Monday, 27 June 2011

continuing the theme...

There's lots of them about. It feels strange. Like my friends have been naughty and gotten knocked up by mistake and we have to hide it from our parents. And then I remember I'm only half a year from 30 (to the day) and it's more than normal that over 50% of my friendship group have littluns in tow. I swing between uber-broody and absolutely frickin petrified of the P-word sometimes hovering in the middle at "I'm settled with a great man (don't tell him that, he'll get a big head) a stable job and a roof over our heads, so let's consider it".
There's nothing, literally nothing, that makes me feel better when I'm down in the dumps than a snuggle with a new born baby. Snuggles are great normally, but make your fellow snuggler a cute little bug with a scrunched up face, chubby little hands, little snuffly sleeping noises, THAT baby smell (impossible to replicate - even with all the key ingredients), a onsie with farmyard animals/colourful vehicles/flowers/cartoon characters on and that snuggle is just about the best thing ever. So I imagine when the snuggler is your own child it must just feel like your whole reason for being alive....
I've been to visit my friends in hospital before bub was even two or three hours old, I've spoken to my friends whilst they're feeling the contractions burn (apparently "burn" is not the word... Apparently there is no word for that pain), I've held their children while they screamed, smiled and snuffled and felt nothing but the need to protect, love and care. I'm welling up now thinking about it... So imagine what I'll feel like about my own. Christ!
Which makes me think that I should just give in and get on the baby wagon. Maybe.
Maybe not.
I'm scared though. I'm indecisive at the best of times. Pink shoes or yellow ones? KitKat or M&Ms? Jeans or a dress? Blue nails or pink? So imagine my indecisive brain trying to deal with "Baby or no baby?"
Have I done everything I need to do? Have I visited enough countries (never!)? Have I had enough wild nights out (probably... NYE 2010/11 put that to bed for a while!)? Do I need to do more education type stuff? You know, MBAs, learn some languages (again), get that A Level in psychology that I always regretted. Do some kind of history course, learn how to take a proper photograph, learn an arty skill, get that last dance certificate (the one there's still a space for in my Achievement Folder for). Have I ACHIEVED enough to qualify as a parent (nope!)? Am I mature enough to care for an infant (I can barely care for myself to be honest!)?
Then there's the money, energy and time issues. I think I'm broke because I can't afford those *perfect* wedges in pink AND green and then borrow my bus fare off Nick. I think I'm tired because I've sat up all night catching up on Made in Chelsea. I think I'm busy because I haven't got time to drive all over the county chasing after that bargain Primark dress seen in Grazia magazine (I got Nick to do it instead - yes I'm super smug that i not only found Mr Perfect but in fact I also tricked him into marrying me - SCORE!!). I think I'm harassed because I have to clean the flat to make the house presentable before guests come over. I think I'm hard done to because I don't have a cook and a cleaner and an ironing lady (although Mr Perfect is a good substitute). In my head, once these things are sorted I'll be able to settle down and have children. Once these things are taken care of I'll be a proper grown up and will be perfectly qualified to become a parent.
Unfortunately, I realised a little while ago that these things are never going to "get sorted". Which means that, god forbid, I probably qualify as a Proper Adult now. I’m not too far off the age my parents were when they had me.
Which is scary.
Very scary.
How can I be a grown up when I still go to parties/bars/clubs and fall asleep in the toilet/throw up on myself (and other people)/become that person that's asleep on the sofa while other guests balance things on my alcohol-deadened body.
How can I be a grown up when I still get excited about going to Disneyland?
How can I be a grown up when I get so drunk I sleep past my stop on the train and think it's clever to share a cab home with a strange man, who to be fair had fancy shoes? Although I did check whether he was a rapist or a murderer before I got in. You know… safety first.
How can I be a grown up when I feel like a productive Sunday consists of catching up on sitcoms, eating cereal and Haribo for lunch, beating my top score on Fruit Ninja then going to my parents’ to get some kind of nutrition when I discover that there’s nothing in my fridge but chocolate Alpro (at least three years old), strawberry beer (yeuch), rosemary (huh?) personalised chocolate bars (don’t ask) and three half-finished bottles of wine?
How can I be a grown up when my brother and I still argue about who gets the dust at bottom of the Frosties packet?
To be fair, how can I be a grown up when I still eat Frosties…
…for dinner…

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