How You Raise Your Son can make or break someone’s day
The actual title of this post is “when you raise an asshole you fuck up someone else’s day” But I thought that might be a tad offensive. It’s true though. Let me share with you two stories of four mothers…
As I drove through the boom gates of my local mall the most horrid screeching noise reminded me that there was a bicycle on a roof rack on my car. It’s not usually there but it was there on this day as my 7 year old was to start bicycle lessons that day. In slow motion I peeped at my rear view mirror to see that the whole roof rack plus bicycle still attached to it had come off and was lying behind my car. With some angst I parked my car half way up the ramp and with one weak arm (the one without a boob) and one fat arm I dragged the whole contraption out of the way of the cars behind me.
Now behind me were two big SUV’s, each with a rather strong looking male behind the wheel. These two assholes watched me drag the bicycle attached to roof rack or roof rack attached to bicycle, however you’d like to see it, out of the way. They watched me sweat (something I’m not supposed to be doing right now for the sake of my loved ones as I can’t bath for six weeks – radiation man, its a walk in the park compared to chemo and probably the most relaxing 10 minutes of my day, but the fact that you can’t bath in Durban in February does suck a bit), anyway, they watched me sweat and struggle as I had to de-attach that bike from that roof rack to make space for said assholes to drive up that ramp. I left the roof rack and the bike on the side where I had dragged it, I was like a leopard dragging its kill up a tree. But not in a victorious or stylish way, as a leopard would. I then drove my car out of the way to go and park while these two healthy fit guys sat tapping their steering wheels in frustration and in aircon and probably listening to some nice music. I then walked down the ramp to get the bike and take that to my car (more sweating), then back down and up again to drag the roof rack to my car.
Trying to fit these two things into the boot of my car deserves a whole blog post on its own. It was like getting Zuma to exit, fucking complex and frustrating and near impossible. It reminded me of my varsity days where I drove a really old Volkswagen of which the doors could no longer open and I had to get in and out of the car through the boot (also, another blog post on its own, as this made dating very awkward indeed). A kind gentleman, a car guard, came to my rescue – he said he would keep the roof rack for me while I took the bike home, I could then return for the roof rack and then take that home. All of this happened 15 minutes before I had to get the kids from school, just to add that extra little bit of angst. The guys in their SUV’s – I blame their mothers. The kind car guard, hooray for your mom! She did a good job. A man with empathy, now that deserves respect.
The story of the fourth mom also involves a lot of sweating. Aerial yoga, now that is a thing. A wonderful thing. There is this position called ‘the monkey’ – you hang upside down of course. As I was doing this thing the silk of the hammock cut into my fat. Last year I told you how I had gained so much weight that my underwear was cutting off my blood supply – this is even more true now. So there I was, hanging upside down and thinking, fuck me, how do I get back up? There was a kind gentleman behind me, also hanging upside down, he looked at me with sympathy / empathy / a little bit of pity and a hint of humour in his eyes and kind of nodded in acknowledgement – ‘I see you (upside down) and I feel for you’ his eyes said. Hoorah for his mom too! I’d like to high five that woman. The yoga instructor came to my rescue. It was a disgusting struggle, getting me upright again. Her hands slipping all over my sweaty back and behind, but together and eventually we got me upright again. I had done my first “monkey” in an aerial yoga hammock with very little dignity but with kind and accepting eyes all around and zero judgement.
My mom in law (who drinks wine with me and is just all over cool), she also did a good job. And my own mom (equally super cool and who once drove like a professional race car driver to save the life of my neighbours’ bunny after my cat got to it – another story that deserves its own blog post); well, if you ever met my brother you too would want to high five her as she also did an excellent job. Raise your son to be the type of person who open doors for girls, who let them go first, who get out of their cars to help a one boob woman drag a roof rack attached to a bicycle out of the way. Don’t raise assholes, it’s the last thing this country needs.
Aerial yoga as I said is amazing! Check out House of Calm on FB or contact the lovely Sabrina at firstname.lastname@example.org AND GO! (They have a play area so you can even take your kids with you)
Then also, another mom I’d like to high five is Ian’s mom. Ian is the head coach and owner at Glide & Ride here in Durban. Kai (7) has been suffering from some anxiety because of my cancer journey (#FuckGeorge), we’ve had three weeks of him not sleeping and asking us to feel if his heart is healthy – this cycling lesson – an hour and a bit out, riding, having fun, was the first hour in about three weeks that he forgot about his anxiety and fears. I cannot recommend this enough for any child. Contact Ian on 0731530986 And read more about some of his other work (adult lessons etc) at www.singletrackminded.co.za