They say it takes a village to raise a child and not a truer word has been spoken. I think a ‘village’ can mean many things though. It can mean family, friends, local community and the world wide community too. It encompasses child care, schools, health & community services and governments.

Sometimes the ‘village’ isn’t always as tangible. Connections that can evoke a sense of belonging without it being a formalised service or a particular person or group can also be part of our village. Sometimes we can find the sense of a ‘village’ through random connections.

Recently I’ve had some really great chats with some awesome women about more than just the usual “what-cha-been-up-to” kind of stuff.

There’s so much I could write about, but what I took out of these pleasantly random conversations was that as women and mothers, although we are on our own paths, we are all sailing the same seas. We are sitting in our boats, holding our trusty oars and rowing like friggen champions.

We are all heading toward the same destination, but our challenges are unique. However, you can always count on the fact that someone you know is on the same trip, or has travelled those seas before you. There is also a lot to be learned from the ones who haven’t sailed yet, or who never will.

I don’t really know what I am trying to say but I have stretched the ‘sailing on the sea’ analogy way beyond it’s use as well as my knowledge of nautical things.

I guess what I want to write is that I really enjoy and appreciate connecting with other women who are open and real. Women who let their guard down a bit, and who talk honestly about their experiences are the bees knees.

We have so much to offer when we are a little vulnerable. We symbolically wrap our arms around each other at those times. We have the “oh yeah, me too” moments. We share the wisdom of seas already sailed (I’m back in my row-boat) and by surrounding ourselves with women of these kind, we create our own village where the symbolic arms are open, the ears are ready and the stories flow as freely as the wine.

If you’re lucky enough to have found some villagers of your own, hang on to them tight. They are your light house. They are your compass in troubled waters and will guide you home to terra firma.

 

Ps. That was a lot of sea sailing talk from someone who has the urge to throw up standing on a pontoon.

Thanks for reading…

M

 

 

 

 

I read an article the other day about the “mental load” of parenthood. There’s been a lot written about Mental Load over the past few years. The author got absolutely slammed by some readers because she was complaining. There were comments about it being “her choice to have children”, and it’s “just life.. so get on with it”. The ‘working vs stay at home parent’ comparison even slipped in there too. It was disappointing to read the comments because firstly…where’s the sisterhood gone? and secondly…I totally related to what was written.

Surely I’m not the Lone Ranger?

The mental load-ees of the world keep track of all the small details of everyone’s everything. We are the buyers of undies, clipper of nails and makers of appointments. We schedule our lives around the sports practice, music lessons, excursions, parties and sleepovers. We juggle every family members schedule in our heads for the next week as we lay awake at night simultaneously questioning if we’ve forgotten something and when we last washed the sheets. We ponder if we are doing a good job with this ‘raising people’ gig and whether or not swearing at them has caused psychological damage.. (ok… maybe that’s just me?)

This is why Fridays are so freakishly good. Even though the Patron Saint of Agony ‘Saturday morning sport’ is looming, Fridays are a chance to leave the mental load behind. However, there comes a moment on Sunday afternoon where we start to gather up the mental load and pile it back into our brains like stuffing dirty clothes into a washing machine.

It doesn’t always come down to the mum of the house who carries the mental load but here in the Hooch house, since I made a choice to leave paid work, it seems the mental load plus all the god-damned washing has landed back in my lap again. (Sorry for the laundry references… I have issues 🤦‍♀️).

As much as Mr Hooch is pretty cool, (and even packs lunchboxes) he would be the first to admit that I’ve done the heavy lifting in the ‘mental load of the family’ department. Sometimes he likes to pop in his two cents worth. It’s not always appreciated. Like the time I was busily wrapping a gift and getting Junior Hooch ready to go his friend’s birthday party, he breezed in and asked “have you bought a card?”

Ahem…. Are you fucking kidding me? This, coming from someone who has never got any of the children ready for a birthday party, let alone BUY A CARD.
This is the equivalent of me strolling down the farm yard and questioning him if he’d checked the sheep this morning? Fuck Off….And make it quick. You’re adding to my load.

So to those of you who, like me, sometimes feel overwhelmed by the weight of our loads, I hope you have the chance to take a breath and celebrate your magical gloriousness.

And if you need to have a little whinge now and again, feel free to give me a call, because the world simply wouldn’t turn without us.

M