Diary of a Parent Trainer

by Jennifer Smith

  I’ve since looked it up in the dictionary and it means this:

  EPIC (adj.)

  1) Of, constituting, having to do with, or suggestive of a literary epic: an epic poem

  2) Surpassing the usual or ordinary, particularly in scope or size

  3) Heroic and impressive in quality

  Auntie Julie did not have a dictionary on her, so she did the best she could.

  “I’m not completely sure,” she said, “but I think it means great, or very big. So big, it’s legendary.”

  “Ah!” said Jack. “So you have an epic bum!”

  IRRITATED MODE

  Irritated Mode is one of those modes that can be a background mode, which means that some Grown-Ups can spend their whole lives being slightly irritated by everything and everyone.

  Other Grown-Ups only go into Irritated Mode periodically, usually because of something you’ve done or said. Certain objects left around the house are guaranteed to trigger Irritated Mode. For example, most models of Grown-Up will respond strongly to discarded candy wrappers, mold-filled mugs, stale toast, toenail clippings and underpants. Once a certain threshold is reached, Grown-Ups progress to Angry Mode.

  After that, the picnic just got worse. Everyone could tell Mum was in Irritated Mode with Stuart. Me, Mandy, Hannah, Jack and Matthew got away as soon as we could. It was awkward sitting there, trying not to stare at Stuart’s ever-swelling head.

  Me and Hannah decided to go to the park.

  “Well, that was fun,” said Hannah as we walked up the road. “He’s made quite an impression!”

  “I don’t think your mum and dad or Auntie Julie will want to see Mum with someone who’d rather have a giant mutant swollen face than take perfectly good medicine, do you?” I said.

  “His face isn’t always like that,” Hannah pointed out.

  “Well, he’s always fussy,” I muttered. “Natural this, homeopathic that. He obviously doesn’t care enough about family to make an effort. Mum must see how annoying he is now.”

  We walked along, enjoying the sunshine and the fact that we were away from a horrible social situation—mostly of our own making.

  “Listen,” said Hannah, “before we see Loops, I’d better tell you something. I told Loops you don’t like Thomas anymore, so she’s going to see if she can get him to ask her out. She wants us to leave her alone with him if we can, so you need to talk to Jonathan and I need to talk to Neil, okay?”

  Loops, who, in the last couple of weeks, has kissed Jonathan Elliott but put him “on hold” till she’s more “experienced,” now wants to get her teeth (or tongue, more appropriately) into Thomas Finch! What a complete hussy!

  “Are you okay with that?” Hannah was looking at me oddly.

  I linked arms with her. “Course I am!” I said. “I hope she knows she won’t get much conversation out of him.”

  “I don’t think it’s conversation she’s interested in,” Hannah said with a smirk.

  I got a funny feeling when she said that. Sort of resentful and annoyed but at the same time hurt. I told myself to snap out of it.

  At the park, Hannah talked to Neil and I talked to Jonathan (who explained the workings of the jet engine to me—oh, please kill me now). Meanwhile, Loops fluttered her eyelashes and chatted to Thomas. He didn’t say much. He didn’t need to—Loops can talk enough for two. She was twirling her flame-red curls round her finger and looking up into his eyes, giggling and flirting.

  Whenever I looked over he seemed to be enjoying the attention.

  They even wandered off, over to the teenagers’ shelter, the very place where she’d kissed Jonathan. That must be her lair, I thought. Like a spider’s web, where she catches them, stuns them and eats them. Maybe she’ll work her way through all the boys in our class, kissing every one of them in the teenagers’ shelter.

  Why am I so bothered about what Loops does? It’s completely irrational. I mean, it’s a free country, isn’t it? Loops has every right to practice kissing with anyone she wants to. Maybe I’m just jealous that she’s getting more experienced, while I’m still Katie Sutton with the flat chest and the skinny legs who’s never been kissed.

  “So, the jet engine works on the principle of accelerating a smaller mass of air to a very high velocity,” Jonathan was saying, as if he thought I actually cared. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact that Loops was chatting up Thomas.

  I stared at the sun shining through Jonathan’s ears, thinking how interesting it was that someone who was so earth-shatteringly boring could also be such an accomplished and experienced kisser.

  As soon as I could, I made my excuses and went home. I decided it was the perfect time to reorganize my sock drawer. There’s something satisfying about sorting out your socks, or maybe I’m just deeply troubled.

  8:33 p.m.

  So there I was pairing up my pink fluffy slipper socks, when Mandy rushed in and said, “Come and listen to this!” and dragged me to the top of the stairs. We crouched by the banister and listened. Mum and Stuart were having a big fight!

  “You should have just taken the medicine,” Mum was tutting, in Irritated Mode verging on Angry Mode. “Your eyes nearly swelled shut! You looked awful.”

  “Well, it didn’t help sitting in a pile of grass clippings.…”

  “You didn’t talk to Dave.…”

  “He didn’t talk to me! He started reading the paper! He did the crossword! And you just talked to your sisters. What was I supposed to do? And I don’t think Mandy likes me. She isn’t recycling.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Mum, sounding very fed up indeed. “How can you think someone doesn’t like you just because they don’t recycle? You’re being paranoid. Look, I’m not feeling well. I’ve got a splitting headache. I’m going to bed. I think it’s time you went home, Stuart.”

  “Fine,” he said abruptly. Shortly afterward we heard the door slam; then Mum gave a big sigh.

  If Stuart was an expert in operating Mum, like I am, he would have known that she needs a nice hot chocolate and a head massage to calm her down. But he isn’t, and he doesn’t. Ha!

  This definitely means Mum is no longer in Smitten Mode. It’s a major breakthrough.

  “I think there’s trouble in Paradise,” said Mandy cheerfully.

  Sunday, August 30

  SICK MODE

  When your Grown-Up is unwell, do not expect them to perform the same functions as they do normally—this applies equally if they only have a cold or if it’s something more serious. Also, do not make too much noise. This can switch them into Grumpy Mode, which is not a good combination with Sick Mode. Handle your sick Grown-Up with care.

  Well, we’ve certainly found out what a whiner Stuart is. Just a few allergies and he was completely pathetic. What would he be like if he was seriously sick like our dad was? Dad was so good-humored, even when he was in loads of discomfort. Mum must see the difference. I’m sure all this will have put her off Stuart for good.

  Mum’s a lot better at being unwell. She’s had to be, as she’s been on her own with us for so long and has had to put us first. She’s pretty matter-of-fact about illness. She keeps on going until she can’t, then goes to bed until she can again, then gets up and gets on with it.

  CARING MODE

  Grown-Ups should automatically switch into Caring Mode when you are sick. It’s part of their default setting. If your Grown-Up does not do this, then they have a serious malfunction.

  I woke up this morning feeling very unwell. My head hurt lots and I didn’t want to get up. Part of me thought that it might be karma for what we did to Stuart yesterday. Now I’m going to be ill on the last few days of the last few days of vacation—serves me right.

  Around eleven o’clock, Mum came in and took my temperature with the ear thermometer. She went straight into Sympathy Mode and began to perform the Looking After Function—which she’s brilliant at.

  “Oh dear!” she said. “The thermometer says you’re not well. What’s hurting?�
�

  “My head, it really hurts,” I moaned. Mum went to open the curtains.

  “Don’t!” I shouted. “It hurts my eyes!”

  Of course, I should have realized that this would panic Mum. Sure enough, within the hour Auntie Susan was round prodding and poking at me. She decided that Mum didn’t need to rush me to the hospital quite yet and went away while Mum dosed me up with medicine.

  Hannah and Loops came and hovered in the door. They had a couple of magazines, but I knew I must be unwell because I didn’t even flick through them. I didn’t even look at the pages where they show celebrities with cellulite. It had to be serious.

  After they left, I imagined Hannah and Loops telling Ben Clayden that I was seriously ill. Perhaps he’ll realize that he loves me, despite all the embarrassing things that he’s seen me doing, like falling on my chin or hiding behind the potato chip rack in the minimart with a bright red nose. Or that time when Jack burped as we were walking past his house and I’m sure he thought it was me.

  Then I wondered what Thomas Finch would think if he heard I was being rushed to the hospital. This is even more ridiculous, since in the last few months I’ve:

  a) dumped him

  b) stormed past him

  c) laughed at him

  d) given my friend permission to chat him up.

  So why should I care what he thinks?

  2:00 p.m.

  Lying in bed with nothing much to do gives you too much time to brood. I found myself thinking about Dad. He was sick for such a long time. He must have been so bored lying there. I wonder what he thought about.…

  When I was little, I remember Dad would sit me on his knee and give me this great big hug and he’d say:

  “Are you beautiful?”

  “Yes!”

  “Are you a genius?”

  “Yes!”

  “Are you the bravest?”

  “Yes!”

  “Are you a sausage?”

  I’d scream with laughter at this point.

  “No!”

  “Are you invincible?”

  “Yes!”

  “Are you the best?”

  “Yes!”

  “Are you a smelly old sock?”

  I know it sounds stupid, but it was a great game.

  Dad was at home for the first six months and then he was in and out of a place called a hospice, which was actually quite good because when he was feeling very bad they made sure he was comfortable.

  When he went in we used to visit him lots. At the end he couldn’t do anything at all except smile at us. So I suppose you could say that he lost all of his functions and modes in the end, except the Love Mode, which is probably the most important. I think that’s why he kept it the longest.

  LOVE MODE

  Love Mode is different from Smitten Mode. It’s an awesome mode, because it makes things better. Well, most of the time, anyway.

  Love Mode can be a background mode. This means that even if your Grown-Up has switched to Angry Mode, they can (and usually do) still love you—although this can be hard to detect when they are purple with rage and screaming “Go to your room!”

  3:12 p.m.

  Mum came in to check on me again. She sat on the bed and stroked my hair.

  “Are you feeling better?” she asked.

  “Yes, now that you’re here,” I said. “Can I have a cuddle?”

  It’s pathetic. I mean, I’m thirteen years old. But sometimes you just need a cuddle … whatever age you are. She got onto the bed beside me and we snuggled up.

  For a while after Dad died, the rest of us all slept together in Mum’s bed—all four of us, and sometimes Rascal too. Mum needed millions of hugs. It was a hug extravaganza. I’m glad she needed all those hugs. We needed them too.

  I’ve had so many great Mum hugs today. It’s like she’s making up for every single hug I’ve missed since Stuart’s been on the scene.

  “Love you,” she said, “and I’m sorry if I’ve been distracted recently with Stuart. Have I been neglecting you?”

  “You’ve neglected us massively,” I said, smiling to show her I was joking, “but I forgive you. Have you split up with him?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I like him, but it’s not like when I started going out with your dad. Things were much easier then. Do you mind me seeing Stuart?”

  “No,” I lied. “I just want you to be happy.”

  I do want her to be happy. But at the same time, I’m a spoiled brat who doesn’t like to share.

  7:29 p.m.

  Mandy got in a few hours ago, having been up in Oxford with the Clones all day. She bounced into the bedroom remarkably cheerful for a change, carrying a plastic bag.

  “I know they might have split up already,” she said, “but I got these just in case.”

  She got out three T-shirts—all branded with giant logos.

  “Brilliant!” I said. “We can wear them if he ever dares come back!”

  Stuart still hasn’t phoned since he left, and Mum says she’s not going to phone him. So maybe this is it. Maybe it’s over and things can go back to the way they were. Just the four of us. (Or five, if you include Rascal.)

  Monday, August 31

  I felt better this morning, but not well enough to go rushing about doing things. So I just hung around the house, reading the magazines Hannah and Loops left and watching daytime TV. In sixty years I’ll probably end up like Great-Grandma Peters, waving my walking stick at the TV and swearing. Unless, as I’m sure Stuart thinks will happen, we’re all living in some sort of wasteland eating poisoned turnips because of global warming.

  Hannah and Loops were allowed to visit this afternoon, and they filled me in on what I’ve been missing. Which of course wasn’t much, this being Brindleton. Although there was one significant piece of news.

  “You won’t believe this,” said Loops excitedly. “Joshua’s going out with Jenny Caulfield! We saw them walking along holding hands.”

  I immediately felt gutted for Mandy, but nobody knows, so I couldn’t say anything.

  After they’d gone I did some thinking about broken hearts.

  A NOTE ABOUT BROKEN PARTS

  There are no decent spare parts available for your Grown-Up, so careful operation is essential. For example, a broken heart can be very difficult to mend. Sometimes it breaks in two, and sometimes it shatters into a thousand pieces.

  Do not attempt major operations, such as heart transplants, yourself. Hospitals are the best places for such overhauls of your Grown-Up, and doctors are quite good at general repairs and maintenance. It is best to leave the technical details to the experts.

  When Dad died, Mum’s heart was broken into a thousand pieces, and I really did wish I could take her to the hospital and get the doctors to mend it. I wished a team of surgeons would rush in wearing green gowns and make it all better with a bypass or a replacement valve.

  But life’s not as simple as that.

  I wonder how Mum is really feeling about Stuart now that it’s over. I don’t think she’s brokenhearted. Perhaps a couple of small dents, but nothing like she was after Dad.

  6:20 p.m.

  The phone rang downstairs a while ago, and I can just tell it’s Stuart. Mum’s been talking to him for ages, in a hushed voice. I can’t make out what she’s saying, but I can hear her laughing.

  I can feel my heart sinking.

  8:27 p.m.

  Ten minutes ago, while I was doing my “cleanse, tone and moisturize” routine (so as to be beautiful enough to be the future Mrs. Clayden), Mandy came home. I could tell she’d heard about Joshua Weston and Jenny Caulfield just from the way she walked into the room.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “Don’t want to talk about it,” she said, throwing down her bag and climbing up into the top bunk.

  I wish I could get that team of surgeons to mend Mandy’s heart, because I know it’s broken. I wish I could say something to her that would help. But nothing would. No
t right now.

  Wednesday, September 2

  A NOTE ON ANGRY MODE AND TEENAGERS

  Teenagers need more careful handling than Grown-Ups because when they get into Angry Mode, they take it to a whole new level. As with Grown-Ups, the most effective strategy is the Avoidance Technique. Your safety could depend on it.

  I know this is supposed to be a guide on Grown-Ups but I thought I would mention this as Mandy has been in Angry Mode since Monday and she’s still going strong! First she found out about Joshua and Jenny; then she realized that Mum and Stuart had made up. She’s been impossible to talk to ever since. And since I’ve already noted the danger of younger siblings ruining your plans, I thought I should also make you aware about older siblings. I’m sure Mandy is going to make Mum overheat any second.…

  If anyone so much as asks Mandy if she wants a cup of tea, she’ll turn on them like some sort of wild, angry beast. So I’m using the Avoidance Technique.

  The way I’ve done this is to practically move into Hannah’s house, which is how I’ve been roped into Hannah’s latest scheme. It’s part of her plan to save the world by raising money for charity. Me and Loops have been helping her on and off all summer.

  Today, Hannah had the brilliant idea to sell some of the vegetables from Granddad Williams’s garden.

  “We can tell him later,” she said. “He won’t mind.”

  So we dug up lots of potatoes, carrots and rhubarb and took them back to Hannah’s house in Uncle Dave’s wheelbarrow. When all the vegetables were washed, we put them back in the wheelbarrow but arranged them more artistically. Then we wheeled it along to the same street as the minimart, but about fifty meters down from it.

  Loops made a sign saying: POTATOES. CARROTS. RHUBARB. ALL PROCEEDS TO CHILDREN IN AFRICA.

  Then we waited for the money to roll in. But it didn’t. Nobody seemed interested, until at last Creepy Mr. Cooper came along and bought a big load of carrots, probably just to be kind.