How Advertising Trained Me For Parenthood*

madmum

Impossible is nothing.

That one line got me into advertising. I didn’t own a single Adidas product until last month (Dem Superstars got me), but that tagline blew my mind (as did the whole speech by Ali).

And advertising is everything it promised to be! The ideas and the mental blocks, the little wins and the epic crashes, the stress and the drinking, the stress drinking, the exhaustion and the exaltation, the imagination, the lies and the promises, the celebrations.

No segue needed.

How Advertising Trained Me For Parenthood* 

Mr. O, the Art Director.

“I can’t wait to start working with you on the awesome puzzle that we’ve both been dying to start all week.”

Open the box. Too much excitement.

“Wow, that’s a great idea! How about this? No, let’s try my way. That doesn’t make sense.

Hate the colours, hate the design, hate the puzzle. Your opinion is shit. It’s all shit anyway.”

Done.

“Wow, I’m a fucking genius.”

Mr. O, the Creative Director.

“Yay! You have a story for me. I cannot wait for you to blow my mind.

Aha aha. Hmm. Ok I see what you’re trying to say. I love it. But maybe a dragon comes and drives an ambulance over the seahorse. I want fire-breathing dragons. And dying seahorses. Unexpected, but believable.”

Mr. O, the Account Manager.

“I love you so much. You’re my favourite person in the whole world. I would trust you with my eyes closed, but my hands are tied. I simply cannot eat this meal you’ve painstakingly prepared for me. I want to. Oh how I believe in it, but I just can’t. My hands. Damn these shackles. Love you, though. The best.”

Mr. O, the Producer.

To mum: “Dude. I’d pick you over him (dad) any day. You’re so much more fun. He just doesn’t get it like you do, ya’ know. Let’s be besties. OMG LET’S DO LOLLIES!”

To dad: “Dude. I’d pick you over her (mum) any day. You’re so much more fun. She just doesn’t get it like you do, ya’ know. Let’s be besties. OMG LET’S DO LOLLIES!”

Mr. O, the HR guy.

Casually strolling down the hallway after bedtime.

My brain: HOLYFUCKINGSHIT WTF IS THIS GUY DOING HERE OUT OF THE BLUE? I should just go clear my desk.

Mr. O, the Supplier.

“Ohhh you wanted to me shower today?? Oohhh see I thought you said next Tuesday. Oh no. I can’t do it today. Trucksninjasbikes. Maybe be more clear next time? I’ll still have that bribe cookie though, thanks.”

Mr. O, the Copywriter.

“Yes, that’s e before i, 2 comes after 1, and B is for butterfly.”

To himself: “Geez. They wouldn’t survive a day without me.”

Impossible is a toddler.

*Nothing trains you for parenthood. Not even parenthood trains you for parenthood. Also, Title Case Because Advertising. 

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Big name for a not-so-little girl: Higgs – Part III

When I finally landed upon Pigs, Figs and Higgs for my blog name, I knew I’d be explaining the meaning behind it forever. The name went against all the rules according to Google. It isn’t easy to remember, doesn’t really give away anything about the content and I’d have to spell it out to doubtful ears.

To me, however, it makes perfect sense. Pigs covers my (questionable) creative side, Figs is about my food/ life journey and Higgs is about today, and that’s what Part III is about.

The story of Higgs is very personal, before it was a global sensation, that is. The Higgs Particle has always intrigued me, being a Physics nerd and all. So imagine my delight when they confirmed its existence in early 2013. It meant the start of a new era in Physics and a fresh perspective on our universe.

Also confirmed in early 2013, was that we had a baby growing in my belly!

Disclaimer: I can be an over-sharer at the worst of times, but when it comes to my personal life, I’m painfully private. I post almost no photos online and other than for professing my mad, undying love for certain people, I share no details of what’s happening in my life. Yes, that makes blogging a very strange choice, but, come on, you know, just, whatever okay.

Our foetus was called Higgs because it meant the start of a new era in our lives and a fresh perspective on our universe. And it made for a very cool story while I swatted people away for rubbing my belly. Pregnancy and I went together like hand in a glove filled with a million fire ants. It was a sight to behold. I tried so hard to not be the stereotypical preggo monster swinging from mood to mood, that I ended up becoming the stereotypical teary preggo waddling from bed to couch. But that’s a story for another time. (I’m totally nailing this blogging thing!)

We began to love the idea of Higgs so much that we chose a parallel path for his name. While Higgs Boson marks the start of the universe (indirectly) according to science, the name we chose for him means the start of the universe in a spiritual sense. I’ll leave it to him to announce his name to the cyber world when he wants to, until then I’ll refer to him as Higgs. Or O, the kid or the little guy.

And today is the day that my littlest particle, Higgs, turns 2.

Now that the story behind the blog name is sorted out, I guess I’ll have to start writing for real. Hmm. Or maybe I’ll just create variations of what I’ve got? Like the Piggies talking about figs or performing-figs doing an interpretive dance on the Higgs particle theory or a Higgs in figs in pigs? Who knows? I don’t. Stay tuned. Yayy!

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