To Bublé, Ms Fox, Norman and Needle D*ck.
This one’s for you.
You know who you are.
It’s a tribute to you four strange beauties, for sticking with me all these years. I don’t know why you have but I sure am grateful.
We made so many plans all those years ago, some we saw through, some we didn’t. Some changed and others evolved but they all brought us, in some way, to where we each are now and while we all have different paths carved out, I know that you will be there to hold my hand (or my my hair when my head is dangling over the loo after too many Zombies) and whatever happens in the future, good and bad, we will laugh about it together.
To my boys, Norman & Needle D*ck. Thank you for still wanting to be my friend after I’ve popped out two sprogs and become another boring Mum with an obsessive amount of photos of my children. I rarely have anything to talk about these days that isn’t Bunni & Bear, or even if I do, I can’t help talking about them anyway. Don’t you know they’re the most amazingly gorgeous and intelligent children to ever be born?! Don’t you?!
It can’t be easy maintaining a friendship with somebody who is always wiping someone’s backside when you call. And you’ve done more than just stay friends, you’ve gone out of your way to be part of our lives, despite me not having anywhere near as much time for you anymore. It is not a fairly balanced friendship these days but you’re still here.
You settle for FaceTime conversations where I am constantly distracted by the shenanigans of my beastlies and you nearly always have to visit me.
Chaps, you didn’t know when we became friends that you would one day have to listen to me talk about my dilated faff. You never signed up for that. No man who isn’t the Baby-Daddy wants to hear about that and to be honest, even my beloved Bearded Manc would rather not discuss the mucky details. But you laughed with me and said I could talk about all things, including my under carriage, and you kept me in the real world. The one that exists outside of my family’s surreal little bubble.
I can’t give you what I used to, what other friends can still give you, but I know you know (that I know, that you know) that I will always be your Mother Hen. Just because I didn’t birth you, doesn’t mean I’m not your real Mum.
Now to my girls, Bublé & Ms Fox. Your thank you is a bit different. You have children. You get it. You know that 5pm isn’t an ideal time to call because the beastlies get hangry when they need feeding or that I spend 85% of my time in leggings and you don’t judge me for it.
You’ve listened to me talk about poo and varicose veins (in places one should never have them) and you’ve told me, with tears in your eyes, about that first post-partum wee and rendezvous with Wanda. *sorryfortheinjoke*
We’ve seen each other through the births of our children. We moan about life, kids, husbands, our droopy girdles and lifeless funbags (thanks Posey, you greedy buggar) and if anything needs inspecting before a trip to the doctor, well….you know the drill.
We laugh and we cry but mostly, we giggle and hold each other up and you have taught me so much. You inspire me as a Mum and a female and I hope you know that I am always happy to be the strange Aunt to your wonderful babies.
So, you four weirdo’s. Thank you. Thank you for all the love you show us, especially Bunni & Bear. We are so very grateful to have you in our lives.
They love you.
We love you.
You’re Four in a Million.