So I’ve picked up on an interesting development. For some reason, my topics of conversation have switched from wanting to talk about the genius of French House music, the impact Stanley Kurbick had on me as a child (I mean his films, not in person, that might be misconstrued) or how Red Dwarf is the quintessential British Comedy to asking probing questions about expressing milk from the breast and enemas.
I didn’t initiate the conversation regarding the lactation of milk, but some fascinating information was offered to me by my senior manager. I genuinely do mean fascinating too. Initially the word “Breast” ,spoken in the work place by someone of authority, made me blush – but then I thought, this is actually just the facts of life, this information is vital to help me raise a child, I need to stop thinking about female anatomy as something of a visual novelty and more in terms of a sustainable source of nourishment. It’s a hard transition to make and it has thrown up a whole load of moral questions that I’m not prepared to answer (or even to ask).
Where as my previous topics of conversation were limited to be had with people who also shared similar interests, now – with my new fatherhood topics – it’s opened doors for me to chat to a whole range of people I wouldn’t normally have done so. Which is great, I like the idea of having a new ‘thing’ that I have in common with someone. I was chatting to woman in work yesterday for about 30 minutes about her experiences of a recent birth. Normally it would have been a brief hello before diving into work detail and given that I like the old chin wagging, it’s been a pleasure to use the potential pitfall and the pride of parenting to having something more to talk about.
We went to a friends wedding last weekend. We didn’t know anyone but the bride and groom. What turned out to be the best icebreaker was the fact that Kim was pregnant. Normally we would have pondered through this that and the other to try and find some common ground, but instead someone came straight in with “so when are you due?” and that was it. Hours of conversation on the topic were had. Oddly we met someone else at the wedding whose due date was one day after ours next April. Interestingly though, she wasn’t all that impressed and chose that time instead to justify why she was drinking champagne? “It’s only one small glass!” I didn’t have the balls to tell her that it was the 2nd “small glass” I’d seen her drinking that day. Each to their own.
So I’m defiantly embracing this new found unity between us and other parents out there. Inevitably there will be backlash when we start going to our NCT classes and I’ll probably end up being the class dunce, shunned by the jumper wearing chino brigade because I don’t know the correct formula dosage for a 4 year old ! Inevitably you will hear that in all its’ embarrassing detail!!
