Obsession

I was listening to my ipod on shuffle the other day when it threw up a song I hadn't heard for years. A song I used to love but had completely forgotten about.

I actually thought I'd moved past the point where music could reach right into my core and grasp my soul. For some reason I'd written that off as something that was only ever possible for someone living with heightened emotions. As a teenager music was all consumingly important to me, but of course for teenagers angst is a constant companion. All the years between 13 and 23 are a roiling pit of heightened emotions and it makes sense that this gives something for music to twine it's way around.

Since then though, I've been all 'grown up' and even tempered - generally content in a way that has few peaks or troughs and doesn't really allow for obsession. These days I still love music but the stuff that catches my attention does so because of a jaunty tune or clever lyrics rather than because it speaks to something inside me in a way that words can't.

Or so I'd thought anyway. When my ipod played this song it all came rushing back. Angst, obsession, the knowledge that it is possible to seek expression or release in something other than words or actions. I still generally feel like I don't need that anymore, but it's very good to be reminded that it's still actually there when I want it.

About the boy

I didn't get around to my other posts about sleep school but I think the time for that has passed. Instead I'm going to focus today's post on my other child. The following list of questions were put together by a friend of mine who plans to annually film her children answering them as a bit of a record of what goes through their mind at each age.

The boy somewhat begrudgingly answered them for me today. He was a bit suspicious of my motives, and somewhat self conscious about his answers when he saw I was writing them down. So even at this young age there may be a certain element of playing to the audience (in this case me) with some of his more virtuous responses.

(1) What’s your full name?
Actually, I'd better leave this out - but it's a lovely name, better than 'The boy'.

(2) How old are you today?
Five (and three months)

(3) What would you like to be when you grow up?
One of the triple zeros. An ambulance man or a fireman or a police man
(I would like to note here that I will be doing my best to subtly talk him out of being a fireman. Too dangerous for mummy's little boy!)

(4) What are mummy and daddy’s jobs?
Mummy is a speech pathologist and Daddy is an engineer. But mummy cares for us right now.

(5) What do you like about school?
Seeing my friends and literacy groups

(6) If you were King of the world, what would you do?
I would control the world. If there were bad guys I’d ring the police

(7) What’s your favourite animal and why?
(2) Dinosaurs because they were scary. Mammals I guess if we're talking about animals that are real now. All of them because they're furry and interesting.

(8) What makes you happy?
Playing with my friends.

(9) What makes you sad?
When nobody wants to play with me

(10) Who are your best friends?
Dominic and George and Vivek

(11) If you could have a super-power, what would it be?
Protecting the world (even the police!)

(12) What’s your favourite food?
Chicken wraps, chocolate, tuna pasta

(13) What’s your favourite book?
Any book about myths

(14) What’s your favourite toy?
lego

(15) What’s your favourite thing to do?
Play with my friends.

Notes from Last week #1.

A woman dressed in feathers and holding a piano accordian is warbling away in Finnish on the small TV that sits in front of me. It makes me think of my daughter. Last year I watched the Eurovision broadcasts from my hospital bed, having just given birth. This year I'm sitting in a hospital chair in a fluro-lit slightly cold lounge and watching it quietly so as not to disturb anyone else. Nobody is sick, I'm just here because the daughter whose arrival so unexpectedly coincided with Eurovision last year simply doesn't sleep. The ins and outs of that are fodder for a different post, but my two consecutive hospital-viewed Eurovisions have opened my eyes to a fundamental (and in hindsight, rather obvious) truth. Eurovision is more fun with company. And possibly alcohol too.

There are many other parents here at the residential parent support centre run by our local health service. Some are engaged in the wrenching task of teaching their children to sleep, something that had me in tears earlier tonight. One lucky couple is out on their 'date night' - all part of the service here. Others, knowing there's probably a tricky night ahead have sensibly gone to bed. A few are watching TV but they're in the other lounge cheering on their footy team.

But me - well I'm hardcore. It's a box of BBQ shapes and hours of cheesy Euro-pop for me. Of course if someone walks in wanting to watch NCIS I'm going to pretend that I just happen to be sitting in front of a TV somebody else turned on - I'm not sure I'm ready yet to confess my love of Eurovision to random strangers. (not ones whose facial expressions I can see anyway.)

It's all a bit empty though. I'm worried that if my daughter wakes I won't be able to respond as quickly as she deserves and popping up to check on her frequently is stopping me from getting cosy (the fluro lighting doesn't help either). But it's the lack of company that makes the biggest difference. Eurovision isn't for merely sitting back and watching. It is an interactive experience. There are costumes to be giggled at, earnestness to be mocked, non-musical bravado to be marvelled at, and one or two songs to get hopelessly stuck in your head and hummed for at least a week. Without all this it's just another really, really bad TV talent show.

Next year I think I'll tape it and watch it during the day while the little chicken is awake. She can watch it with me and sing, dance, giggle and marvel at the costumes the way that only two year olds - and Eurovision tragics can. And if she should grow up and end up representing Cyprus or Malta in the competition one day I can't say I'd be surprised. She's barely one and she's already shown a distinct penchent for dramatic behaviour at Eurovision time.

(written 28/04/10).