip pan in my house because it means hideous burns covered in cling film, not yummy chips.

I admit to totally over indulging my imagination, enjoying the sensation of letting a thought fly, on the off chance that I stumble upon a really enjoyable daydream. I also have an expert ability to multi task, so I could be paying for coconut and mango shampoo in Poundland but in my head I’m on a dessert island building a coconut phone and feeding bananas to a pet monkey. I’ve seen Treasure Island (and a million and one films and programmes with similar scenarios), haven’t we all? That’s what makes it so easy to think these thoughts.

So it begs the question if a person had never seen such images, good or bad, on TV, the internet, wherever, would they avoid having these kind of dreams and thoughts? Or would our minds come up with some way of filling in the gaps?

It’s out of our hands really. I try to protect my kids from seeing bad things but in a trip down the Halloween aisle in Sainsburys last week there were plenty of disturbing masks and costumes to fuel a juicy nightmare or two. And even if you can avoid supermarkets (or just leaving the house) in the month leading up to Halloween, a fairy story or even a kids film will provide enough baddies and villains to scar a person for life. Poisoned apples (“I’m not eating that apple, I’m far safer with a McDonalds”), Sleeping Beauty (“what if I don’t wake up for a hundred years? I better stay up and watch another episode of Fireman Sam”) even Toy Story (“don’t send me to nursery what if there’s a mean bear that smells like strawberries, come to think of it I’m not eating strawberries either”). And even if you can protect them from all of that, there’s the news, far more terrifying because it’s all real.

So how are we to protect our children, indeed ourselves, from images and scenes which could fuel bad dreams and anxiety?

We don’t and we can't.

I like my finely tuned imagination, even if it does occasionally get me into trouble (bad dreams, dark thoughts, even secret crushes – don’t ask, I’ll never tell), I’ll take all those dodgy things just to enjoy the infinite opportunities for joyous dreams and imaginary scenarios, and the ability to entertain myself even when I’m bored out of my wits (long journeys, meetings with mortgage advisors/builders/architects/anything to do with building really, when I hope the man is listening because I’m too busy imagining what it would be like to stand on the moon and look back at the earth). I just need to learn to block out the bad and nurture the good.

And maybe that’s what we need to focus on with our kids. How to filter the bad stuff. Coping mechanisms for the horrid things they will inevitably come into contact with in our world today, not matter how fiercely we protect them. They will watch horror films aged 12 with their mates and a can of Top Deck (showing my age), whether we forbid them or not. But even if by some amazing coincidence they don’t, not matter how much we try to protect them, they will experience the dark side of life, we just need to help them focus on the good.

There’s nothing wrong with a little daydreaming, it can provide a welcome and useful holiday from real life. As long as you’re not so busy daydreaming or worrying about what might be that you forget to appreciate all the great stuff that is real and right in front of you.

Very few people have no imagination. Most of us, like me, can be living an incredibly vivid day dream while doing the most mundane of tasks. I used to worry that this made me a little crazy, but the more I talk to people, the more I realise I’m the same as everyone else. It’s just we don’t often like to admit it, in case people think we’re mad. Reading this blog post back to myself, I suppose they’ve got a point, but life is mad. Enjoy it and live the dream. The good ones anyway.

Monday 31 October 2011

Sorry...

...but I’m one of those people who apologises at the drop of a hat. In fact I’d probably apologise if you dropped your hat, such is my nature to apologise for things that are nothing to do with me.

It might be polite to apologise if you have done something wrong, but I have taken it to extremes and now seem to preface almost every sentence with “sorry”: “Sorry you stepped on my foot” “Sorry but could you tell me where I could find the frozen peas please?” “Sorry I’m in your way” “Sorry my kids are so noisy” or drop it in at the end “Excuse me, sorry”. In fact I’m thinking of getting “sorry” tattooed on my forehead then I could be pretty much mute.

Being overly apologetic is supposedly a very British affliction. But I don’t notice many other people saying sorry as much as I do. I think it’s my most used word after “no” (but that comes with the territory of being a mother to two boys).

I have always apologised a lot but didn’t become an extreme apologiser until I became a mum and felt like I was constantly having to apologise for my kids “I’m so sorry my child just pushed your child down the slide”, “I’m so sorry my son just pushed your child into the ball pit”. I have become so used to having to apologise for my kid’s behaviour that when the tables are turned and they are on the receiving end I don’t know what to say: “Sorry, do you mind not hitting my child over the head with that foam frog? He doesn’t like it, sorry.” It is completely ineffective and frankly weak. But if I was the kind of mother who shouted “OY, if you don’t stop hitting my kid with that foam frog I’m gonna give you a smack with that massive Lego block over there, see how you like it” I might get some results.

My mum has been staying with us and she went to the shops yesterday, came home and said “Sorry, I bought myself something” Um, and why does that qualify an apology to me? She said “Well I didn’t get one for you.” I just laughed (didn’t want a pot plant anyway), because that is exactly the kind of pointless apology I churn out day after day.

Being assertive is one thing. Being rude is quite another. But I don’t think it’s easy to find the right balance. Madonna recently got some stick for being a bit ungracious when she received a hydrangea from a fan. After thanking him with a smile she immediately put the hydrangea on the floor and said to her friend “I absolutely loathe hydrangeas”. OK, that comment could have waited until after the press conference, when her microphone was turned off, but it wasn’t like she said it to his face. She did say thank you after all. See I am the complete opposite. I would have made a massive show about how kind it was and how much I loved it, so much that they would think “ooh she obviously loves hydrangeas” and I would then get them every year for the rest of my life (for the record I do actually like hydrangeas, it’s carnations I can’t stand, but you would never know that if you got them for me).

It does bring up an etiquette issue though. If you don’t like something are you better off to admit it and apologise “Thank you so much but I’m sorry I don’t care for hydrangeas” or just, as I was always taught, say thank you, be gracious and smile. We’re working on teaching the kids to be gracious around food. Son number one is pretty picky. But I find it absolutely infuriating and incredibly rude when people say “I don’t like that” to someone who has cooked something for you. If someone is good enough to cook for you, you eat it and shut up or go hungry. Good manners 101. Son number 1 is getting to the age where I am not always there to correct bad behaviour and am paranoid that he is going to be invited to tea with a friend, be served up liver and say “Yuck I don’t like that.” I would be absolutely mortified (I can’t stand liver but I use it as an example because I would try to eat at least one bite, then probably apologise too much for vomiting all over the carpet, although that is probably one of those situations where over apologising is entirely appropriate). So, in preparation for that day we are trying to teach him to at least try everything on his plate, and leave whatever it is he doesn’t like on the side and say nothing. Anything else, including unappreciative face making or uttering a single word of disgust is completely unacceptable.

Saying sorry in every single sentence I utter has become another entry on my very long list of bad habits that I need to break.

Sorry this post has been a bit long. Are you an over apologiser?