us and them

We had a slow start to Boxing Day, before heading off to some friends' house for a couple of hours. They'd invited 'waifs and strays' - friends who are living here away from their extended families - to an open house: turn up when you like within certain hours, bring along your Christmas leftovers, and have a chat. Very simple. In theory.

But the breeders vs non-breeders divide became very apparent very quickly. At the same time as us (married with children), there was a father with his 6-week-old son (mum was home resting), the hosts and their 16-month-old son and another on the way, two grandmothers, a recently-'married' (not legally, but they've had a beautiful wedding and are as good as married) lesbian couple with no plans for children, and another guy who, from snippets of conversation, is either married and in a serious partnership, but without children.

And the conversation soon turned to things child-related - childbirth, breastfeeding, expectations and reality, and (of course) poo. The childless people became strangely silent ...

You seem to cross into a different world once you have children. Somehow it becomes acceptable to discuss bodily functions over afternoon tea, oblivious to the horrified expressions of the people nearby. You hear yourself doling out advice, especially when you have the oldest children in the room, even though it's something you swore you'd never do. You spend more of your time watching your children and making sure they don't destroy things than listening to or participating in adult conversation.

Of course, it was our kids who decided to be obnoxious today. Not the horrible throwing things and tantrums sort of obnoxious; more the in-your-face-wanting-attention type, the following-younger-children-around-and-not-leaving-them-be-when-they've-had-enough type, the getting-comfortable-in-someone-else's-house-and-inviting-themselves-into-the-'private'-part-of-the-house type. And then the whining type when it was time to go before we were asked to leave ...

I realised that most of our friends these days have children, and roughly in the same age group, so they get it when you're having a bad day. Most childless people don't, and know they would handle it better, and have well-behaved children. They would still manage to wear funky clothes and fabulous shoes and have perfect hair and would never let themselves go at all. And you know there's no point in telling them what it's really like because they won't truly believe you until they're experiencing it for themselves. I know I didn't.

There are, of course, fabulous days as a parent. Today was not one of them.