Words: Simmy Richman
Though it’s become a clunking cliché, there’s still something lovely about the John Lennon chestnut about life being what happens when you’re busy making other plans. But for all that it has been used to death, no one ever seems to mention the quote’s context. It is widely known that it is taken from the song “Beautiful Boy”, and that the song was written about his son, Sean, a toddler at the time. So, if you ask me, what Lennon is really trying to tell us, is that children are what happens when you’re busy making other plans.
Had he written that, of course, it could have been misconstrued. Even writing it now, it sounds as if you are saying you didn’t want the kids in the first place and that they have come along and ruined everything. Which is not the point at all. The point is that even the smallest plans go out the window when there are small people involved.
Take nothing more adventurous than a trip to the park. In your head, it’s a sunny day, there is happiness, laughter, running, play and the whole thing unfolds like an advert for breakfast cereal or ice-cream. In reality, there will be mud. The toddler will need the toilets at the precise moment you are furthest away from them, preferably at the front of a queue, a favourite toy will be lost somewhere along the way and the entire outing will be punctuated by minor accidents, tantrums, vomit or snot (sometimes both), groveling apologies to other parents and the only thing you can know for sure is that YOU WILL LEAVE IN DISGRACE.
Children, then, are the sworn enemies of your expectations.
And so it was over the recent holidays. We had a plan for New Year’s Eve that sounded straightforward enough. We would head up north to stay with friends who have three small children of their own. Another couple (two kids) would join us and, once all the little ones were in bed, the six grown-ups would eat, drink and get to the other side of midnight (for a change) doing our darndest to pretend that we were sophisticated people of the world.
Tantrums, vomit or snot (sometimes both), grovelling apologies to other parents and the only thing you can know for sure is that YOU WILL LEAVE IN DISGRACE
Our Thing Two had other ideas. Though he had made it to nine months without ever really leaving his mother’s arms, the last few weeks had seen something of a breakthrough and the ability to crawl had opened up his horizons. Typically, he had fallen ill on our arrival and taken a few metaphorical steps backwards. The four of us were going to be sharing a bedroom, so every time he woke up he disturbed Thing One and any idea we had about eating had to be put on hold while attempts were made to settle him.
Which pushed our dinner plans back but, drama over, our host put an iPod on shuffle and suddenly we were child-free, carefree and the quiet rumpus could start. As midnight approached, there was even dancing and merriment. Disco classics, cheesy classics, rock classics… the shuffle worked its random magic and, for a short time, we forgot all about our responsibilities upstairs.
With minutes to go to the midnight hour, the iPod had other ideas. So what would we all be grooving to as the clock counted down? As “Birdhouse in Your Soul” ended and the clock was about to chime, fortune decided on its next tune. A pause, another glance towards the clock, and then: “See the little bunnies sleeping…”
There is a popular belief that what you are doing at midnight on New Year’s Eve will influence the year ahead. Oh well. Hoppy new year.
