I caught up with a fellow fast talker last night. It was fabulous.
We had just over an hour together – after about three years apart – but it felt like so much longer because we did so much chitter chatting.
She followed everything I said (and vice versa). Sometimes people have trouble keeping up with me because I don’t stay on topic – I’m a conversational Mexican jumping bean.
It’s much easier getting my point across on the blog because it forces me to focus.
In real life I verge on manic as I frantically attempt to connect and share and entertain.
DD often has to ask me to repeat myself because I go off on tangents and assume too much information.
We’ve known each other less than 18 months, so there’s lots of my history and loads of people he doesn’t know.
For example, he wasn’t aware of my gorgeous fast-talking friend until today because of the three-year hiatus – life got in the way, what with her having a baby and me getting a separation. We were in the middle of arranging to meet up one Tuesday in 2013 when POUF it was 2016.
But we made up for lost time as we bonded over delicious brownies she’d baked and her gorgeous baby gurgled at me in a most adorable fashion.
I was amazed at how well behaved her bubba was – my recollection is that small humans have very small windows of good humour before needing a nap.
I’m wondering if listening to her mum and I speed talk like well-tuned Ferraris was what entertained her …
It can’t have been my baby whisperer aura because I’m not a baby person. I didn’t quite know what to do with my own, let alone someone else’s.
I come into my own as they age … I seem to hit my stride around the tween mark.
Being at home with babies absolutely terrified me. I didn’t know how to occupy them between naps … Or even how to get them to have naps in the first place.
I was HOPELESS. (OK, it didn’t help that my ex pointed out my failings.)
I loved my kids to bits, but felt like a motherhood failure. Scurrying off to work brought a sense of control to my life.
It feels like I’ve got it covered now.
In fact, I’d love to be a full-time mum, picking them up from school every afternoon, hanging out together, cooking them dinner.
I hate how rushed our lives feel. I’m so tired lately that we eat every meal in front of the tellie.
I used to cook inventive meals – this week we had Latina ravioli and a jar of pasta sauce.
Reading a chapter of Harry Potter together each night has gone out the window too. Now we slouch in the dark watching The Middle.
I need to get into better mama habits. But we’re rubbing along OK.
My ex, on the other hand, is finding tween-dom a little more challenging than early childhood. The nine-year-old informed me earlier this week that she “yelled” at her dad for driving her to school in his pyjamas and GETTING OUT OF THE CAR at the school gate.
She was mortified. He later told me she almost cried with embarrassment.
She gives him merry hell whenever he transgresses into uncool territory.
I shudder to think what the teen years will be like.
Have you survived the teen years? Any tips for me?