A few years ago, before we even thought of having kids, in a time when we ran a kick-ya-shoes-off give no f’***s lifestyle, I went down to the town I grew up in to stay with some buddies. These beautiful buddies have kiddies and had 2 under the age of 3 at the time.
Now going back is always an adventure and this was no exception as one of said friends hadn’t been out on the lash since having baby number 2. To my detriment, when I get an idea in my mind, I have to follow it through. This idea was staying out till 5 am. No sweat, I got this, WE got this. A big fat YOLO was on my mind. My friend however warned me that we would be woken by her little cherub in our bed at about 6am and she has to do x y and z tomorrow and then this and that and cant stay out too late or blah blah ahhhh cue elevator music in my head, tune out.
At about midnight, she started to falter. I pumped her full of vodka redbulls (later on she told me that she actually asked the bar man to just give her a water…sneaky sneaky) ‘Come on, I NEVER come home! Do it for MEEeeeeee. This is so much FUNNnnnn.’ I say as I swing round the lampost, doing my best Beyonce move.
We made it to 3. As we crawled into bed, she kindly said to me ‘You know in 3 hours X is going to be in here…Good night’ ‘Sweet, no worries…I’ll look after her..’
6am, sure enough, the gorgeous poppett comes skipping in and jumps on the bed thinking its the best thing EVER. FML in that moment, FML.
Luckily, she has an amazing husband who whisks bubs away to leave us (actually, just me, sneaky sneaker-boot with her drinking water all night) to wallow in misery.
Wow. What a wake up call. This is reality for them. I didn’t get it. Or more, I didn’t believe it, didn’t think it to be true. But my friend got up, and carried on with her day, as if the 3am getting home experience never happened. What a trooper, trooping on like that. But that’s what she had to do. Get on with it. ‘Cause babies butts don’t wipe themselves and fairy princesses don’t read the same book 1000x over in one day by themselves.
It does sounds a tad dramatic but in that moment, I realised how NAIVE I was to having kiddies and the responsibility they bring. I realised what a freaking legend my friend was and how much I hadn’t taken the time to get to know her at her new gig. Sure, she is still a goofball, who loves a good glass of wine and a boogie and can do a mean dutch oven…LOL at thattttttt sorry bud.
But she has a new role. A new evolving, beautiful, crazy, caring, life changing, life influencing role. It was one snapshot that I needed to see, to appreciate it all and all that she is and does (granted, it was one morning but still, I was amazed) And I’m so glad I did see it.
Because now I get it. I live it and breathe it.
I drove back to my home 2 hours away and thought about what I experienced. I totally underestimated the ‘job’ of running a family. Whether it be from the mother, the father, aunty, nephew, granny, papa or who ever, the task is big, the responsibility is massive and until you’ve lived in it or at least immersed yourself in it, you do not know what is up. I certainly didn’t, and at times now, still don’t! But now at least I try not to cue elevator music in my head. Unless its my own circus. Then that shizz is on volume 100%.
Amazing thing is this family business.
While I pulled into the Macdonalds drive thru, sipping on my blue poweraide bottle and contemplating how brilliant my friend is, Beyonce ‘single ladies’ song popped onto the radio and gave me a cringe flashback to the night before. Poor lampost. Poor witnesses. FML.