I miss my friends

And I think my child’s bedtime is to blame...

Hi everyone,

I was going to write about the new Bridget Jones film, Mad About The Boy, which I went to see at a screening this week (it’s officially out in the UK on 13th February) but because embargoes are in place I don’t have much to say other than - and this is rather surprising for a Bridget Jones film - take tissues. I did not (why would you?) and had to use my sleeve to mop up tears and snot. As I left the cinema, I passed by many other women gently patting their eyes, looking similarly confused that a comedy about a hapless singleton with a fondness for big knickers had left them in such a state. The promo for the movie centres around a shirtless Leo Woodall and dishy teacher Chiwetel Ejiofor but at its root it’s a film about grief and what comes after. It doesn’t quite have the same hit rate of laughs as the 2001 original (although Hugh Grant and Emma Thompson give it their best shot) but it certainly has a lot of heart.

It was my first night out of the house in quite a while. As of late I have found myself in a social rut. I cancel plans left, right and centre. I have become that most infuriating member of society: a flake.

Last Friday evening I was invited to dinner by a friend. I said I couldn’t make it because my husband and I already had plans - if you can call them that - to stay home and break our dry January together. How could I leave him to sit and drink red wine alone? (It ended up being glorious, thanks for asking). But the next morning I saw on Instagram that the dinner I’d turned down had swelled into a much bigger get together and everyone had gone to karaoke. Well, there had been about eight people but enough to give me FOMO while I made my son his morning pancakes. I couldn't remember the last time I’d been to a Lucky Voice and belted out “Paint It, Black” (a surprisingly undemanding one for the vocally challenged).

On Saturday, I had a loose plan to meet a friend at a pub in the afternoon. By the time she messaged to say she was ready, I asked if she’d mind if I took a rain check. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve shirked social engagements in the last few months. This was only my last weekend.

When your life becomes insular and you feel removed from your friends, it’s easy to blame your children. But, I have to say, I was excellent at keeping up when I had my baby. For the first two years of my son’s life, I saw my friends all the time. I took him to a wedding when he was five weeks old. We flew to Italy on a whim when he was a couple months old to see some pals. In that first year or two of motherhood, there was no distance between me and my gang, even the other ones with kids. Just because I had my son, I was determined that things wouldn’t change. But slowly they have.

My son is now two and three quarters and I wonder if this is normal, to enter motherhood with a steady resolve to maintain the social status quo, and to keep that up for a period, before eventually dropping out.