By REBECCA SPARROW
At some point when I wasn’t looking, I became a shit friend.
The type of friend people start whinging about a lot when they’re at dinner and they’ve stopped discussing whether Ali could totally go all Fatal Attraction on Tim’s arse on The Bachelor.
The type of shit friend who never returns phone calls. Or emails. Or er, text messages. The type of friend who LIKES your FB update as soon as you post it but who then 20 seconds later doesn’t answer your personal message. The type of friend who is notoriously unreliable.
You know the type of friend I’m talking about. She’s always the one saying, “Sure I’ll bring the three bean salad to the BBQ on Saturday.” And then she arrives late AGAIN with a bottle of Pepsi Max (AGAIN) from the servo down the road. And then she leaves early because blah blah blah <insert excuse about CHILDREN>. Or worse, she just does a no-show instead.
You’ve had that friend. I’ve had that friend. And now, suddenly, dammit I AM that friend.
Oh God.
And I’m not entirely sure how I got here.
Because once upon at time I was a great friend. I remembered all the important stuff. Your birthday. Your kids’ birthdays. The anniversary of your dad’s passing. The name of the boss you loved two years ago who got transferred to Perth. I dropped everything to be with you the Saturday afternoon your dog died. I fixed up your resume for you when you went for that job. I moved heaven and earth to get us front row seats (okay, third row seats) to Prince. I was connected and reliable. I sent birthday cards IN THE MAIL FOR GOD’S SAKE.
But that was then.
Now I am deep deep in the trenches with three kids. And my ability to maintain friendships appears to have evaporated along with my ability to get to the hairdresser. Or talk on the phone to anyone ever about anything for longer than 2m 47 seconds. Or watch any TV show past 8.30pm without falling asleep ten minutes in.
As I struggle to stay on top of the grocery shopping and the cooking and the laundry and the laundry and the laundry and picking up 3 million pieces of %$*&^%# Lego off the carpet and sitting through my four year old’s magic shows that NEVER SEEM TO END and breastfeeding my eight-week-old while I spoon feed my 18-month-old porridge which he seems to prefer to mash into his hair and try to recite the full lyrics to Sophia The First for my four year old who is DESPERATE to know them … the emails and the text messages and the phone messages from friends and colleagues and some woman in New York who’s an artist whose put me on her exhibition mailing list KEEP COMING.
They’re like aliens. The more I open and respond to and delete – the more they seem to pop up. I feel like Will Smith in Independence Day. Okay, not really. At all. But you know.
I have no hope of getting to them all. Actually, some days – many days – I have no hope of even getting to one. And believe me when I say this annoys me far more than it annoys you.
And then by the end of the day when all the kids are finally asleep and I know I should be returning calls, the truth is all I really want to do is sit on the couch, watch crappy TV and not speak. I’m spent. I have used up all my words. Okay that’s not true. But I’ve said the words “No” and “Put that down” and “Uh uh uh” and “I’m COMING!” about 5 million times. By 7pm I have nothing left to give anybody as much as I’d like to. By 7pm I cannot stand the sound of my own voice.
But don’t think I’m not thinking about you. I am. I’m trying to stay in the loop on Facebook. Keep up with your news. LIKE your photos as some kind of lame way to show you I care. I do try and ring for all of 45 seconds when I can. And I’m still cheering you on; I’m just doing it from the kitchen with a disturbing amount of baby vomit on my pyjama top (and it’s 1pm and I’m still in my pyjamas. You with me? My life right now is a zoo.).
What I’m hoping as I navigate this new workload of motherhood is that you’ll give our friendship a temporary leave of absence. A sort of long service leave. You know how we have to wait a few months before the new season of Offspring starts again? THAT. Because while I’m a crap friend now, it won’t always be this way.
I’ll find my way out of the fog. I’ll start getting some sleep again. I’ll hide my daughter’s magic kit.
Don’t give up on me just yet. Because I’ll be back with a vengeance. I promise.
Have you ever become ‘that’ friend? Have any of your friends disappeared when they had a baby?
Top Comments
A couple of points you (and other married with kids) really should know: (Of course this does not relate to EVERY married with kids, but certainly a few!)
Your kids:
Remember the days before kids? No? Yes, I thought you'd say that... it’s a common one: "I just can't remember what I did before I had children! My life must've
been so empty..... “ (gazes off with a blank look). Here's what you did before
kids: you socialised. You went out with friends. You took an interest in your friend’s
lives. You went for drinks with your workmates on a Friday night. You did have
a life actually. You just have chosen to cut yourself off from a lot of it.
You:
Friday night drinks. Mid week dinners. Beach trips. Weekends away. Gone. All of it. Oh sure, I dutifully go to your house for dinner / drinks rather than going out because "it's just easier, you know, with the kids".
But please understand it's no fun for me listening to your screaming banshee kids, who you have no control over because you choose to not discipline them. I'm tired of getting an hour's conversation out of you, over a three hour catch up. And 40 minutes of that hour is dedicated to you talking about your kids.
You say being a mother is the hardest job in the world. Please. Don't be ridiculous.
Being a surgeon is hard. Being a pilot is hard (if that plane goes down, there
are a few hundred lives on your hands). Being a nurse is hard - it takes a
special kind. Being a teacher even has its many challenges! (It's your
kids they're teaching, remember that). So please don't say it’s the hardest job
in the world. It's not. Your mum did it, and her mum. They managed fine. In
fact, they did it with half (or less!) the resources, conveniences &
luxuries that you have at your disposal. No car in many cases. No ipad to distract
the kids. No microwave to quickly heat up a meal. So think on that for a while.
Social etiquette:
Have you forgotten good manners? I'm amazed how some mothers use their kids as an excuse to get out of anything & everything. Little Johnny has soccer. (Yes and at age six it will have a devastating effect on his future career if he misses one game. But really, it comes down to something as simple as replying to an invitation.
Whether it’s to lunch, a party, a wedding... it is simply BAD MANNERS to not
respond. Whether it’s a formal invitation or a text. Then, worse, to use your
kids as an excuse, or the "so busy!" excuse. Ok. You're busy. I
get it. But you're not that busy that you don't have time to post pictures of
your kids on facebook frequently. If you're wondering why I rarely "like" any of your kids pics on facebook, it's probably because you rarely bother to take any interest in my life.
Your husband:
Last but most certainly not least: That man you fell in love with. That man that when
your biological clock started ticking or it was that time of the month you
jumped on him like there's no tomorrow. Remember him? You might want to indulge
his needs occasionally, rather than turning over and feigning headache /
fatigue every night.
Let's not forget ladies, men are simple creatures. Men will always
be sexual. Men will always be visual. And if he's not getting
it from you, chances are he's getting it / looking for it elsewhere. And please don't cry "HOME WRECKER" when your husband has an affair. He has needs too, pretty simple needs if you ask me. If a woman catches his eye, he may well enjoy the attention. Sure. There are serial cheaters out there - men that just can't keep it in their pants. But there are also ALOT of men who love their wives as the mother of their kids, but they're just going through the motions. Day in, day out. The passion is
gone. It's not fun anymore. Or romantic. Or sexual. So they meet someone. A
nice girl. She's not a home wrecker. She's a nice girl. She's fun. She's easy to talk to..... And that's how it starts. And you'll rant on facebook about that home-wrecking sl@t. Maybe you should've treated him with a little more respect & love & adoration.
I certainly know why your 'married with kids' friends don't return your calls...
I read this article and every word resonated with me in that my friends do exactly what Bec does. The problem I have with that? I am TWENTY years old I am the only friend without a boyfriend and not one of us has kids. This is not an issue only relevant to mothers. This is an issue amongst women in general where they pick and choose who they involve in their life based on what suits them best. And it SUCKS. I am the loyal friend who ALWAYS makes plans. Yet on the rare occasion my friends do contact me it's always 'oh we should hang out soon'. Here's a thought! How about instead of suggesting to hang out, message me and say 'hey Mel, what are you doing tomorrow at 9am, let's grab a coffee!' It is bullshit that I have lost my friends because they find it impossible to balance their time out for people who are important to them. It shouldn't be like that.