Post baby hook-up...

I know hook-up means something completely different to people in their twenties, but when you reach your thirties, it just means that you've managed to spend some time in the company of other adults. That aren't related to you.  Or that you're married to. 

The last two days has seen me do a lot of hooking-up! And Oscar makes a terrific little wing-man (again, I know, totally different connotation). 

It started yesterday, hooking-up with all the other Mamma's and their tiny-humans from our Antenatal classes that we attended back in October. I must point out that during our second class the Midwife leading our session asked "Before we get started, could someone volunteer to arrange a get together once these sessions come to an end? It's really nice to stay in contact with one another".

The silence was deafening. Somewhere in the background I'm sure I heard a lonely cricket. 

Not one person raised their hand. For an agonizing 6 seconds. 

I have a strict 6 second policy, it works with food that lands on the floor, to getting back to my car before the parking expires. It also applies to volunteering for stuff. 

So I raised my hand. I should mention that Ryan was parking the car at the time and oblivious to the fact that we'd been self-nominated to become President and First Lady of the Antenatal Social Committee. I should also mention that the last good party I arranged was in fact our wedding, two years previously and that took me almost a year to plan. So the odds that I'd get this group of 20 people back in a room before our kids turned one, were slim to none. I did try arranging something, but I didn't try very hard. In my defense I managed to keep us all connected via email. 

So yesterday saw us all head down to a little pub on the river in Kingston. Great location and with (cheap) parking nearby which was super handy (it meant I could escape a lot faster two hours later). I have very few really good friends that I can be completely myself with. I prefer it this way. Because I don't do small talk. Or chit-chat. Or falsity. I'm honest. I'm blunt. So when I was quizzed on how I got Oscar to take to a dummy, I was honest. My reply of "I just stuck it in his mouth and he sucked it?" was met with disbelieving smiles and one audible gasp. 

When asked how many hours he sleeps at night? Again, I was honest "between 4 or 5 and that's usually in the early or late evening".

While others were exchanging their horrific (and I mean HORRIFIC) childbirth stories, I went to the bar and ordered myself a tea because I didn't want to be asked. Because I know I'd be lynch-mobbed if I told the truth. That I actually got through it very well indeed, it far exceeded my expectations and it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Even peeing for the first time was like something out of a fairytale book.  

It was at this point that I felt this was becoming a little bit of a competition. And I'm not the competitive type. My little wing-man felt the same. It was at this point that he checked out and wanted to be put back in his stroller.

If one person had shared that being a new parent had made them go a little mad from the hormonal changes and that they'd been running on adrenaline for the first two weeks. That becoming a new parent can kick your rock solid relationship in the nuts because you're sleep deprived and still getting to grips with your new normality. That sometimes you stare at your little newborn baby and wonder what on earth you did right to create such a perfect little version that's one part you and one part the love of your life. Who at times you want to strangle because the first year of parenting is the toughest. If one person had shared that, I might've stayed for another cup of tea. 

And perhaps, maybe they did or maybe they would've, but one thing I have learned in the 5 minutes I've been doing this gig as a new parent is that time is precious. And to take a page from the book of a very close friend, "you've got to keep your shit real". There isn't a lot of time in the day and I want to make sure it's filled with being honest and blunt and keeping my shit real. 

And I'm working on being nicer as the love of my life says I should as I'm a bit of a bitch when I'm sleep deprived and hormonal. 

Then today saw us head back into the city and into the office one last time, for one final hook-up,  because I won't be returning to work after my 9 months of maternity leave. I will work. Obviously. We need to eat. And dress. But I won't be going back to my office. The decision wasn't made lightly. I cried for joy when I was offered my job 2yrs and 5months ago (thanks LinkedIn) because it had been the company that I'd longed to work for, for years. I'd tried, and failed, to secure a role when I first arrived in the UK. My sister works there, as does my cousin and numerous friends. I'd made some amazing new friends, some of whom will be in my life forever. I loved my job, the challenges and the changes I saw in some of the people I was responsible for, gave me a sense of purpose. It fulfilled me. 

And now there is Oscar. 

My sense of purpose is different. I'm fulfilled in a very different way. And the only changes I long to see are the ones happening on a daily basis with our son, who I swear, grows overnight. 

So with a heavy heart, I said goodbye to some really good, talented, spirited people today. But in my heart I know it's the right thing. I'm finally at peace with the decision Ryan and I made for the sake of our little family of three. 

It's time to move on. 

PS - talking about hook-ups; turns out our baby boy already has a type! Oscar could not take his eyes off of a certain attractive, bubbly Ozzy, with mile long legs and blonde hair to match. He was passing sideway glances and acting all coy (just like his father) ...someone is going to need a wing-man of his own...in about 21yrs!

Oscar with his Aunty Carol

It was a stunning day in London today...took a walk from Blackfriers to Fenchurch Street one last time