by Niamh Greene
By the same author
Secret Diary of a Demented Housewife
Confessions of a Demented Housewife
The Celebrity Year
NIAMH GREENE
PENGUIN
IRELAND
PENGUIN IRELAND
Published by the Penguin Group
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Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
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First published 2008
1
Copyright © Niamh Greene, 2008
The moral right of the author has been asserted
All rights reserved
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978-0-14-191630-9
Annual review of life goals
Have made enormous progress in my spiritual growth since last year. In fact, I have achieved such a high level of self-awareness that I may no longer need to watch Dr. Phil every morning. (A huge breakthrough.)
Life lessons learnt in past twelve months
Other people cannot complete me. Having a semi-affair with Lone Father from the mother-and-toddler group was a big mistake – especially as he turned out to be a love-rat who had no real feelings for me. Luckily I have not thought about him or his saucy sex texts in weeks. Instead I have made peace with his manipulative two-timing ways and wish him well in all his future endeavours – such as writing a ridiculous tell-all book about his secret liaisons with a married housewife.
Joe is the perfect husband and I must appreciate him more. It was very handy when he blamed himself for forcing me into the arms of another man, then forgave me when I wrongly accused him of romping with his secretary in LA. Plus he bought Mum and Dad’s old house so we now have a private country retreat, just like Madonna and Guy. (Range Rover and tweed flat caps to follow.)
Chicken-fillet push-up bras and false acrylic nails are apparently the key to a man’s heart. Lone Father’s new lover/muse, Marita, swears by them.
Goals for next twelve months
Find my Core Self. (NB Investigate what this actually involves and whether doing anything practical to achieve life goals is absolutely necessary.)
Reignite the passion between Joe and me. We may have moved to a whole new relationship level after our recent rocky patch but we must make sure not to stray off the path of marital harmony and bliss again. (NB It will probably be important to avoid engaging in inappropriate mother-and-toddler group liaisons at all costs. It may also be crucial to invest in skimpy new underwear sets and ditch all well-washed granny pants that come to the navel ASAP.)
Ensure that Katie and Jack are emotionally secure and intellectually challenged at all times. Specifically, make sure they both settle into the education system without serious incident. (NB Jack violently attacking his playschool teacher with a Magic Marker counts as a serious incident.)
Help Very Best Friend Louise accept her impending single-mother status and act as a maternal mentor. This should be easy – we have become much closer after the little spat we had when she prioritized her relationship with a total loser over her decades-old friendship with me. Our new-found closeness may be helped by the fact that the total loser, a.k.a. her ex Steve, dumped her and high-tailed it like a bat out of hell once he got wind of her surprise pregnancy. It may also have helped that she has packed on a disproportionately large amount of weight for a first pregnancy and now looks frumpy and hard-done-by instead of groomed and polished to within an inch of her life. And she will probably develop stretchmarks in unusual places – so we have much more in common than we ever did before.
Persuade Mum and Dad that relocating to a plush golf resort in Portugal was an unwise decision and that they would be much happier back here, looking after their grandchildren like normal pensioners. (NB Do not entice them home until we have taken an extended break in the sun ourselves.)
Keep Joe’s mother, Mrs H, at arm’s length. Should be manageable as she’ll have no real excuse to drop by for coffee unannounced now that both children will be at school. (NB May consider installing hi-tech surveillance CCTV outside house just in case.)
Learn to love my body. Luckily the size-zero obsession is on the wane and there have been loads of celebs-in-bikinis specials in Heat with really unflattering pics of unsuspecting A-listers letting it all hang out on the beach. Which means that the pounds I packed on over the summer are nothing to be embarrassed about. (Bonus: smock tops are hot for autumn/winter so I no longer have to worry about exposing my jelly belly over the waistband of my knock-off Rock and Republic jeans.)
It looks like quite a lot when it’s written down, but if I got through last year’s little difficulties, I’m sure I can easily achieve it all.
1 September: Back to school
Hectic morning. If it continues like this I don’t think I’ll make it to half-term (worryingly, only eight weeks away, according to the handout from school – which cannot possibly be right).
Skidded up to the school gate just before nine and saw all the other mothers huddled round, whispering among themselves as a massive Range Rover Sport, with tinted windows, pulled away from the kerb.
‘What’s up?’ I asked, wondering why they seemed so shell-shocked.
‘It’s Angelica Law,’ a mother breathed, looking like she needed a stiff drink. ‘Her little boy started today.’
‘Who’s Angelica Law?’ I was mystified.
All the other mothers tittered in disbelief.
‘Only the wife of James Law,’ one piped up. ‘The gorgeous American actor? He’s here to shoot the new Noel Jordache film so they’ve relocated to Dublin for the year.’
My heart almost stopped. The son of a properly famous person, not just a Z-list celeb, was going to be in Katie’s class, maybe even sitting beside her. This was big. This was HUGE. How had I not known about it? I should have been in serious celebrity training all summer, preparing to dazzle a real A-lister with my wit and glamour. Instead, I’d been lounging around eating Doritos all day and counting the hours until the kids were back at school.
‘If we’re lucky we’ll get to see him in the flesh,’ another mother was saying.
‘Oh, God.’ Someone sighed. ‘I hope so – he’s sex on legs.’
Then they all dissolved into girlish giggles.
Called Joe on the way home to tell him the amazing news.
‘I hope the school’s going to take the necessary precautions,’ he said, sounding worried.
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��What do you mean “precautions”?’ I asked. Maybe he thought we were going to be frisked every morning for hidden cameras or secret recording devices – just like they do at Hello! celebrity weddings to stop guests leaking gossip to the press.
‘Well, if this actor guy’s such a big shot, his child could be ripe for kidnapping. The school will have to be very security-conscious. Does he have a bodyguard?’
‘Ooh, I don’t know!’ I said, thrilled at the very idea that a six-foot SAS muscleman in dark glasses could be sitting in on class every day, a walkie-talkie and a Smith & Wesson in his pockets.
I hung up the phone, floating on cloud nine. Having the real-life child of a superstar around will be fantastic. Now all I have to do is cultivate a friendship with celebrity mom Angelica Law and get myself invited to the best parties in town. May well have to sex up my wardrobe just in case she takes an instant shine to me. Polo-necks and bootlegs will definitely not cut the mustard on E! Red Carpet Style.
PS Called Louise to fill her in on the latest celeb-watching news but it went to voicemail. Was probably for the best – suspect she wants to pin me down about being her birth partner and I’m kind of regretting agreeing to it.
2 September
Hung around the school gate for a bit, trying to spot Angelica Law, but eventually admitted defeat when the playground emptied and I was the only one left. Went home and decided to watch a snippet of Oprah before I tackled finding my Core Self. Was sorry I did – nearly choked on my mid-morning snack when a grim doctor snapped on an extra-long pair of rubber gloves, then casually laid a diseased bowel on a slab so that he, Oprah and the studio audience could have a really good look at it. They then proceeded to talk about how farting is a natural condition and vital for good health. I was appalled. It put me right off my blueberry muffin.
Felt a bit down in the dumps for the rest of the morning, but tried to remind myself that I should be giddy with excitement that I am now free to do whatever I want for three whole hours every day. The possibilities are endless. Maybe I could become a bestselling author – everyone knows those chick-lit novels are dead easy to write. Or I could start hosting at-home lingerie parties and make serious cash.
To distract myself, devised my grand plan to befriend Angelica. Am desperate to get a good look at her close up – word at the school gate is that she has the skin of a teenager and the booty to match.
Project Angelica
Hang around school gate, looking glamorous and approachable. (NB May need to invest in chemical peel and/or tummy tuck ASAP.)
Engage wife of A-lister in casual chit-chat. (NB Avoid controversial topics, such as Betty Ford visits or recreational drug use.)
Impress her with my wit and charm. (NB Think of something interesting and educated to say. Do not mention borderline obsession with celeb-and-cellulite exposés in Heat.)
Become her sole confidante. (NB Reassure her that I would be the perfect red-carpet date and would never upstage her at an awards ceremony – show her my bingo-wing arms, if necessary, to prove the point.)
Am sure this approach can’t fail to impress her – she’ll probably be delighted that a real-life civilian is trying to befriend her.
3 September
Spent ages skulking about at the school gate again today, hoping to put my ingenious plan into action, but apparently Angelica drops off her little boy on time every morning (which is a bit anal, if you ask me) so I’d missed them again.
‘She’s very down-to-earth,’ another mother said smugly, when I asked casually if she’d seen her. ‘She chatted to me for ages this morning. Brandon, her little boy, is coming to mine for a play date tomorrow.’
Was furious that the jockeying for position of VBF to the celebrity mom had already started. But then I decided that the other mothers have no real hope of competing against me. Once Angelica realizes I’m one of her own, they won’t stand a chance – bet none of them knows all the names of Brangelina’s children or has almost every back copy of OK! in existence.
Mrs H popped round for coffee mid-morning.
‘Isn’t it great for you now that Katie’s at school and Jack’s at playschool,’ she said primly, munching a biscuit. ‘You’ll have much more time to keep the house in order now you’re free in the mornings.’
Refrained from beating her over the head with the Jaffa Cakes box. Cleaning the house from top to bottom every day is not on my agenda in any shape or form. This is the year I will finally find myself and my Intrinsic Values. Vacuuming definitely does not count as an Intrinsic Value.
PS Oprah is top of the Forbes Rich List. Apparently she’s worth a zillion million dollars or something. Obviously the fart talk is working just fine for her.
4 September
Have decided that the only way to cope with craziness of school mornings is to run a tight ship and take no prisoners. Children need a solid, dependable routine with lots of rules – that hunky child psychologist on telly is always saying so. (Also, if I get to the school gate before nine, I may have a decent chance of meeting Angelica Law.)
Rules for a stress-free morning
Have all children’s clothes washed, ironed and ready to go the night before. (NB Bonus points will be awarded for ironing underwear.)
Prepare nutritious packed lunches and store them neatly in a fridge that has been bleached to within an inch of its life. (NB Slicing carrots and apples in an attractive way will fool gullible children into thinking they are as much fun as Fruit Winders.)
Present porridge as a viable breakfast option. Discourage yummy choccie cereals and high-sugar fruit drinks – these are unwise choices that contribute to destructive behaviour and should be avoided at all costs. (NB Do not feed to the dog instead.)
Ban all TV before school – too much high-impact stimulation can lead to disharmony in the morning hours. (NB Ignore full-scale meltdown that occurs when children realize SpongeBob SquarePants is no longer an option at six a.m.)
Have children in car a full twenty minutes before leaving time, then engage in a calm, educational discussion about topics of the day on the road. (NB Discussions of the merits of Power Rangers as opposed to Ninja Turtles is not recommended.)
Feel much better now that I have a foolproof plan to follow. Am sure that the yummy TV child psychologist would be delighted with me. Wonder if he needs a model family to film and judge dysfunctional families by. Must investigate.
5 September
Calm morning routine not going according to plan. Am now regretting emailing yummy TV child psychologist and offering ourselves for filming purposes. Must remember not to be so impulsive in future.
Revised rules for a stress-free morning
Try to reason with Jack that getting out of bed at five a.m. is not necessary. Bribe him with age-inappropriate baby bottle of milk, if need be. (NB Try to block from my mind that the use of baby bottles increases the likelihood of ear infections and speech disorders in older children – what do those pesky child experts know anyway?)
Bribe Katie to stay in bed for an extra half-hour by promising she can purchase a new Bratz micro-mini and matching cropped top.
Once children are up, try to persuade them that eating breakfast is not a waste of valuable cartoon-watching time.
Convince them that porridge does not look like puke and that it is a very nourishing breakfast option.
Argue that watching Playhouse Disney while eating jam doughnuts is not a reasonable way to start the day.
Try to locate clean clothes. If desperate, recycle yesterday’s grubby specimens. It is acceptable to remove ground-in paint stains from jeans, etc., with fingernails and/or a tea-towel.
If children refuse to wash, giving them a wipe with the same tea-towel is allowed.
If children refuse to have hair brushed, do not panic. Dishevelled, just-out-of-bed look à la Kate Moss is very ‘now’.
Putting fleece on over PJs to do school run is OK but it is crucial to put on real shoes instead of slippers (matching pair preferable).
To look perky and awake, apply bronzing powder in swift deft strokes to pallid complexion. Use shimmer eye-shadow to accent. (NB Remember to remove yellow crust from eyes beforehand.)
Drive to school like a lunatic on acid to make it before the bell goes. Paste fake Hollywood smile on face before disembarking at the school gate, just in case Angelica Law is about.
PS Have discovered that half-term is definitely only eight weeks away. Am considering writing to the Minister for Education demanding a rethink of the primary-school timetable. Surely it will be very disruptive to yank children out of school when they will only just be getting used to the routine? Also, am very concerned that I’m expected to entertain them for another whole week so soon after the summer holidays.
6 September
Angelica Law waved at me today! Was stumbling blindly out of the gate still half asleep when a massive 4 x 4 careered towards me at high speed. Looked up in the nick of time to see Angelica waving frantically and beeping the horn energetically to get my attention. She was wearing massive designer sunglasses that covered most of her face – but it was definitely her: her bone structure is so exquisite it can’t be mistaken. I leapt out of her way and fell to the path as she zoomed by. Feel quite smug. She’s bound to choose me as her best friend and confidante now that I’m on her radar. It was almost worth getting run over.
Called Louise to fill her in on latest dramatic developments but before I could launch into the very exciting news about my near-fatal brush with Angelica, she cut across me. ‘I’m so hoooot,’ she moaned. ‘This weather’s killing me.’
‘Em, it’s only about fifteen degrees,’ I ventured, not wanting to antagonize her – her temper has been unpredictable lately.
‘It may as well be thirty-five,’ she hissed angrily. ‘I’m so fucking uncomfortable. You should try being six months pregnant in the middle of summer – it’s torture.’
