It´s hard to be sophisticated when toilet training

When I was younger, I always wanted to be part of the IN crowd. They seemed like they had so much fun and so many friends and always doing exciting things. I just wanted to be the same. Of course I wasn´t. Child of a migrant father, my head fulled with teenages angst and worries, never in the right place, wrong clothes, always saying the wrong things. I looked from afar, keeping busy in my books.

Then school was over. University was a time of `Finding Out Who I Was` (oh, is that what I call those years of alcohol usage and those blatant use of male anatonomy??????). I tried changing my clothes and myself. But for whom do I change? Do I change for the people I was living in college with? B&S afficiandos? Can I really `Beer Bong`like they do and drink until I vomit? Is this what I wanted to be? Do I want to be like the studious ones who have `Study Parties`and have sophisticated conversations? What about the intellectuals in the coffee shop? The cool groovers at the Uni bar? I wanted to be a part of it all. I felt like a chameleon. But give too much of yourself out and you end up with only pieces. It is always the constantly looking outwards and the desperation to belong. Scared of being on my own, alone. Not being true to myself or others.

Really, I think I was in training in becoming the perfect ex-patriate. Always being different to the people around you. Eat differently, dress differently, do things differently. Always the foreigner. But the longer I stay here, little bits adapt. I´m not Australian any more (was I ever?). But then I am not Austrian either. Being an ex-pat is the constant knowledge that you live on the outside.

Having children changes all of this. Fitting in is no longer a priority. Getting enough sleep is more important. Getting all the toys back into their places without yelling too much. Cleaning up vomit, wet spots on the floor, wiping faces, instigating the wisdom of Solomon. Making sure my children are happy, Making sure that when I leave the house I actually have clothes on, that they don´t have too many noticeable stains on them, no smears of face cream on my face (as who has time to look in the mirror), not too many grey hairs. I think it was picking up the poo that my daughter proudly made on the carpet (look Mummy, no nappy!!!!!!!!) that made me realise that it is hard to be sophistocated when toilet training. But then again, who wants to be. In my life I am truly happy. I worry about the important things (most of the time). I enjoy the small things. I know that I don´t fit in, but this no longer has such an impact in my life. I now just live.