Feeling clucky

Before anyone freaks out. No. I am not feeling broody.

Far from it, actually – over the last couple of days, BC has been an absolute joy. We’ve been having the most delightful chats, going places, been having mid-mid/high success in the old potty training arena… all in, thumbs up. And I do put it down to her getting older. This week terrible two’s has been supplanted by the terrific two’s.

By the way, I hate the word terrific, but for alliterative aesthetics it had to do.

Either way. It’s been magic!

No. I have been feeling clucky this week because I have been strongly reminded of some of the wonderful hen do’s (translation for American friends is a batchelorette party) I’ve enjoyed over the last few years. And it has really, really made me want to go on another one. And also really, really made me miss female company.

I miss these types of conversations:

Girl 1: What time shall we come round?
Girl 2: When works for you?
Girl 1: 6.30? 7?
Girl 2: I’m warning you now – I’m in joggers, my hair is a mess and I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge.
Girl 1: I can beat that, I’m not wearing any make-up and I most likely won’t be wearing a bra either. I look like death
Girl 3: Arghhhhhh I won’t be back from work until 8.30 so I’ll have to come straight from work in my work clothes.
Girl 4: Can I get a lift with you, Girl 2?
Girl 2: Oh. I was about to ask you the same
Girl 3: Strike that. I’ve finished work early – I’ll come pick you both up
Girl 5: Playing catch up – what time are we meeting, where, and who’s driving?

I miss nights like this:

*sat on sofa*
Girl 1: I’m so fat. I wish we hadn’t eaten that pizza
*opens bag of sweets*
Girl 2: Oh I know what you mean – I have that wedding in two weeks and I have no idea what to wear. Nothing fits me anymore.
*takes a handful of sweets*
Girl 1: I’m literally the heaviest I’ve ever been
*takes a handful of sweets*
Girl 1: So tomorrow, I’m making a smoothie for breakfast, and then taking my own lunch into work
Girl 2: That’s such a good idea – I’m doing a food shop tomorrow so that I have no excuses for next week
*opens pack of biscuits*

The hankering after a hen do is actually just my need for girldom – also known as galdem, (but I sound like a twat when I say it) – which, I discovered is urban slang for a group of girls. Who knew?

I absolutely adore my husband, and my daughter. But I bloody love being a girl. I’m so glad I am one. I don’t know what I’d do if I was a boy. I love making things look nice. And candles. I love planning things. And making lists. And adding things onto lists so that I can then cross them off. I love painting my nails. I love how it feels to buy new shoes. And clothes. And to wear new underwear. I love how excited we get over lipstick. I love how long it takes me to choose a new moisturiser. I love that we buy magazines for every purpose – choosing a hair colour, being a bride, having a baby. I love how kind drunk girls are to each other. I love how girls just hug each other for no reason other than because they truly love each other. And, of course, one of my most favourite places in the world is Staples.

I’m not saying that boys don’t do or feel any of this. But I just don’t ‘get’ that from the boys I know.

I went on a hen do earlier this year. I won’t lie. We were nervous. There were nearly 20 of us, and we were two groups of friends, possibly even three. Now all girls know that hen do’s can go one of two ways;

a)major fallouts, one of the bridesmaids gets into a huge bust up with the bride and not only gets unbridesmaid-ed but also uninvited to the wedding, tears, bitchiness. We’ve all seen it.
Or b) by the end of the week you feel like life-long friends, you miss sharing a bed with each other, you know absolutely every single detail of each other’s life, your hopes and dreams. You basically become sisters.

We had the latter experience. Hence this post.

I think that what has exacerbated this is that I am also close to my mum and sister, and my mum- and sisters-in-law, too. I didn’t really realise how many strong, fabulous females I kept around me until they weren’t physically there anymore – thank god for Facebook, Skype, Whatsapp, Instagram, Twitter, emails, texts….

I’ve just come from doing that crazy stalker-mum thing where you just sit there and watch your child sleep. Sometimes I’m really creepy and stroke her cheek. By the way, it’s highly likely that I will still be doing this when she’s 14 as I’m totally in awe of how marvellous I think she is. And I’ll probably scare the shit out of her.

Anyway. As I watched her lying there, I thought about the world of possibilities just waiting for her.

And now that I have a daughter of my own, I realised that all I truly wish for her is that, she too, is as lucky as me to have such a colourful network of confident and dauntless ladies to help her find her way in the world, and shape her to be whoever she wants to be.

And this didn’t all come about because of the Spice Girls. Women have been displaying girl power for generations and generations. It’s just how we’re programmed.

Don’t get me wrong – girls can be vile too. My own niece is currently having a terrible time of it at school. Some nasty little shit has decided that she doesn’t like her – I personally feel it is because my niece is ridiculously intelligent. Like, Rain Man intelligent. And is stunning to boot. But hey, that’s just me – However, she is also only six. Six years old. Bullied by another six year old. What does a six year old go through for them to believe that that is an acceptable way to treat someone? This is the type of Mean Girl behaviour you expect from secondary school kids. Not kids who have literally just started out in life.

So, whilst I stand over BC, doing my best grim reaper impression, I realise what my greatest responsibility will be. I know that she could count Beyonce and the Queen as her BFF’s but it wouldn’t do her the world of good if I don’t teach her the simple, most basic fundamental principal of girldom.

Be kind. Be kind to the kids you want to be friends with. Be kind to those that you don’t. Be kind to the kid that none of the other kids are kind to. If someone is rude to you – kill that bastard with kindness. Never let some two-bit tosspot ruin your groove. Just smile beautifully at them and wave bye-bye. You just concentrate on being kind – that bitch karma will make sure a bus hits them. Hard.

And if I can do that one thing for her, I know that I’ll have a done a pretty darn good job.

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