I went to my son's friend's house yesterday so the boys could have a playdate. His friend's mum taught me how to make little chinese dumplings and we chatted whilst cooking and taking turns to entertain her baby daughter. Had such a nice time.
We talked together about the different approach to raising children in the UK and China and shared our common desire to give our kids a different kind of upbringing to the one we'd experienced. I learned quite a bit in the few hours we spent together. I was in awe of her ability to communicate complex ideas without a perfect grasp of English and yet such a desire to be understood. Puts my efforts to flail around in pigeon French on holiday to total shame.
I sensed a frustration that is familiar amongst my western compadres in having to reduce or give up totally your commitment to paid, meaningful work when you become a mother. Some of my friends do manage to successfully combine high flying careers with motherhood, just about. But what I sensed from my new friend was an awareness of this frustration vying with a sense that she should be grateful for what she does have. The two feelings in conflict, not quite resolving.
It's something that I forget myself. To be grateful for what I have. What I have is in fact immense in contrast to the lack that so many suffer and I was reminded yesterday, how fortunate we are to have been born where we were, by mere fluke. Also how similar we all are, women of the world, as mothers, sisters, wives, people, contributors to society, friends.......
Came home and watched John Bishop on the tv nearly kill himself to raise 1.6m quid to help people on the other side of the globe.
Yesterday was somehow quite intense!
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