Playgroups and Prosecco

by Jo Middleton

  ‘I love seeing the connection that my boys have with nature,’ she wrote under the photo, ‘and I do everything I can to encourage it, even if sometimes it does mean stopping a dozen times on the way to preschool to look at leaves! When I see the way they look up at their daddy, their eyes full of curiosity, gazing down into their chubby hands at the latest creepy-crawly they’ve discovered, my heart just bursts for my perfect little family.’

  Kill me now!

  Admired Jess’s insistence that I had to use real money in her shop. Must remember to get it out of her piggy bank before she learns to properly count.

  Hormone app suggests beating constipation caused by high progesterone with dried plums or a slice of rye bread. Had glass of wine and a digestive. Basically the same.

  Monday 9 April

  Almost a relief to go to work after the weekend, which says a lot.

  Things I like about work:

  Being able to drink a cup of coffee while it’s hot

  Browsing the internet (at lunchtime, obviously), without someone throwing themselves into my lap and asking if they can watch Octonauts

  Doing a poo without anyone watching. I once had a friend who told me she couldn’t poo anywhere but at home and definitely not at work. I try to always poo at work. Not only is it away from children, but it’s a legitimate way to take a ten-minute break. No one wants to question your bowel movements in an office do they?

  I can’t think of any more.

  I really need to get a new job if the only things I get satisfaction from could similarly be achieved by going to Starbucks for an hour.

  No more messages from Cam. I wish I could stop thinking about him. It’s not even in a romantic way, it’s just this obsessive thought pattern repeating and repeating itself.

  According to Google it’s because I’ve never had closure – that last time he left I didn’t know it was the last time, and so part of me hasn’t been able to finish things emotionally. It makes sense. But then he’s never likely to give me that chance, so perhaps I just need to make my own ending? Put myself vaguely in control for once?

  Hormone app says that a dip in estrogen is likely to be chipping away at my confidence in my ‘appearance and brain skills’ – which sounds about right.

  Thursday 12 April

  Estimated number of chicken nuggets cooked in lifetime so far – 7,280. Fantasies involving a personal chef – many.

  In all the parenting books and articles I have ever read (not that many, to be honest) they talk a lot about sleep routines and tummy time and birth plans but not once have I seen anyone tackle what is possibly one of the most difficult things about parenting.

  ‘What’s for tea?’ asks Flo at about four o’clock.

  Every frickin’ day. Every day for at least ten years someone has asked me that question and every time they ask it I want to bang my head against a wall and shout ‘I don’t know! I don’t want to decide any more!’

  Whatever you make won’t be right, anyway, so why do we even bother? Why has someone not yet invented a chocolate button-shaped meal replacement that we can give to children three times a day that contains all the vitamins and minerals they need and never gets rejected because it’s ‘the wrong shape’ or ‘has sauce on it’ or is ‘touching the peas’.

  ‘How about you decide for a change?’ I want to say. ‘How about you think about it and then go to Sainsbury’s to buy it and then have to go to Tesco because Sainsbury’s don’t have the one thing that’s key to the meal, and then get home and realise you’ve forgotten a tin of tomatoes, so you have to make something different that no one likes?’

  ‘Chicken-and-sweetcorn nuggets, mashed potato and carrots,’ I say instead. Flo made a face like she was being sick.

  ‘What’s the matter with that?’ I ask.

  ‘Chicken-and-sweetcorn nuggets sound grim.’

  ‘They do not sound grim! Six of them equals one of your five a day, so the packet says.’

  ‘Can’t I have normal chicken nuggets and eat an apple later?’

  ‘No. Anyway, you like chicken nuggets and you like sweetcorn.’

  ‘Yeah, but not together. That’s like saying I like ice cream and I like mayonnaise, so I’d like mayonnaise flavour ice cream.’

  ‘It’s really not the same,’ I say, but she’s already lost interest and put her headphones back in.

  (Question: I wonder how many hours/days of my life have been taken up by trying to think up things that counts as one of a child’s five a day?)

  Friday 13 April

  Awful day at work. Steve must have been reading some sort of motivational book on his cruise (he is telling everyone he has been on a ‘retreat’ but Maggie says she overheard his mother in the butcher’s talking about how much he’d enjoyed the P&O all-you-can-eat buffet), because he keeps swaggering around the office and saying things like ‘someday is not a day of the week’ and ‘don’t count the days, make the days count’.

  What I really wanted to count was the number of times I could hit him with the stapler before he begged for mercy.

  I spent five hours this afternoon trying to put together a convincing argument for why the Wolfson Foundation should give us money, but when I asked Steve if he had any evidence to support our ‘excellent interpretation of designated collections of national significance’ he just said ‘never allow a person to tell you no who doesn’t have the power to say yes’, which was unhelpful to say the least.

  Girls at Ian’s tonight. I toyed with the idea of doing something wholesome like a Zumba class but I was too exhausted, so instead I lay on the sofa watching Netflix. Also, I have never done a Zumba class before and it sounds horrific.

  I checked my status with the hormone app. Apparently I am likely to have ‘limited pep’ today and I should eat delicious foods including asparagus, cucumber and watermelon. I didn’t have any of these things so I went for Wispa Bites. I ate half the bag and then had to throw the rest of the bag to the other side of the room, banking on my limited pep to stop me retrieving them and eating any more.

  (Question: surely I am not the only person to do this with snacks?)

  Saturday 14 April

  I went into Chapter One today to see if they had any books about fundraising. Dylan was behind the counter, the piles of crime novels on the floor were gone and there was music playing quietly in the background.

  He smiled when I came in. ‘Hello, stranger,’ he said. ‘How’re things in the world of female empowerment?’

  ‘Not great, to be honest,’ I said, ‘that’s why I’m here. I’m hoping to inspire myself. It looks great in here, though! Have you been tidying up?’

  ‘I’ve started,’ he said. ‘I’ve got plenty to do yet, but at least it feel less like a Channel 5 documentary on hoarding when you first walk in. Why do you need inspiring?’

  I told him all about work and my new responsibilities and the fact that I am struggling to find time to really care about fossil workshops.

  ‘Sounds pretty harsh to expect you do take on all that extra work,’ he said. ‘Have you talked to your boss about it?’

  ‘I would,’ I said, ‘except my boss is a moron. I don’t think he really knows what he’s doing, plus he begrudges me having a family and getting the board to agree to me working non-standard hours. He pretty much said I can either do the fundraising or leave. It’s my choice, of course. Lucky me!’

  ‘He sounds like a dick,’ said Dylan.

  ‘He is a dick,’ I agreed, feeling better about it already. ‘Anyway, my work life is boring – how’s things here? Have you been putting that new upstairs room to good use?’

  ‘Not yet,’ admitted Dylan, ‘but if you have any ideas then let me know. For now I wouldn’t be looking to charge anyone – it would just be nice to get some more people coming through the shop.’

  ‘Don’t you need to make some money, though?’ I asked, my usual tactless self.

  ‘Well, ideally,’ he said, ‘long-term, but it’s not critical. Cai
tlin was pretty savvy about finances and very protective of the shop because it belonged to her parents, so she was well insured. No amount of money can compensate, of course, but it’s taken the pressure off turning a massive profit in the short-term at least. I don’t think I could have dealt with money worries on top of everything else.’

  I said I’d keep my ear to the ground for him. It would be a shame if it just got filled back up with junk because the shop is so lovely and Dylan is such a sweetheart.

  Had a flick through The Zen of Fundraising but couldn’t bring myself to buy anything. It felt like that would be admitting that this was what I was planned to do with my life for long enough to warrant buying a book about it.

  I nearly bought a book about parenting teenage girls through the ‘seven transitions into adulthood’ but I’ve probably missed at least three of them already and I don’t especially want to be made aware of things I’ve already messed up and can’t do anything about. Instead, I used the book token I’ve had in my purse since Christmas to buy Flo the latest instalment in the vampire series she’s reading. I wrapped it up and put it under her pillow for when she got home with a little note saying ‘Don’t tell Jess.’ I know that it’s not easy being a teenager and having a loud, three-year-old sister.

  Sunday 15 April

  Dates secured – 1 (goddess). Jaffa Cakes – 4 (celebrating).

  I had a message from Robbie, the guy who was going away for a week! I’d fully expected not to hear from him ever again, although obviously I’d looked through his pictures and reread our messages at least once a day.

  ‘I’m back!’ he said. ‘I bet you thought I was giving you the brush-off didn’t you?’ he asked with a winky face.

  ‘Of course not,’ I said, lying. ‘I’m a catch, you’d be a fool to not take me out.’ He sent a smiley face back.

  ‘So how are you fixed for this week?’ he asked. ‘If you’re that much of a catch then I’d better not mess about, had I? I don’t want you getting snapped up by anyone else!’

  I looked down at my red wine-stained pyjama bottoms and thought it unlikely that there was going to be a great deal of snapping going on any time soon, but I didn’t say this obviously.

  ‘How about Wednesday?’ I said.

  ‘Wednesday’s good,’ he said. ‘Do you like Thai food? There’s a lovely place near the beach, down at the far end of the promenade?’

  Ha! And Lou said men weren’t looking for a woman who liked Thai food!

  ‘I love it,’ I said. ‘Shall I meet you there about eight?’

  ‘Perfect! I’m really looking forward to meeting you!’

  And there I was, date number two in the bag and at a restaurant with an actual menu and everything. How sophisticated!

  Monday 16 April – back to school

  Cecilia came in today. She doesn’t normally come in on a Monday but apparently her sister had called off their usual bridge match and she thought she might be ‘helpful’. She asked if I would like her to go around the museum and wipe down all the laminated information sheets.

  I thought ‘like’ was a really strong word for it: ‘couldn’t care less’ might be more accurate. I thought about asking her if she’d pop to Tesco Express for me instead and choose something for tea but that felt like it might be taking liberties, so I just gave her a J-cloth from the kitchen and let her get on with it.

  The highlight of the day for Jess came when we were peeling potatoes and found one that looks a bit like a bum. She wouldn’t let me cook it and obviously, then, she couldn’t possibly eat the mash as that was me having cruelly crushed to death all of Bum’s friends. She made a bed for it next to hers using a baby wipe she fished out of the bathroom bin, so that was nice.

  Lay awake for quite a long time worrying about tomorrow’s date. What should I wear? Should I shave anything? (Like legs – not head.) How much make-up says, ‘I take care of myself but am not high maintenance’?

  Wednesday 18 April

  Today I kissed a boy!

  OK, not an actual boy, a real grown-up man, but you know what I mean. I don’t think the date with Robbie could have gone any better if it had been created for one of those scenes in a film where a date goes really well and the heroine swings around a lamp post on her way home. We ate green curry and drank wine and talked about books and laughed and had that eye contact that goes on just a little bit too long.

  It’s been so long since I had that that I’d forgotten about it, and how giddy it makes you feel. It’s amazing, isn’t it, how much that extra second can say, without either of you having to say anything at all?

  After dinner we walked along the seafront. It was dark, but the promenade was lit with strings of lights and you could hear the sea lapping at the sand. I love the noise of the sea when it’s dark and everything else is silent – it’s very different to how it sounds in the daytime, for some reason. It has a much more magical air about it.

  We were about halfway along the front when he stopped and took both my hands, turning me to face him.

  ‘I really want to kiss you right now,’ he said. So masterful! I had clearly got the make-up balance right. I leant in towards him and went up on my tiptoes (he was as tall as his profile claimed) and we kissed and I lifted my right foot off the floor in one of those little kicks, even though no one was watching, just to reinforce that fact that I was kissing a boy. (Sometimes I worry that I overthink things.)

  Now I am lying in bed, wide awake with a big smile on my face like I’m about thirteen years old and I’ve just been passed a note in chemistry from a boy I like.

  Thursday 19 April

  Wine – 3 glasses (medicinal due to new filling and not at all to do with Robbie). Jaffa Cakes – 0 (dentist guilt).

  I had a message from Robbie this morning when I woke up.

  ‘Just wanted to say how lovely it was to meet you last night,’ he wrote, ‘I had a great time.’

  ‘Me too,’ I wrote back, smiling to myself and doing a little toe wriggle under the duvet. ‘That was definitely the best date I’ve had in a long time!’

  He sent back a smiley face.

  ‘Just to let you know, though,’ he wrote, ‘next time we go out I will expect sex.’

  Err …?

  Perhaps it was a typo? I gave him a minute to correct himself. Maybe he’d meant to write ‘the chance to hang out with you for a bit longer’ or even ‘split the bill’?

  ‘Um … what?’ I replied.

  ‘I had a great time,’ he said, ‘it’s just that sex is very important to me in a relationship.’

  ‘Well, sure,’ I said, ‘nobody’s asking you to commit to celibacy, but we have only met once!’

  ‘I understand if you’re just not a very sexual person,’ he wrote, ‘but it would be best for me to know if that’s the case.’

  Seriously? We had such a good time! We kissed! I did the little ‘lifting one foot off the floor’ thing, for Christ’s sake. What’s the matter with me? What’s the matter with men? I’m not sure that online dating is for me if it’s going to be so fucking brutal. I don’t swear much, but this warrants it, surely? Properly brutal.

  Stared at the ceiling for a bit, trying not to cry for the state of mankind/my destiny to die alone. Should I have stuck with Ian? Am I being unreasonable to want a partner who I find sexually desirable and who is, at the same time, a decent human being?

  Passed around Robbie conversation at Busy Beavers for Sierra and Lou to read in stunned silence. Sierra shook her head. ‘What an absolute bellend,’ she said. ‘At least you know now what a complete bastard he is.’

  Lou was about to comment when a small girl with pigtails threw up near her feet.

  Friday 20 April

  Bum the Potato has been going to nursery with Jess every day this week. He is starting to look a little sorry for himself.

  Sunday 22 April

  Period started but I’d forgotten the check the app for the last week so it caught me by surprise and I didn’t have any tampons.
Gawd.

  Maybe I need an app to remind me to check the app?

  Monday 23 April

  I snuck in and removed the sprouting Bum from Jess’s room while she was asleep.

  Tuesday 24 April

  Mr Kipling Angel Slices accidentally shoplifted – one pack of 5. Portions of fruit consumed by self and children – one of 5.

  Operation Bum removal was a big mistake. Of course she spotted him missing as soon as she woke up and demanded to know what I had done with him. I feigned innocence.

  ‘Perhaps Bum was getting lonely without any potato friends nearby,’ I offered hopefully, ‘and has gone off to explore the world?’ She looked highly doubtful and marched off into the kitchen where she discovered him in the bin.

  ‘Maybe he wanted somewhere dark and cosy to sleep?’ I suggested.

  It all backfired on me horribly when we went to Sainsbury’s later that afternoon. We were in the fruit and veg section and I suggested we put Bum in my handbag so that nobody thought that we were trying to steal him. Jess did not like the idea at all and starting writhing around in the trolley seat and shouting.

  ‘Leave my Bum alone!’ she yelled, much to my horror. ‘You’re always trying to touch it and it doesn’t like it!’ I tried to shush her with a Mr Kipling Angel Slice.

  ‘I know it was you who came into my room in the night and tried to get my Bum!’

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see an elderly woman having a word with a member of staff and looking over at me. Jess wouldn’t shut up about Bum so, in the end, I had to abandon the trolley and take her home.

  Wholesome vegetables a little light on the ground at teatime as a result, but I found a tin of peach slices at the back of the cupboard. Pretty sure that’s the same.