Building a village
One of the fanciest things about my job is getting to go for posh breakfasts with PRs, normally in Dishoom because it’s right opposite the office. After a particularly drizzly nursery drop-off this week, I was very pleased to slide myself into one of the restaurant’s cosy booths and sip on a chai latte. I did, however, look like I’d just walked through a car wash, since I still haven’t solved the dilemma of how to stay dry when pushing a buggy (don’t you dare suggest a sensible raincoat).
When I explained my predicament to the lovely PR I was meeting, she said she could relate, and started telling me about her two-year-old nephew. The way she spoke about him made me realise she must be very involved with childcare, so I asked if they lived near each other, and she explained that, like many Asian families, she shares a house with her parents, brother, sister-in-law and their son. ‘All hands on deck in terms of childcare’, I thought, ‘that sounds like the dream!’
I’ve come to the conclusion that a ratio of three adults to one toddler is the ideal balance in order for everyone to stay sane. It’s been proved this week; my sister and her boyfriend are staying with us while their house gets rewired, and it’s very helpful to have someone take charge of the cooking and cleaning while my husband and I share childcare and work. Allocating nursery drop-offs and pick-ups becomes a military operation when you both work full time, and it just takes one unexpected office meeting or bout of illness for the whole plan to come off the rails. The saying ‘it takes a village to raise a child’ is certainly true – but what are people meant to do if they don’t live in the same area as their extended family?
One tactic is to throw money at getting help, or ‘buy the village’ as my friend Chloe describes it. Of course nursery is one aspect of this, but it’s normally when you need impromptu or out-of-hours childcare that you suddenly fantasise about having a grandparent down the road, ready to swoop in with offers of help. My family do help as much as possible, but there are limits when everyone lives at least an hour away. When it comes to splashing the cash in this scenario, you’re basically looking at paid-by-the-hour babysitters, which can quickly add up, especially when you have no money left after nursery fees.
Another option is to move nearer to your village. The mass exodus of families from London during the pandemic is largely down to this I’m sure. People driven mad by their kids during lockdown, and then discovering they can do their jobs remotely, are heading off to live near the grandparents, aunties etc. It’s a smart move if you can do it, but in my case I’m still expected in the office most days, which means moving back to my hometown in Wales is off the cards. Also – and this goes so against the prevailing narrative that it’s taken me a while to accept it – I don’t actually want to leave London. It’s a place that makes me feel alive, and I love the fact there’s so much happening on my doorstep. Plus I enjoy my job, and I just cannot imagine making an office-based job, toddler and long out-of-town commute work altogether. You can’t have it all.
That brings me to option three, which is to create your own village. It’s my number one goal for this year. Most people probably work on this during their maternity leave, but since mine was spent in lockdown I’m somewhat delayed in the ‘will you be my friend?’ drive. Of course, the whole thing is slighty mortifying – I spent 45 minutes trying to compose a message asking a fellow nursery mum on a playdate this week, and then just gave up – but I think pushing myself out of my comfort zone will pay dividends. As long as all those people I force to be my friend promise to never move out of London, or else.
So, please tell me, how have you successfully made friends as an adult? Is it possible to do without dying of embarrassment? Comments below!