Happy new year, and welcome to the Year of the Babe! No, not the mini-skirted kind, although my stripey thermals do hold a certain nerdish appeal. 2013 is going to go down in record as the year Cluckiness* Stalked The Earth.
It’s not just the royal progenitors, William and Kate, either, although they’re not helping things. As it turns out, my personal circle of friends could bear a fair whack of responsibility for this one. Five of my good friends are pregnant, due imminently or by July at the latest; three former colleagues are baking babies; two more close friends are trying, hard, to get up the duff; and that’s just the people who can publicly announce. Add to that a few other folk who have popped out bubs in the past couple of months, and we have the beginnings of a veritable baby tsunami.
Sure, there’s all that ‘biological clock’ bizzo, and yes, we’re all in our 30s, which means said clocks are supposed to be ticking louder than a grandfather clock in a mortuary, but this is ridiculous, even to me. It’s like someone hit a “new generation” button, and out they’re all popping.So, apologies in advance to the singletons, the freewheelers, the avowedly non-domesticated. Things are about to get raucous, unpredictable and more than a little bit messy. And likely not in a fun, mini-skirted kind of way. Don’t say you weren’t warned.
* If you have not encountered the Aussie term ‘cluckiness’ let me explain: If you have ever seen a baby and suddenly thought that the squalling blob of pink is kinda cute… and is actually approaching adorable, in a wrinkly kind of way… and, you know, maybe you should have one of those on day…. or like, maybe, now… then you are, or have been, clucky. Get used to the feeling. It’s gonna be contagious.)