It comes to something when your eighteen year-old daughter refers to you as an “old goblin”.
The imagery conjured up in these two words is simple yet effective. Old says it all, and as for goblin?
It’s a decidedly clunky word, far removed from grace or sophistication. It smacks of filth, decreptitude and ugliness. It even hints at evil.
The goblin word was not used to describe me. It was used to describe the man I married, which is close enough to hit the target as a personal insult. He is also known as a caveman in other circles. And it got me thinking about the way that our children (and nephews!) see us.
It is inevitable that they will see us as antiquated and out of touch, I suppose. It is not for them to realise that when they were babies, we were not really very far removed from our own childhood, and it is only our transgression into parenthood that has given them just cause to treat us this way.
I guess what I am trying to say is, at this age and stage in our lives, with growing (adult!) children, there is no getting away from the fact that Big Seymour and I are a whole generation separate from our kids (der!) and that it is time to start realising that tempus fugit, and fast.
Not so long ago, I was an idealistic, nubile young thing, convinced that I would change the world, be discovered or be the discoverer of something important. I followed many paths, and some even brought me close to the edge of those ambitions. Maybe I could have been an Olympic runner… but I hated competition. Perhaps I could have been a photographer’s muse, but I didn’t want to get my kit off. There was always something holding me back.
Now I see the same fabulous delusions in my own kids. They have confidence and the exquisite optimism of youth. Anything is possible! As a teen, I was always painfully mindful of not wanting to take anything for granted, but I remember the luxury of seeing the future as a distant thing, when I grew up and was older. I even (wickedly) wished time away, thinking “When this happens, I’ll be happy.” My younger self’s diaries make for frustrating reading when viewed by an older me who is, if she is lucky, now half way through her life and eyeing up Edelweiss cream in the Body Shop because it might just stop the wrinkles.
As for the Old Goblin, he was a go-go dancer, applied to go on Gladiators, could dig a hole all day, stay up dancing all night and disappeared off to Ibiza at the drop of a hat. He grew mushrooms (!), cut hair, laid bricks and got crowds going to the point that they wanted his autograph and swooned after him (!). He drove cool cars, took an interest, albeit a dodgy one, in fashion (it was the 90s) and he did not snore. In fact, he never stood still!
When young, we think we are invincible. We hope we will last forever. All we see is our young refection in the mirror and are complacent enough to put the imperceptible changes to the backs of our minds. I try to do that even now. But it gets harder. I know I have it in me to be that annoying old person who refuses to accept her stage in life… so I swing between acceptance and denial on an hourly basis. I cannot stand the thought that the clock is ticking, and the opportunities to fulfil my ever-tenacious dreams are dwindling…
But it’s how our kids see us that is the real test of where we are at, and what should ground us. And if they think we’re out-of-touch goblins, so be it. I look at all they have to be optimistic about and am excited for them – even if they, like I was at the time, are not mindful of the privilege of their youth. My kids are excellent with technology. They know things I have not taught them. And when they speak now, it is with the voice of an emerging adult person, who is far more relevant than me. I must listen.
They may mock me for my fashion tastes, and roll their eyes when I blow kisses out of the car window at them as I leave the bus stop. They definitely think I nag them, and I can even see them looking at my veiny hands with affectionate pity, as I did with my own grandmother, whose skin was so thin that it felt like mulberry silk when I tugged at it in curiosity as a child.
Thankfully, I am not quite there yet (and to be fair, my hands have been cadaverous since I was fifteen). But I know that even I, in my age-resistant mindset, jump when an electric car goes by and all I can think is that I am on the set of Total Recall (and not the Colin Farrell version.) I get excited when I pay with a contactless method and find myself eulogising about the cleverness of technology at the till. Every time. And to think that ANY SONG YOU COULD EVER WANT is contained within my little old phone is something I will never get my head around. I mean – I was a tape girl! And the other day, I listened to a song I had forgotten about but still knew all the words to. A song I had not heard since I was a kid. And there it was! On my phone. Mindblowing.
So the Old Goblin and I must accept where we are at… but I don’t think we will ever truly grow up. We are not without ambition still – and next week we will shake things up once more as we move to our new house! There is no resting on any laurels for us two, old and goblinny as we may be.
Life is short. Life can be hard. Life is amazing.
We are grateful to be off on our next adventure! Bring it on. It’s a big new chapter, and if you like, you can join in, as I plan to continue with the old blog, if you will indulge me.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nMRoM3xCV28
(Click the link for a trip down Memory Lane, if you, like me, were a teenybopper Wham! fan.)
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