Just your average playdate.

 

 

Holly is a great mate. I’ve known her since our first session at the local ‘baby group’. You know the ones where it’s all new mums sitting around on a mat cooing about how their baby is already doing back flips and eating organically grown, vegan finger food 3 months? And the “nursery nurse”  is secretly a Health Visitor? – yeah those ones. Anyhow, we met, and bonded over our love of cake and the colour mustard. Fast forward 6 years and we’re still ‘together’,  me with 3 children and her with 2 (our youngest are only 12 hours apart).

Her eldest Katie is a treasure. One of those delightful children who plays perfectly brilliantly with your child, doesn’t wind them up, entirely trash your house or throw 15 tantrums in the first 3 minutes of seeing you. We all have one of those friends with the ‘great’ kid and Holly is mine. (I’m actually lucky to have a fair few ‘type Holly’ friends, but listing them would be totally inappropriate – if you think you are one please let me know i will be totally honest with you of course)

Since having our youngest babies, we’ve naturally been seeing even more of each other. On this occasion, (and what is very typical) our initial conversation went like so…
*car pulls up
Me:  *opening the door, shouting towards the car* “Hi hun, sorry my house is a fucking pig sty” (why do we always apologise even though we’ve been cleaning it for an hour already and know real friends don’t care!?)
Still Me:“Orson get inside, Orson stop squealing. Zachary! do you need the toilet? No? Then why can’t you stand still.
Zachary: I’m just practising my new somersault on one leg whilst holding meerkat and this cup of drink and winking.
Me: *death stare toward Zachary
Zachary: *stops
Holly: *still getting out the car “Hi hun! Hows you”
Me: *smiling “Crap. Pissing crap. But i have cake, You?”
Holly: “Yep. Same here, grating isn’t it, wanna swap?”
Me: “2 hours sleep vs…?”
Holly:  “3 plus 4, but does using earplugs count?”
Me: “Sounds wonderful. Want to chuck the kids straight into the garden with some water guns and paint whilst we eat cake?
Holly: *still getting out of car, smiles, raises eyebrows “Ur, yes!”

And we did. We ate the cake. The babies teethed. The middlist napped (thankfully) And the elders proceeded to make the garden look like a murder scene.
We both stood there bleary eyed, babies on hips, mum buns in and smiled, exhausted but contented. Because thats what real mummy friends are for, sharing the shit storms and the sunshine. And not thinking about the consequences of clearing up two 5 years olds covered in head to tow paint. Life to short. Let them get messy.

 

 

 

 

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