There I was, feeling quite content with motherhood, when I foolishly opened the program for our capital's Festival of Ideas.
Fabulous stuff. Interesting topics being discussed that one can sit in on and feel all intellectual and suchlike.
Of course, I made the mistake of reading the blurbs of the people who would be presiding at said conference of incredible intelligent peoples.
I ended up drooling over the CVs of all these fabulously intelligent women my age who have done what I planned to do once I finished my degree. Now I wander around going "Yes honey, duck" all bloody day while they're off being Chair of XYZ Fabulously Intelligent Committee and saving people from human rights injustices.
Its not that I think raising the Spudly One is less important than saving the world from human rights abuses, or writing amazingly successful books about god-knows-what-amazing-thing-that might-change-the-face-of-the-planet but...BUT...
Once, I had an idea that I might make a difference. That I might actually have the nous to figure out something that no-one else had figured out before, and that it would actually have some sort of impact on society. Once, I had the idea that I would do something Important. Something that would have people In The Know go "Wow. We never thought about it like that before. She's totally right."
But instead, I am naming all objects in sight and wondering when my son will twig than not everything he sees is a duck, and wondering if there is any prospect of me regaining the brain that I worked so very hard to get to Distinction standard.
Once, I had the crazy idea of being the head of the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission, Keepin' It Real for the regular Bruce on the street. Now, Keepin' It Real extends as far as the ingredients in whatever happens to be served for Breakfast/Lunch/Dinner/Snack.
Its not that I dont want to be teaching another human being about the world, sharing my knowledge with someone so small and impressionable, raising the next generation, blah blah blah. Its just that...I miss the intellectual pursuits. The selfishness that comes with that. Being able to spend hour upon hour in the library reading Plato and Kant and Dawkins and Singer and Mill and Rawls.* Having the time and the space to think about their arguments and formulate my own and think about how great society could be, if only...
Instead, I find myself creating a better society one day at a time, one word at a time, one tantrum at a time. Is this the more rewarding way? Is this the way to a better society? I know I have written about this before and argued that it is, but right now...right now I miss the cerebralnesnes (shut UP), I crave the ethereal and I would do almost anything to avoid the mundane.
There must be a balance here somewhere.
Oh please tell me there is a balance here somewhere. I really dont want to end up with an IQ of a toddler.
*Slaps self in head for longing to be back in the library for hour upon hour.