When Baby Makes Three

Like it or lump it the dynamic changes when your friends have kids.

Several of my good friends are parents now.  I have a handful that are childless but most of those don't want to remain so. Time will tell, or put realistically, it'll simply run out.

I'm no angel so I'm going to enter territories where the winged creatures may fear to tread.  Heck, I fear to tread in some part as I don't want to upset my friends (but then again new mothers hardly have time to read their friend's blog posts).  But some do, so disclaimer up front.

Parents - my intention is not to upset you.  The truth is my dirty laundry has been piling up in my head for years now - as I lose one best friend after another to the realms of motherhood.

Having said that my friends are a smart bunch and no doubt already know that despite my gripes, I'm not stupid enough to deny that change is inevitable - as is the fact people do breed.  So while I can not speak for my friends' perception of the status quo of our friendship since their baby has come - I'll speak for myself. 

It's been an adjustment and (sorry junior) one I'm not always pleased about.  Having your best mates have kids when you don't have them nor are likely to - means your friend is not as available to you.  But I'm still wide open to them.  So right there we're already out of kilter.

I miss our chats, your presence in downward dog at yoga class, brunch sans children and catch-ups over wines at the latest hotspot on a Friday or Saturday night.

When my friends have their kids, and their own life is thrown in turmoil - my life too experiences a jolt. I have no option but to see my mates with their kids in tow or lose them. The part of the friendship that is and was cherished - a one on one exclusive - is now gone to the dogs. But it's not the dogs barking for (and winning) mummy's attention during our get togethers.

Unfortunately your tiny tot is my elephant in the room.

So what can I do?

I've spent hours in front of Foxtel there's a start.  I've whiled many a Friday or Saturday night alone watching TV with my old dog and drinking vodka (very Bridget Jones).

I've spent a lot of time befriending the barman and patrons at local pubs; acquainting with neighbours; and racking up quite the mobile phone expense chatting to my friend Justine in Sydney for enjoyment because I've lost home grown entertainment in the form of going out with old friends.

The solution?

A life coach suggested joining social networking groups such as MeetUp and there was one other site….?  Others have suggested (shock horror) making new friends. I've made a few here and there but there's nothing like history in a friendship.  Shout out to my gay friend Renato who insists he has no desire to become a father himself - and yes, I did float the idea of our having kids together!

The key answer to my situation is to get creative and forge on with enriching my life in other ways. And those who know me already know there are steps being undertaken to achieve this.

But before I sign off - I must mention the kids.  Even though baby photo after toddler photo coming through on my facebook status stream can be a little annoying (sorry) especially being single and childless myself - children are most often endearing and cute.  

Like the film; "The Kids are All Right".

Really, it's me - the grumpy old lady who needs to get with the times.  We ain't in our 20s anymore.  I have to grow up alongside your kids. I can also look on the bright side. There will be a day I can share a wine with my new friend - my old mate's grown up child...for entertainment, on a Friday or Saturday night.

Farewell oh familiar one

There's something to the phrase ‘everything happens for a reason’ that I have long latched onto.

Charlotte from Sex in the City says to Carrie:  "Everything happens for a reason.  Even if you don’t know what it is yet,” as she attempts to console Carrie after the Berger ‘post it’ breakup note.

“Look at me,” Charlotte encourages.  “If I had never married Trey, then I never would have gotten divorced and I never would have met my divorce lawyer Harry, and I wouldn’t be engaged now.”

I've often thought back to this scene (because of course I am a child of Sex and the City and have seen every episode at least three times) as I repeatedly find myself in the role play of Carrie’s life. 

As I’ll ponder yet another relationship let down I will ask:  "What just happened?” and “How on earth did I let myself end up here again?”

Which is why having such sayings as ‘everything happens for a reason’ can provide me with great comfort.  

The mental anxiety, angst and yearning that weighed on my shoulder as I weaned myself off the ‘unavailable’ Tristan is only beginning to loosen its grip.  But in hindsight that knight in (perhaps not so) shining armour entered my life for a reason.  

He floated in on the long white cloud from the land of (New Zealand) to teach this Eve a thing or two about biting into the forbidden Kiwifruit.

After an adult lifetime of getting caught up in a net of unavailable men - where there’s plenty of fish in that sea - Tristan as it turns out is likely to be my last catch.  

Because now it feels like I have finally learned my lesson. 

Inadvertent to him, Tristan helped me awake from the spell of my own self destructive path. 

Up until now I had never believed a man worthy or of value unless he was out of reach - propped up on a pedestal.  He would sit up there and I would make do with sitting on the chair below, waiting for the day he’d topple down into my lap.

It’s been a while between drinks since my last swill of Tristan.  Sure, I’ve had a heavy hangover period, what goes up must come down, and I’ve faced more than a few cold lights of day juxtaposed against Melbourne’s winter grey, for my mind to come out of the fog of that particular cloud.  

But I believe to my core that Tristan entered my life for a reason. He was my lesson and teaching (and what a good teacher he was, not surprising that he actually does teach tertiary students in Dunedin).  

He put on one heck of a farewell do for me – the last hoorah, a swansong if you will - in the long line of saying sayonara to unavailable men. 

It took meeting Tristan, experiencing him and losing him – to finally figure it out.  This cannot go on any longer.

After years of acting this way and gravitating to the well-worn familiarity of the unavailable man, Tristan sounded alarm bells in more ways than one. 

And what a relief to feel it’s over. What joy to know there is and will be a different way.