People In Glass Houses

Let me start by saying I have been incredibly lucky. My friends are nothing but supportive, and have always been great sources of advice, comfort, reality checks and chocolate - whichever is most appropriate at the time. Today's post came about while I was researching for an article I'm writing. I asked for input from lots of different sources and I came across something that made me a little uneasy. There were some who were quite outspoken in their opinions to the point that some comments caused offense. There were others who were afraid to speak their minds on a public forum or at mother's groups for fear of being vilified for their choices (based on previous experiences.) This is my response to all of that...

I hate to admit it but I am guilty of being judgemental from time to time. I've looked at other mothers and raised a brow at some of the things I've seen and heard. I try to be discreet about it and keep my judgements to myself but I know there have been times when I have pushed my opinions onto others, sometimes because I wanted to be helpful, but I'm ashamed to admit, at other times I've done it because I thought my way was better. Sometimes I get so frustrated that I want to scream "what are you doing?!?" but I don't. I know how it feels to be judged, and there are a lot of things I do that make me feel so guilty that I want to curl up into a ball on the floor (and it's pretty tough to be judgemental from down there). Like giving my baby boy a bottle of formula at night so he'll sleep through (something I feel so guilty about I'm not doing it anymore). Or occasionally putting my toddler to bed early so I can have a glass of wine and watch TV at the end of a very long day (definitely still going to do that). To some mothers these actions are comparable to heinous crimes, and while I believe that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, what I don't get is women who feel they have the right to openly berate anyone whose parenting style differs to theirs. Being a mother is hard enough without other mothers, who you imagine would be your best allies, quite openly attacking the choices you've made (especially before they know the reasons behind those choices...). I don't know many ladies who would dare to criticise what their friends are wearing to their faces, or tell them what they're doing wrong in their jobs or their marriages - so why do so many of us feel it's ok to judge a mummy who might do things a little differently when it comes to parenting? Surely if any area of our lives deserves support, sensitivity and tact, motherhood must be it?

Not a single day goes by when I don't feel guilty about something. I am constantly questioning every choice I make. I am far from perfect and, to be perfectly honest, I die a little inside every time I do something that someone has told me will be bad for my kids. Like giving them formula, or letting them cry a little before they go to sleep. Even as I write this, and admit that I do those things, I'm cringing because I know there are some of you out there thinking "I can't believe she does that!" 

So, why are we so quick to judge, so keen to criticise? Is there any mother out there who doesn't question herself at least once a day? How many of you haven't had that crisis of conscience, that voice in the back of your head questioning a certain move, that late night, panicked trawl through baby books and parenting websites, desperate for answers?? Are any of us so good at this gig that we have the right to tell others what they're doing wrong, without first wondering if maybe they have good reasons for doing what they're doing? Is it a misguided attempt to be helpful? To make ourselves feel better about what we're doing? Or are some of us just completely oblivious to the fact that our "suggestions" might cause angst and heartache? I just read this great post about "Mom Bullies" that does a great job of describing the kind of mums I'm talking about. I agree that parenting is a damn tough job, and when you have a good day, when you find what works, you have every right to feel sanctimonious and superior. And I know how tempting it can be to share your insights when you see that someone has made a decision without knowing all the facts (I had to bite my tongue very recently). But that doesn't mean that what you do - what works in your house - will work in mine. Because really, whatever you practise, whichever parenting philosophy you subscribe to, there will always be "evidence" to back it up, and you will always find someone who agrees with you and who will tell you you are absolutely, 100%, without a doubt, doing the right thing for your family. But likewise, there will always be just as many voices that argue against it, and for those of us who aren't that confident, despite all that evidence, it's that one negative voice in the day that speaks the loudest. And don't get me started on how easily such helpful suggestions can be misconstrued in emails or forum comments. A tongue-in-cheek, "oh, he really should poo more often," can easily be read as, "you're clearly neglecting his needs."

When a friend, or a complete stranger for that matter, confides in you that she is thinking about giving up breastfeeding/going back to work/trying "cry-it-out" sleep training/swinging from the chandeliers high on Xanax every night, what she's really looking for is reassurance. She wants you to tell her she's doing the right thing. However much you disagree with her choices, whatever you know that she doesn't, whichever choices you think she should be making instead, chances are she has already made up her mind, and your input will not change it - it may just alienate her. If it works for her, then it will always be the right choice. What we all need is support and respect for our decisions, and the best thing you can say to someone seeking advice is "I don't know what I'm doing either..." That's not to say that you should never offer advice, because advice can literally save lives, just think very carefully about how you deliver it. A mum carrying her baby incorrectly in a sling, should probably be told, but the one buying formula, might be less receptive...

I could write post after post justifying the choices I've made, but I won't, because I believe that I shouldn't have to. But I still feel like I need to at times, and I hate that. Our world revolves around our boys (yes, we live in a Kindergarchy, deal with it), and when it comes to how to raise them we make educated decisions whenever possible, and the rest of the time we rely on gut instinct and our hearts to work out what is best for them, and we strive to make sure the needs of every family member are met. We want our kids to be happy, healthy, well behaved, independent young men who feel loved and know that they can rely on their parents to make the right choices, does any of that sound like the motivations of a bad parent? We all want that for our kids, does it really matter how we go about it? And is it anybody else's business? I may not be a perfect parent, and I'm overwhelmed by how little I actually know, but most of the time I know what works for us. So until my boys can tell me I'm doing a great job (and they may never get around to it) I just have to look at them and see how happy and healthy and bright they are, to know I'm doing the very best I can right now, with the resources I have to hand. And then I'll have another chocolate biscuit, put the boys in front of the TV and call my friends and tell them what a great job they're doing, because that's the kind of mother I want to be. It's a constant work in progress, and as I've educated myself I've changed the way we do things - but it hasn't ever been because someone has told me I'm doing it wrong.

There are so many factors that influence the choices every parent makes, and they may not always do what is considered "right" or even what they planned to do, but you can never know what is behind someone else's decisions. It's quite possible that choosing to give a baby formula, or going back to work, co-sleeping, using disposable nappies, or whatever it is you disagree with, may have been one of the toughest decisions that parent has made. In fact, the decision may have been out of their hands entirely. So, before you judge a friend, a neighbour, a random stranger on a forum who might be desperately seeking advice and wanting someone to tell her that what she's doing is ok, remember how tough this parenting gig is, and try not to make it any harder. We all deserve credit for loving our kids and doing the very best we can.

THIS POST RIGHT HERE is at the top of my list of "Posts I Wish I'd Written," and it perfectly sums up what I've been thinking this week and what I wanted to say today, only it says it better, of course.

And just to show I'm a good sport, here's a completely different point of view for the mums who do step in and bravely offer advice out of genuine concern. 

Keeping it Real

This post has been in the works for a long time. I have struggled to find the words to say what I really wanted to say, and to be honest, I'm not sure I've found them yet. But saying "thank you", while it doesn't seem like enough, has been at the top of my To-Do list for a while now and I really need to say it. So many of you, friends and family, and blog friends who we've never met, have written or called to offer support, and I literally cannot tell you how much it has meant to me, to us. Everyone had a different perspective, words of kindness and wisdom, and a story to share, and every bit of it was positive. It has all helped immensely, and I will remember your support more than I will remember the low points we've had during this time. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Since I wrote about J's eye condition I haven't really had a moment to dwell on it. We've been busy sorting out referrals and seeing doctors in Hong Kong, trying to find someone who knows anything about it here (so far unsuccessfully). But we've also been busy going to playgroup, painting, eating playdough, playing with the train set, chasing the dog and mastering the new scooter. While his parents were busy freaking out, fretting about the future and making treatment plans, my beautiful boy just got on with being his awesome self. Don't get me wrong, life is definitely different. The task of putting in eye drops is a constant reminder that something is out of the ordinary but it's actually been quite easy to just "get on with it." Doctor's visits and any mention of genetics still make me feel ill but every new thing we learn, and every positive story we hear makes it that little bit easier.

What has helped above all else is watching J and seeing how completely unfazed he is - he has kept my feet firmly on the ground. Not only do I not have time to worry excessively, I don't want to, for fear of worrying him. He clearly isn't concerned with his lot in life and I'm not going to be the one that changes that. I had a bit of a lightbulb moment recently when reading this post on a friend's blog (if you want to read someone telling it like it is, I seriously recommend you check this one out). I realised that no amount of stressing about what is and what will be, will change who my little man is. 

He just fell asleep with his little hands firmly clutching my hand to his chest. I lay there curled around him until my arm went to sleep. I got into the habit of getting into bed with him at night when I was working, it was such a short time between getting home and him going to bed that I wanted to spend every single minute with him that I possibly could. Now, of course I have the new baby as an excuse - 5 more weeks of being able to give my firstborn my undivided attention, and if he wants Mummy in bed with him, so be it. Of course it's all driven by guilt and that desperate need to be needed that is every mother's curse, but it's moments like those that make me want to wrap him up and keep him just the way he is forever. That moment when he finally gives up and falls asleep is my new happy place. Until recently I was worried about his dependence on bottles and dummies, and the appalling situation we have found ourselves in at dinnertimes, and all those other "bad habits" parents obsess over, when, let's face it, there were bigger fish to fry around the corner, and our J bird was more than content with the status quo.  Contrary to what I once believed, letting my son put himself to sleep with a dummy and a bottle of milk at 2 years of age, does not make me a bad mother. Constantly worrying about everything we're doing "wrong" and getting in the way of our kid being himself, is a far worse crime if you ask me. And if anything, our recent woes have taught me that there is a lot more in life to worry about.

Of course, kids need consistent guidance and rules and boundaries and vegetables, and those things are ever-present in our house. But sometimes it doesn't hurt to let them lead the way, it might even be the best thing possible for everyone. In our case my son has taught me to let go and enjoy the moment, and that he will continue to be whoever he wants to be, no matter what obstacles are in his way, or how much I worry about him. And in our house that's how we keep it real, one day at a time.

Secrets and Lies

I'm afraid, dear readers, that I have been keeping a pretty big secret for a while now, and it's been tough. I'm not good with secrets. I can keep other people's without hesitation, but my own, especially when there really aren't any consequences for blabbing, are a lot less likely to stay in the vault. It's even harder when your secret is good news. Once you've confided in one friend, it's easy to confide in a few more, and then suddenly you're announcing it to the other mums at playgroup. There were people we had to tell - a few key family members, and then of course there was the inevitable, "well, if they know, we really should tell..." I had to tell my boss, even before I told my parents, and then I felt bad that all my colleagues knew and so I shared it with a few more friends.

Like winning the lotto and not having the money in the bank yet, this unexpected piece of news didn't feel real until I told people. While I felt guilty telling virtual strangers, it was easier to tell people who weren't emotionally invested in it. If it had turned out that we'd had our numbers wrong, it would've been a lot easier to accept sympathy from the neighbours than having to deal with those closest to us, who also would've felt like they had lost something. The thing I struggled with the most was not being able to blog about it. I'm so honest here that it felt wrong, almost like I was lying by omission, to keep it off these pages. I promised my husband there would be no cyber announcement of any kind until we had told all of our family members. This of course led to a heated debate about who we each consider to be "family."

I did, despite having a very big mouth, feel quite protective about my little secret. I wanted to choose who I told and when I told them, and I hoped my close friends would hear it from me before it made its way around the grapevine. I had a few people ask me outright if I had recently had some good news. I have to admit I denied it a few times, and those closest to me here denied it on my behalf (thank you dear friends!). I did feel bad denying it and even lying about it, rolling my eyes melodramatically while exclaiming, "oh no! Definitely not!" It did get progressively harder to deny, and was made harder by the fact that I have been walking around looking like this for several weeks now...

So you see, despite my fairly recent protestations about not being ready for another baby, mother nature clearly had other plans and I am 13 weeks pregnant. We knew we'd have another one eventually, but we've got a lot going on this year, so it wasn't on the agenda at all. Once the initial shock wore off and the nausea set in, it all felt very real, and I had a serious case of deja vu - it really didn't feel like that long ago that we were in this position. The last time I fell pregnant without trying to, it didn't end well, so I really felt like this one wouldn't stick either, which is crazy I know. Until last week I felt like death, sicker than I've ever felt before. This time round it's like extreme pregnancy - I'm sicker, more tired, ferociously cranky one minute and desperately weepy the next (so, now you might understand why going back to work was so tough!). But despite all that I'm absolutely thrilled. Each week that has passed, every time I've seen my little button on an ultrasound or heard his or her heartbeat, I've done a little dance and I could not be happier. As you can imagine, 13 weeks of keeping this to myself has meant that I have a lot of things to say on the subject, but for now I just wanted to get it off my chest, finally! We're 6 months away from becoming a family of four, life is sweet, the secret's out.

Real Friends or Facebook Friends?

I have to say from the outset, I love Facebook. It's not without it's flaws, like all of us, but I think anyone who criticises it too much simply shouldn't use it. I have one friend who comes and goes from it every now and then. He said it has turned him into a "lazy friend." I can definitely see how this is possible, after all, you simply need to log in to catch up on what most of your friends have been up to lately, you don't even need to contact them if you don't want to - it's that simple. You also get reminded when your friend's birthdays are coming up and you can write on their wall instead of putting the date in your diary and labouring over birthday cards, which is SO last century! (Check out this article in The New Yorker on the same topic).

I think the main appeal for me is that, as an expat, I live a long way away from everyone I love. I like being able to see photos of my friend's babies, and reading about my cousin's recent trip to Europe, or the wedding of an old uni friend. I probably wouldn't know about any of this stuff if it weren't for Facebook. I might sound like a lazy friend who can't be bothered keeping in touch any other way, but the reality is I'm a busy friend. We're all busy, and sometimes it's easier to write a quick status update than an email detailing the minutiae of our lives for each of our long-distance friends.

Sometimes Facebook a little intrusive and voyeuristic, but I make sure that I only accept friend requests from people I'm actually friends with - people I genuinely want to keep in touch with. Here lies one of the problems with social networking: far too many people use it as a form of consumerism. They base their self-worth on how many friends they've accumulated. You meet them on the street one day and have a chat about how cute your kid is and the next thing you know they want to be "friends." I do believe that networking is an important part of building a new life in a foreign country, as we are so valiantly trying to do, but do I really want random neighbours and colleagues having access to my photos from last Christmas? Or have them knowing that last night I made a kick-arse gnocchi carbonara? I try to avoid giving away too much normally, and I tend to avoid others who like to share way too much, but where do you draw the line? Who do you let in? And what do you do when someone is offended by being kept out? The biggest question is, can you really count someone as a friend if you're "friends" on Facebook? For now, I can say yes, they're all genuine friends, but I don't know how long it can stay that way.

In this day and age where everyone has a blog, a Facebook profile, connections on LinkedIn, and a Twitter account, and where so much marketing and networking is done online, you feel like you need to have an internet presence to achieve almost anything. I was recently part of the Sydney Writer's Centre blog awards, and one of the things the judges looked at was the way bloggers used social networking sites, like Facebook and Twitter, to promote their blogs. Basically I would've scored a big, fat ZERO in that category, because apart from linking to the occasional post on my Facebook page I didn't do any of it. None of it comes naturally to me. Self-promotion has always been a challenge and it seems anathema to me to befriend someone or make a connection in the hope that my blog will be promoted and it'll boost my "traffic." But then again, isn't that the whole point of social media and networking sites?Perhaps the whole "you promote my blog and I'll promote yours" mentality is the new Tupperware party or recipe swap: we're all in it for something, so what's there to lose? A connection is a connection after all.

I know that there's a lot that I don't know and if I can't use social media to my advantage then I may as well get out of the game, so to speak. I recently joined Twitter, and I felt like how I imagined my Nanna felt the first time she used a mobile phone, because as much as I love my laptop and my blog, at heart I'm old-school. Until I got an iPhone for my birthday last year, I still carried an address book and diary around in my handbag, and even now I still dutifully transfer the birthdays from one calendar to the next every December. I like handwriting Christmas and birthday cards, and heaven forbid, I do still pick up the telephone (a landline no less) to call people. I have been trying to touch base with an old friend for a week now and we emailed, we chatted on Facebook, we tried Skype, but we kept missing each other. Eventually he called me using Viber, another new fangled technology, but it was still great to actually hear his voice on the phone. Sometimes, I truly feel like all these new ways of connecting make it more difficult to actually, genuinely connect. And there are times when I wonder if they're all just a number of different ways to be rejected - it's like highschool all over again.

But, having said that, I do like Facebook and I use it liberally, because I like knowing what my friends are up to and I can choose who I interact with. It's not an old-school way of keeping in touch, but for now I can be selective and keep it as simple as I like. So the guy who used to throw spitballs at me in English class was rejected, but some very dear friends who I lost touch with are now, and I'm very grateful for it, back in my life. I don't base my personal success on how many Facebook "friends" I have, or how many people follow me on Twitter, and I like it that way. Unfortunately the success of A Mummy in a Strange Land may be riding on my ability to promote it across the internet (or are the kids calling it "the web" these days?) and that's a far more difficult task than writing a few posts every now and then, or remembering someone's birthday.

Top Tip Tuesday - Making Connections

I decided after the rather strong views I expressed in my last post, I'd use today's Top Tip to write about the other side of life amongst a community of expats. It can be a whole lot of fun, and through living here I've made some life-long friends, but it can be hard to get started.

If you've moved here reluctantly or if you're just a bit shy, you might be hesitant to get out and meet new people. It can be far too easy to pine for your friends back home, and you'll probably spend a bit of time comparing the people here to those you left behind. But you'll settle in a lot quicker if you accept that this is where you live now and start making those all important connections with people that make a place "home." When you're a long way from family and friends you really need a support network of people who understand how tough the expat life can be, and who will be there for you when you need a hand. Once you start to make connections and develop friendships, you'll be surprised by how many other opportunities come your way.

Hong Kong is a very social place. If you live in town you can (and some do) go out every night of the week. Depending on the kind of people you want to meet, this is definitely one option for increasing your number of friends, but it's not really an option if you have a couple of kids and/or a job. So if all night partying in Lan Kwai Fong is not for you then there are plenty of other ways to meet people with similar interests. If you're new here, or even if you're not, and you're looking to meet some new people, here's a quick list of contacts for some local organisations to help you get started.

Mums and Bubs
Local playgroups, schools and play centres are a great place to meet mums with kids of a similar age. If you're still just pregnant, an antenatal class or birthing class (check out Annerley, A Mother's Touch and local Private Hospitals) is a great way to prepare you for what's ahead but also to ensure that you have a ready made group of playmates for your little one.Little Steps is another great resource on things to do with kids (and therefore places you'll meet other parents).


Sports
Anglo Info has a great list of sporting clubs and associations located in HK, from rugby to running you should find it there.If you're interested in sport with a more local flavour check out Dragon Boating.
Geo Expat has a list of gyms and fitness centres here if that's more your thing, or you can check out their page on Yoga and Pilates - it's by no means a comprehensive list but it's a good place to start.

Special Interest Groups
Again I'm going to cheat and send you to Geo Expat, Anglo Info, Asia Xpat and The List because they've done all the research already! On these pages you'll find info on everything from cooking classes, ballroom dancing and stamp collecting, to religious groups, theatre sports, and automobile clubs. If you have a special interest and it's not listed on any of these pages, it might be a good opportunity for you to start your own club!

You'll find that whatever you do, people will be giving you their phone numbers and inviting you over for coffee and playdates. New people are accepted very quickly, because we all know what it's like in those first few months.You might even find your new best friend in the queue at the supermarket! Making new friends here is the best way to feel settled and you'll get so much more out of it when you mix with people from different backgrounds to your own.

The Lost Posts

As regular readers will have noticed, A Mummy in a Strange Land has had an overhaul recently. I'm still not 100% content with the new look but, as that seems to be the story of my life, it's somehow appropriate. The overhaul has extended to all the "behind-the-scenes" bits of the blog as well, and I've tidied up my drafts folder a little. I've found a lot of posts that I've started and have never finished, for one reason or another. Some of them needed tweaking a little, some were a bit too short to be a complete post on their own, while others were about a specific moment in time and the moment passed before I had a chance to get them out there. I put a lot of thought and time into everything I write and it seems a waste just to delete the drafts that never made it to the publishing stage, so I'm dedicating this week to the posts that missed their day in the sun. For each one I'm going to include the date that they were originally written and links to the posts around them, so you can put them into context if you have far too much time on your hands this week. First up is this one, from the 18th of December:

The Kindness (or not) of Strangers


Firstly, I have to refer to my last post The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. Our missing bag was found, left behind by baggage handlers in Sydney for reasons unknown. I was so relieved to have it all back that I didn't ask questions. I felt guilty for assuming the worst but my husband assures me that bags do get stolen all the time, especially at this time of year, especially in Sydney.

It's also not uncommon for people to assume the worst in big cities. One of the things we both noticed about Sydney was how angry people were. It feels as if the whole city is simmering away quietly and at any moment anyone could snap. People aren't helpful generally and they don't smile at each other in the street. This came as a shock to me when I first moved there as I grew up in a town where everyone smiled at each other or said hello. In the city, if you do show any signs of friendliness it's instantly assumed that you are a loon and to be avoided at all costs. There were quite a few times where I was struggling with the stroller and trying to open a door and no one offered to help. One man went so far as to pretend he was on the phone and shot through the door behind me. Others avoided my eye and chose to linger behind until someone else helped or I managed to get the door open on my own. I wondered if these people were afraid to help in case I took it as a sign that I could engage with them on some level, or if they were worried I'd get upset if they tried to help, perhaps I might snap "I can do it myself!" Whatever the cause, it bothered me and made me realise how helpful and friendly people are here in HK in comparison.

We spent one afternoon at Coogee beach, catching up with friends over fish and chips. It was a gorgeous summer afternoon and we were enjoying ourselves immensely until I was hit across the back of the head by a drunken idiot stumbling around. We were all instantly on the defensive ready for a fight, too quick to adopt the local mentality. We brushed the guy off but noticed several police officers wandering around and the riot squad vehicles parked outside the local pub; all prepared for an evening of violence and people generally making a nuisance of themselves. I don't remember it being that bad when I first moved there 10 years ago and I had to ask myself why people were so aggressive and angry. It is such a beautiful place and Australians are so very lucky, so why isn't anyone happy? Our friends were complaining that many of their friends with kids had moved away, either to the outer suburbs or out of Sydney altogether. They attributed exorbitant property prices and the high cost of living to this exodus, with many others wanting to be closer to family. I wondered if people in the city are so on edge because it's a city of migrants? So many people move to Sydney from overseas or from smaller towns to study, to work or to play, leaving behind loved ones and support networks. I've mentioned in previous posts (Like this one) how difficult it was for me to make friends there and I think this is true for so many others.

I mentioned in my post Now You're One that J and I were sick in Sydney while we were on our own. We had D's parents helping us out but it was still very tough. I can't imagine living there, without the friends or help that I have here, and having to do it all on my own. I'd be pretty angry and on edge too and I think it'd be too easy to take it all for granted and forget how great a country it is. Being ripped off at the supermarket every day and having no one open doors for you would certainly wear anyone down after a while.

Despite all that I did have a lovely time, and it was very, very hard for me to leave. We left Sydney after a week and went to see my family in a little town called Cooma. There has been drought-breaking rain this summer and the landscape was green and gorgeous, the rivers were overflowing and the grass was waist high. It reminded me of my childhood when it was always like that. It was one of the best visits home I've had in years. I stayed with my Nanna and she showed me old photos and filled me in on the family tree. My parents spoiled us rotten and loaded us up with so many Christmas presents I had to take an extra bag. The sky was so so blue and the air was fresh, it made me homesick in a way I never thought possible. I miss being able to look out in any direction and see nothing but land and sky, I miss the horizon! I could so easily have rented a house for the summer and stayed put for a few months, but I took the advice of a good friend who grew up in the same town. He always says; it's better to leave when you feel like you could stay, rather than wait until you feel like you've stayed too long.

So we trekked back to Sydney with far too many bags in tow, and I had a minor panic attack at the airport when I realised that arriving in Sydney felt like coming home. Everywhere I went it was easy and familiar. Even negotiating the ridiculous traffic didn't bother me. In the end I found some really helpful and friendly people, all too willing to lend me a hand with my bags or the baby and restore my faith in the kindness of strangers. We spent 24 hours in glorious Bondi and caught up with a few people before I had to accept that it was time to leave. If it wasn't for the texts from my husband pleading with me to get on the plane, and the fact that we were flying back to Hong Kong in business class, I might still be there.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

* I wrote this post earlier today but have been inspired to edit it after reading Maxabella's "Things I'm Grateful For". I was going to write a whole new post but decided that this post gives a good summary of things I'm grateful for. Like my gorgeous husband and my amazing son, who put up with me and make my job so easy. I'm grateful for fab friends, near and far, who are there for the good, the bad and the ugly. And finally I'm grateful for the opportunities that have been presented to us in this crazy, exhilarating city I now, sometimes reluctantly, call home. On a smaller scale I'm very grateful for aspirin, peppermint tea and the burgers at The Gallery in Tong Fuk...

I spent yesterday at home with a serious hangover. My first proper hangover in about two years, and it hurt, bad. It was one of those head-splitting, room-spinning, stomach-churning, lie on the bathroom floor in the fetal position hangovers. The kind that requires asprin, soft drink and greasy food to recover from. The kind of hangover that I'm only now, 36 hours later, seeing my way out of. I'm actually blogging in bed, in my pyjamas, it's that bad! But it was so completely, without a doubt, entirely worth it!

Last week wasn't a great week. We had some not-so-good news from home which was like a kick in the teeth. J is still teething and grumpy so we haven't had a lot of sleep. I've also just generally been feeling pretty sorry for myself lately; a combination of not getting my own way on a few occasions, feeling fed up with our pathetic excuse for a kitchen, helper jealousy, and post-holiday/winter in Hong Kong blues (with a pinch of PMS thrown in for good measure...). But I've also had a few reality checks this week too. Reading about the devastation and flooding in Brisbane and yet another tragic shooting in the States made my problems seem pretty insignificant. So instead of feeling sorry for myself I moved onto feeling like a whiny, selfish, spoiled expat - which doesn't help anyone either. Realising that my moodiness was contagious and was bringing everyone else down, I decided that it's all relative and it's ok to complain about little things occasionally if you keep them in perspective. I also decided that I needed to do something radical and fun, and nothing could be more radical for a bookish, stay-at-home mum like me than a night out in downtown Hong Kong.

Thursday night was a birthday celebration for a friend. I was a reluctant partygoer initially, fearing an almighty hangover, and vowed to "take it easy" but my friend K and I missed the ferry from Mui Wo and HAD to have a mai tai at the China Bear while we waited for the next one. At that point I gave myself permission to unwind and see where the night went. Well, the night went a lot of places and ended at 3am, a time when I'm normally being roused from a deep sleep to retrieve a dummy that's fallen on the floor.  We kicked off the official celebrations with dinner in Soho, followed by strawberry daiquiris at Soiree, several bottles of Prosecco at Lei Dou, vodka jelly shots somewhere random in Lan Kwai Fong and late night dancing at Insomnia. Before you start to think I sound like I do this all the time, I have to admit that this was only the second time I've had a big night out since we moved here, I am really quite sedate most of the time. I couldn't, and wouldn't, have done it if I'd had to get up and function on Friday, but my husband's at home and I had a commitment from him that I would be absolved from all parental responsibilities for 24 hours so I could get out and have some fun. And I did just that - I partied like someone who only goes one night out a year! It was so great to get dressed up and to carry a clutch instead of a nappy bag. I loved having a really good catch up with girlfriends and oh, how I've missed grown-up conversations! And did we dance? Yes, we danced like our lives depended on it. In our group of 8, all but one of us was married and half of us have kids (we have 7 kids between us to be exact), and 3 of us have birthdays this month, so it was a well deserved night out with much to celebrate. I haven't had that much fun in a really long time. Sad, but true.

I do realise how lucky I am that I have a husband willing to take over for that period of time, that I didn't have to work on a Friday and that I have such a great, fun group of friends, but I want to say to all the mums out there, if you need a break - take it! I feel fantastic for having had some fun (or at least I will once my body stops protesting!). I love everyone after a drink or two, and I'm still basking in that benevolent glow, despite the hangover. Around 5am yesterday I woke up, spooning the dog, and feeling like a terrible mother because I forgot to buy milk before I went out and I kept waking up every hour or so until 9, at which point I realised there was no anxious knock on the bedroom door, with my husband shouting "babe, there's no milk!!", no distressed cries of "mumumumum!" from downstairs; all was well and under control. So I took an aspirin and went back to sleep, secure in the knowledge that I'm not a terrible mother, just a lightweight when it comes to drinking.

While we're on the subject of celebrations, it's my birthday tomorrow. When I was a kid my birthday always fell around the end of the summer school holidays, sometimes it was even the first day back at school, and I hated it. I've struggled with the fact that it's now a winter birthday, and most years I have to compete with Chinese New Year. This year it falls on a Sunday; apparently the most inconvenient day to have a birthday in Hong Kong. We learned that it's absolutely impossible to get a reservation for brunch anywhere special on the last Sunday before the new year, as every Tom, Dick and Harry are out celebrating the upcoming year of the rabbit. Our friends can't come out anywhere either, as most helpers have their day off on a Sunday. And to top it off my husband has to work tomorrow night, so we can't even have a drink together (although that's the last thing I want right now!). But believe or not, I'm not complaining one bit! We're having breakfast in Mui Wo and my husband's going to make his amazing flourless chocolate cake for me and we'll have roast lamb for tea, just the three of us; and it will all be lovely. At my age, tea and cake are the perfect way to acknowledge a birthday, and I've done more than enough celebrating this week!

You've Got to Have Friends

Thanks everyone for the comments this week; it's great to have feedback and I really appreciate all the advice. I've relaxed a little more at mealtimes and we're trying more finger foods, and even though the little guy isn't eating much more than he was a few days ago, it's less stressful.

My husband's been in New York this week and since I couldn't go with him I've been watching old episodes of Sex and the City. Apart from making me wish I could afford to wear Manolos and live on 5th Ave, it got me thinking about friendship. I've always been fairly shy and reserved (clearly, only the shyest people publish their private thoughts on the internet) and making friends doesn't come easily to me. My best friend and I have known each other since we were 4 years old. We grew up blocks away from each other, went to school together and shared the agony of adolescence, and all the joy and heartbreak, failure and success that has come since. I love that I can be myself in his company and never have to explain anything. He knows me better than anyone and I know we'll still be friends when we're 70. This kind of comfortable, effortless and loyal friendship is my kind of friendship, but it is a rare thing to find.

When I moved to Hong Kong I found it very hard to leave my friends in Sydney and in some ways, I didn't really want to make new friends. I didn't think it would be possible to establish those same sorts of relationships again. I'm not great at putting myself out there and being myself in unfamiliar territory. I was terrified by the prospect of having to start over. Get togethers where there are lots of people I don't know still make me feel a bit ill, especially when it involves leaving the island. In my first week here I was invited to a hen's/bachelorette party for a girl I already knew. I met so many new people that night and everyone was keen to include me. I had so many phone numbers and offers to catch up by the end of the night that I was overwhelmed, and to be honest I wondered how genuine they all were. I didn't think it was possible for people to truly be THAT nice. As the weeks went by I had more offers for girl's nights and bookclubs and morning teas but I turned many of them down. For quite a while after we moved here I hated Hong Kong and I took it out on the people around me. I had a very narrow vision of life and the people here, and I hate to admit it, but I misjudged their intentions. I also didn't want to go to all the trouble of making friends here because I had no intention of staying for very long...

After a few trips back to Australia in a short space of time I realised that life was going on without me at home; my friends were going to work, getting married and having babies, and I was missing it all. I realised that in order to survive in Hong Kong I'd need to keep moving forward too, and to do that I would need a serious attitude change. It also appeared that we would be here for the long haul and I'd need a lot of support. Luckily people in our circle of friends were patient and hadn't given up on me completely. I realised they were so friendly in the beginning because they'd all been in the same boat at some stage and knew what it was like to leave a life behind. I had been wrong: They were THAT nice. Some of those girls at that first party are amongst my closest friends today, and I may not see them very often but I'm so very grateful that they made the effort in those early months.

While I was pregnant I was lucky enough to have 2 very good friends going through it all at the same time. They both had multiples so it was a different experience for all of us but we bonded over our swollen ankles, ultrasounds and nursery furniture. On hot summer days we'd waddle over to the pool next door and float for hours. G and I would catch up almost daily for tea and some days we didn't need to say anything at all because we felt exactly the same way. We were thrilled when K delivered 3 healthy baby boys, and both girls shared our excitement when J arrived a few weeks later. Sadly, G had to go back to the UK before her twin girls were born so we've yet to met them but I paced the floor, in floods of tears, thousands of miles away the day she was induced, and I was overjoyed from a distance when all was well. G and her husband are such special friends we asked them to be J's Godparents (my husband's one concession to the christening debate), so they have to stay friends with us wherever we all are in the world! All I can say is, thank goodness for Skype.

Over time I've realised that what we have here is unique. Hardly anyone we know works 9-5 and we see our friends here far more than we ever saw our friends in Sydney. We understand how hard it can be when husbands are away, especially when babies are young, and we rally around cooking and shopping. The community here is welcoming and supportive. I grew up in a small country town and I'm reminded of it sometimes when I walk through Mui Wo and people smile and say hi. I feel like the people we know here compensate for the people who aren't here; they're our family for the time we live in Hong Kong. I've seen a lot of people here from very different backgrounds develop close, lifelong friendships and I'm sad that I almost missed out on that.

It's not always idyllic; there are downsides. I sometimes feel like we live in each other's pockets, and it's impossible to keep something a secret around here! Hong Kong's population is also very transient. People come and go, and very few stay here forever. We all have "homes" somewhere else in the world and it can be very hard when people move away. My friend K has been away for the summer and it's been a long 3 months! For me personally, it has taken some time to reconcile my shyness with the very social side of life here. It's something I still struggle with. I've had to overcome a lot of my insecurities and neuroses and it hasn't been easy; the expat life is definitely the recluse's version of jumping in at the deep end! Since J was born I've been able to connect with more people; there's always something to talk about, and I've found I have more in common with some people than I thought. Mother's groups and playgroups are brilliant; it's hard to be shy when you're out with a child as active and vocal as my son (not to mention cute!).

The friendships we've built here are a big part of why I'm still in Hong Kong. So, to my new friends who stood by me when I was difficult and antisocial; a big thank you. To those who still aren't sure about me; I'm trying my very best to get out of my shell. To my friends who have known me forever; lots of love. And finally to my new "friends" I haven't met yet, thanks for reading. Have a great weekend x