No this is not a confession of an impending sprog having been getting in the way of my blogging nor is it the title of my new French film! It is simply a confession that I am a useless blogger who abandons her page and doesn’t even check to see if anyone has read the damn thing for over 9 months!!!
In truth, life has gotten in the way- work has been hard going this past year with lots of staff reshuffling and a visit from the dreaded Ofsted (all good thanks for asking!) and outside of work every spare moment has been taken up with clearing my Mother’s house (remember the hoard?).
The house I grew up in and which holds a sentimental tether to the memories of me and mum has now sold (STC)- yep it’s been hard but I know that the people who are due to move in will create many, many more and fill the house with love and laughter again.
Me? Well…I am trying hard to look forward and make many more memories to live alongside those of the past. Nostalgia is a funny thing isn’t it? Take Christmas for example- we spend years harking back to the cosy glow of ‘what we always did at Christmas’ when in reality we are thinking back to that fuzzy time of about 5 years between the start of our living memory and the discovery that Father Christmas isn’t real (What?! Says who?).
So, whilst I have been boxing up my history and nostalgia from the attic (Popple, Star Wars figures, 3rd Birthday cards) I have also been putting a lot of thought into my future. I am
32 (That’s not old I hear you gasp!), rapidly approaching 33 and seriously planning my own future as a parent. It seems to me that there has been a shift amongst my generation towards becoming first time parents in your 30s. I realise I am commenting on my own zone of proximity here but, whilst my Mother was classed as ‘geriatric’ when having me at 32, this now seems the norm. Don’t get me wrong, I know many, many wonderful people who became parents much younger and I am in no way passing judgement here but simply making an observation. I overheard a conversation in Saino’s the other day where 2 girls, well…women of about my age (yes, I know I’m not 16 anymore!) were chatting about someone who had just had their first child at 23 and they were horrified ‘Oh you haven’t even had a life at 23!’ one of them exclaimed and it got me thinking- is this the reason people are waiting until their 30s to become parents? Is there some measure of how much ‘life’ we have to of had before children come along and have I fulfilled the quota yet?
Realistically, I do wonder if the down turn in the economy and the realisation of the cost of living has something to do with people waiting to become parents although, I would guess, that like myself and Mr T, for many it is the lure of Long Haul, adult only holiday destinations and establishing grown person carers to pay off our student debts that are more than likely responsible.
Surely there is no set amount of ‘life’ you must live before having children (taking life to mean hangover inducing nights out, backpacking across numerous countries and passing judgement on those with children in the way only childless people can) before parenthood descends? Certainly if I base my thinking on my mothers rather soppy musings that becoming a parent is when your ‘life’ really truly begins (hey she did have the wonderful Me to be thankful for!) then the 23 year old girl who was the topic of convo in the bread aisle is going to of ‘had a life’ far sooner than her 2 so called friends.
When the time comes for Mr T and I to become parents, I would like to think that we will still do the wonderful things we do now and that they will be all the more amazing for the little one at our side- just like my lovely Alibongo has managed with her gorgeous little froggy and that we will be living a life that is all the more richer for having created one.
Of course I am not naive and totes understand what to 2 women were meaning but…
What are your thoughts?
Does having children mean your life is over?
Did you cram in life before having children?
Do you live life with children?
Mrs T x