On kids & friendship

My fabulous friend Milly and her lovely baby boy

If you’re in your thirties, then its likely that like me, your friends will by now have split into two factions - the ones with children and the ones without. For me its now about 65/35. It seems like yesterday we were all sitting carefree in the pub, moaning about whether we’d ever find “the One” and drinking our body weight in white wine. The next minute, half of us are in a world of nappies and expressing milk and worries about childcare and juggling careers, while the rest of us lag behind somewhat wistfully, living a similar existence as before, only with worse hangovers. And for our gorgeous mum friends – whose lives have turned upside down and inside out, who have been given this incredible joy as well as REAL problems, life or death stuff at times - what kind of friendship are we now providing them?

Throughout our twenties us women form a magnificent bond - one that I don’t think our parents ever had with their friends. We were an army – us against the world, a force to be reckoned with. With parents and siblings often far away, with partners coming and going, our friends were the ones who dealt with everything – deaths, break ups, career woes, promotions and redundancies, house moves. We were each other’s family - we often lived together for years on end, travelled the world together - and the bond was incredibly strong.

But then things change. If there was a fork in the road, we started heading off in different directions. Having problems at work? She’s getting 2 hours sleep a night FFS you can’t bother her with that! Fancy a night out? She has to be up at 6am to look after baby Britney so won’t want to spend hours discussing EXACTLY what he meant when he said he wasn’t ready to settle down. And from her point of view, she may get upset at why you haven’t bothered to visit her pride and joy recently because you’re “really busy”, or why you don’t invite her out or confide in her as much as you used to.

It would be easy here to slip into the stereotypes that women’s magazines feed us, that both myself and my friends sometimes slip into to our detriment, which can pretty much be summarised as WHAT . BRIDGET . JONES . SAID : You posted your baby as your facebook profile photo, you DULL SMUG MARRIED! We laugh at your ridiculous love life and the fact that you’re still getting pissed and falling over, you LOSER SINGLETON!

But it’s not really like that. Or at least it doesn’t need to be, and if it is like that at times, this is surely based on jealousy or fear or rejection or the thought that as you too are being judged, so you judge right back. Sometimes it can feel like you’re living separate lives, with nothing in common. And more than anything you may feel, on either side, the loss of someone who was once your number one priority, and you theirs, and missing someone who might be around a little bit less. But this is just a feeling and it will pass. You still need each other and love each other – at times more so than others – and if you both want to be, you will still be the best of friends whether or not your lives are a little different for now.

I’m not a mum (and have a horrible feeling I’m going to be the  worst sort of facebook-photo-posting, status-updating, far-too-much-detail giving type of mother) but I can imagine when I am, there will be times when I’ve had little sleep and my partner and sproglet are driving me up the wall, and I just want to get dressed up and head to a nice restaurant with my girlfriends around me. And if all I’ve had to think about for 6 months is poo, vomit and sleepless nights, I reckon I’d love to listen to someone telling me about their work problems or what’s going on in the news or to laugh over who they’ve slept with or what fabulous restaurant they’ve been to, just to pick me up and remind me there are other things going on in the world.

I think it’s all about communication really. And letting go a little. I’ve tried to adjust to my married friends’ lives not revolving around me and my myriad problems anymore, but I know that if anything was seriously wrong, they’d be there in a flash. And I love their children - can’t wait to get to know them better, watch them grow, be there when they themselves marry and have kids. And I also have to let go a little so I too can procreate at some point as well. I want to be a great friend to my mummy friends, but sometimes I get wrapped up in my own little world and don’t realise that I’m being distant or neglectful (I am not yet good at buying presents for babies, and this is something I’m working on *heads to Baby Gap*). But I also know our friendship is deep enough to take a few knocks and that it just takes an email or a call to say I’m thinking of them or arranging a visit to get the friendship kick started again.

And of course one day we’ll be back on the same path again, living the same lives. Although her kids may be teenagers while mine are in nappies. Oh well – they can babysit?

Bridget Jones has a lot to answer for really. In its celebration of single life, it implanted in our brains a seismic shift between those with children and those without, that made “smug married” something that singletons could sneer at. I’m just as guilty of this at times. I spent New Year with The Chef and his friends, many of whom have kids. I have to admit I was dreading it a little and worried that it would be all about babies and nappies and I’m terrible at coo-ing over children unless they’re the progeny of very good friends. But it was brilliant. The kids were gorgeous, really cute, and a welcome distraction, quite frankly, from hangovers. We could sit and laugh at them and have a cuddle when we wanted. The mums were fabulous – glamorous and fun and interesting - and we all drank a few too many vinos and danced to terrible music until the wee hours. It made me realise again we’re all the same really, apart from at baby-feeding time when I always tended to have really important things to do and apart from the fact that the mums must have had at least 10 hours less sleep than the rest of us over the long weekend. Having friends at all stages of life is the best way to live anyway – far more interesting that way. And (don’t tell anyone) it sort of made me want one of my own.

Anyway, I asked a handful of my friends to tell me how they feel about their friends at other stages in life. I loved what they said:

The baby mamas

“I don’t know if I can even separate my friends with kids and those without.  We all seem to get along brilliantly.  I prefer not to talk about my son too much unless he did something particularly hilarious – but at three years old, we are not talking about side-splitting humour.  A friendship should last whatever the circumstance or situation.  Boyfriends, girlfriends, weddings or not; babies, nappies, weekend breaks or snot, a true friend rides with you….don’t they?  How boring it would be to only be friendly with one gang. I certainly mix a little and am blessed with the ones I have.  And they are definately true friends.

My friends without kids are always lovely to ask how the wee man is doing but to be honest I am more I interested in the gorgeous restaurants people are going to, plus trips to Paris and Vienna than reciting toddler quotes of the week. With work and a son, including one on the way, we are making an effort to try and fit in as much as possible so our wee pie chart is always colourful.”  Milly

“What I love about my single/childless friends

• hearing about their love lives, social lives, holidays, latest shopping spree, i.e. living vicariously through them!
• they are never too tired/fed up/over dosed on children to play and talk to mine (unlike me)
• that they get me out of the rut of being mummy all the time.

What I don’t like so much

• when they don’t understand that I can’t just drop everything
• that my children will always come first
• that I am frequently exhausted, anti social, unfashionable and grumpy – it’s nothing personal.

What I hope to give them

• Someone to laugh at, my childless friends’ lives are not as poo-covered as mine, so that’s got to be good for them
• I can do parenting/baby care advice, so may be useful in future (I can’t follow it, but that’s another story)
• The kettle is usually warm and the ovens on, so if I can’t come drinking anymore, at least I can make some food and be a listening ear.” Betty Sue

“Something that used to annoy me before I had kids was the way my mum-friends used to be distracted when I was talking to them. You could be spilling the beans on the latest hot date and, in the middle of it all, it would be ”Little babsie just spit up!”. And even if they didn’t actually SAY anything, you could see it in their eyes as they slid from where they were sympathetically watching your face to looking lovingly at their little sprog. Now, after having a baby, I have learnt that my mum-friends weren’t actually distracted, they had simply learnt the ultimate mother art that my own mum refers to as “Circular Talking”, where you can listen to and completely take in a conversation whilst either talking to (or at, in the case of children), someone else.

Another little thing that used to annoy me was how, when you were about to go out somewhere with mum-friend and sprog in tow, it was never simple to get out of the house. It was always “I need food/nappies/a spare jumper/toys” and, it seemed, when you did eventually get out of the house, something was always forgotten. Now I realise this rabbit-like behaviour is all about survival and that wonderful mother’s word – Coping. If the baby doesn’t have food and gets hungry, he’ll cry. If he doesn’t have nappies and needs changing, or gets cold, or doesn’t have toys, he’ll cry. So I guess mum’s message to you is this; bear with us, it could be you one day…. And even if you don’t have your own children, well, we might just ask you to babysit!” Libby (please note the lovely Libby writes the blog Confessions of a (not so) Down To Earth Mum)

 

And a final word (bien sur – I’m still a Bridget!) from Pippalippa

 

“This Christmas I managed to get home to Australia for the first time in almost three years. It was perfect timing as well as most of my far-flung school friends happened to be heading home at the same time so a big reunion was planned.  I was really excited but also quite apprehensive as I am pretty much the only person in my group of friends who has not procreated at least once, or about to pop one out.  Being mid-thirties and wanting children I felt I was bound to get a bit down seeing all my coupled up friends and their delightful offspring. Even when they are crying and pooey and demanding attention I can still be jealous.

Better late than never….

I dreaded being the odd one out in conversations about cots and prams and leaking nipples and nappies to make you retch.  I feared the patronising placation of people pretending they’re jealous of my freewheeling lifestyle and my globetrotting ways. I pictured a New Year’s Eve picnic in the park: dry, distracted and heading home for beddy byes at 8pm.

But. I had the most amazing holiday. My friends’ children are marvellous and make me laugh. I got to be the cool aunty who taught the kids the wonderful trick of putting ice down mummy’s back to keep them entertained while we got through a vino or too and engaged in conversations about world events, personal lives and caught up with each others’ news. I was also entertained by stories of what these little people get up to, and witnessed one of them getting sick of colouring in with the new bright colourful crayons I had just given him and discovering that, despite appearances, they are NOT delicious.” Pippalippa

One of these bad boys is coming your way soon Lady B

Guest Post: Happiness between the sexes – how winning defines us

Note from Sasha: As you know, I write using an anonymous persona, Sasha, who’s positive, enthusiastic, upbeat; she wants to inspire and motivate. She can be at times, to some of my friends (especially the blokes), a little bit irritating. What you might not know is that this blog’s readership is overwhelmingly FEMALE. And while this is fantastic – I love you ladies and the amazing support the HPL gets  - I also wanted something for the boys, something of a respite from the usual smiley cheeriness of the blog. So who better than my friend Mr Maxi, founder of Nandos Bike Club and all-round cool man around town (he’ll HATE me saying that). He had free reign to come up with a male-focused anti-HPL blog post and he’s somehow managed to define how men and women perceive happiness differently while talking about gambling. I think it’s brilliant – it made me laugh out loud. I’m not ENTIRELY sure how this is going to go down with the rest of you, but in any case, enjoy!

 __________________________________________

This ‘Happiness’ blog.
It’s so bloody NICE.
So stickily HAPPY – a digital glacé cherry
It is no surprise to me that The Happiness Project London is written by, and for the most part, contributed to, by GIRLS. 

You lovely things. Look at you girls, with your super supportive comments and overflowing cup philosophy. After all, life’s too short to make the most of all the dolphins you could be swimming with and time you could be spending with your mum – who is also your best friend – right?

A microchip embedded deep in my CPU means I lack capacity to comprehend your scrawling – and to me, reading it is but a rung above sliding down a razorblade into a vinegar-filled paddling pool.

• Are you <really> this happy? Surely not.
• Perhaps it’s satisfying to feint elation then? I don’t believe that.
• And do you <truly> rejoice in the joy of others as your comments suggest? Given the choice, you’d secretly swap places with someone whose happiness level scores higher than your own. Surely. 

It may not surprise you to learn that I’m male. 

So I’m a realist. 
To me, the cup is neither half empty nor half full; it’s merely twice as big as it needs to be given the volume of its contents.
Your peacock-feather displays of happiness overwhelms me – I’m scared and baffled by fluffyjossstickproject. 

You think I’m damaged goods perhaps. A spoilsport. A bitter outcast from your World of syrup souls. 

But I’m not Eden’s serpent, trying to awaken you from a blissful dream.
To understand me, you’ll require X-ray specs.
Somewhere, beneath my skinhead and scowl, beyond the retina scanner to my soul and at the very back of the dusty vault, I am in fact extremely happy. 

I just don’t want to shout it from the rooftops. Or spend too much time celebrating your happiness. 

When it comes to happiness, we’re different, you see.
Men and women that is.
So when are we both at our happiest? When do we SING?
When we’re winning of course.
And when it comes to winning, men are from casino; women are from bingo. 

Ever played bingo?

You probably have; according to statistics, it’s the second most popular ‘active hobby’ in the UK (after fishing, apparently).
And women represent the just under 80% of its customers. 

Ever watched bingo advertising?
No matter what the brand, it’s always about celebrating a win.
Feeling HAPPY.
TOGETHER.
The plot is simple and usually revolves around this concept: Come to bingo to be with your pals. Share a rib-cracking embrace when they win – and remember to shriek with elation (as girls do, apparently) if it’s you. Most importantly, wave your hands uncontrollably. You’ve BLOODY WON! WE’VE ALL BLOODY WON!! 

But art imitates life in this case, and the advertising is effective. Trust me on this.
Bingo doesn’t purport to be a game of skill – on the contrary, a computer can dab your numbers automatically if you prefer while you stare, comatose, at the ceiling. But weirdly, according to research, having this basic input (dabbing numbers when they are called) allows women to feel empowered. 

Conversely, for this audience, games with more complex tactics, rules – and genuine skill – are simply not successful.
Why?
Because it’s winning per se – and the associated celebration – that is the real drive for women; community, friendships, chatrooms and social gatherings all contribute to what is shared happiness.
I WANT YOU ALL TO KNOW I’M HAPPY AND I AM HAPPY FOR YOU TOO!
GORGEOUS GROUP GIRL HUG! 

And so to casinos. 

Ever been to a casino?
If you’re a woman, you’ve visited a couple of times but according to stats, you’ve probably accompanied a man.
Casinos are also gambling shrines, but unlike bingo, are generally pretty intimidating places.
Sophisticated. Suave, even – with murky connections and champagne cocktails. 

And if you’re a winner, luck is irrelevant – it’s because you’re INTELLEGENT! 
Well done; you’ve BEATEN the system. You’re a hunter, truly empowered – you’re a ‘player’.
Guess what – men love casinos. They represent around 84% of their audience. 

And have you ever watched a casino winner win?
What, no arm spasms?
Bingo this ain’t – you’d be lucky to get a reaction at all.
And nothing from the spectators either – there may be a gentleman’s nod on a big win – but nothing EMOTIONAL. No way. 

Inside, beyond the façade, the winning male is pirouetting, annihilating all doubters and beating his chest for all the imaginary animals of the forest to appreciate. There are other factors in play here – he’s PROVEN something. He’s BEATEN OTHERS. And that makes him even happier. 

Relatively speaking, men are ultimately hardwired to be internally happy.
Happiness is controlled. And not shared.
And we celebrate bringing down our peers – not propping them up.
So men are from casino. 

Maybe this helps to explain why The Happiness Project London is written by, and for the most part, contributed to by GIRLS.
Girls are from bingo.
Share the happiness. Share the love. That’s just dandy; you’re fabricated this way.
Meanwhile, know that even if I don’t show it, I’m happy too.
If you need me, I’ll be down the casino.

A post on kindness and karma

It is hard to write about kindness and being considerate without sounding like a self-righteous arse, but I’m going to try my best. David Lewis and Mindlabs recently conducted an experiment which proved that people who spent time doing considerate deeds for their communities (giving someone money for a parking ticket, watering people’s plants when they were away) were happier, healthier, had more self esteem and were less stressed than before.

This is hardly surprising stuff, but I reckon kindness is a bit of an overlooked and underrated commodity in London. I’m finding that doing things for others is the hardest of my rules to fulfil (apart from going to the gym, which is taking a brief leave of absence while I hibernate for the winter). The fact is us Londoners are busy - we fill up our diaries, fit in drinks or dinner with friends but are sometimes unavailable for more attentive “maintenance” and  we rarely say hello to our neighbours. We walk fast, live fast and are highly intolerant of strangers, especially those on public transport (that bastard just stood on my foot/is walking too slow/coughing near me/holding his paper in my personal space!!).

In researching this post I found this blog about helping others which talks about a “volcanic eruption of kindness” in London – how one kind act led to another and then another. I totally believe in karma, which is why I didn’t mind when that bloke elbowed me out the way on the tube this morning because I know he’ll be stepping on a giant dog turd later. As Paolo Coehlo suggests, if you do something nice, fate will send the love right back at you, and it’s easy to work out why – if you help a friend out they’re much more likely to help you back and if you do something nice for someone the warm glow it gives you somehow radiates onto other people (and yes I did develop much of this theory while backpacking round India…). The blog gives various small kindness ideas so I’m going to try a few out. In the meantime, here’s a few little ideas that I’m going to try to fit in:

1. Help a friend move house. There are few things more utterly shit than moving house on your own. And yet by helping a friend, you only need to give up an hour or two and are likely to be rewarded with love, beer and improved biceps at the end. I am therefore lugging my South-of-the-Thames self to Crouch End for exactly this reason this weekend.
2. Give money to all buskers on the tube – especially if they make you smile/get nostalgic/hum. Just a bit of shrapnel from your wallet is fine and you’ll get a smile back that will make you feel happy. There is a small exception to the rule for that grumpy accordion player at Oxford Circus.
3. Make something for someone – a birthday card, cake or cup of tea.
4. Say hello to neighbours, help people with their luggage, send someone a book they’d like, help a colleague with their work.

I should finally mention websites like Help from Home and ivolunteer which give ideas about what things you can do to help and volunteering in general. They said nice things about me so I’m saying nice things back – you see? Karma.

So how happy do you really need to be?

Elle magazine’s August issue had another article on happiness – I hadn’t realised quite how much this blog is part of the zeitgeist until now. The article was called “Is content the new happy?” and questioned  why we are less happy nowadays than ever before, referring to a survey which showed people were happier in the 1930s - the days of the great depression. Alice Wignall, the author, thinks it is because we have so many options, we want for so much, that happiness is a continual and unfulfilled search.

She interviews many of the HPL’s favourite happiness people – Robert Holden from the The Happiness Project, Gretchen Rubin from the The Happiness Project (note to self: well done for coming up with an original blog name) and Alain de Botton’s School of Life (I actually hadn’t realised that the School of Life was De Botton’s baby, will definitely have to pop along now). She talks about how the things that we think make us happy – the payrises, the material things – only provide temporary happiness. And she suggests that our constant treadmill pursuit of happiness means we ignore the good things in our lives and are never just content with what we have. She thinks that if you lower your expectations and appreciate what you have, this contentment will make you truly happy. She even says she’s been finding happiness through gardening.

I was reading the whole thing going *jumps up* That’s what I’ve been saying!! Meeee!!!! I could have written this article myself  it was so similar to what I’ve been writing about lately. In my guest post on How To Be Happy  I said that happiness can’t be achieved by things, or bestowed upon you by other people, because it is a state of mind. You cannot be made happy, you have to become happy in yourself (as she says – buddhist monk style).  

I totally appreciate her point about not constantly trying to do or buy things to make you happier – better clothes, losing weight, a different partner, better social life. The problem is the world is our oyster nowadays - Facebook and twitter are full of people trying to show how much more fun they’re having than you are, and the list of what we can do and buy, where we can travel and live, is endless. But rather than constantly pursuing every possible source of happiness, we could all do with appreciating what we have, counting our blessings, being positive.

So here’s what I think. Your life generally splits into 4 categories – job, friends & family, partner, home. Typically, if one’s going well, something else will go tits up, apart from the occasional smug time when you realise that everything is perfect. And then it all goes tits up again. Rather than striving for perfection in everything, we all need to know ourselves enough to understand what we NEED from each. For instance, I know I have to have a job I love to be happy (and am very lucky that I now do). I also know that I am happiest when surrounded by my friends and family and any niggles with any of them will mean I’m not truly happy. I’d like a bigger flat but I’m working on the little one I have to make it even nicer and this makes me appreciate it more. I know I don’t need money or a flash lifestyle, but I do want to be loved for who I am.

So, don’t rely on anyone else’s standards of what makes them happy, don’t seek perfection because you won’t find it, don’t envy thy neighbour’s facebook photos and remember its your own little world that matters. Appreciate what you have. And call your mum more. And new lamp shades really make all the difference in a small flat, as do new pillows.