Last night my son asked me, “If you could be anything, what would it be?” This is the grown-up version of ‘whaddyawannabewhenyougrowup?’

It’s an interesting question to ask a thirty-three year old mother of 2 who has a creative arts degree. Yep, it’s always been a little vague to me. What DO I want to be? Now I would say PAID BLOGGER! For I love it so. But if I could be anything? My final answer was to work in film, writing or directing would be tops. However, my best role to date is being a mummy-mumkins-pie.

No one else can fill your position, not totally anyhow. The pay is oh so crap I cannot believe it but the rewards are priceless. There is no greater title than ‘mummy’ (except for daddy) and there is no other reason on earth I would be waking up at crazy hours except for the love of my kids. Even when they have snot streams lined up one by one down their face, even when they scream they don’t like me or I cut my toe on a piece of lego on their ridiculously messy floor… even then, it’s the best job.

My son was saying first he wants to be an actor and if all else fails, a tennis player. My daughter has decided to be two things: a teacher and a ‘police’. Which probably could be combined into the one job. When you arrest someone you teach them right from wrong, why not add in multiplication and grammar too? You could teach them square dancing, veterinary science and cross stitch, depending on how much time they spend in the slammer. I think daughty is on to a good thing here.

Growing up is sooo overrated. Money drives us grown ups more than kids realise. Work is often just paid hours not really a dream thing. Sure we gotta live and eat and sleep but it is also important to enjoy your years cos we haven’t got too many on this earth. Not really.

I think it’s terrible that Australians work the longest hours in the world. How ridiculous. We live in the most beautiful place yet we spend so many hours chained to our desks, our eyes glued on a computer screen or face to face with other pale, black-bagged-eyed, overworked creatures who wince when they go into the sunlight. Our sunlight. Our beautiful sunlight, that shines on the beaches, that grows our gorgeous fruit, that makes people happy.

Are we the little kid trying to impress all the other bigger, older kids of the world with our fierce work ethic? How did we get here? Is this what we wanted to be when we grew up? I don’t think so. You won’t hear one kid say that when they grow up they want to be a workaholic. No. They want to buy toys and games and play when they want to, eat as much chocolate as they want to, hang out with their friends when they want to. Now that’s living.