I'm not quite sure how it happened - maybe it's because we were both the 'odd one's out'? You know, we look normal and comfortable versus the masses of overdone, made-up super models who swan in to drop their kids off. They are either wearing all white or else they are in the tightest work out gear you could possibly find.
There's no junk in their trunk - unless they had it surgically implanted.
My new friend - let's call her Z - is lovely. She's funny, loud and normal. These are requirements I have for all my friends.
We had our first catch up last week, on valentines day in fact, and we agreed to coffee after drop-off. I was looking forward to diving into a tall cup of Gloria Jeans, but the day before Z text me asking if I would mind catching up at her place.
Sure, no worries - going to her place meant I wasn't required to do any panicky, last minute tidying at 6am. Because regardless of how nice the house might be looking, it's never good enough for visitors unless I've singed my nostril hairs with disinfectant, moments before they arrive.
Drop-off complete, we both packed our smallest children into our respective cars and I agreed to follow her. It was then I started to have a sinking feeling...
Was I completely mental!? I don't really know who this woman is! She could be leading me to a vacant lot in the middle of nowhere to car-jack me and steal my baby! The small child in her car could be a decoy to make me think she's harmless. Should I be texting The Man my location so he can have my lifeless body retrieved? Should I be doing a u-turn right about now to escape? Should I have done that last load of washing before I left the house?
By the time I had every irrational, panicky thought my brain could throw at me, I had followed Z to a perfectly normal suburb and was pulling into a perfectly normal driveway leading to a perfectly normal house.
Great, I thought, she is a murderer. This is all FAR too normal.
And yet, I still got out of the car, and still went inside...ready to swing the nappy bag like a weapon if I had to.
When I got into the dining area I thought I was hallucinating. The spread was unbelievable and I honestly wanted to ask if she was expecting the other Mum's in the street to join us.
Cue worrying thoughts of 'The Stepford Wives'.
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| Image from Here |
She had a solid silver tea set, with a sugar bowl that had sugar CUBES in it. Not just sugar, but sugar CUBES. I'm not sure that I've ever had sugar cubes before because I've never had tea with the bloody Queen!
The tea cups were gorgeous, and immediately I decided when I got home I was going on the T2 website and ordering some of the tea cups I've been coveting for ages. Clearly I am behind the times and needed to get me some sexy tea cups!
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| Image from T2 website. Z had cups similar to this in blue and green - gorgeous!! |
Well, it was only 8:45am and I had already reached my stress limit for the day, so coffee was a go! Z whisked my cup away, placed it in the most amazing automatic coffee machine I've seen and pressed a button. A cafe quality cappuccino was delivered to my saucer a moment later and I had to do my best not to try and climb into it like a bath.
While I was trying to wrap my head around the whole tea set up and the logistics of fitting the coffee machine in the nappy bag, Z morphed in to Martha Stewart and red velvet mud cake with a chocolate ganache arrived on the table, aong with fresh scones, whipped cream and jam and some home made bacon and cheese mini quiches.
It was official - she was the LEADER of the Stepford Wives! If she came to my house the best she could have hoped for was a cup of instant with granulated sugar, water poured from the kettle and probably a Tim Tam or maybe a cheese stick if I could track one down.
By that point I was re-evaluating my entire existence as a wife because, clearly, I'm nowhere near having my shit together. 8:45am? Red velvet cake? WTF! If The Man ever found out women like this existed, I'd be traded in like a Model-T Ford for a Ford GT.
It was a sad state of affairs for my new found confidence in the kitchen.
On the upside, it was very apparent that Z wasn't a murderer and her children were, in fact, hers. A massive revelation that meant I could relax and enjoy all the goodies on that table. We were so engrossed in our conversation and the sampling of food that we lost track of time and a 1 hour coffee turned into a 4 hour tea party.
Always a good sign when you're not clock watching.
Overall, I think Z is a keeper.
A Stepford Tea Party keeper, but as long as the red velvet keeps coming, I'm not going to complain. However if the next catch up is at my place, I'm going to need at least a month to prepare.
