I am Mother, or as I prefer to be called: Batman. Yup, I’m Batman. That’s me. Unlike other superheroes, I don’t possess any real superpowers. I can’t fly or walk through walls, I don’t have super strength or laser eyes, I can’t make myself invisible or super fast. I am a mere human. I am a broody, moody, dark and introverted human.
As Batman, I have a lot going on in my life. Keeping Gotham from dissolving into chaos and caring for my bats is a full-time job. Everywhere I look there is another pile of crap and that goddamn bat signal is constantly lit up. Can no-one do anything without needing my help?
I spend most of my days in my cave, being shit on by my bats. I mean they’re lovely and all, but personally, I’d prefer to be getting sweaty wrestling Heath Ledger or Jared Leto than cleaning up any more bat poop!
I find my identity is totally wrapped up in Batman. I honestly can’t tell where ‘I’ start and ‘Batman’ stops. I mean, people call me Batman for crying out loud. It’s my title, and titles are serious business.
Batman does not take time off
Look at The Queen: even when she’s taking a piss, she’s The Queen, there’s no day off from that shit. Nowadays it would be impossible, IMPOSSIBLE to separate myself from Batman and by Christ am I craving a short-term separation, otherwise known as a Day Off. Imagine a day when no-one fires up the bat signal? A day where I don’t have to be responsible for keeping things alive? One day, just for me, whoever that is.
Cue Robin – my husband. Robin is loyal, reliable, a man-wonder, crafty and always there to back this Batman up. If I’m honest though, sometimes I think ‘wouldn’t it be fecking great to be Robin?’ I mean, Robin follows Batman’s lead, he responds to requests and follows orders to the tee. Solving Gotham’s problems and caring for the bats is not occupying the same amount of brain space. He just follows orders.
Right now for example, in an effort to compose this analogy-riddled anecdote, I’m out of Gotham, Robin has taken the wheel. Capable, amazing, wonderful, resourceful, loving, sexy (OK maybe this is going too far. The Dynamic Duo didn’t really go there) Robin. But with the best of intentions, instructions and planning, I know that the minute I return to Gotham, I’m driving the Batmobile. Ya, ya, ya I know, there’s a problem here, who would NOT want to drive the Batmobile???
Well, look at it like this, would you prefer to be the the designated driver stuck planning the route, or the one in the passenger seat slamming tequila shots and in charge of the radio?
Can’t I be the sidekick?
I guess the question is, as Batman, could I ever be a sidekick? Could I sit back and let Robin make all the decisions? Would I want to? I think the answer is HOLY MOTHER OF DIVINE SHITE YES. But only maybe for some of the week, the bit where I’m drained and out of ideas, the bit where I’ve scrubbed the Batcave from top to bottom, shined the Batmobile, fed the bats, cleaned the bats, introduced my bats to other bats, fed the bats again, played with the bats for hours but they still want more of my attention.
The rest of the time, it’s my pleasure to witness the bats’ every move, their waking noises and falling asleep noises, their happy faces and their laughs, their smiles of recognition, their cute faces when they discover new things. I love my bats, very, very much, they are the highlight and love of my life. However from now on, at the weekends at the very least, in this village-life version of Gotham, Robin is driving the Batmobile. This Batman is taking off her lycra, pouring a prosecco bath and mainlining Netflix.
About Riona O’ Connor
Riona, AKA The Unnatural Woman is an actor, singer, over-eater and blogger, usually found on a West End stage. Nowadays she spends much of her time despairing over how to entertain her young baby or plotting how to make Wine Time as compulsory as baby groups and cake.