My best friend looked at me with a mix of guilt and fear in her eyes as she put down her toddler’s lunch in front of him. She was still 9 months pregnant with all 10lb 4oz of her second son (whom I now affectionately know as Sausage) whilst still running around after her demanding 2 year old son, and she looked guilty – she was feeding her child hot dog and fries for lunch. She began to over explain herself, “The hot dogs are made from organic turkey, and I get them from the farmer’s market. And the fries, they’re organic. And they’re made from sweet potato.”
Now, frankly in her condition, she could have handed the kid a tube of raw cookie dough and I probably wouldn’t have blinked.
There are some things that women without children, such as myself, will never understand. My otherwise meticulously groomed friends suddenly start resembling mad women you might see rummaging through the value bin at Lidl on Old Kent Road. “I have no time to wash my hair,” they tell me. I don’t understand that. How can you have no time to wash your hair? Put child down. Get in shower. Wash hair. Dry off. Pick screaming child back up. But apparently it’s true. There is no time to wash your hair and until you have children, you just don’t get it. This is what they say, and I believe them, because there but for an (as yet) unproductive uterus, could be me.
And so, I find it amazing when my best friend, at 9 months pregnant, is still able to manoeuvre herself, her bump, and her demanding 2 year old into the car, drives down to the farmer’s market, fights the crowds and queues for an organic hot dog to feed to her son – who will probably only eat half of it before wandering off to watch Theodore Tugboat or something. That’s dedication. That’s love. And that’s looking after the well-being of your family.
And if she has no time to wash her hair – who cares? I believe her.