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Big Girl Panties Required

TSP guest blogger Gin Bunny offers a glimpse into The Gin Bunny Diaries - end of 2019/start of 2020. Don’t worry, she assures us, no resolutions were harmed in the writing of this post

1. The Gin Bunny endured so many farewells from friends emigrating that she started to feel like a common denominator.

Can all current friends please sign the three-year contract I have emailed to you so that I may continue to invest in you emotionally and with my time? Thanks In Advance.

2. The Gin Bunny nearly registered a missing persons report when her rare asset of a pleasant-ish teenager went AWOL for the holiday period while it processed the jump to High School and withdrew into itself. I have been bereft because she wouldn’t talk to me in the manner she usually employed (i.e. muchness of information and with a not-too-rolly-eyed tone), but during the ‘absence’ a horrible new biting tone emerged, which was used to inform me that she did not wish to discuss certain (most) topics. I was also taken by surprise during the first day of Grade 8 drop-off. I have been delighted in our choice of my alma mater for her High School and thoroughly convinced that she will thrive and shine there. Strangely not emotional at all.

So, when I drove past the Primary School on a January morning and encountered the turning circle which would literally and figuratively take us on a new path, the quick-to-water Bunny eyes began a’fillin’.

Even during the heated argument of, “But WHERE is the HALL?” / “It’s THERE, you can see it, it is the GIANT MASSIVE building that it is before our eyes” / “But HOW will I know where the entrance is?” / “You will FOLLOW. ALL. THE. OTHER. PEOPLE going in the SAME DIRECTION,” the frustration of dealing with this new surly teenager did not dampen the spirit in which I howled dramatically in my car for 5 whole minutes before I could drive off again. Something got to me about the ‘bigness’ of it all… and about releasing my 13-year-old cherub into a place where boys with 18-year-old nether regions roam freely.

3. And lastly in the Bunny Diaries, a moment of empathy – or realization of one’s own tendency to be a hypocrite. As a teacher I always implore parents to trust us and trust in the process of exploring ways to help children who are unable to function according to their potential. They often do not like the advice given and rally many other methods in the hopes of suddenly creating a miracle transformation. Then I found the shoe on the other foot when I took my beloved kitten for her sterilization and was advised to buy a cone for her neck to ensure that she did not lick her stitches post-operation. I did not WANT to buy a cone. I employed a snippy tone and reported that my other two sterilized cats had not needed cones. I was politely advised again to purchase a cone rather than risk the stitches being bitten out.

Eventually I huffed and puffed and purchased the bloody cone.

I tried the kitten without the cone… and obviously, she needed to wear the cone for four whole days and I was just relieved that I did not have to go back (tail between legs – sorry, pun intended) to the vet to purchase it. It was beyond the kitten’s control to regulate her own behaviour and she needed the intervention which was advised, even though it appeared intrusive and was uncomfortable. I even succumbed to ‘ag shame’ moments where I pleaded with her not to bite her stitches if I removed the Cone of Shame for just a few minutes… only to end up trying to pull her out from under the cupboard while she hissed and scratched me because she wanted to lick her stitches. It was a moment of understanding of how we often feel strongly that we know better than the professional advice being offered; as well as an unwillingness to see our beloved suffer discomfort even though this discomfort is the pathway to banishing discomfort on a much larger scale which would have larger consequences.

4. So… new beginnings in 2020. New challenges await the Gin Bunny which call for the wearing of the proverbial Big Girl Panties. Fortunately, after the holiday, the only thing that fits IS, in fact, Very Big Girl Panties. Massive Girl Panties, if you will. So I am going to take that as a good sign moving forward. Wishing you many Big Panty moments yourselves, darlings. Mwah.

· This is a guest post submitted by Gin Bunny, an East London beaut parenting a pair of girlchildren - one in primary, and one a freshly-minted highschooler. To join the conversation, like the Thank You Sorry Please Facebook page here.

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