The Darker Side of Mummy Misfit #2

by Amanda Egan

  Nic and Rick were delighted to be ‘out on the town’ - their first night since becoming parents - and Olga seemed to have a real knack with Mikhail, maybe because she speaks to him in Russian and it’s inbuilt somewhere.

  Fenella treated herself to a couple of small glasses of champagne and told us all she couldn’t wait to fall off the wagon again. “When this final addition to the Hunter-Barnes empire pops out, Josh is going for the ‘snipperdeedooda’ and you can all bring bubbly to my bedside - stuff your flowers and grapes, I want booze.”

  Nic said that he and Rick had barely touched a drop since they’d had Mikhail. “Just couldn’t cope with a hangover and a screaming bub - how you women cope with it all and breastfeed, I don’t know.”

  Mrs S insisted it was all nonsense, that women made far too much of it nowadays and it was the most natural thing in the world. “In my day, I was feeding Pritesh and his three brothers for twelve long years in total and it was worth every minute. I have never had a fine bosom since, but I do not worry for such things. Vanity is a curse.”

  “It might be a curse, Mrs S but I’m not feeding this baby, I’m afraid. It’s straight on the bottle and, if my hooters don’t bounce back, I might have a little nip and tuck to give Mother Nature a helping hand.” Fenella finished the last of her champagne and topped her glass up with Irn Bru.

  Josh nearly choked on his drink. “Well that’s the first I’ve heard of it. More bloody expense! Just top me up Ned, I need numbing.”

  Ned obliged and quipped, “Well you’ll certainly need numbing before the old snip - let’s hope they use something a bit stronger than this!”

  Silver then went on to show us some breast-toning exercises that are meant to work wonders and we all joined in, including Mrs S who piped up with “I am thinking that my hooters are too late to be re-trained but I would very much like to be Gokked by that lovely Oriental gentleman. I am thinking he could make me look twenty-one again.”

  Can’t quite imagine Mrs S on ‘How to Look Good Naked’ somehow!

  Olga did a great job with the kids and managed to get them all settled by ten - no mean feat -so she had a few drinks with us and we let her get off home. We decided if Mikhail woke, there were enough of us to take turns in the battle with Wonder Lungs.

  Pritesh made a bee-line for Patience (of course) and they seemed to be getting along quite well. Mrs S looked a little disapproving and told us she thought he should let the grass grow under his feet a bit before moving on. “Of course, as a mother, I very much want him to settle down with a nice young lady, but I am living in hope that Libby here will do me the honour and become my daughter-in-law.”

  Ned coughed and looked a little embarrassed. “Mrs S, I think you might be forgetting something here!”

  “Yes, yes Ned I know you are married to her but people are getting divorced all the time now. It is not a bad thing in the society we are living in today.”

  Fenella giggled and said through a mouthful of smoked salmon, “Mrs S, you are so naughty. You can’t go around splitting up people’s marriages just because you’ve decided on who you want as a daughter-in-law.”

  Mrs S looked suitably sheepish and said “Shush, and get me another Babycham or I will be telling everyone about your dreadful wind problem and that you kicked an old lady out of her wheelchair.”

  Wonder Lungs woke at about midnight but we settled him on Silver’s lap with a bottle - she seems to have a calming effect on everyone - and we all sang Christmas carols until he finally fell asleep.

  Noticed Pritesh and Patience were deep in conversation and Ned raised his eyebrows at me cheekily.

  My husband really is a very good-looking man and I must get things sorted with him pretty soon or somebody will be snatching him up.

  Sunday 21st December

  Yesterday was a bit of a blur as we woke to a houseful of kids and dogs and a very hungover Nic and Rick.

  We let them sleep in and I dealt with the children and the vocal Mikhail while Ned attempted to take five dogs for their morning deposits.

  Mikhail obviously enjoyed having young children around as a distraction because, after he’d gobbled his milk down, he sat in his baby-bouncer quite happily taking in the surroundings.

  Fenella, Josh and Patience arrived to collect their overnighters just after midday and we all settled down to a makeshift lunch of leftovers.

  Nic and Rick joined us, each sporting one of my dressing gowns, and enjoyed a hair of the dog.

  “Just the one though, Lib. Being responsible parents now,” Nic told us.

  And we were all treated to Mikhail’s first ever attempt at a baby chuckle.

  Monday 22nd December

  Max wanted to go to The Pound Shop today to do his Christmas shopping - like mother, like son!

  Told him that he could probably have a little bit more money to spend on people this year but he said that was silly.

  “I love The Pound Shop, Mummy. Why would I want to go to some boring shop what wants to take all my money off me?” Good thinking!

  So he’s now busily wrapping an assortment of dog chews, candles and bits of plastic tat that he’s chosen with love.

  I’m sure Fenella will be delighted with her bumper bag of Haribo. And as for Mum, the wrinkle cream should go down a treat. I just pray it turns out to be a tube of miracle disappearing cream.

  PM

  Ned’s got his Christmas works do tonight so I’ve got no idea what time he’ll be home.

  I’ve never worried in the past when he’s been at company functions - we’ve always trusted one another.

  This year, I’m not so sure.

  Tuesday 23rd December

  Think Ned got in just after midnight last night. I pretended to be asleep and he snuggled in for a cuddle, reeking of booze.

  I’m sure he’d have had a few offers from secretarial totty. Just depends on whether he was tempted to take them up on it.

  Lou called just as Max and I were about to head out the door to meet Fenella and the kids for lunch.

  “Lib, bloody Cam’s off work with some dodgy virus. I’ve got him holed up in the spare room so he disnae give his bug to wee Finn. I cannae have him sick when Santa Claus comes.”

  She went on to say that she’d got masks for every time she had to go in the room with Cam and she’d put a draught excluder under the door to stop “mutant germs” escaping.

  “He’d better by OK by Christmas day or I’ll kill him.”

  I’m convinced her worrying will be the death of her (or him!).

  PM

  Had a great lunch with Fenella and the kids. Patience has gone to her parents for Christmas so we were an Anti-Meemie down.

  There were some other mums from school in the same restaurant and, as usual, we were stunned by their appalling behaviour.

  While Max, Todd and Charlotte sat quietly at the table, colouring in and chatting about Christmas, the other kids were running amok. The mothers were quite happily ordering endless bottles of wine and leaving the waiting staff to side-step unruly kids and runaway toddlers.

  Why do they feel it’s acceptable to use restaurants as playgrounds? If a hot dish or drink landed on one of their little darlings, they’d be the first to complain.

  At one point Fenella stuck her foot out to trip up a particularly obnoxious child who had been constantly knocking our chairs and picking his nose and wiping it on his trousers.

  The mother approached our table with said child dangling from under her arm.

  “Did you trip my son up?”

  Fenella raised her head from her lasagne and looked her straight in the eye.

  “Yes.”

  The mother was obviously stunned by her forthright answer and looked flummoxed while she constructed her response.

  “Why? Why would you do that?”

  “Because he was pissing me off with his constant bloody bashing of my chair and his vile nose excavations. This is a restaurant, not a recreation ground. Now please, we’re trying t
o eat here. Try teaching your child some manners.”

  I prepared myself for a full blown showdown but ‘Cranky Mummy’ merely turned on her heel and went back to her table with the Bogey Monster.

  I looked at Fenella and shook my head. “I honestly don’t know how you get away with it. If I tried that, I’d end up barred and leaving here with a black eye.”

  “Oh no, Sweedie. It’s all in the delivery. Plus she wouldn’t mess with a pregnant woman, would she?”

  Within a few minutes the offending table had paid their bill and left.

  We were then treated to puddings and coffee - on the house because the waiters were so grateful.

  Fenella tucked in to her Death By Chocolate and winked at me. “Stick with me kiddo. Never a dull moment!”

  Wednesday 24th December

  Christmas Eve

  Ned’s finished work for Christmas now so the three of us went to the garden centre to buy a real (and huge) Christmas tree - no manky, fake one for us this year.

  We were just putting the finishing touches to it and happily singing along to carols with the dogs chasing one another round the house, when there was a loud rapping on the door.

  And if I was beginning to think that this Christmas would be a happy one after all, I soon abandoned that idea.

  Mum was standing there with two huge suitcases and a face like a slapped arse.

  “For heavens sake, let me in Libby. It’s bitter out here.”

  The long and the short of it is … she’s left Bert.

  “I quite simply cannot stand his unreasonable demands any longer. I will not be talked into S.E.X with him.” This was spelled and whispered for Max’s benefit.

  She underestimates my son’s intelligence and his hearing though because he happily replied, “S.E.X spells sex, granny. We didn’t know what sex Dog was but now we know he’s a girl cos he had puppies.”

  The look on my mother’s face was priceless!

  Fuck! I have my miserable bloody mother here for Christmas and my marriage is still on the rocks. I’d hit the bottle but I don’t want to have to cope with all this with a hangover on top.

  Sneaked out in the freezing night air for an illicit fag.

  HAPPY BLOODY CHRISTMAS!

  Thursday 25th December

  Christmas Day

  The highlight of the day was opening our stockings in bed with Max before we had to face the misery of my mother.

  The fact that it’s Christmas and we should be making it a happy day for Max didn’t enter into her selfish little over-permed and over-lacquered head.

  I tried to put a call in to poor Bert but I think he must have gone off to see his own family because I couldn’t get an answer.

  Ned and I spent most of Christmas lunch trying to be upbeat for Max’s sake but it seemed to be coming out as forced, stilted jollity.

  “Ooh, listen to my funny joke from my cracker” or “Doesn’t Mummy look silly in her hat?” is what may have been said but what we really wanted to say was,

  “Let’s pull the wishbone and pray for a bloody miracle where Mummy and Daddy are at it like bunnies and Granny disappears in a puff of smoke.”

  Left Mum and Ned to the washing up and popped next door to see how Mrs S was getting on. Found her with Pritesh, Skunk and Silver amongst a heap of wrapping paper and packaging.

  “Libbybeta, we have been having the best Christmas ever. I have been very much spoiled and I still have my visit to my other boys tomorrow.”

  Was glad that Mrs S was so happy and could feel the difference in the festive atmosphere compared to ours.

  Stayed for a Babycham and then made my way back to Bleak House.

  Friday 26th December

  Boxing Day

  Had a call from Fenella inviting us for drinks but told her I didn’t want to inflict my mother on anyone at the moment. It wouldn’t have been fair to ruin another family’s Christmas with the negative vibes oozing out of my mother’s (still) wrinkled skin.

  Settled at the kitchen table to play a game of ‘Operation’ with Max while Ned took the dogs out - probably just an excuse to get out of the house - and who could blame him?

  I could hear Mum bashing around upstairs and then she suddenly appeared in the kitchen and asked Max to go in the other room for a minute.

  She stood in the kitchen like Margaret Thatcher personified with her hands on her ample hips and said, “Now Libby, I’m only saying this because I care, but if you don’t sort your sad excuse of a marriage out soon, you’ll be sorry. I quite simply can’t stay in this forced environment a minute longer. I’d rather go back to Bert and his unnatural urges than continue to stay here.”

  Then she picked up her suitcases and headed to the door. “You were barely pregnant Libby. Accept it and move on, for God’s sake.”

  Caring? My mother? I don’t think so.

  Sensitive? Nope.

  Tactful? Yeah right!

  Gone? Yes! But her heartless words continue to echo around my house and in my head.

  Ned returned from his walk to find me sobbing at the kitchen table.

  NEW YEAR

  FALLEN MUMMY

  Wednesday 7th January

  School starts

  Diary has been deserted over the New Year as I couldn’t seem to find a way to put into words what’s been going through my mind.

  Ned went back to work on Monday and I think he’s probably relieved to get back to some sort of normality. Mum’s words really put a downer on the rest of the festivities and, apart from a reasonably jolly New Year’s eve at F&J’s, everything fell a bit flat.

  I know that what Mum said had a ring of truth about it - people lose babies all the time and brush themselves off and get on with things. Why can’t I be more like them? What’s wrong with me, dragging things on like this? Why do I continue to push my lovely husband away?

  All these questions continue to do the rounds in my head and I have to say I’ll be secretly relieved to get back to the school routine with fundraising and meetings to take my mind off everything.

  Met Fenella and Patience for a catch-up coffee after drop off. I’m sure Fenella has gained at least another half a stone since I saw her last week. She’s now living in mini marquee type dresses and can only wear wellington boots as her ankles are too swollen for shoes.

  She arrived at the coffee shop huffing and puffing, sporting a lime green dress with purple scarf and coordinated sequinned wellies.

  “I can’t believe I’ve got to carry this lodger around for another month and a bit! Surely I must stop growing soon.” She scanned the menu for her second breakfast of the day and ordered a blueberry muffin and two almond croissants.

  “But the upside is I’m off the Irn Bru - think it might have been making me a bit gassy. I’m on hot chocolate with whipped cream now.”

  Patience and I raised our eyebrows at one another.

  “What?” Fenella questioned us. “You think I’m pigging out, don’t you?”

  She fiddled with her scarf and looked thoughtful. “Well maybe I am but, bollocks, why shouldn’t I? I can’t smoke, I can’t drink and Josh can’t get near me for a shag now, so I eat. A girl’s got to have some fun.”

  We told Fenella it was entirely up to her how much she tucked away and that we would fully support her when it came to ‘weight loss time’ in March.

  Patience said we’d set up the Anti-Meemie Fat Busters Club and jog round the common with Baby Hunter-Barnes in a buggy.

  I can just picture it now, us sprinting away after school drop-off with all the mummies shaking their heads at our DIY exercise regime - “What, no personal trainer? No guided weight loss programme or dietician that costs a fortune? How crass!”

  Ah yes, a new term and a whole new set of challenges.

  Thursday 8th January

  So, New Year, new beginnings. I don’t believe in resolutions because I don’t think anyone ever really sticks to them. I prefer to think of them as hopes and wishes. SO what are mine for the year?r />
  I WISH …

  I could put my miscarriage behind me.

  I could be nicer to my lovely husband.

  My body would wake up and I’ll want to have sex again.

  I could learn to deal with my Mother’s tactlessness and not let it get to me.

  Fenella has a healthy baby who I will love and not resent or see as a constant reminder of my own loss.

  Mikhail will improve and not show progressive signs of his condition.