Saturday, 15 January 2011

Mummies who Munch

Most weeks, I meet up with a fairly excellent bunch of women. We drink tea and coffee, we eat lunch and cake (not necessarily in that order), and we talk. We rant together about the ridiculousness of the petty stresses we shouldn't have to deal with, about the unreliability of feeding pumps, or the utter hideousness of tidal waves of mice in the shed. And we laugh. With each other, and at each other. A lot.

Sitting alone, I might find the endless round of cleaning up different varieties of bodily fluids deeply depressing. With friends, friends who have all done similar things, the retelling becomes an excuse to repeat all our top "Code Browns", and each becomes funnier than the last. And when friends like these get together in the middle of January for a big post Christmas Christmas (because Christmas itself got too busy with sick children and busy families and just life generally), and when the code brown conversations are combined with a presents of prettily wrapped bath smellies, well, then you know you have friends who knew you'd appreciate them even before they read your blog. That or you can worry you really do smell quite bad quite a lot of the time.

And then when friends swap presents for their families too, you get to spend a peaceful Saturday watching this

and loving this
and relax and read a book as one child spends an entire afternoon with an etch-a-sketch and a Peppa Pig album, and the other insists on modelling her first outfit straight away, and giggles for the next three hours when she sees the NEW CLOTHES. And enjoy the fact that both girls have things they want to wait to do with Grannie and Grandad too.

This friendship is special. We all have children who are vaguely Mog-like in their disabilities and unpredictabilities. We all therefore have more or less accessible houses, and remain unfazed by empty catheter wrappers left glued to the bedroom walls after a visit. There's a short cut in the conversation (although you wouldn't think we'd left much out, if you were sitting at the next table) where you don't have to explain the short night or the need for the telephone to be on and fully charged and sitting by your elbow. We can celebrate one child's smile whilst worrying about an other's "not quite right-ness". And we can recognise the subtle seizures, and poke and prod at each others' children, and all be mightily entertained when small children do silly things like falling off their chairs. Comedy is tragedy postponed and shared with friends.

And, for something completely different, howzat for a Toad in the Hole?
Which has absolutely nothing at all to do with this post. I'm just chuffed to have finally beaten Yorkshire Pudding Batter into submission.



Sleepwalker said...

How funny, your brother was delighted to manage yorkshire puddings today. You're on the same wavelength. Have some virtual chocolate birthday cake slice <| -experience may be shared via Asda's chocolate celebration cake because it was not from scratch. Lovely photo's of Mog and Little Fish, glad you had fun. Xxx

Anonymous said...

How wonderful that you have friends like this in your life. Its why I appreciate CPSK--
Thank the Lord for wonderful friends.

pippinsmum said...

Mmmmm! It looks good enough to eat! Glad you have friends who can help you stay sane.

Tia said...

I think it's more that they share the insanity!

Doorless said...

I love yorkshire pudding. Guess I will have to make one.
Glad you have so many friends that are near enough to get together with. We are more spread out in the states so do not have that support.

Alexis said...

Inspiring post, realised I need some fellow mummies who munch in my life!

Tia said...

Can't recommend it highly enough! Took a long time - I've always had friends with other "children like mine" but not locally. And I've had local friends without disabled children. Combining the two is great - so nice not to have to constantly explain.


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