Growing up - not all its cracked up to be

I must say I am quite tired of having to grow up. I am realising that being grown-up means taking care of yourself, more and more, and then, taking care of people who cannot take care of themselves. In other words, no-one takes care of you.

First of all, I had to live with my mother and realise that I am now increasingly getting to the stage where I might have to play parent. At least my mother is still pretty much there and can run her own life, so she is not tied to my apron strings. I thought that was the peak 'I am all grown up now' experience. But heck, no. There's more!

It appears that my brother has decided, due to shortage of time and ongoing ill temper, to prioritise his wife and family and simply leave my mother and I to our own devices. My brother could once be counted on to come over to help out when things began to fall apart. He saved my arrowana from certain death many times. He installed the closed circuit TV in my flat when the I wanted to see if the neighbours were screwing around with my pot plants. We've had quite a number of companionable suppers when dinners at home were crap, because his wife is not interested in food. Now, I wouldn't even bother to ask for help. He won't answer his bloody phone.

Most times, it is difficult to even get a civil word out of the guy. Yet another milestone towards adulthood. It used to be that we thought family came first, no matter what. He was the one that could be counted on. Now, we are the ex-family. His wife and kids the only recognised family - and the in-laws, of course. (They are, after all, the baby-sitters).

When do brothers become mere (disappointing) males? I'll tell you - when their wives come into their own as wives and mothers, and men learn to shut up to keep the peace. That's when brothers become mournful creatures, bad tempered all the time, and plain down in the mouth, with no time for anything except work, and ferrying the kids around the shop - or running other errands. I do not know one single male who is married, and is still full of joie de vivre. What is it about marriage that turns men into such beige people, mere shadows of their former selves?

And their wives - flush with their own power, they turn into people who feel it is permissable to be rude to the in-laws. Who's going to stop them? Our brothers? No way.

Here, I must add that most men will also say that they are happy, that these are the trade-offs of having kids and a family and that they are ok with it. But - why does it have to be one or the other?

Ok, back to growing up - one, I now have to practice holding my temper and refraining from giving the dolts a right ticking off. After all, I want to continue to see the kids and ultimately, they will be the only family I have left. So, I have to turn the other cheek. Another exercise in humility - so character building, I am reassured. I wonder when the time will come when God decides I have more than enough character, thanks very much?

Two - I realise that, ultimately, I will have to shift for myself since obviously, my brother cannot be counted on for any help at all ie. I will have to be an adult.

Marriage and Invasion of the Body Snatchers

Marriage is supposed to be for adults. Yet, I feel sorry for anyone in a marriage, with kids. I cannot think of a worse fate, one involving a complete loss of self and identity - except maybe a concentration camp. Why do people do this to themselves? And why is this an acceptable outcome of marriage? Why do people marry someone, only to turn them into beige people, whose friends are other beige people, whose main topics of conversation are the kids, the education system and the price of cars?

How boring to build your entire life around your children, where they are the touchstone for every decision. What about big world issues - like AIDS in Africa? Or the war in Iraq? I wonder if it is really good for kids to be so pampered - surely, they need to be taught independence, that they are part of a larger reality, one where they are not at the centre? How long should boo-boo, coo-coo, mummying and daddying last? With such beige parenting, no wonder each successive generation does not break out of the beige parenting trap, all reverting to type once they are themselves married.

Really, no wonder marriage is called an institution - anyone would have had to be nuts to agree to enter into it. Thank God this is one grown up experience I will never have! In the words of Bryan Ferry, '(I'm gonna be) eighteen till I die!"