Starbucks, Flying Hedgehogs and The Meaning of Life

I was chatting with a friend of mine last night and we were both enviously bemoaning those couples that sit in Starbucks on a Sunday morning, drinking their coffees and reading their magazines just oozing calm and relaxation. I can imagine those people bouncing into work on Monday glowing after a weekend spend rejuvenating after the hectic working week. Our trips to Starbucks are now invariably centred around trying to "stop the kids o/d'ing on fruitshoots" and to actually eat that chocolate muffin they howled for in the queue as opposed to sharing it liberally with the surrounding tables.  But we both came to the conclusion quite quickly we wouldn't change a thing.

Why? Why do people want kids? Ok so I know this is a question akin to the meaning of life and its different for everyone; partly our genetic programming, a need to create life with a beloved partner or indeed an overwhelming urge to parent. But it is fair to say that the ideology of parenting that I had before kids is absolutely nothing like the reality I live today. The relentless frustrations, earsplitting noise, a hallway that looks like a shoe sale at Oxfam and don't get me started on the eternal training of turning off lights, flushing the toilet and please put half eaten food in the bin and DON'T shove it behind the TV....

That being said, some time back we made friends with a couple round the corner. They lived in an identical house to us but had no kids. The first time we pitched up at their house for a BBQ when they opened the door my daughter stood there, open mouthed, and announced to the world "Wow... so THIS is what our house is supposed to look like?!" Whilst I enjoyed the afternoon I left with a sense of dissatisfaction at my house. I then spent the next couple of weeks in a pointless attempt to try and "up-chic" my home. I eventually surrendered when the elegant ornament I had strategically placed on the hallway table was brutally murdered by a flying barbie doll and the chic paper-shaded floor light was cheerfully decorated by my youngest with a fine drawing of her, mummy and what looked like a flying hedgehog. 

Over coffee with my neighbour I shamefacedly admitted my attempts to mimic her house style when she admitted that she too had been very "saddened" after coming to our house. It turns out they were unable, for whatever reason, to have kids and had spent many evenings talking about how they would adore their perfectly manicured hallway to be as crappy, messy and kidified as ours. 

So truthfully I cannot tell you one reason why I wouldn't change a thing about the crappy, messy, kidified existence that I inhabit. The reality may not be what I had anticipated and there are moments that see me reaching for the pinot grigio but those are completely outweighed by moments of absolute perfection, of lots of little instances of pure joy, unconditional love and acceptance with a whole pile of sticky kisses thrown in.

So indeed this Sunday I will not be sitting in Starbucks with a double-shot, skinny latte and the latest copy of the FT (or indeed Hello!) but will be sitting in my bed with a mug of tea that is broadly used by all and sundry to dunk their Rich Tea biscuits in while they destroy my already destroyed bedroom by making dens and then fighting over who will go in first. 

And if I really want to relax I hear colouring is very good therapy and I know of a lampshade that is crying out for a whole bunch of pretty flowers to go with a flying hedgehog....