Parenting is like the weather.
Not the beautiful summer weather of Perth.
Its more like the weather of a small island possibly in the middle of the wild Atlantic Ocean. Or perhaps the most southern tip of Western Australia where the Indian Ocean hits the treacherous Southern Ocean.
The parenting wind is pretty consistent on the coast. Just off the continental book shelf there is the background noise that never goes away. The Hurricane. “Hurricane Child” the worst type
, whips through the house only one day after it has been painstakingly repaired. The recovery team worked late to replace the fences and nail the hatches, roofs and utensils down.
It only takes half an hour of “Hurricane Child” to cause unimaginable destruction. Debris strewn for East to West, walls damaged, graffiti, grime, broken ornaments, thrashed cupboards.
The forecasters can never seem to get their predictions accurate, leaving no option but to take last minute cover in the Pantry. Surviving only on rations of chocolate from last Christmas and ancient red wine.
There is never a rescue team available to help out with the storm clean up, to restore full power or even roofing.
The same small team must carry out the clean up day in day out with very little reward.
Sunny spells do happen from time to time however they can be quickly clouded by a thick green downpour. Sometimes even hail can strike when you least expect it. Half digested chips and curdled ice cream come lashing down on top of you with no chance to take cover.
At times the wind can howl so strong that you think perhaps there may be banshees in your roof. However this is a wild Banshee that defy’s legend it does not like to comb its hair preferring to sport thick unwashed dreadlocks.
At night when all is quiet and you are far away in the land of nod the thunder can clap so hard you think an earthquake maxing 10 on the richter scale has hit. MMMMMMUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMM MUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYY it moans. You try and ignore thinking its passed. However the cloud is right above you now you this know because you counted between the flash and the bang.
As climate change increases the storms worsen. Your home is never ever ever tidy. The ice caps continue to melt, someone keeps leaving the fridge door open. The rations get lower and lower.
This is weather that can never be tamed.
It is what it is.
So we try and allow the storms to wash over us while we lay down amongst the debris. It is not easy to do but there is no other way.
We must adapt. make fences that are stretchy, embrace the damage, lower your standards.
For within the eye of the storm is Life.
Precious priceless Life.
The continuation of your love.