Skip to main content

Warning: Not a Usual Post - Something Nice

I had a glorious day yesterday.

Six fabulous women, who all had their kidlets in our 30s, chatting away about how our lives have morphed into something different for a magazine issue due out in the Spring.

The rabbit showed up in the afternoon with the other children, was mesmerized by the make-up and hair people who turned her fly-aways into two glorious "piggy tails." She couldn't stop touching them or looking at herself in the mirror. Even The Prince got away from his job in time for us to be photographed as family. And someone put this amazing elixir into my hair turning it into Rapunzel ringlets.

Best? Not one of the women turned out to be a (s)mother.

It was so inspiring and also a little sad, making me realize how important it is for us all to have communities of other women to talk to that "GET" us.

But then I realized that's what we're doing into our blogs.
(a collective, "oh, that's so nice.")

And now back to our regularly scheduled snarky programming.....

Comments

Bec said…
so glad it went well - what a moment, when job satisfaction morphs into life satisfaction, well done!

oh and p.s. - one of the great joys of my second daughter is that, in copying her elder sister, she lets me do piggy tails that her elder sister - at her age - would NEVER let me do... and little girl piggies are the cutest, right?
CozyMama said…
this is the second blog where the word snarky is used, love it....found you thru the webring...crazy hip mommas

Popular posts from this blog

The Grim Reaper

Firstborn is obsessed with death. It started with the odd comment, such as; "Mummy, what happens when you die?" OK, I thought, I was expecting this at some point, what a cute little curious brain she has. So I trotted out all the cosy Heaven stuff and left out all the things that could worry her, such as worms and bones and holes in the ground. This went down pretty well, although somehow Firstborn made the jump from my view of Heaven (filled with love, joy, always warm, never rains, has a huge discount designer shoe outlet and I never have to pay my Visa bill) to her own view of Heaven; a wonderous place where small girls don't have to eat their vegetables before they're allowed pudding, and where Barbie dolls grow on trees. Anyway, I digress. Last week Firstborn started shouting "Kill! Kill!" in a bloodthirsty tone while bashing her hithero-beloved teddy against the wall. This was topped by her purposely flushing her favourite My Little Pony down the loo. ...

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

A friend recently emailed me to say that her big memory of her stay with us last year is that she had a great birthday, one of the few where she didn't 'act like a spoiled grumpy princess'. She tried to give me all the credit but as I explained to her, it was all down to having a fellow female organising the birthday fun rather than leaving it to her partner. Her email got me thinking about birthdays and how very different men and women are in their attitudes to celebrating special occasions. It also had me thinking about my birthday two years ago when I threw a major tantrum in the Carrefour car-park after being told that we were off to do the weekly shop, kids in tow, which was simply the final straw at the end of a very uninspiring day. In contrast, my birthday last year was rather lovely (a morning on my own in a spa with no mobile coverage, pure selfish bliss). This year - in a few short months, eek! - I'll be hitting the grand old age of 38. This will be my las...