The other night I caught a little bit of My Kitchen Rules. Cooking shows are the only reality television I allow myself to indulge in. And by indulge I mean ten whole minutes of one eye on the TV and one eye on the toddler I’m trying to entertain. Suffice to say it wasn’t worth the struggle.
I liken cooking shows to research. I also live vicariously through the people eating the meals. If I try REALLY hard I can actually taste what they’re eating. Or that could be my dinner repeating on me.
Watching shows like that comes with a bit of danger to my health, because I tend to forget I’m just watching it instead of living it. I find myself getting sweaty-palmed and stressed as the clock ticks down.
What will I make for entree?
Can I make enough mains for that many people?
What will I wear??
Oh. Oh wait. Hang on. I’m not actually a contestant. I can just enjoy myse- LUMPS IN THE ICE-CREAM!!!! Utter tragedy! Or should I say, “udder” tragedy. Clearly I should be a contestant on the show with my finesse in the kitchen and my killer quick wit.
Speaking of wit, sometimes I come up with some stories and one-liners to use in my stand-up routine.
What if the joke falls flat though?
What if no one even shows up?
Is the world ready for a comedienne with this much charisma?
And then the logical self-talk kicks in. You are NOT a comedian. Nor are you a contestant on a cooking show.
But this is one of my dilemmas in life. I want to be everything!
Chef, Domestic Goddess, Super Mum, Photographer, Comedian, Master Blogger, Environmental Crusader, Artist, Singer, Capoeira Master, World Traveller, Humanitarian… You name it.
Sometimes it’s not even a matter of wanting to be involved in something as it is a bizarre fear of finding myself in a situation that I’m out of my depth in. My over-active imagination conjures up scenarios in which I wake up as a Master Chef contestant in the final rounds of elimination or as a young hopeful in the finals of So You Think You Can Dance. Or even on a stage in front of the Voice judges. What was that I said about how I don’t indulge in much reality TV? *cough*
I’m so interested in most things that I find myself not as a Jack (or Jill, as it were) of all trades, but rather someone who just has a finger in every pie. Maybe even the tip of a fingernail if I’m honest.
I eye with envy those people who dedicate themselves completely to mastering a certain skill set. Or even more than one skill set. That’s what I call impressive. But then I just can’t commit to one thing. There are so many things that capture my heart, and as such I dabble in most everything. Except for things like accounting. Or even worse, statistics. I once got, I think it was 4 out of 12 in one of my statistics exams at Uni. What’s worse is that I even studied! I had one of the better students tutor me in the weeks leading up to it, but still I failed that crap exam. Somehow I managed to scrape through the subject with a Pass. It was a minor miracle.
More recently though, I have found myself broadening my horizons when it comes to mastering things. I am now what one might refer to as a “Desperate Housewife” or SAHM (Stay At Home Mum, for those who aren’t down with tha lingo of the house mamas).
Rather than gently narrowing the scope of my focus, my mind is consumed with all things child-related. I go nuts on Pinterest. I modern-cloth nappy for weeks and then become too involved in my cooking from scratch ventures, so the disposables come out more often than not.
I got to the point of catching only a few hours of sleep each night in the lead up to my child’s first birthday party because I became OBSESSED with it. Colour themes, food and drinks to serve. I had become that mother. You would think I was organising a royal wedding. Despite the fact that I couldn’t organise a drink in a brewery, I managed to pull off a beautiful little party, if I do say so myself. The special touch was the 70-metre tree that fell into our yard and nearly killed all of the guests. Beat that one, competition mamas!
Honestly though, here is a photo of the tree. If you look carefully you can see a crushed children’s chair. Eerily a child was sitting on it just minutes before the event.
I digress. Back to the point at hand, for some reason there is always a sense of urgency with my wanting to be everything. Before having a baby, I always wanted to do a photography course. Post-baby, I have dramatically exclaimed that I will never get to pursue it.
Relax, psycho. My poor kid is probably going to grow up and read this and think, “What am I, a hindrance?”. No, baby. I love you dearly. Please don’t develop a complex. I know I studied psychology and all, but ain’t nobody equipped for that.
It seems that when I hone my focus in one area of life, other areas start to go downhill, so somehow I need to find a degree of balance. Either that or get so good at one area that everyone either forgets how hopeless I am in other areas or I can just pay people to do the other stuff.
One can dream!