Saturday 28 November 2015

Nearly 50

Gosh, I forgot to procreate.

This morning, a picture appeared on my Facebook feed - my friends, Nicola and Scott and their wee one, aged a few months old (the joy of being a non parent is people don't expect you to be precise about the ages of their off spring).  Her on her back, legs and arms in classic baby posture, smiling.  You can almost hear her gurgling from the picture - she's got an arm up to pull daddy's hair and he's laughing too.  And this kind of thing is bloody lovely and completely and utterly precious to me.  I'm grateful and humbled, and joyful all at the same time that I get to share in my friends' families, even though, sometimes they are a little alien to me.

I love seeing Liz & Ian's two girls, being brought up, it would seem without a clue about gender stereotypes.  They aren't so much tom boys as just their own person.  Being loved for being who they are, and being allowed to be that person.  Somehow the parenting has also managed to prevent these two little darlings from anything approaching rudeness or violence, without stifling their tiny little person abilities to have a true personality, unfettered by what society might expect.  Love watching these two get older.

I love seeing the photos of my Scottish friends twin boys.  They are always doing something together, the family and the kids - there are bikes, snowy hills, skis, and lots of pictures of rosy smiling cheeks.

I love that the daughter of one of my old work colleagues allows me in on her Facebook too.  She's, I guess 22 now, but I've known her since she was 7.  I share a kind of odd pride in this fabulous young woman with her mum.  I know much about the difficult times, and I'm so bloody impressed at how she bounces back, and gets through with dignity.  I know some heart aches, and can't help but want nothing but the best for her.

Then there are the special children - for some are indeed more special than others.  I have a nephew by blood, a nephew by marriage and a godson by proxy.  These are family.  My fabulous nephew, known from his birth, now coming up for 20.  I like to think I've played a part in what he's become and I love his odd 20 going on 40, forthright, determined eccentricity with a passion.  I'm so appreciative that he still wants me in his life.  He's been going on 40 since he was two years old.  My teeny little nephew, the darling little six year old, beloved by both his separated parents, and loved immensely by all his connected family.  He's my mum's only grandson, and yes, we cherish him.  I just hope he can one day lose the worried expression he's worn since birth!  And of course my godson aged 12.  Let's gloss over the fact that for maybe three years I referred to him as the Devil Child.  He went through a difficult stage.  I am hopeful that he'll stay in my life as he gets older too.

Life is richer for the people in it, and for the children, but my life is not poorer for having none of my own, and I'm not protesting too much here, genuinely I don't feel the loss, like I don't feel the lack of a Maserati.

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