Not such small talk

I was at a social event last night, and got chatting to a couple about my time living in America. I have a stock of things I say, phrases that have become set phrases, thoughts that I can articulate without thinking about them. Five and a half significant years of my life, processed into small talk material. Nothing wrong with that - you don't want to be baring your soul to everyone you meet, and it's inevitable that your personal reflections on a place, a culture, a way of life, will become honed by repetition, into digestible fodder.

The couple I was speaking to asked me if I kept in touch with American friends, and I surprised myself. Usually my response would be:

"We made some really great friends. Mid Westerners are very open and welcoming, and we were sad to leave behind some close friendships. Yes, we're definitely keeping in touch."

Last night, I found myself saying:

"We've kept in touch so far, but it's getting a bit thin now. Inevitably. You can't keep in touch with everyone, and as you get busy in your new location and your new life, you can't carry all your friends from your previous place along with you."

I surprised myself, but yes, it's true. I'm not keeping up with friends in America as much as I was this time a year ago. It's nearly two years since we left, and life moves on. It's appropriate and good to be spending less time feeding old friendships, as new ones develop and take up more of your time and attention.

But I felt sad, nevertheless. Small talk suddenly became not all that small.

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Some things I haven't learnt

We're getting used to a new situation in our family. I have a job. I have four weeks holiday a year. My workplace operates a flexi-time system, so I can build up time to take off and extend those holidays, and I'm only part-time* so a week at work is only three days, but even so, my holidays are never going to match the children's school holidays. Luckily, Husband has school holidays which match the children's, and so we're never having to struggle for childcare. But it's a new routine, and it's taking a bit of time to get used to. This week, Husband has taken the children to see his parents for three nights, while I've stayed at home for a working week.

I've really been looking forward to this time. I've imagined myself going to the supermarket, buying a ready meal as a treat, or an interesting salad in a box. (No family dinner to cook!) I've thought of watching films - maybe even TWO in the same evening. (No screen-time negotiation, no boys to oust from live football or recorded Dr Who!) I've pictured myself luxuriating in long, hot baths. (No daughter's reading to listen to and diary to sign off!)  Ha! The house to myself!

It hasn't turned out like that at all. I haven't bought ready meals. I've cooked myself frighteningly healthy suppers (baked sweet potato and spinach tonight), congratulated myself, and then picked all evening at not-so-healthy snacks, including dark chocolate, which - it turns out - doesn't taste so nice unless you share it with a Husband. And it's taken me ten pieces (TEN!) to arrive at that conclusion.

I didn't watch a film. I put Girl with a Pearl Earring in the dvd player, but couldn't quite be bothered, and ended up channel-hopping rubbish tv instead, as I hung the laundry on the rack.

I haven't had a relaxing bath. I've pottered about the internet, ordering school name tapes, vaguely thinking about our summer holiday, and now I'm blogging. Even the dog is restless - does he pick it up from me?

This is something I haven't yet learnt. I remember leaving my first baby with my mother, and going off for what would now be called "me time", but in those days was called " a break". Just a couple of hours. I ended up in a department store, looking at baby clothes. I remember going to a wedding, leaving a toddler with my husband, planning the day to the nearest minute, and catching a train at some unearthly hour to get from Buckinghamshire to Yorkshire and back in the day. I sat and watched a mother with a baby on her lap in the train, and - though I was looking forward to the treat of a long train journey and reading a book - I chatted to her instead.

It's not that I never switch off from being a mother. There are times when I can really enjoy my own company, and do things that are self-indulgent and glorious. But I haven't learnt that it doesn't always come to demand.


* Why do I say that? Why have I gone from being "just" a stay at home mother to "only" part-time?

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