Bad Mother's Holiday - Hilarious Summer Holiday Reading!

by Suzy K Quinn

  ‘Listen – don’t worry about all that ‘doing stuff at a certain age’ bullshit,’ said Althea. ‘Kids never signed up for those medical charts. They’re ready when they’re ready.’

  On the subject of age-related milestones, I’m also worried about Daisy’s drinking habits.

  According to baby-expert-and-Nazi, Gina Ford, Daisy should no longer drink milk from a bottle. Over the age of one, it should be a sippy cup.

  Daisy is nearly three now. That’s years of neglect.

  Gina wasn’t specific about what could happen to a baby who ‘overused’ bottles, but I fear bad things.

  At one point, I bought three different types of sippy cup: the classic Tommee Tippee, a futuristic Advil ‘no spill’ with lime-green handle and pink Minnie Mouse cup that spills everywhere.

  Daisy hated all of them.

  ‘You’ll probably find baby’s milk consumption goes right down once a sippy cup is introduced,’ Gina writes.

  The reality: ‘Baby will throw sippy cup in your face and scream, bottle, bottle! A month later, you will find dangerous black mould inside the unwashable sippy cup and wonder if perhaps baby knew best after all.’

  Tuesday 1st May

  The bloody nit stuff hasn’t worked.

  I’m still itching like crazy, and Mum found three more eggs.

  Looked on Mumsnet and found mile-long threads from women who’d had reoccurring head lice for months – even years.

  There was a picture of a sad, shaggy-haired mum who’d avoided the hairdressers for two years due to head-lice embarrassment.

  Marched into Great Oakley chemist and demanded the strongest stuff they had.

  The teenage girl behind the till didn’t seem to have any specialist knowledge about medicine, but read the packaging out loud at frustratingly slow speed.

  ‘Kind to … hair and … skin. Part the hair … apply section by … section with comb … included and –’

  ‘I don’t want kind to hair,’ I said. ‘I want chemicals. Strong chemicals.’

  The girl picked up another packet. ‘Organic … treatment for … head lice made with …’

  ‘Not organic!’ I shouted. ‘I want something STRONG.’

  Ended up buying something that claimed to kill head lice, scabies, ‘crab mites’ (whatever they are) and pubic lice. It said:

  CAUTION! NOT FOR ASTHMA SUFFERERS.

  Felt assured there must be some strong stuff in there.

  Went home, doused myself in chemicals and inhaled the sweet smell of lung-burning toxins.

  Really need to get these head lice dealt with, because the Corfu trip is only a few weeks away.

  Feel very lucky that I’m having two holidays this year. And grateful, for once, that Mum ignored my instructions.

  Sometimes Mum does know best. Except about Guinness being good for pregnant women – she really isn’t right about that.

  Wednesday 2nd May

  Took Nana to a funeral today. It was for an old friend and fellow care-home resident, Ducky Newton, who apparently made us cakes when we were younger.

  Couldn’t remember ‘Ducky’s famous seed cake’, but she sounded like a lovely woman.

  Nana wore a tight, low-cut black dress, and had ‘livened up the boring colour’ by spraying silver glitter over her cleavage.

  Nana also wore heavy concealer over a black eye, because she’d been fighting with Carmen Akawolo.

  Nana and Carmen are both so similar – fiery old ladies with huge bosoms and no-nonsense attitudes.

  Carmen is twice Nana’s size, but Nana evens the score with blind fury.

  Carmen was at the funeral, wearing a sleek black dress with frills around the hips.

  She and Nana eyed each other fiercely.

  I kept a firm clutch on Nana’s arm, fearing trouble and several lost hair extensions.

  At the wake, I had a quiet word with Carmen’s nephew, apologising for the fight and saying I hoped there were no hard feelings.

  We had a nice chat, the two of us, about how funny old people can be.

  ‘They’re supposed to be wiser than us!’ the nephew laughed.

  I laughed too.

  In my family, old age is no guarantee of wisdom.

  Thursday 3rd May

  Callum is in trouble for fighting. To be fair, it doesn’t sound like his fault. Another kid pulled his trousers down.

  ‘And they’re making a big fuss about the mid-term Corfu trip,’ Callum complained. ‘They’re so jealous, those teachers. I keep telling them education doesn’t start and finish in the classroom.’

  It’s good that Callum takes Dad’s little sayings on board.

  Friday 4th May

  Corfu only a week away!

  Mum keeps singing, ‘We’re all off to sunny Spain, Arriba Espana!’, even though we’re going to Greece.

  Will be lovely to get some sunshine and splash around with Daisy in a swimming pool.

  Bit of a sun tan, a nice rest and shitloads of ice cream and beer.

  Arriba Corfu!

  Saturday 5th May

  Visited Laura today.

  ‘Alex was here this morning,’ she told me. ‘Did you know he was visiting?’

  This threw me a bit.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Why should I know what Alex does or where he goes?’

  ‘I thought you two might be in that ‘friend zone’ again,’ she said. ‘The one you both go to, because neither of you can let the other one go.’

  ‘We’re not friends,’ I said. ‘I have nothing to say to him and couldn’t care less what he’s doing.’

  Then I asked why Alex had visited Laura’s home.

  ‘He came to see Zach about suit fittings,’ Laura told me.

  ‘Why did they need to talk about suit fittings?’ I asked.

  ‘Zach and I are having a special lunch,’ said Laura. ‘I wanted to talk to you about it, actually. Are you free at the end of May?’

  Told her yes – I’ll be back from Corfu by then.

  ‘Good,’ said Laura. ‘So Mum and Dad will be free too?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Why are you having a special lunch?’

  ‘Zach and I are having a little ceremony,’ said Laura. ‘To say a few words about the future.’

  ‘Laura,’ I said. ‘Is this a wedding?’

  ‘Oh I wouldn’t call it that,’ said Laura. ‘Just signing a piece of paper. But it’s no big deal.’

  ‘Is it a marriage paper?’ I asked.

  Laura admitted that yes – she and Zach would be signing marriage papers.

  Whooped and cheered and gave her a big hug. So happy for her.

  Can’t believe a member of my family is marrying a Dalton.

  Sunday 6th May

  Phoned Alex this morning.

  He picked up on the first ring, which was gratifying.

  ‘Juliette,’ he said. ‘It’s good to hear from you.’

  Told Alex I wanted to get in touch before Laura’s wedding, to make sure we were on the same page.

  ‘I don’t see why we wouldn’t be on the same page about the wedding,’ Alex replied. ‘It’s life we disagree on.’

  There was silence, then Alex said, ‘You know, we signed the deal with Starlight Cruises this week. It reminded me of our trip together.’

  ‘And our separate cabins,’ I said. ‘You weirdo.’

  ‘I feel sad we couldn’t make it work,’ said Alex.

  ‘Me too,’ I said. ‘Sometimes.’

  Alex said, ‘Only sometimes?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Only sometimes.’

  Asked Alex if he was looking forward to the wedding.

  ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you,’ he said. ‘But there are other people I’d rather not see. My father being one of them.’

  Monday 7th May

  Spring Bank Holiday

  Laura just called.

  She’s stressed about the wedding that isn’t a wedding.

  Catrina is starting to interfere and wants Zach to have a big ‘so
ciety’ do with old family friend Burt Bacharach performing at the reception.

  Laura wanted to talk to me, because she needs someone to ‘keep her feet on the ground’.

  I was the right person for this, because I have no idea what a society wedding is. Feel my ‘why doesn’t Catrina mind her own business?’ comments were very grounded.

  Tuesday 8th May

  Daisy’s language is really coming along, but there are still a few things she can’t pronounce – no matter how many times I correct her.

  Daisy says, ‘Harry Popper’ instead of ‘Harry Potter’, ‘Shovel up’ instead of ‘Shove up’ and ‘Meatabix’ instead of ‘Weetabix’. She also says, ‘Oh quakers!’ when she’s surprised. Where on earth did she get that from?

  Have started thinking about what I’ll need for Corfu.

  You have to pay extra for hold luggage, so I’m packing everything in my little hand-luggage bag. I always wear the same thing every day on beach holidays anyway (denim shorts, my nice, flattering kaftan top and a swimming costume underneath), so I’ve decided to cut out the unnecessary packing and only bring the aforementioned every day outfit, plus changes of underwear and travel toiletries.

  Althea is impressed with my minimalist ethos.

  ‘Good on you, Jules,’ she said. ‘Let go of attachment to all that materialistic crap. It’s the path to enlightenment.’

  I didn’t tell her that the holiday will involve unlimited food and alcohol, which almost certainly isn’t the path to enlightenment.

  Wednesday 9th May

  Have cracked and decided to pay extra for a hold bag.

  There are SO many things Daisy won’t sleep without now – there’s no way I can fit them all in my cabin bag and Daisy’s tiny Dora the Explorer suitcase. Also, Daisy wants various items of bulky fancy dress, including a Snow White outfit with full taffeta underskirt.

  When I arrived at the pub for my shift, there was a lot of packing going on there too.

  In Callum’s case, this mainly meant unpacking, because he’d loaded up his camouflage bag with plastic knives, real knives, BB guns and gunpowder pellets.

  Midnight

  Just finished my pub shift.

  Sleeping at Mum and Dad’s tonight, because we all have to be up at 3am for the airport shuttle and 7am flight.

  The anti-social flights were only £17 each way, which is cheaper than the train to London. Well worth missing a few hours’ sleep for. And, like Mum says, we can always drink our way through the tiredness when we reach the other end.

  Thursday 10th May

  The super early flight to Corfu caused a lot of arguments.

  I’d forgotten how bad my family gets when we’re tired.

  Lack of sleep seems to exaggerate everyone’s worst characteristics.

  Mum was grumpy, snapping about the lack of full English breakfast on the flight, and going on and on about the men at security taking her multipack of Walkers crisps.

  Dad was beyond anxious, shouting at everyone for dallying in the duty free hall, demanding we get to the check-in gate an hour before take-off and having a minor panic attack when he saw the gate had already been called.

  John Boy was still drunk from the night before and got lost in duty free.

  I was okay.

  After having a baby, tiredness doesn’t affect you in the same way. You get tough, like an SAS soldier. There were accusations that I was irritable, but that’s because everyone else was being so annoying.

  Mum snuck some hard-boiled eggs through security, and insisted on peeling them extremely LOUDLY, and dropping bits of shell and egg really near my feet.

  Callum’s headphones made tinny, irritating sounds.

  John Boy was snoring on purpose.

  Daisy fell asleep with one leg dangling off the chair also on purpose, so I couldn’t get out to go to the toilet.

  Dad kept asking the air stewardess to repeat herself, then squinting when she gave her answer. He did this on purpose, because he knows it irritates me.

  In the end, I accepted Mum’s suggestion of a breakfast bloody Mary.

  Everything became less irritating after that.

  Landed in Corfu at 10am, Greek time.

  Got to the resort by 11am.

  By 12pm, we’d all had a shot of Ouzo (it’s a local tradition), a few pints of Greek lager (well, you’ve got to try the native blend) and a Malibu cocktail (we’re on holiday!).

  Mum and Nana made a scene by encouraging each other to down drinks at the bar, before Nana literally fell off her bar stool and had to be carried to a sun lounger for a little lie down.

  I think it’s fair to say all the adults were tipsy when the lunchtime buffet opened. However, the restaurant manager needn’t have been such a spoil sport. I mean, yes – we were singing. But we’re on holiday.

  The buffet was fabulous, and included barbequed lamb, huge bricks of feta cheese, freshly baked bread, roasted Mediterranean vegetables, double-cooked chips, a load of yellow kids’ food for Daisy and Callum and a variety of honey-soaked Greek desserts.

  We all enjoyed filling up, except Dad who ate a moderate meal of soup and bread, followed by a piece of fruit and a nice cup of tea, claiming there was no need to be excessive.

  Fun afternoon by the pool, trying out the various different cocktails and playing an interesting German game called Rummikub, which is a sort of plastic-tile version of rummy. Nana Joan won every game, of course.

  Callum and Daisy had a nice time at the Clowns Kid’s Club, playing Duck Duck Goose for three hours.

  Tucked up now on nice, clean white sheets.

  Daisy is sleeping in the travel cot.

  All is good in the world.

  Very contented.

  Althea’s right.

  Who needs a man?

  Friday 11th May

  Trip into Corfu town this morning.

  Mum wanted to shop for tourist tat, and Dad fancied seeing the old Roman ruins.

  The weather, although a lot warmer than England, was a little overcast and windy, so I wrapped Daisy up in her warm cardigan and little flowery flared jeans.

  Mum, on the other hand, had no respect for the weather. She has only two levels of holiday dress – semi-nudity or semi-nudity with a sparkly shawl around her shoulders. For the town trip she chose semi-nudity: a short, see-through chiffon kaftan with no shawl.

  As we walked beside the dock, the ocean wind treated fisherman to a view of Mum’s wobbling bottom. The well-dressed Greek city dwellers, in slim-fitting suits and tailored shirts, clipped neatly past us, trying not to stare as chiffon was whipped here, there and everywhere.

  We made it back to the hotel in time for lunch, then sat by the swimming pool playing Uno, drinking beer and inventing cocktails.

  Mum came up with the best cocktail – rum, swirled with raspberry and strawberry slushy into a pleasing, colourful whirlwind.

  None of us fancied the cold swimming pool (the only people swimming were teenagers, and they weren’t really swimming – they were daring each other to jump into the freezing water, before shrieking and leaping out again), but we were perfectly happy drinking and watching the kids run around.

  ‘And just think, we could do this all over again,’ said Dad. ‘In the wilds of nature.’

  We all stared at him blankly, until he reminded us about the camping trip he wants to organise.

  ‘None of us want to go on a bloody camping trip, Bob,’ said Mum. ‘All that hard work, setting up tents and barbeques, and for what? Less comfort than you get back home.’

  ‘You can’t beat waking up in a grassy field and cooking on open fires,’ said Dad. ‘Give me that over all this excess any day of the week.’

  We all sipped our giant slushy and rum cocktails and ignored him.

  Saturday 12th May

  Think I’ve put on weight.

  The thing with buffet food is you just have to try everything, and on all-inclusive holidays there’s a lot to try. This morning, the buffet included:

/>   Fried eggs, scrambled eggs, poached eggs, omelette, little sausages, bacon, fried potatoes, various cheeses, hams and pickles, kippers – and then the sweet stuff: real, thick Greek yoghurt with golden honey, pancakes, waffles, fresh bread, croissants, Danish pastries, pain au chocolate, cinnamon buns, chocolate cereals and breakfast cookies (both raisin and chocolate chip).

  It’s all very enjoyable, but it’s not good to have a three-course breakfast (pancakes and toast to start, full English for the main, and dessert pastries, biscuits and coffee to finish) every day.

  Dad suggested a short walk along the beach this morning, to ‘work off all that heavy food’, but Mum refused to go, saying that diabetics shouldn’t walk too far.

  ‘On the contrary, Shirley,’ said Dad. ‘Exercise is proven to be very beneficial to diabetics. You should walk at least an hour every day. Ideally more.’

  ‘They come up with all sorts of statistics,’ said Mum. ‘I’m working on the basis that walking is bad and ice cream is good. I’m sure one day they’ll do a study to prove me right.’

  Sunday 13th May

  Totally surreal day.

  Can’t believe it.

  ALEX is here.

  He arrived just after lunch.

  Mum and I were at the bar, debating whether to have brandies with our afternoon coffee, when Alex came strolling onto the sun terrace.

  I didn’t recognise him at first. I just thought some handsome, Ray-Ban wearing aftershave model type was at the wrong hotel. But then all the details clicked.

  ‘Mum,’ I hissed, grabbing her arm. ‘It’s Alex. ALEX.’

  ‘Who?’ Mum asked, squinting at brandy bottles.

  ‘Alex.’

  We both stared.

  Then Alex turned around. He gave me that half-smile of his and said, ‘Juliette. There you are.’ As if him being there was the most natural thing in the world.

  ‘What are YOU doing here?’ I asked.

  ‘I came to see you and Daisy,’ said Alex. ‘And experience a different sort of hotel – I’ve never seen faux marble before. Or all-inclusive wrist bands.’ Alex showed me an ‘All-inclusive Day Pass’ band sitting above his Rolex watch.