He started off telling Belle she should eat some fruit, and when she rolled her eyes in annoyance, he just went off on one about them all constantly eating too much crap and not enough fruit and veg. It sounds so pathetic even when I write it down but I got so annoyed with him because it was the first morning in ages that he had sat and eaten breakfast with us, and it should have been enjoyable, yet having him here just felt like hell.
I know in hindsight I overreacted, and I know I should have spoken to him away from the kids and his mum, but with everything that’s been going on just lately, with Laura (who’s still scarily deadly silent), the worry over Ruby and Will, and my issues about my own dad, I just lost my shit and told him he was being an arsehole. I saw Will look up from his cereal bowl in shock and Pat began scurrying around talking to the children extra loudly in a high-pitched voice to try to drown out my rant.
Now, I keep cringing every time I think about it. But it felt like he was having a dig at me; like I don’t feed the kids well enough when actually they all eat really well, and then I just felt really defensive towards the kids and I just lost it.
At the beginning he was trying to defend himself, telling me (calmly but firmly) that he’s out earning a wage and trying to be there for us all as much as possible, but by the end he was silent (like the kids, and his mum) while I continued to lose my shit (now with the entire family) about how fucking hard it all is and how the only person that helps and supports me is Pat. I ended it with ‘so when she goes home – we’re all fucked’. Even Belle stayed silent when she is always usually the voice of reason.
I came upstairs and sobbed into my pillow, those heavy sobs, like a toddler would make when not allowed another Jaffa cake before dinner. The sobs where you still miss a breath half an hour after you’ve finished crying and your eyes are puffy and sore for a good day after. Stanley lay beside me, as if he knew I wasn’t OK. It’s funny how a dog loves you no matter how much of an arsehole you’ve been.
Pat came up after a while, laden down with a tray bearing a cup of tea and a warm croissant with a slab of salted butter and dollop of her home-made jam. As soon as I saw her, I started crying again. I felt so ashamed of my behaviour. I told her I was sorry and that her son was a good man and I didn’t know why I had behaved like that. I promised her I have never spoken to him like that before, and I can’t bear the thought of her thinking that’s normal for us. I was trying to talk but was now in such a state I couldn’t get my words out and was heaving with sobs.
Pat sat on the bed, pulled me into her scarf, which again smelt of the most sweet, expensive perfume possible, and repeatedly whispered, ‘It’s just too much right now, darling, it’s all too much,’ while stroking my hair.
And she’s right.
Right now, five children, running a home, the ongoing issues with Laura, a house sale and holding down a job just feels too much.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Laughter is the Best Medicine
Monday
Sertraline.
That’s the anti-depressant I was prescribed today after I went to see the GP. I explained how I was feeling, and I tried to explain the reasons I was feeling like it. I wanted nothing more but for the doctor to reassure me, and tell me everything would be OK – but he didn’t. Instead he gave me a leaflet to refer myself to the depression and anxiety service (with the words ‘There was a considerable waiting list when I last checked’. Reassuring). And a prescription for medication (with the words ‘If you don’t feel it’s getting any better after a couple of weeks, pop back and I will up the dosage’. Even more reassuring).
I don’t think I’m depressed. I don’t want to be depressed. I know I am so lucky compared to other people.
I felt awful telling Lou – she’s just had a week’s holiday where I promised I’d hold the fort and the day she returns I rock into work an hour late, which in hindsight I think has made me feel worse.
I was really honest with her and she was so kind to me, so reassuring … but I could tell she almost didn’t get it, and why would she? She is happily married, she and her husband both have careers they love, and they have two beautiful kids together. Ultimately, they don’t have the challenges that come with ex-partners and trying to be a blended family … life for them is like mine was years ago – easier. Easier in terms of just being a family, with nothing but a few family issues, that you work through together, because you’re all on the same page. But on days like this I need to remember that even though my life back then was ‘easier’ in some ways, I never got the pangs of happiness and contentment I get these days … it’s hard to remember that sometimes.
Tuesday
I am not going to collect my prescription.
I’m not depressed.
I’m stressed – there’s a difference. Pat agrees I’m not depressed, and that I shouldn’t start the tablets, and that made me feel better.
I spoke to Jamie before he left for work this morning, both of us were tossing and turning all night, pretending to be asleep when we both knew the other one was also wide awake. It feels awful when we argue, a hideous worried feeling in the pit of my stomach. I told him there was no excuse for how I was, it shouldn’t have happened. As usual he made everything better too by apologising for his part – for saying things that just didn’t need to be said and sometimes not seeing how hard this is for me also. We had a long tight hug where I buried my head into his neck and breathed in his scent and he pulled me in, stroked my hair and told me everything would be OK (at that point I wanted to thank Pat, the girl did good raising her son).
I apologised to everyone at the dinner table this evening. I explained I wasn’t making an excuse for losing my temper, that my outburst was wrong. As I was just getting into full swing of my speech Jamie interrupted and told everyone that right now things are hard with everything going on and although it accumulated into me having a wobble then losing my cool we may both be a bit distant, snappy or tired at the minute but we are trying our best not to be any of those things. It ended with Belle making a joke to the little ones that I’d been wobblier than a jellyfish eating jelly, and suddenly we were all smiling and laughing. Belle looked up at me and rolled her eyes to the ceiling while smiling as if we both knew she had saved me from my awkward speech.
Ruby stood up, walked round to me and wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her head into my cheek and said, ‘I love you, Jo.’ It made a hard lump immediately form in my throat and made me feel shit. These five babies have had enough abandonment and rejection between them to last a lifetime; they need nothing but stability from me, not to see me having a meltdown.
I caught Jamie’s eye and he gave me the look, followed by a leg squeeze and a wink, and I knew we were OK. I felt such a sense of relief, and a wave of more guilt that I had behaved like such a dick when he does nothing but love me.
I just want us to always be OK. Always.
Wednesday
I got a call just before 7am from Lou’s husband David. He was really sweet and apologetic for calling and I was embarrassed as his call had woken me out of a deep sleep I shouldn’t really have been in at that time of the morning, considering five kids needed sorting for school. He explained Lou had been up all night with the most horrendous sickness bug so couldn’t make it in today. He asked if I was OK to work alone as he couldn’t get any other cover at such short notice.
I agreed immediately – knowing we were out of cakes and wondering how I would manage totally alone as I had always had Belle with me. I didn’t want to ask David about the cakes, as I was worried he would ask Lou and it would just cause her more stress. I thought about calling Jen and asking her to come and help, but then I felt bad as she has a demanding job and might be on shift, or off work and wanting to spend time with her son.
Just then, Pat knocked on my bedroom door, armed with the cup of tea she now brought in each morning, and I told her about the call as I was yanking my hair into a ponytail so it didn’t get wet in the shower.<
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‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’ll pop a tray of brownies in now and I made a Victoria sponge yesterday.’
I felt a sudden relief. Good old Pat.
I got downstairs just after 7.30am. By the time I’d showered, the brownies were already baking.
‘They’ll be ready for 8.15am – if you take them into the café they can cool there and I will come straight there after the school run,’ she said.
I looked around and saw the house was already immaculate. The kids were tucking into cereal and toast and Belle was just leaving to catch the bus. The washing was blowing away on the line. I felt a sense of sadness and panic. How would I ever manage once Pat left and returned home? I had no clue how I would now do ALL of this stuff without her. Still, we managed before she arrived and as much as it would be a bit more of a shit show with two extra kids to look after, we would manage once again.
The shift at the café was fine. We didn’t have a special on but most people voted for a slab of brownie, after the amazing smell of them went through the entire café, and down the road, it would seem, from the amount of people asking about them.
Pat got stuck in too; I could tell she really loved helping and she just knew what to do.
She is a real ‘carer’ and loves ensuring people are looked after at all times, that you have enough food and drink, that places are clean and that you’re comfortable. I imagine she was an amazing wife to her husband when he was alive. From the stories she tells, I can see how in love they were, and from that I understand why she’s never gone on to meet anyone else who compares.
As much as Jamie and I have things tough with what we’ve got going on, and we’ve only been together a couple of years, he still makes my heart beat faster when he comes in from work and I still get a panic of emotion when I think of what I’d do if anything ever happened to him.
I remember when I was speaking to Megan on the beach about her losing her baby, and out of the two of us, I ended up more emotional than her, because I told her I wouldn’t be able to ‘cope and carry on’ like she has. I said to her that I was in awe of her strength, because I was. A few weeks after losing her baby she was on a beach, making memories with her other children, facing stares and looks from strangers in public. I don’t think I will ever forget her response to me that day.
‘You know, Jo, you don’t ever think you’d cope when it’s not happening to you,’ were her words. ‘It’s sometimes harder for the people looking in, imagining themselves trying to cope in such pain, in such an unbearable situation, but when you are the ones in the pain, when you are the ones living in that unbearable situation, you don’t have any option but to survive. You cannot drown in it because you have to continue each day for the people who need you; there is no choice, Jo. It’s just something that has to be done. You have no option but to survive.’ It made me look at things so differently. Losing someone – whether through death or having your husband abandon you – forces you to make a choice. You either stop and go with them, or you carry on, you fight – just like my mum’s friend told my dad after the funeral – you somehow have to find a way to cope with the grief and pain and hurt, and you try to resume some kind of normality for the people around you that need it – for the people who need you.
Thursday
Lou still isn’t back. David texted today to say she would be off until Monday as he was worried she would worsen if she came back too soon. I replied to him to say I could drop them off a lasagne or something for dinner but he said he had it covered. It’s sweet that David has such a high-powered career and yet he still puts Lou above it all.
I think Jamie is really nervous about what’s going to happen going forward with Laura; he spoke to Pete yesterday and she’s still in hospital. He didn’t say where but he said it’s private, which I assume means she’s there out of choice. He re-confirmed she’s still unwell and he would update us as and when he needs to. He was really lovely on the phone, Jamie called him while he was sat with me in the kitchen and the kids were all outside playing so I could hear their conversation. He asked how the kids were, if we were enjoying Cornwall and he told Jamie he had managed to get in a few rounds of golf this week, which he sounded chuffed about. They ended the call on good terms and said they would speak soon.
I get why Jamie is worried, because I often feel it too, not just with Will and Ruby but with my three also. I regularly find myself sitting outside their bedroom door so I can listen to them play or watch them interact with each other; or I just sit, and watch them sit, while they watch a film or do their homework, and I wonder what goes on inside their tiny brains.
Every single child in this house has been let down by one of their birth parents, and although Jamie and I are dedicating our lives to ensuring they have a stable home environment where they feel loved and secure, I can’t help but wonder what they actually think about it all. Do they keep their questions or worries to themselves as they don’t want to worry or upset us, or are they actually OK?
They seem OK. In fact, they seem happy. And to an outsider looking in, they have the perfect life, but then it’s our job, I suppose, as parents, to always question if that’s the case, isn’t it?
Saturday
We’ve had the loveliest day today.
As soon as we woke up, the sun was streaming through the blinds, and with the seagulls squawking outside, I almost felt like I was waking up on holiday. I knew it was going to be a good day; I could just tell. We had plans to spend the afternoon and early evening having a BBQ at Megan’s house. I could tell Jamie didn’t really want to go. He’s not one for male friends and I think he was really nervous about having to socialise with total strangers.
But Megan’s husband John is a really lovely guy – he reminds me a lot of Jamie – and the way he and Megan are as a couple, especially after everything they’ve endured lately, is truly heart-warming to see.
We took all the kids with us, and Pat had been invited too. Megan and John had their two kids at home as well as John’s elder son, Jacob. They are in the process of slabbing part of their garden to get a hot tub fitted and they have a huge play frame and tree house, on which the younger kids played all afternoon. It worked perfectly and they all got along so well together.
Belle was an absolute weirdo and stuck beside me like glue for the first few hours, and I soon realised that she’d taken a shine to Jacob. He is ridiculously beautiful and they both played the ‘awkward teenager’ game until John needed more hot dog rolls so he sent them to the shop together. When they returned, they announced they were going back out and disappeared down to the beach together.
The sun was shining. We ate the most amazing food and sipped on iced G&Ts.
Pat came along and after we had eaten, she, Megan and I returned to their huge swinging bench seat and as we rocked slowly catching the final bit of warm sunshine, Pat, as usual, blew me away with her words of wisdom, this time for Megan. She has the knowledge and understanding to support people in any circumstance and speak such sense to them, even ones she’s only just met. She took Megan’s hand in hers and told her stories I’d never heard as we slowly rocked. I sat in silence and listened, and it was amazing to see the ability Pat has to heal others, and, although Megan shed a few tears, I could tell she was so grateful to have Pat there to talk to about it all.
As we left to stumble home, John thanked us for coming. ‘We don’t really have many friends,’ he said, ‘and I have to be honest, I was dreading this, but it’s been a great day – just what Meg needed.’
Belle and Jacob still weren’t back so I texted her and we agreed she would be home for 10pm.
When she walked in just before ten she said Jacob had walked her home and when I asked if she liked him, she told me to not ‘be gross’ and trotted up the stairs to bed absolutely beaming.
I looked at Jamie and he smiled, rolled his eyes and said, ‘Now the fun starts …’
I wondered how this new chapter for Belle – and us – was going to
pan out.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Same but Different
Sunday
Molly came over this evening to sleep. Her mum, Jaclyn, dropped her off and I made a point of going out into the drive to introduce myself. She was dressed in a beige trouser suit with a crisp white shirt and black patent stilettos. She’s really attractive, with an ash-blonde bob that sits sharp on her jawline, piercing blue eyes and a Swedish look to her. I asked if she’d had a nice day and she said she’d been busy catching up with work from her office at home.
I felt sad. I knew from Belle that Jaclyn had been away on business all week and yet she didn’t seem to see anything wrong with the fact that on the one day she could have spent with Molly she had chosen to work again. And I think I would understand that more if she was a single mum trying to earn a wage to pay bills and make sure there was food on the table, but they live in a huge stately home, she drives a brand-new Range Rover, and she was stood there popping her electric boot to fetch Molly’s bag in a designer suit and Louboutin heels.
How could our lives be so different when so many of the features were the same? Teenage daughter? Check. Home in an idyllic seaside resort? Check. Absent baby daddy? Check. Check. Check. I know that everyone is different, and you never really know what’s going on in someone’s life, etc., etc., etc., but I do find it hard to understand why, if you had a kid like Molly, you wouldn’t be carving out more time to spend with her. She must really love being a solicitor …
Before she drove off she wanted to know the ins and outs of all of Molly’s plans: where she was going, who she would be seeing and speaking to. Then she gave her a wad of notes and even when Molly protested that she didn’t need money, she refused to let her stay with us unless she accepted it. It’s not my style – even if I could afford it – but I guess we all show love differently.
A Different Kind of Happy Page 13
