Your Kids and I

Let me put the cards on the table, right here, right now: I. Love. Kids. I do. Really. I know the following might bring you to think otherwise, but I do. I’ve been working with children of all ages for the best part of 2/3 of my life, and I can’t imagine doing anything else… and hey, you don’t do my job for the money, believe me. I mean being entitled to working tax credit and housing benefit should tell you something, shouldn’t it? So, we’re clear on this point. I love kids.

I, however, am not friend with my mates’ children. Please don’t take this personally. I know, it will be difficult at first, but try to hear me out, and maybe, with a bit of compassion, walk in my shoes for a mile or two. I choose my friends… Or they choose me. Either way, this is a decision we both make with our eyes wide open. At least to some extent, as you only know as much as people are willing to share with you. And I met a lot of my current friends before they had their kids.

So the kids are just an addition to their life.  I know, this word “just” is likely to drill a whole in their chest. But realise this, they are not my kids. Yes they are my friends’ whole life and reason of being now, but they are not mine. I’m not saying I don’t like them, I just need people to realise that I chose to be their friend, to have them in my life. So when I come round, they’re the one I came to see, and when I call, they’re the one I fancy a chat with. Spending my precious time chatting away to their offspring, on my day off, while they’re making coffee is not my idea of fun. Handed the phone over to your 4yrs old so that he can tell me all about his brand new Doctor Who screwdriver while describing in details all the available functions is not why I rang! And if I’m staying over, please give me a room with a lock, so I can make sure to keep your little treasures out of my throbbing head, especially at the first light of day!

Take this morning for example. Went out with a friend last night and was invited to stay over. Lovely idea, then I can have a few glasses of wine. Forgot one tidily tiny winy little detail: she’s got one of those kid thingy. And this is where, my lack of judgment and poor clarity of mind after an evening of drinking led me to let him in my room. I keep forgetting that saying “hello” to a child is like giving them a carte blanche to take over you personal space. Before I knew it, he was showing me how to use the Wii fit, providing me with a running commentary of all the exercises available! I actually had a moment where I started to wonder whether he was trying to tell me something… After that, he jumped on the bed and on me – while I was still trying to have a relaxing lie in – he treated me to a few episodes of SpondgeBob SquarePants. When the 4th episode started, I decided it was time to make a run for it.

A few months ago, I stayed at another friend’s house. At 8am, her husband decided I had slept enough – after all, if he had to get up to sort out his kids, why should he be the only one to suffer, right? So he kindly let his 3yrs old son on the fact that I was in the spare room. Ah, 3yrs old boys do have a settle way to wake you up. Again, after too much wine during the night before, my head wasn’t screwed on properly and I made the huge mistake to respond yes as he took a sneak peak into the room, asking “are you awake?” He proceeded to turning on the main light and bringing me his collection of soft toys, starting by the biggest one of course: a rather colourful giant snake!

Now, I guess I should say, before they all cross me out of their phone books, my mates’ kids are great and when I’m in the right space of mind, I’m happy to spend a bit of time in their company. My moan isn’t about them, but about my friends, or their parents, depending on how I feel. What makes them think that it will be entertaining for me to discuss their child’s latest progress, last temper tantrum, last illness or how being tired make them cranky? I get cranky too when I’m overtired! ;-) I don’t mind a quick chat about education – for some reason, some actually think I’m some kind of expert on the subject and that, because of my job, I don’t mind talking about that for hours on end.

I’m not in that life, not part of that world. I realise my job might make them think otherwise, but when I’m out and about, I like to talk about adult things, the type of discussions which aren’t suitable to have around children. And I need people to understand that. Better yet, I need people to accept it and not judge me for not wanting to be around their little brats. I understand their life has very different priorities to mine, but that doesn’t mean my own aren’t important. So, if I want to talk about sex, the last man in my life or have a good old rant about the misery that life can sometimes be, I want to be able to do so without feeling like a selfish self-centred bitter single woman – even if I am sometimes. Isn’t that what friends are for?