I am Some Old Friends, Some New Mum

It’s International Friendship Day.
Many of us have probably found over the years, that our friends change. The friends we had at school, who we could NEVER imagine our lives without, change.
The friendships we form at Uni or work, tend to last a bit longer.
The hardest thing to learn about friendship is that no matter what age you are, friendships can and do change. And sometimes, they can and do end.
And there is no age limit on this.
Life gets busy.
Life gets stressful.
Priorities change.
Children coming along can be the biggest factor in the beginning of the end of some friendships.
And in the same sense, it can be the beginning of new friendships and relationships.
Last week I went on a blind date.
Yup. You read right.
I put on my heels and some muckup and I got my Him to drop me to the pub. And I hadn’t a clue who was going to turn up.
See the Mums in Mini-Me’s class have a wattsapp group and I had jokingly suggested a Mammy camp during a conversation about the camps the kids were all going to over the summer. We chose a random date and by the time it came around, only 1 or 2 could still make it.
“Shall we cancel?”
Tempting… but I was getting a Friday night out and I was going come hell or high water, even if it meant sitting on my own for a few hours.
Thankfully, two other Mums arrived, equally as anxious and unnerved at this new experience. We introduced ourselves, ordered drinks and sat for 4 hours chatting and sharing and drinking and laughing.
I highly recommend it. There’s something liberating about spending time with new people, with no motive and no expectations, other than to be nice and have company for an evening.
I’m looking forward to the next one where hopefully a few more of the Mums can come too. And there is always room for new friends. You never know who is out there waiting to be a fablis part of your life…
But aside from this, I have to admit that I have a wonderful Mamma Tribe.
I have my Knickers; my fellow supper of Sea-wind, sharer of everything, Big sister and secret-keeper of all. We’ve been through more than any pair of friends I know, and we’re not done yet.
I have my LQ; my longest friend all the way from Uni, with whom I click right into place even when we’ve gone months without seeing each other. (She’s moving home from the UK tomorrow. Our children will grow up together and we shall grow wrinkly together!)
I have my Rainbow; My partner in many crimes who keeps me sane and grounded and yet agrees to fly with me everytime a crazy notion takes me soaring. She’s the Wendy to my Tinkerbell, holding my hand through the clouds and the stars. (And she loves gin as much as I do…)
I have my Lady V; who makes me smile and understands everything. So kind, so beautiful, so stylish and so funny. No masks or facades required around this Dolly.
And then there is my Jo: my beautiful gal whose optimism and kindness is like no one I’ve ever known. A bold rascal but always a lady, there’s so much more to this little lioness than meets the eye.
I’m lucky. Of course I am.
And even through the changes that having kids and husbands and dogs and, you know, life bring, I always know that one of these crazy bitches will be on the other end of the phone. And right on my doorstep if I need them.
Of course I’ve lost friends. I’ve had friends from whom I’ve drifted. I’ve had friendships which I’ve ended. I’ve had friends cut me out.
And while each of these makes me sad sometimes, there are a few that in hindsight, were not as fablis as I once thought. Some were draining. Some were exhausting. Some were unhealthy. Some were nothing short of septic, but hindsight is 20;20 isn’t it?
And I’m sure that while I am certainly better off without them, they are probably better off without me too. I’m far from perfect. Who is?
So today, on ANOTHER International Day of… send your Buddies a message, or tag them below, or pour a cuppa/glass and dial.
Because friends are the family we chose for ourselves aren’t they? And if tomorrow is “International Day of the Crazy Wine drinking cackling sarcastic Wagon-full-of-hugs”, will you be tagging the same gals? Because that’s how you know true pals.

I am Soon to be Mum…again!

Well it’s almost time.

The hospital bags are packed and in the car.

The to-do lists are almost all done.

The house has been wrecked and cleaned to the point that one would be forgiven for assuming that we’re hosting a Station Mass.

The Husband is exhausted (well, he thinks he is!) and the Mini-me is bouncing off the walls with excitement.

And me?

I’m absolutely bricking it.

I think that even after nearly 10 months of being pregnant, (tell me please where the magic number 9 came from?), it only hit me that there’s an actual baby arriving when I opened the box of baby clothes last week to begin washing.  When I lifted the first little vest out of the “0-3 neutral” box, my heart almost stopped.

To me, my Mini-Me is still a baby.  She’s almost 4 and taller than most 5 year olds, but she’s my wee baby.  She’s in pre-school and growing more independent by the day, but she’s only a baby…to me.

As I emptied the little vests and babygrows, I was thrown back in time and could clearly see her brand new little self, dressed in each outfit.  I could even remember the first time she wore some of the outfits;  the oooohs! and aaaahs! of family members when they saw the little outfits on her; how I felt all grown up dressing my real-life Dolly in the adorable pieces.  And it stirred up a barrage of emotions that I really don’t have the words for.

Mini-me is excited about being a Big Sister.  She has been practicing on dolls and we talk about the new baby all the time.  Baby Bubba, (as she calls my belly), is coming to live with us soon.  And while she can’t wait, I’m terrified as she doesn’t quite understand what’s ahead of her.

No longer will she be the absolute, single and only centre of our world.  No longer will the bedtime routine be all about her.  No longer will I be able to read three bedtime stories just because I can.

She’s going to have to learn a whole new set of skills; how to share, how to wait until Mammy or Daddy are able to give her attention; how to be the Big Sister.

big sis1

In one of my hormonal snotfests recently, I admitted to Hubby that my biggest fear is not being able to be mammy to both of my babies.  I’m more afraid of Mini-Me feeling left out or unloved, than I am of giving birth.

I’m afraid of how she’s going to cope while I’m in hospital.  I’m dreading her being told that it’s time to go home at the end of visiting hours.  I’m terrified that she’s going to decide that we’re not keeping the baby! (I have it on authority from another S-Mum that this can happen…)

I’m petrified that she’s going to, at some point, have to stand back and watch another little person getting the attention that she’s always had the monopoly on.

In short, I’m just bloody terrified.

And yet, rational me knows that she’s not the first child to become a big sister.

I’m the eldest of 6 and at no point in my life have I ever felt any of the things that I’m worried she’ll feel.  Having younger brothers and sisters has made me me. It has enriched my life and continues to provide fun every day, even in adulthood!  The companionship and certainty of friendship that siblings provide can never be measured and I know that Mini-me will thrive.

She’s going to be just fine.

big sis2

But that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to worry.

I’m pregnant.  I’m emotional.  I’m probably a little teensy bit crazy, but I’m allowed to be.  I’m allowed the odd melt down.  I’m allowed to succumb to absolutely irrational notions that randomly pop into my head.  And anyone who wants to dismiss my fears as nonsense, is either very brave or very foolish. (Or they’ve never experienced being 28 months pregnant!)

And along side all of this crazy, I’m excited.  I can’t wait to finally meet the little munchkin who has been battering my insides so beautifully.  I can’t wait to see if the name we’ve chosen suits.  I can’t wait to see if there’s resemblance to Mini-Me.  I can’t wait to hear their little voice for the first time.  I can’t wait to see Mini-me’s face when she sees a real baby!  (I can’t wait to see my own toes and to no longer have cramps in my arse cheek every 45 minutes…but that’s a whole other post!)

Holding the vest reminded me that inside this abnormally HUMONGOUS and very uncomfortable bump, my next Mini is getting ready to come join in the madness of our home.  They too will wear the little vests and they too will stamp all over our hearts with their tiny wee feet.  They will love the Big Sister unconditionally and will be loved in return.

big sis3

And I can not wait.

I am Soon-to-be Mum. 🙂


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