Bubbles (and the blowing thereof) always feels to me like a summer time activity. Watching the iridescent spheres lazily float across greenery of some sort makes me think of 90’s jams, barbecues, and bobble wrapped braids – childhood nostalgia!
Fortunately, I don’t need a time machine to experience this joy again with my bubble-obsessed toddler.
Which is brilliant, because…
if anyone was going to get lost in time, it’s me and the Hatchling.
“Where does this go?” asks my mum, waving some trinket at me.
I shrug: “I dunno.” Then I frown. “I just find it really hard to get rid of stuff, even if I know I don’t need it now.”
My mother sighs deeply, acknowledging our similarities. “It’s that poverty mindset.”
And I remember being impressed, because my mum is not someone prone to any sort of deep or constant reflection. And she absolutely hit the nail on the head concerning the reason for my inability to let go of certain things.
It’s definitely something that runs in the family – my mum is a notorious stasher. One of my favourite memories was when my sister and I got sick of not being able to see her vanity table and started clearing it.
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I was raised Catholic, so I’m pretty good at feeling guilty about various things I do and don’t do *studiously ignores washing-up mountain spilling out of the kitchen*
But man, thinking about the planet is my biggest guilt trip.
When you consider the magnitude of the problem, it’s very easy to get caught up in the stress of worrying extensively about the environment (dubbed ‘eco-anxiety‘) and question almost every action made and the potential consequences for the planet.
Where did I put my reusable shopping tote bag?
Organic or non-organic veg??
Will using this body wash kill dolphins???
A Black Penny 