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The circle of life plays on my mind a lot at the moment, as I watch my children turn into adults.

 

 

Those of you with young children might find it reassuring to know that EVENTUALLY, you do reach the promised land where your children give back and start to look after you.

 

I like to call it ‘the light at the end of the tunnel’.

 

And you don’t have to wait as long as you think. You don’t have to be fully incontinent, talking COMPLETE rubbish or dribbling – because then they pack you off to a home quicker than you can say ‘incontinence pad’ – no, it happens before then.

 

I’ve reached my late forties now and I’ve noticed recently that the tables have begun to turn in our house.

 

NC has started to ‘mother’ me. And I quite like it.

 

She does that thing where she grabs my phone out of my hands with that tut of impatience that Generation Y do so well, when she sees me try to text.

 

She pokes her fingers in and around my face with a smudge here and a wipe there to reposition my badly applied makeup – because these days I can see fuck all without glasses.

 

She even plucks my eyebrows.

 

But we must have moved onto the five-star level of elderly care treatment now, because I’ve noticed that she’s begun to wipe my mouth after food, too.

 

The other day we met for a sushi lunch. We do this a lot, NC and I. We both really like the concept of sushi because we know it’s healthy and the calories we save can be spent on wine afterwards. The only problem is… neither of us actually REALLY likes sushi.

 

English: Sushi is a dish made of vinegared ric...

English: Sushi is a dish made of vinegared rice combined with seafood, vegetables, egg and sometimes beef and barbecue chicken. Sashimi is very fresh raw seafood, sliced into thin pieces, and served only with a dipping sauce (soy sauce with wasabi paste or such condiments as grated fresh ginger). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So we sit around the sushi train and we prevaricate as we watch all the exotically colorful dishes whizz around, trying to tempt us, feigning an air of cosmopolitan-ness (that neither of us really have) and pretend we will be adventurous and try something new.

 

Neither of us has ever ventured beyond sashimi.

 

But that day I metamorphosed into a fearless Japanese warrior. Having devoured our first plate of sashimi, we were well into the next five-minute-torture of awkward indecision about which dish to choose next – silently playing the ‘what the fuck is THAT?’ game – when my hunger got the better of me and so I soaked the shredded radish stuff left under my sashimi in soy sauce and tucked in.

 

And to my surprise, it was delicious.

 

NC turned back to me a few seconds later and suddenly screeched loudly:

 

“MUM! YOU’VE GOT SOY SAUCE ALL OVER YOUR FACE!. I REALLY CAN’T TAKE YOU ANYWHERE THESE DAYS!”

 

And I smiled knowingly as she spat vigorously into a paper serviette, then wiped it all around my mouth like I used to do to hers when she was a small child.

 

She’ll be feeding me soon.

 

The circle of life.

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