I have recently joined British Mummy Bloggers, But I am slightly troubled. Because, yet again, I am too old for the club. Okay! I get it. I do understand. Mummy's like to chat and get together with other Mummy's and we get to go to toddlers/swimming/teddy bears picnic together etc .... but what happens when the kids get older and they don't require constant supervison, even if I think they do. Where does that leave me, leave us?
I have the mummy of young ones' tshirt, painted mug and teacloth, signed old uniform sweatshirts from each childs junior 'graduations'.
The fire guard has long gone, the soft cover pads are off the sharp corners, security socket covers removed. The bed guards have been dumped; toys sorted and assorted clothing boot fair-ed long time past. The coffee table has reappeared in the middle of the living room. Much to Larry's dismay(would he admit it) the freezer no longer contains fish fingers and alpha bites. My kids are trying to get into bars; trying to get out for longer; trying to buy alcohol and trying me to the limit, and that is only what I know about. The mind boggles! So where are these other Mummys, please make yourselves known to me, I know there is Supportive Suburbia & Fab Fhina, but come on there must be more of you, bloggers or not. I'm not a Yummy Mummy any more if I ever was, whic I wasn't. I am a fifty (soon to be fiftysomething) MUM or Mam up here in Cumbria. My kids were born in Kent in the nineteen nineties. They no longer bare the birthmarks in the shape of that fair garden county, they sound Cumbrian, eh? Alraeght chuck? I have to organise a translator some evenings when they are here talking at speed together, way over my head.
There are websites, blogs and no doubt events galore planned for Mummy's of newborns, toddlers and infant and junior children. But where is the support for the Mummys of teenagers, the Mummys of apron tugging and scissor wielding 'gonna cut those apron ties' fifth and sixth formers. Which roughly translates to modern days speak as soon to be Year 11's and 13's, soon to be Gap year-ing or off to University, via some shifts on the shop floor to fund it, one hopes laughingly. This all requires support groups, outings, meetings, litres of Latte and Zinfandel, strawberries and choc's, trips to theatre and cinema with like minded women who are not adverse to admitting occasionally googling out of boredom and pleasure for images of some thirty or forty something hunky actors.
Don't get me wrong, I am in a good place. My cup is half full and I have another bottle in the fridge. I have some great friends (whose kids are just starting school)and I do go out quite regularly these days. I am getting my head around many things and am making plans for the future, my future. But, as someone once said 'In space no one can hear you scream' ( c1980 'Alien' movie I think), it's just, well no one can hear me scream at home or in my mind. Or can you? Teenagers! Sigh.