What a weekend.
This weekend, with trepidation and excitement, I set off to my gorgeous friend Tammy's 30th Birthday party. There were bound to be all sorts of cool people there, as Tams is deeply, deeply funky....and I was worried that I wouldn't speak the language. I thought perhaps, that as I live in a small-ish town and don't work for profit, I'd be kinda out of my depth. I haven't visited my Melbs friends much in the past couple of years, things have been busy with Alex and all that, with the recovering from PND thing, and finding my feet in a new town (Sheppo).
It's weird having a child, some people can do it without losing themselves, but I often have a chamelon-like nature. So, I've struggled with being "Deb" and being "mum". Which parts are the immature parts that I don't want anymore, and which parts can I keep? Do I have to wear sensible shoes? Can I still laugh at fart jokes and be generally immature? Is it appropriate to use the slang of yoof, or am I being a try hard? Should I want to talk about tupperware and scrapbooking? Or can I still enjoy celebrity gossip and reading chick lit?
Well, the answer is, the answer is (to quote Winnona Ryder in "Reality Bites")...I don't know. But I'm starting to figure it out. No, I don't have to wear sensible shoes, but it saves time when chasing an errant child. Yes, I can still laugh at fart jokes and be generally immature, but I have to be consistent with my discipling of Alex. It may be somewhat appropriate to use the slang of yoof, although this must be watched, and done with an ironic twist. Nothing worse than being a try hard. I tried to be interested in Tupperware and Scrapbooking, but have realised I'd rather eat dirt. Sorry, ladies, but I just don't get it. And yes, I can still enjoy celebrity gossip and chick lit. I can even join a book club! whee!
So, it's gradually happening, this building of the picture of the real me...like a Polaroid slowly coming into focus. Being involved with STAG has definitely helped, as has finding allies in the trenches of motherhood, a good church, a great psych, and becoming good mates with Mon and Leigh and other STAG-ites.
Back to the weekend. Caught up with my girls, Michele and Tams, and Lucy was there too, which was great. I really enjoyed our chats in the slumber party room. Me, Michele and Luce in three beds across the room. Most of the time, we just chilled out, talking about boys and relationships. I adored it. It's the kind of girl talk that I don't get a lot of time for anymore. Richard and Alex are the people I see and talk to the most, and there's not a lot of satisfying analysis of motives to be had. I also got to hear about men dilemmas and was somewhat cast in the position of relationship expert. I am a bit of a phony, as Richard is only my second relationship, and the only one that's beyond 3 months! It was love at first sight for us, and we've spent a lot of time and energy trying to understand each other. Some days it's easier than others. Mostly, I still think I'll burst at how much I love him and how glad I am that he fell for me, too. But I can remember what it was like to be out there, and to want someone to love me. And how hard it was to get up and dust yourself off when the latest prospect let you down. I know the bravery it takes to keep on crusading for Mr or Ms Right. It's a jungle out there.
I went for long walks (at least an hour, ha!), one by myself, and one with Lucy and Michele. I had breakfast at a beautiful cafe with a gorgeous view all by myself and felt so happy to be alive, that I just beamed. Life is beautiful, when you're content. I was reminded this weekend how wonderful it is to be understood, and to be around people who speak your emotional language, who adore analysis and to whom words are currency. I met Michele's ex, Mark, for the first time, and I really liked him. I liked Jo and Dave, Pete and Rennie, Georgie and Nick, Holly and Daisy, James, Alia and Kip and the other smiley guys around. I though Tammy's parents were wonderful and loved how Linda and Ben made us all feel so welcome. I felt like I was part of a really cool adult school camp. Banter and jokes and innuendo flew around the house at all times. I joined in, I wasn't afraid. I felt like me again, but a new and improved version. I don't have to drink to be this me. I never did, that's the funny thing. The courage to be this me, has been a long time coming.....and it's a precious gift that I am thankful for every day.
Love you all
Deb xoxo
