The Equation Over Time

'So... what have you been up to?'

An awkward sort of a question that has very little purpose.

Be a parent for a long enough time frame, and you have to train yourself to talk to humans again.

I came to this conclusion this week, while reminiscing over several places we have been and conversations we have had in the past two or three months. Having moved to a more centralised spot, Mrs Mango and I have found an ability to spend a bit more time out as adults, away from the kids that weren't necessarily available to us in the past. And although it is refreshing to be out and exhilarating to be doing things again, there's some things that you just have to get used to. One of those is the fact that people the same age as us, without kids, are very, very different people.

Now take this all into account. Mrs Mango and I were 23 and 22 respectively when we had our first child. Most people my age, when they were 22 or 23, they were just out of uni, entering the workforce and carving a name for themselves. We were changing nappies, packing day bags and worrying about stable, reliable incomes. They were trying to get out and do as much as they could before the inevitable would eventually happen and they'd settle down. They moved through jobs, made contacts, made money and threw it away when they wanted, travelled overseas and got a very distinct perception of the world they lived in. We were learning, like children ourselves, how to be responsible and nurturing, compassionate and passionate, and challenge the minds of the next generation we were raising. We were worried about surviving the day-to-day, and being enthusiastic, challenging and direct parents moment-to-moment. Everything, although in the microcosm of our family home, seemed to be about the future for us, in every respect – the future of our children, the future of our lives for the good and bad – the stress of everything that was long term. For them, life, though they had an enormous planet in front of them, was moment-to-moment in scope. If they felt like going to a movie, they did it. If they wanted to buy a house, they saved up and did it. Dinner out tonight? Easy. Anything that seemed like a good idea, or a good opportunity, or a good impulse could be acted upon. Even things like mortgages, that seemed like responsibility and pressure of a similar nature to ours, was merely opportunity and an advantageous one at that. Everything that was a possibility to us needed serious examination before action. We learnt stop, while they learnt go. I guess it's just freedom, isn't it? We gave up some of it to do what we wanted, absolutely willingly I will say, but I will also say that sometimes it felt as though we had the whole world on our shoulders, while they had it right in their hands. But, that's probably just my own perception.

Now, I didn't write all that just to take a shot at people without kids – I'm not trying to be intentionally divisive. I genuinely believe that people shouldn't just become parents, they should wait until they're minds are in the right place, and even then maybe think twice. But it cannot be denied that differing experiences in any two people's life (this is true for any person) will result in very different people as a result. And when your priorities and experiences are put before you in different ways early on, the way you deal with them, resolve them, learn from them, and develop out of them will, naturally be different. There's nothing wrong with that, and I'm not trying to say that one life is more important or worthy than another, I'm just saying there is a difference there - it's just life. Which means that when we get to be now almost thirty with three kids under our belt, and the trick of parenting like an old hat to us, when we meet in social situations with people without kids (I'll call them "singles" for ease) it will be very different conversation between us and them than it would be between people in similar situations to us.

As young parent, you find yourself being able to communicate with other parents fairly easily, and for especially others the same age. You can have open conversations about anything from exciting events to excrement, without fear of losing the audience. But around people who aren't parents you find yourself holding back, censoring yourself about certain things and attempting to relate to their way of life, which is in fact impossible. There will always be that moment in the conversation where they've said something to you that is so ground-breakingly different to your experiences, that you can only stare at them and wonder what the hell they are talking about (and I'm sure this works the opposite way as well). You see, I cannot pretend our lives are the same while I'm stopping myself from answering their question with very precise words, at their eye level, raised at the end for excitement. 'How good are these spring rolls?' 'THEY ARE VERY GOOD, AREN'T THEY?' 

I have to stop myself from sounding my words out a lot when I'm talking to a "single" person, to not use hand actions (like moving my hand to my mouth when asking if they want a drink), to keep my eyes in one place and concentrate on not mentioning the consistency of the vomit this morning, and to draw attention away from it's remnants upon my shirt, which I previously seemed to have no problem with. If they had vomit on their shirt it would be theirs after a big night, or possibly a drunk friend's which they would be very upset about because that's feral. You see, the same situation just wouldn't happen to them. Again, not a judgement, just a legitimate difference. When you get up at 5:30 in the morning everyday, after sometimes having to have got up to kids in the middle of the night, and who will be waiting for you again the next morning no matter how big a night you are about to have, and they're thinking that 8am is an early morning on a Sunday; when going out for breakfast and lunch is something they can throw off their cuffs, while you're checking your bank balances with serious contemplation for the next week's bills; when you're laughing about silly little moments or inappropriate things your kids have said, and they're laughing about random experiences in Spain or the latest addition to urbandictionary.com with the same hearty enthusiasm, there are obviously differences in the way you think. Even in day-to-day life, the very way we relate to other people is fundamentally different I've found. Parents seem to exist within the framework of a community of friends, while "singles" seem to exist within packs of friendly individuals. Not because one way is better than the other, just because those are the frameworks we have come to experience more. With these most basic differences so evident, I've just come to the conclusion that half of the time I do not understand their thought processes at all, cannot relate to their concerns in the least, and most of the time have no friggen idea what they are talking about in general.

But life itself is still the same story for every person on earth, regardless of the specifics. So if we can get past these strange moments and find something genuine to talk about without descending into awkward silence or a shouting match about how desperately unaware or blissfully ignorant you both are about each other's lives, after realising you have absolutely nothing in common any more, and come to some sort of nice middle ground.... than, well, maybe there is hope for us after all.