Anyone with children knows that sanity can be a hard thing to come by. Anyone surviving on three hours of sleep and one cold container of spaghetti over any given three day no-shower brand new baby cry and poop fest understands that a new parent is a always a minute away from calling it in during those first ten weeks (and beyond). Anyone with baby puke in their hair needs a lifeline.
Photo courtesy of the Wigleys
These gorgeous women have answered my call at all hours of the day and night. They have made me tea, sandwiches, cake, and more cake… They have laughed at my texts and my inappropriate emails. They have comforted me in moments of irrational trains of thought. They have shared their hearts and gone into battle with me. They have lent me things, allowed me to lend them things, given sage advice, acted like I was wise sometimes too, gushed over Kenneth, invited us over, popped around, breastfed in public with me, talked about poo, taken longs walks, arranged for girly cocktail nights and just been otherwise fantactular.
They are the mums of these incredible babies.
Separately, we second guess our every move as we dance and or feed in the dark morning hours–but together we make one helluva competent parent. We are a force to be reckoned with when we take on the town. It’s not entirely unlike a scene from Charlie’s Angels. But with fistfuls of teething rings and coffee instead of guns. And buggies and baby carriers instead of fast cars or chase sequences. Perhaps with less make up. And the explosions are a little different. Ok. It’s nothing like a scene from Charlie’s Angels; never mind.
Charlie should be so lucky.