So what do you do?

I went out drinking with the girls and met someone new. Yep, that shit still happens and I like that it still happens. Even though I'm not recruiting. My dance card is full, after all, but it's always a pleasure meeting new people. Except that there's always that one question that gets my back up. You know the one. You've heard it. You've asked it. It's not that it's a bad question. It's not offensive and I'm confident it's asked with the kindest of intentions. But it shits me nonetheless. I fantasise my response to that question all the time and next time, dammit, I'm gonna do it. 

It goes something like this...

"Hi Tania, nice to meet you. So what do you do?"

What do you mean, what do I do??

Are you referring to how I spend my days? Because that’s easy.

I have two sons. I play. I teach. I nourish. I discipline. I give in. I despair. I complain. I crave sleep. I cuddle. I clean up. I cook. I clean up again. I shop. I can’t wait for their father to get home. I negotiate. I love. I scowl. I laugh. I learn. I wash. I yell. I listen. I rejoice.

Or are you referring to how I unwind? 

Well, that would be enjoying a glass of wine in the quiet. I read. I watch really bad tv and am addicted to Grey’s Anatomy. I do Facebook. I write. A blog. A journal. An sms to a friend. I drink coffee. I sit by the fire and listen to the rain. I lay in the sun by the pool while the boys try their hardest to splash me with their ‘epic bombs’. 

Sorry... maybe you’re asking about what I do to energise myself? 

I socialise. I talk on the phone. I make skype dates with my interstate friend. I go out drinking with my local friends. I listen to music really loud. I have people over to my home for dinner, drinks, coffee, talking, gossiping, swimming and chats. I create opportunities to laugh.

I dance. 

When I was growing up I had the 'cool mum'. She dressed cool, hung out with cool friends, listened to cool music and was an AWESOME dancer. Mum would often, I mean really often, put the music up really loud and dance around our tiny lounge room. Sometimes she'd get my brother and I to join her, other times we'd just lose her for 3 minutes. Now, as a Mum myself - I get why she did that. It is the one thing that simultaneously relaxes and energises me. When I was growing up, Michael Jackson was black and he ruled our stereo for a while. This definitely IS NOT a Zumba body and I may or may not have done a little bit of a wee when I was dancing around... I am, after all, a 40 YEAR OLD MOTHER OF TWO who never really committed to pelvic floor exercises :-/ 

This is me, tipping my proverbial hat to Mum...

 

Oh no, wait! You must be referring to how I earn money.

I work.

What do YOU do?