To the ones I love...

Photo: Getty Images
Photos: Getty Images
Liz Breslin shares some advice for her kids.

Liz Breslin
Liz Breslin

Two of my favourite columnists, Caitlin Moran and Michele A'Court, have written things of advice to their offspring, which are memorably funny and poignant and smart, including but not limited to bits about tea and biscuits and mashed potato, respectively.

 

I typically don't write about my offspring because we've got a tacit agreement about it and anyway I know plenty of ways to properly, warmly, deeply embarrass them off the page, as is my parental duty.

But because of the example set by the brilliant women above, because I was so moved by the advice from the heartfelt speeches by Luke Burke and Patrick Gainsford at the recent Mount Aspiring College junior prizegivings, because it's approximately a decade since I wrote anything to do with parenting advice, because I'm still making it all up anyway and because it was my twins' 14th birthday on Saturday, they agreed I could write them an advice column.

But only this once. And no mashed potato. And certainly nothing that could be written on a rainbow or a sunset and stuck on Instagram. None of this oh-my-gosh-I'm-so-proud-of-you handwringing stuff. (Though I am, I am.) Nothing cringe-worthy or lame.

Which leaves me, quite obviously, with a shortage of things I can actually write in this, my last column for 2017. But I'm going to give it a hundy, as I mostly try to with all things mumsy (put that on a rainbow.) This one's for you, the kids. High 10.

• When you're in a big line of traffic it's sometimes a good idea to pull over and allow all the other speeding cars to go past, so you can travel safely and comfortably at your own speed. I know you're not old enough to drive. I know you also know that it's a metaphor as well as road navigation advice. It's exactly the same with swimming out of a rip, except completely different.

• If you're going to make fashion statements, make really flamboyant ones. And also any other kind of statement, come to think about it. There is far too much of what Kate Tempest calls ``the beigeness'' in this world. Be bold. (This will have the added bonus of helping us with the file of embarrassing photos and stories we're compiling for your 21st birthday.)

• Or, be quiet. Two of my favourite poems are the one by Naomi Shihab Nye about the parties and the sausages and the one by C.P. Cafavy about keeping to yourself as much as you can. And they both make the same good points: look after the heart of you. Poems can be pertinent and fabulous on so many levels. Did I ever mention that I quite like poems?

• It's almost always possible to trick yourself into doing something you're putting off by writing it on a list.

• If you're ever bored at a party, use this handy phrase: "So, like, smash the patriarchy, amiright?'' Chances are the conversation will either get more interesting or end abruptly. Winner.

• When you're sad or stuck, open a door. Step outside. Put one foot in front of the other. Repeat and breathe until you feel something else. I also find this works with pedalling, swimming, stretching and doing garden things, although there's a different rhythm to them all.

• Read the book before you watch the film. It's just a rule. And, on the subject of films, don't ever tell anyone that I cried 11 times during Love Actually. Some things should stay in the family.

• It's one thing to have dreams, but it's that much more powerful to work hard and work through barriers towards them.

• Care so it hurts. Fight. Don't let bulldozing old mothers or the lure of FOMO notifications or fear of "should'' get in the way. Get out there and be your flamingest selves. (Or don't. I'll love you anyway.)

• There are NOT plenty more fish in the sea. This is not a metaphor. This is not a drill.

• Choose kindness as your super-power. I know. I say that all the time and also, you could definitely put it on a sunset rainbow. But heck, it makes a difference in the world. As you two do in mine every day. I'm so happy and proud to be your mother. You are my rainbows and my sunsets and sunrises. Fourteen years. Cue hand-wringing. Happy birthday. Oh dears.

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