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Page Summary

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A long time ago, when I was a first time mother of a 4 week old, I was at a family party talking to a woman who was the wife of my father's friend. She seemed very interested in the new baby, like lots of people were at the time, and she asked me to tell her if there was anything I needed or that she could help with. I realised later that her body language and tone were super caring and in what I now call "social worker friend" mode.

I'm glad I told her that I wanted a butter dish - "not a normal style one, but one where the butter goes into a container with a lid on top."

My response was that of an involved and capable housewife rather than the 19 year old overwhelmed by her life circumstances. I really didn't fit the stereotype she was trying to put me into.

I often smile and reflect on my 19 year old self when I spread butter on my toast from the perfect butter dish I finally found last year.

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