My mum reads my blog. Oh dear.
I got a call a couple of days ago (Skype is a great way to stay in touch with family across borders without going bankrupt) where she worried (it’s a family trait, worrying – if there’s something to worry about, we worry – if there’s nothing to worry about, we worry – at least we’re consistent) asked me what I had said to my friends to warrant such a ‘hostile’ blog entry as the no-baby-entry. That’s when I knew that my mother is now officially NORWEGIAN. I don’t know at what point she stopped being Danish, but apart from some funny vowel sounds and the inability to hear the difference between ‘bønder’ (farmers/peasants) and ‘bønner’ (beans) she has now succumbed to the habit of not adding even the smallest pinch of salt when reading stuff I write.
You see – brace yourself – if I didn’t put things just a tinsy bit on the edge MY LIFE WOULD COME ACROSS AS REALLY, REALLY BORING. However, that entry is entirely true, void of embellishments of any kind and merely express a gentle wish to be respected IN SPITE OF HAVING FAILED TO REPRODUCE and thus fail completely as a woman. I admit it. I am a failure. I am childless and I offend my friends by not wanting to wipe the snot off their offspring’s faces, by not letting their toddlers demolish Kevin’s stereo, and most of all, I offend them by feeling uncomfortable in general around kids.
My feelings offend them! And I am to blame! I see that now. I shall turn to religion, possibly Catholicism, and go to church and confess my offensive feelings. Line, forgive me! You have shown, through your response which actually revealed a sense of humour, almost entirely unknown among Norwegians, that you are a greater person than me and that I don’t deserve you as a friend. If you want me to play tea-party with Jenny, I will! I have seen the light!
I shall now go find a church which should not be too hard since there is an oppressively large one situated mere yards away around the corner so I don’t have to make too much of an effort.
