Diary of a Parent Trainer
Page 4
But there’s one problem Hannah and Loops, and chocolate and laughter—and even an entire customer service team—can’t help me put right. I’m on my own with this one, and it’s going to take all of my expertise to fix.
Mum is suffering a MAJOR malfunction. My mum—yes, my mum!—HAS A BOYFRIEND!
The reason I haven’t mentioned this before is because I’ve been in serious denial. And it feels so very, very, very, very wrong to use the word “boyfriend” in any way to do with my mum.
I suppose I thought that if I pretended it wasn’t happening, he might just go away.
She only met him about six weeks ago, and he’s called Stuart. He’s a PE teacher and lives in Oxford.
Mum’s out right now, shopping for something to wear on her date to the movies with him tonight, instead of staying at home, watching TV with us, where she belongs. Even now she should be looking after Jack. But no, the sad loser with the freakish chin has to do it. Mum’s taken full advantage of the fact that there is NO WAY I can leave this house looking like this!
The fact that I am sitting here alone has made me realize I can no longer deny Stuart’s existence.
I suppose my main problem with Stuart is that he’s turned up in our lives at all. Our family’s doing fine as it is. Everything was in pieces after Dad died, but we got through it—just the four of us. Things like that make you pretty close. That’s why we don’t need anyone else—we work okay as we are.
We’ve all got our routines and know what’s what. And thanks to my expert techniques, I’m operating Mum smoothly and efficiently—so everybody’s happy.
It’s like Nan says—“If it ain’t broke, why fix it?” That’s exactly how I think of our family. We’re not broken and we don’t need fixing.
But suddenly, out of the blue, we’ve got this random bloke in a “No Logo” save-the-environment ecofriendly T-shirt turning up at our house, strolling into our living room, sitting on our sofa … and saying to Mum, “Yes, I will have a cup of tea, thank you, Alison.”
I have to admit, Stuart’s not a creep or a monster. In fact, Loops thinks he’s good-looking, as he’s outdoorsy and manly-looking in a Bear Grylls sort of way, though she’s obviously not noticed his enormous nose. I also have to admit that he’s not bigheaded or boring, or totally demented like the ones Auntie Julie finds on the Internet.
But … it’s just wrong. Mum seeing someone.
Ever since Stuart’s arrived on the scene, I’ve been noticing some small changes in Mum’s behavior. She’s started making more of an effort with her appearance and looking at herself in the mirror more. And the other night she said that she thinks we all watch too much TV! She’s never said that before. It’s obviously him.
Stuart’s one of those Grown-Ups who really want to save the environment, and I think he’s trying to convert Mum. She’s been talking about building a compost heap in the garden and she’s started recycling. Me and Mandy used to tell her she should recycle but she never listened to us. Now that he’s told her she should, she’s all for it!
He’s tried hard to be nice to us, but he doesn’t understand that he’s already done the most unforgivable, plain wrong thing that anyone could do. He’s going out with our mum.
I don’t think he really understands kids either, which is weird, seeing as he’s a teacher. For some bizarre reason, the other day he presented me with a solar-powered headlamp! He got one for Mandy too; said it would make it safer for us walking home in the dark. As if we would walk around in public with headlamps on!!!! He honestly does not have a clue.
It was so lame of him to try to buy our affection like that. Does he really think we’d let him have our mum in exchange for a headlamp?
Yesterday, not long after I came in with my freaky chin, the phone rang. It was Stuart calling to make arrangements for taking Mum out tonight.
After she put the phone down, she looked all lit up from inside. There I was with a dangerous and possibly life-threatening chin injury and she was looking the happiest I’ve seen her in ages!
I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
NO REFUNDS, NO EXCHANGES
Your Grown-Up is nonreturnable. The manufacturer accepts no liability for their many faults. As they are probably, by now, slightly worn around the edges and past their best, if not seriously damaged, don’t even think of trying to get your money back. You cannot upgrade your Grown-Up. There are no refunds and no exchanges.
I mean, what sort of a product is that?
You know what’s totally annoying? You don’t get to choose the Grown-Ups in your life in the first place. I’ve done a lot of thinking about that part of the deal. You can’t conveniently exchange your Grown-Up for a better model or get compensation if they malfunction. You are stuck with what you get.
Imagine if you went to buy a new car, which is an important thing, and you turned up at the showroom and the person in front of you had just been handed a fantastic sports car, with heated seats and a built-in TV and games console, and then they brought you out a worn-out old wreck with a dent in the side and chewing gum stuck to the seats.
That’s what it’s like being born. You don’t know if you’re getting the sports car or the rusty old heap of junk.
Dad wasn’t a sports car, but he wasn’t a wreck either. He was something in between. He had his Porsche moments, you could say. Like the time when he took us to London and we had tea at this very posh hotel called the Dorchester. He joked that he wanted us to see “how the other half live.”
There were times when he’d say, “Get in the car, we’re going to the seaside!” and we’d just go, knowing that meant ice cream and rides and everything. He was never one to do things halfheartedly, not our dad.
But to be honest, Dad wasn’t perfect. Like when he forgot to pick us up from elementary school the times Mum asked him to do it. His forgetting us was upsetting, because we knew Mum would have reminded him that morning and said, “Be sure you don’t forget, Mike.”
We’d be standing there, the last ones. He’d come rushing round after the teachers phoned him and apologize to them and charm them with his jokes. But what annoyed me most was he’d never apologize to us, he’d just say, “Let’s be off then, girls.”
So everyone has his or her bad moments; even my dad did.
Whatever sort of Grown-Ups you have in your life right now, there’s no point feeling sorry for yourself about it. Make the best of it. After all, worn-out old cars can get fixed up and win at motor rallies, dents and all. And flashy sports cars can break down, or crash.
I suppose what I am trying to say is Grown-Ups are complicated and nothing is ever as simple as it seems. When you think you’ve got them figured out, they will always surprise you.
Mum’s certainly surprised us, by getting a boyfriend. And right now, instead of me being the one out shopping for a hot date while she’s stuck at home with Jack, it’s the other way round. It’s an abomination against the natural order of things.
Not that I mind looking after Jack. It’s not difficult. He’s happy on the computer. In fact, you could leave him there indefinitely. Archaeologists in the future will dig him up, still hunched there with his little skeleton hand clamped to the mouse.
But going back to how complicated Grown-Ups can be, my point is that just when you get used to a situation, it has to go and change. The way Mum’s acting definitely doesn’t fit in with any routine I’ve ever seen before. I have no idea what will happen next and I’m not sure I like it.…
I bet Mum’s buying something inappropriately sexy.
At least I can still influence her for her own good when she gets home. If she’s bought something too sexy, I know exactly how to make her think it’s slutty. Then she’ll hide it in a drawer and never wear it. Ha ha!
I have another plan too. If Mum carries on going out loads, I know exactly how I can make her feel massively guilty. I’ll just tell her that Jack’s said something to me like “I miss Mummy.” That should do it.
&n
bsp; Okay, panic over. This so isn’t a problem I can’t handle. I am still in control.
Saturday, August 8: 9:30 p.m.
HAPPY MODE
Scientific studies—conducted by lab types in white coats—show that Grown-Ups in Happy Mode are much more likely to be cooperative and positive. It is essential to your well-being that you keep your Grown-Up in this mode as much as possible.
The best way to switch your Grown-Up to Happy Mode is by being the perfect daughter or son or grandchild or whatever you are to them. This may not be achievable all of the time—but all models of Grown-Ups come with good sensory perception and can identify when you are making an effort.
Not only was I babysitting Jack most of today while Mum bought herself a new slinky dress for going to the movies in (I mean, what’s the point—it’s dark in there!), but now I’m stuck home babysitting him again while she’s actually at the movies. Mandy—having missed Lucy Parrish’s party on Thursday—is now at Lucy’s house catching up on all the Clone gossip. Even though she saw her yesterday. Tragic.
Mum was definitely in Happy Mode when she went out tonight, looking very sophisticated and un-Mum-like. Stuart was dressed up as well. While he looked okay last week when he turned up in jeans and a T-shirt, he obviously has a problem when he tries to look cool. He’d changed his “No Logo” T-shirt for a freaky brown shirt that looked like it had been hand-woven by goats in Guatemala and—wait for it—a knitted tie. Which was yellow. He was still wearing his jeans, but he’d swapped his sneakers for some horrible burgundy slip-on shoes. Similar to those worn by Creepy Mr. Cooper. OMG!!!!!! Fashion-crime-scene alert. It was as if he’d raided some old man’s wardrobe while blindfolded.
When he saw Mum come down the stairs, he practically went into Delirious Mode (the natural next step up from Happy Mode). He whistled and said, “You look stunning!”
Mum blushed and said, “So do you!”
REMINDER TO SELF:
Suggest to Mum she get an eye test.
Mandy was still there at that point, and we both retreated into the front room. “Please pass me a bucket so I can puke my guts up,” hissed Mandy, under her breath.
“Sorry, need it myself,” I replied.
It was odd to see Mum in Happy Mode without it being due to me, Jack or Mandy, or even Auntie Julie. It’s usually us who make her laugh or cheer her up. Tonight she seemed a different kind of happy too.…
Mum used to be in Happy Mode all the time back when Dad was alive, but it’s harder and harder to remember that. For a long time after he died, she wasn’t. That’s why switching her into Happy Mode as much as possible has become one of my main responsibilities when operating her.
For example, recently Mum’s been worrying about the tiny, almost invisible wrinkles round her eyes and on her forehead. “I’m getting old,” she says in Sad Mode. So I say, “No you’re not, you’re beautiful,” which puts her straight back into Happy Mode.
Not that it’s that easy to succeed every time. The other day I caught her standing in her bra and panties studying herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.
“Look at my saggy boobs and stretch marks,” she said. “I’m a state.”
I didn’t know what she meant. Mum is super-fit due to her sporty job. But when I looked closely I could see what she was on about. Her boobs did look slightly (but only a little) on the droopy side, and I could see a few faint silvery red stretch marks on her thighs and stomach.
“You look great,” I said. “I mean, no one would ever know you’ve had three children.”
“It’s just, I never thought I’d have to worry like this at my age,” she said, sounding down. “I never had to think about these things when I was with your dad.”
I don’t know why she thinks she has to worry about these things now, but I felt sorry for her, looking so unsure of herself. Just as I was thinking what else to say, Mandy came breezing out of the Cupboard.
“Mum, you’re a complete stunner,” she said.
I have to admit that even though we’ve always done our best and tried to keep Mum cheerful, she’s been more in Happy Mode since Stuart has been around. Which I suppose is good. I mean, Mandy came in an hour late on Wednesday and Mum didn’t even notice, when she’d normally be having a fit.
I don’t know if I like the fact that Stuart’s taking over some of my role as expert mode-switcher. But then again, maybe I shouldn’t worry. Mum’s in Happy Mode, so it’s one less thing for me to do. Why is life never simple?
10:35 p.m.
I’ve been thinking more about what I’ve just written while in the bathroom experimenting with covering my chin with foundation and concealer. I’m not doing a very good job. Mum said that if I can’t manage it myself she’ll help me tomorrow so that I can go out in public.
She’s brilliant with makeup. When we were little, she used to do face-painting at parties and she was great at it. She still makes Jack into a tiger now and again, though he’s beginning to think it’s not cool, which is a shame.
You’ve got to love Jack. He can put any of us in Happy Mode just by being his weird self. He’s great at lifting anyone’s mood—even if it’s normally by being disgusting. Like tonight when I went into his room to put out his light.
He said, “If someone said that you had to eat a whole room full of other people’s boogers or be shot, what would you do?”
“I’d rather be shot,” I said.
Jack nodded in agreement. “Me too. But—be honest—would you eat one booger or be shot?”
“I’d have to eat the booger,” I admitted.
“Eeeeeeeeeoouuuyuck!” Jack rolled about on his bed in delighted disgust. “Booger eater! Booger eater!”
Despite all my worries about Mum and Stuart, I had to smile.
Sunday, August 9: 10:27 a.m.
WARNING
DO NOT operate your Grown-Up for more than sixteen consecutive hours. Your Grown-Up is not designed for continuous operation. After sixteen consecutive hours, most models of Grown-Up will automatically switch to Sleep Mode.
SLEEP MODE
Sleep Mode in Grown-Ups is an easy one to spot. Eyes shut. Mouth open. Loud, eardrum-shattering snoring. This is usually brought on by Tired Mode, which can be either because of your continuous operation or by them working or partying too hard.
Be aware it may just be because your model of Grown-Up is ancient and exhausted.
Mum was out so late with Yellow Tie Man (as I’m now calling him) last night, I didn’t even hear her come in! And I was up until 1:13 a.m.! Well, that was the last time I looked at my alarm clock before going to sleep myself.
I brought her a cup of tea quite early (for me) this morning to get some answers. She just grunted at me and pulled the duvet over her head. She hadn’t even taken her makeup off the night before! I could see mascara on her pillow. Gross.
I went back with another cup an hour later and she hadn’t touched the first one. She told me to go away and let her sleep in peace.
“What about Jack?” I said. “You’re his mother, you’ve got to feed him!”
“He’s old enough to get his own breakfast, and if he can’t, you can help him,” she mumbled. “Now go away and let me sleep.”
“When did you get in?” I asked innocently. But she didn’t answer.
TROUBLESHOOTING TIP
“My Grown-Up Will Not Start”
There could be several reasons for this:
1) Your Grown-Up had a late night the night before.
2) Your Grown-Up is in Sad Mode.
3) Your Grown-Up is seriously ill. Call 999 immediately and possibly save their life.
Mum usually only needs about seven hours’ sleep. So that means she was out until at least three a.m.—or perhaps even later. Maybe she was out all night!
12:30 p.m.
This is getting serious. It’s lunchtime and Mum’s still in Sleep Mode. Even Rascal trying to lick her face won’t rouse her. She just rolled over!
I tried to get her to get up for lunch but she just groaned. Then I reminded her that she’s supposed to help me to cover up my chin before I go out later.
“You can do it yourself, love,” she said. “I’ve got to catch up on my sleep. You don’t mind, do you?”
And before I could say, “Yes I do mind, actually,” she was snoring away again. Which means that I’ve got to do my chin all by myself when she specifically said she’d help if I needed her—which I do. How rubbish is that?
This is an example of Grown-Up Deviant Behavior. I am trying to think of anything I could have done differently to prevent this situation. After all, I’m supposed to be writing a guide about smoothly operating your Grown-Up, so this is quite embarrassing.
But what could I do? How do you stop your Grown-Up from going off the rails when you least expect it? I will have to give this a lot of thought.
2:19 p.m.
I’ve finally cracked it! No, not Mum (sadly)—my chin. I can now go out in public again! Two parts beige foundation, one part Mum’s expensive concealer she uses for the shadows under her eyes. She never noticed me get it from her dressing table because she was so deeply asleep. Ha ha!
Hannah is coming round any minute and we’re going to the park. The reason we’re going is this—Neil Parkhouse casually asked Hannah if she was going there and she said she was, showing no loyalty to Ben Clayden whatsoever.
8:23 p.m.
Well, I wish I hadn’t gone. Neil Parkhouse, Jonathan Elliott and Thomas Finch were all there. Thomas, of course, would not look at me due to the dumping business. He looked great; he seems to have grown taller and he’s got a fantastic tan from Spain.
Thomas was standing beside Loops, while Neil hung around Hannah and I was left with Jonathan Elliott.
As well as knowing lots of little-known facts, Jonathan’s one of those brainiac types who are in the top set of everything at school and who win prizes for science projects. He’s a year older than the rest of us and a lot of girls think he’s good-looking. I sort of agree, if you ignore his slightly sticking-out ears. Anyway, according to all the magazines Mum reads, it’s not supposed to be about looks, you’re supposed to look at people’s “inner beauty.”