I have an amazing friend, Marianne. She is a mother of two, a cycling fanatic, a Zen Do Kai Black Belt and at the tender age of 50, she is flying through a degree in Exercise and Sport Science. Her kids (16 and 20) are amazing individuals who have relationships with her that I can only wish for when my kids are their age. They respect her, adore her, trust her and confide in her. In short, she is phenomenal.
Marianne is also a fabulous writer (did I mention her background in journalism? Yes, this is a multi-talented lady) and I have asked her to guest post here, to give us a peek into the future. After all, our little angels are one day going to be teenagers. Here, folks, is a look into the future through the eyes of Mari.
Mari and her two teeny tiny babies.
Armpits, hair mud and hot wax.
When I stand up straight and tall, my nose is about level with my 19-year-old son’s armpits. When he teases me about how little I am, and drags me in for a hug, I pretty much disappear. I am eternally grateful that he listens to his mother and scrubs under there, because it’s obvious that some of his mates just hover under the shower and rinse, before clouding themselves in the ubiquitous Lynx deodorant spray. As I’ve grown older, my tolerance for powerful perfumes has declined rapidly and a car-load of Lynxed-up lads has me sticking my head out the window gasping for oxygen. A build-up of body bacteria overlaid with Lynx sets off my pass-the-bucket reflex.
Read the rest of this entry