Am I boring you? - The Pie Chart of Worry

It's true I am a bit of a worrier. I think most women are really and that part of us just hypes up a 100 times when we become mothers. That is my theory anyway. Since my daughter was born I have had bad dreams almost every night I think. Mostly where she is represented by a kitten or a tiny doll or something like that and I forget I've got her and she falls down the toilet or out of the window...

That was a bit heavy wasn't it? Sorry. Anyway, this is another post about worrying. Its not my appearance this time. The other worry on the top of my hit list is “Am I boring you?”

There have been lots of social situations in the last year that have made me ask that question. I sit there quietly with friends I've known for years, racking my brains to see if I can add something to the conversation that doesn't start with my daughter as the subject.

I'll get over it. I think I'm still feeling like a newbie at all this and sooner or later I will believe that I don't need a job to validate myself or to be interesting company.

I did confide in a friend about this once. She asked “Well, did you talk about work alot before?” Honestly I don't think I did. I have never really thought that talking about the ins and outs of your work place would be of interest to anyone but you and perhaps your work colleagues, so I've never really done it.

The trouble with this mind set is that my life has altered totally by giving up work, you of course have your original set of friends who are there for your sanity and to remind you who you are (literally and metaphorically), but then you need mummy friends too. You need them to do things with, so that you can see and speak to adults during the day. Which means you have to go to play groups and make an effort to chat.

I mean, seriously, who might want to be friends with a 35 year old woman who wanders around muttering “its Wednesday, right? I'm sure it was Tuesday yesterday...” then counts off the days on her fingers to check. Or – the fool proof way, check Sky Planner for what programmes are on that day. “Sopranos”. Definitely Wednesday!

Is it terrible that now I've started going to these play groups, that when I meet the other (usually) women at these things, I'm secretly pleased when they are a bit boring and can only really start a conversation by saying “so, how old is yours then?” Ahhhhhh, big exhale. Its not just me.

For funzie's I created a pie chart of my worry list. What would your pie chart look like?

I'm a bit worried – is this blog boring?

Blue: My appearance/grey hairs
Red: Is my child happy/safe/normal
Yellow: Money
Green: Massive global disasters
Burgundy: Am I a bore?

Are you "that" friend?

Hello All,

Following a recent night out with some girl-friends it dawned on me that I was “that” friend. You know the one.... Unable to handle her drink as well as everyone else. Unable to identify the round at which you have a coca cola and not another beer. The one that wants to go on to the next bar/club, as opposed to go home, despite it being really late. The one who, once inebriated, forgets about her actual life and imagines she is living in a movie where she is young, slim, beautiful and, of course, the worlds greatest dancer. Secretly she knows she has got the moves – she's Baby Housemann from Dirty Dancing, she's SJP's character in Girls Just Want to Have Fun (can't remember what she was called..). Everyone in the room is sitting there thinking, wow, I've never seen choreography like it, she's amazing....er, ahem.... Have I said too much?

Anyway, in some people's eyes “that” friend is, to be frank a bit of a pain and a liability I expect. I wouldn't know of course – because, it's me.

So, the question is, should I try and change from being “that” friend? I'm not sure I could even if I wanted to, because its basically down to the fact that as much as I love it, my body is intolerant to alcohol. It floods my system quickly and poisons me for days after, my brain then blocks this out, just in time for the following weekend/outing with the girls. So, I'm doomed anyway.

I'm relatively lucky that most of my friends don't seem to mind me playing this role, well, they've never moaned about it to my face anyway. I'm also lucky in the fact that my other half is, I suspect “that” friend too. He's completely blasé about being a nightmare on a night out, absolutely no shame and I find that really liberating. Plus we've had some great nights in and out together. Having a few beers, doing the leg dance* and turning any board game or xbox game you can think of, into a drinking game, until the silly hours of the morning.

The up-side of being “that” friend for me is that I'm always willing to squeeze all the possible good time out of a night out, have a laugh, get up on the dance floor and stop for a burger on the way home. Generally speaking I'm not unpleasant when drunk, I laugh too much, I dance like a complete spack and then go home and pass out. I can count on the fingers of one hand the times I've argued after a night out. But I did once snog a cab driver (many many many years ago) – which is pretty unforgivable...

I still can't say with any conviction that I'd rather be the person who has a coke on the 6^th round, remembers the whole night with clarity and wakes up feeling absolutely fine the next day. For me that would be a crap night out. Who's with me brothers and sisters???!!!!

(*copyright Daz)