Once upon a 3 years ago, I didn’t have many children in my life. I knew some, in a fashion. My cousin had children, and that friend who I don’t have much to do with these days had a couple, and I knew their names.. but not what they looked like. I couldn’t imagine anything else for my life, as it was what it was. Busy working, in London and having fun.
Then something happened. That little blue line.. that is now a walking, talking little person, and I have found that, along with my own bundle of fun… I seemed to gather quite a few of them along the way that I haven’t pushed out of my lower parts!
Naturally the move from London back to Middle Earth and The Shire meant that I was no longer surrounded by my companions and colleagues of the last decade. I was out, flying it, as it felt, solo. I had no back up, no wing crew, and no goddamned idea what I was meant to do with this tiny little person that I now have sole responsibility for.
Then, something happened. It started simply, a text message from an old school friend asking if I had had the baby yet? I replied that I had, and she came to visit. Having three of her own little people, two of whom I do remember being born, she was amazing in showing me that I can master the basics, then came cousins-with a whole tribe of little people for my little person to grow up with, and, even more shockingly, none of them seemed to mind that I had not been around much in the last ten years. I was home, and that was the end of the matter.
So, with a small team behind me, I decided to tackle my self imposed reclusion and head out to the local Mother and Baby Group. At this time, I was living back with my Mum, in the village that she had grown up in, and although I had family all over the place there, I was a relative stranger and I soon found how cliquey it could be… to be fair, I had been warned. I’m not sure, that the snotty nosed woman was quite expecting me to point out how many members of my family are named on the village War Memorial. She picked the wrong lady to pull the “Are you from here” attitude with.
They were frosty and horrible, as my ancestry actually outranked theirs, as her daughter pointed out to her in hushed tones, which were not quite enough.
I didn’t go back. They were not my kind of people at all.
This in mind, I knew that I needed to mix more with new mum’s. So, I took to the resources that I had to hand. The internet. And one particular website, led to me making one of my best friends. Her little lady is just days younger than my boy, and she became my partner in all things, Christmas, baby and now toddler related. She is fabulous and I added her poppet to my growing tribe of small folk…
Things settled nicely, I had a good routine… and then I moved to another village, around the time that my sister and brother in law made themselves permanent and I gained a niece, and now we have a new addition, two nephews.
My little gang was swelling in numbers… still, with an open mind, I gave myself two weeks to settle in, and then I dragged myself along to the local Toddler Group, and it was one of the best things I ever did. My guy added friends that he will be going to school with to the party, and I met some mum’s, who are normal, wine drinking, funny, witty, and mostly winging it with the best of us. Turns out my neighbour has a small boy too. Small world.
Then came Constance Hall into my life. This lady’s blogs make me howl with laughter, see that other mum’s do go through the same trials and tribulations that I do, and that, there is a whole army out there with smalls, who are ready to big you up, and not tear you down, we are all Queens, and through her, I met my other soul sister-adding another three mini humans to my collection of loves.
I loose count of how many tiny feet now occupy my world, but they keep me on my toes, make me laugh, cry, and want to hold their mums hands as we take each step into the unknown.
The little people well and truly invaded my life. And I think I like it.