My lovely friend Alison from The Motherhood wrote a piece recently that really resonated with me. She says that she spends a lot of her time amazed that she’s a grown-up, and even more that she’s a mother. I nodded my way through all this because I have a confession to make: for the last ten years I have been pretending to be an adult. I might have turned 18, I might be driving a car, boozing it up and voting in elections but the thing is, I’m actually still about seventeen.
Every time I walk into a shop to buy alcohol and don’t get asked to show ID I stop for a moment and think – really? Don’t they know I’m underage and shouldn’t be drinking this ten quid bottle of wine? How can they be sure I’m not going to go round the back and neck it with my friends on our BMXs? Never mind the fact I’m in Waitrose and am toting my membership card, my free tea, car keys sensible handbag and two children… I still feel the guilt of doing something a little bit naughty.
Similarly, I totally feel guilt when my mum texts me and doesn’t put kisses on the end. I think, uh-ho, what have I done wrong? Did I stay out too late again? Did she catch me kissing another boy (hasn’t happened since I was 16, honest). Did I get in trouble at school for skiving drama to go to Topshop? Did I accidentally go into my overdraft and she found out about it (this never happens, I promise mum!)?
Then it comes to these two mini people who apparently I am in sole charge of 80% of the time. When we’re in public and one of them yells “MUMMY!” it still takes me a couple of moments to realise they’re talking to me. I relate more to my kids than the other mums at pre-school (probably cos they’re actual grown-ups) and would totally shop at Zara Kids if I was only a couple of feet shorter. At a party recently I ended up in the TV room watching Saturday night TV with the teenagers because the adults were talking about adult things and at that same party someone asked me how I was enjoying University. I like to play with Lego, PlayDoh and am totally cool with that.
I worry that I don’t have conversations about finance or politics because frankly, it bores me. My jokes are crude, my pop culture interests revolve around Kim Kardashian and I don’t really have an off switch when it comes to wine or cocktails. I buy shampoo that I’m sure is targeted at 16 year olds (hi, Soap and Glory!). I listen to the Frozen soundtrack even when the kids aren’t with me and I wear a bright red GShock watch. My favourite outfit revolves around skinny jeans and my Liberty print Vans and I TOTALLY get where Michael Scott is coming from. THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID.
The one thing that does make me feel a bit like a grownup is my forehead wrinkles. And they can be fixed by Botox so are not even relevant.
Is this normal? Need I feel necessarily worried as I enjoy the kids’ baked beans with a glass of wine and a Beyonce singalong this evening (hey, it’s Friday!). No word of a lie, to celebrate the weekend I’m currently jamming to a playlist that would mostly have not been out of place in my favourite club 11 years ago: TLC and Missy Elliot YO! Please tell me there are some other teen mothers like me (well, mentally at least) out there. And then lets go out and get irresponsibly hungover together, yeah?
Above: daytime drinking with @Photogirluk. Definitely not sensible adult behaviour. Loads of fun though.