by Vi Grim
'It's all a load of rubbish. The only sensible reason for having a birth certificate would be if you get banged on the head and forgot who you are. If your mum wrote you name on the inside of your jumper, you'd be just fine. Teroids love control. Papers mean control, they use them to make sure you pay tax. It would be a lot easier if they just branded you or implanted a microchip when you were born.'
'But I want one.'
Jesus gives in, 'Okay, I'll make you up a nice little certificate; Caroline Nwella Taylor was born on Camillo at 11 minutes past 11 on the morning of 17th December 2012.'
'It's done,' says Castor. 'And by the way, congratulations from Pollux and me. We want to see her soon. Do come and visit.'
I wrap her in my dark red shawl to keep her warm and put her back against my boob. I'm still shaking from the effort of squishing her out. I'm going to need clothes for her. I don't want designer stuff. I want simple clothes like Mum uses for her baby. Just for the winter, when it's warm in the summer, she can run around naked.
'We can sort that out when you come and visit,' says Castor.
I must be thinking loudly.
'Florence, do I need to feed her?'
'She's already feeding; the milk won't come right away but should be on tap in a day or two. Your milk is all she needs. We'll just need to make sure you eat well and stay healthy. I'll stay and help for a few days, there'll be lots of little things that need sorting out.'
'And what about her going to the toilet?'
'Good question,' says Florence. 'She'll go, there's no problem there. It's just a question of how you clean up the mess. I recommend starched cotton nappies.'
They sound a bit stiff and Victorian to me. Personally I like the idea of disposable ones but when I was in the desert I didn't see babies wearing anything at all. I'll check things out when we're up visiting the moons.
Whaa, whaa, whaa.
She wants attention. I've been too busy talking and worrying about things and not looking after her. I give her a little kiss and hold her tight. She's all covered with blood and gunge; we'll have to clean her up.
Suddenly I have another contraction and the placenta pops out.
Yuck!
Florence inspects it closely and when she's happy it's all there, she sends Jesus out to bury it amongst my roses. I'm glad to see it go, I don't want it sitting in the fridge or cooked up with Bolognese sauce.
I'm absolutely bushed.
I sit back against the pillow and look in wonder at my little baby.
Jesus brings me a cup of sweet, milky tea and a couple of biscuits. Just what the doctor ordered!
12
It's a bit of a shock being a mum. I've had quite a challenge looking after myself these last few years and now I have someone else to look after too. Her fragile life is in my clumsy hands.
It's great having Florence here. She's quite severe and a little scary but her no-nonsense approach to motherhood is just what is needed. We'll start off doing things her way. I can always change later.
I'll like to go and visit Castor and Pollux but I'd better wait until Florence has gone. She would freak if she saw me teleport, that's something for gods and aliens.
After a week, Florence says, 'Emily, I really must go, my patients need me. Take care and don't hesitate to call if you need help. If you need a governess I could ask that Poppins woman. Let me know.'
I thank her, give her a hug and say goodbye, then Jesus takes her on her way.
As soon as they go, young Caroline and me go visiting. So it doesn't look like I have any favourites, we visit Pollux first. Caroline has her father's dark skin, thick black hair and green brown eyes. To start with, she's scared of Pollux's huge round eyes but after he winks and smiles at her, she looks at him, fascinated, then hides her head on my breast. Cute or what?
Next we visit Castor. Using his radar, backed up with a bit of Internet browsing, we look at how people in different countries bring up their kids. At one extreme are the French who take the babies from their mums almost at birth and institutionalise them in crèches. At the other end of the scale are remote tribes and islanders, still living much as they always have. While a few mums and babies die during childbirth, only the strong survive and they're looked after by everyone; their mums, the extended family and neighbours. Those babies are the happiest, they're not trapped in cots, prams or car seats but are carried everywhere, getting constant warmth, love and attention.
Castor looks up babies going to the toilet. It's funny because the Americans can't use the word toilet. They happily use the f-word but using the t-word is like touching poo. They can't say toilet or pee or poo, ones or twos, it's called elimination, just like happens to England in the early rounds of the World Cup. Once we've sorted that out, there's some good web pages. If you're carrying your baby around all the time, like the third world people do, you become tuned-in enough to know when your baby wants to pee or poo. After a few months, she has much the same control as you or I do and wants to poo in her knickers as much as you do, like not at all, it's horrible. The trouble is, she can't get to the toilet so you use your noggin and take her to the toilet when she wakes up or before you go to the shops and watch for the signs in between. I might start with nappies, and then when we get in tune, eliminate them.
Things went quite well when Dr Florence was here, my milk started to flow, little Caroline had a strict routine and by getting my head down between feeds, I got enough sleep. Within a few days of her leaving I'm a jabbering wreck with my eyeballs hanging out. Caroline cries all the time and sucks my nipples raw trying to get a bit of comfort. I don't want to call Dr Florence back; I want to do this myself. Castor and Pollux offer no end of advice, all of it probably good, but I'm too frazzled to take any notice.
Christmas and the New Year slip by in a daze.
I try to remind myself why I wanted this baby. Why would anyone want to have a baby?
In the end I put her to sleep in the back bedroom and sleep out on the sofa under the stars. Even with two duvets it's chilly, but both of us get some sleep and are not so grumpy with each other. Dr Florence pays a visit to check up on us. She checks on me first then the baby, weighing and measuring her and carefully writing the figures in my diary. She says that the first baby is tricky. Child rearing is the most important skill in a woman's life and they don't teach it at school. You've got to get to know whether they need a cuddle or a bit of space, and recognise all the different cries and be able to tell the difference between them; I'm bored, I'm hungry, I want love, pick me up, put me down, I'm tired, I need to go to the toilet and, you've stuck that safety pin through my leg!
It's not as simple as that, like what say she's tired and hungry and filled her nappy and has a nasty rash that's hurting?
After a few weeks, I get the hang of it. I start to enjoy being a mum.
'Cafe con leche,' says Azziz, raising an eyebrow at the colour of my gorgeous baby
'Immaculate conception,' I say firmly.
'Piffle,' he says, giving me a wink.
God comes to visit on my fifteenth birthday.
'Zeus,' I say, going to give him a hug. 'It's lovely to see you.'
He grunts and pushes me away.
'There's something wrong, he says.' Everything seems okay on Earth. Petra has The Book, good things are happening. There's no news, that's good news. But something's wrong, there's a storm coming. It's Hades. I can feel it.'
He looks me in the eye. Usually bright, his eyes are dull and lifeless.
'Em, keep an eye on Earth for me.'
'I will.'
Bing!
He's gone, no happy birthday or nothing. I burst into tears. I wanted to show him my baby. I guess he's still not talking.
13
I start calling Caroline by her second name Nwella, it's just more her. It quickly becomes Nelly or Nel; depending on what mischief she's up to.
We get along really well for a while, then fall out. She's happy during the day but cries
and cries at night. She has diarrhoea, she throws up, she has nappy rash and she's gone all spotty. She won't let me sleep. Even if I lie on the sofa outside I can still hear her. She's real distressed and I don't know what to do. The Christians and the do-gooders are right; fifteen year olds are not emotionally mature enough to have babies. I carry her around for hours trying to comfort her, then toss her out the window.
Slurp!
Pollux is there, holding her coiled up in the tip of his bright yellow tail. She's smiling at him. Her first smile.
When he sees me he says, 'I always wanted to hold a baby.'
He's gone all gooey. I tease him, 'I can see you yellow bits!'
'Piffle!'
'Thanks for saving her.' I say, giving him a big kiss.
Jesus turns up, and a few seconds later, Azziz and Dr Florence.
She looks a bit startled to see the big yellow slug.
She's easily startled. I make her a sweet cup of tea and add a splash of whiskey.
'Oooh, that warms the cockles,' she says, after she's had a sip.
While she's drinking it, I run out to the garden and pick a couple of lettuces from the green house.
I wash the dirt off and give them to Pollux. While he's munching, I gently lift Nelly from his coils. She's so slippery I can hardly hold her.
Dr Florence weighs and measures Nel and inspects her all over.
'She looks good. We'll put some cream on the nappy rash. You'll get to know when she needs her nappy changing. I'm not sure about the spots, have you been feeding her anything?'
'No, only breast milk.'
'Strange'
'Too much chocolate,' whispers Castor. 'You are eating too much chocolate.'
I smile and raise my eyes to the heavens.
'It's tough on your own,' says Dr Florence. 'Most people have backup. Apart from throwing her out the window, you're doing a great job. Just call for help. A governess would be best. Mary Poppins is good, I can't recommend her enough.'
I couldn't stand all that chin-chinery stuff. 'What about Janice?' I ask.
'Janice who? asks Dr Florence.
'The singer, Janice Joplin.'
'Never heard of her, but I'm sure she'd be fine.'
Janice comes and stays. I like Janice, she's wild and wacky, and she doesn't give a monkey's about being proper or correct.
She comes over all gooey when she sees Nelly and vanishes back off to Zwingly, arriving back with a lovely Moses basket for her to live in.
Between us we get things on track again. I cut back on chocolate and get tuned into young Nel. I carry her around most of the time, in a sling at my side. It's getting a whole lot easier. Rather than WHAAAAGH! which means, I'm hungry, tied, feed up and pooed my nappy half an hour ago, I get Wha... I need to go to the toilet, or whaa...feed me, or wawa...play with me!
We get smiles and then giggles. I forgive her the flab around my middle and the sleepless nights.
Janice sings to her and I go for long walks by myself in the wind and the rain. Then Janice gets drunk, has a big argument with Azziz and stomps off back to Zwingly. I hope she comes back sometime.
Since having Nelly my boobs have got twice as big. They were just right before, well maybe they could have been a little bigger and firmer, but they were okay. Now they're huge. If I don't contain them, they're going to end up saggy, like Janice's and will be hanging down to my ankles by the time I'm as old as her. I buy some super support feeding bras when I visit Castor to chase up my order of baby clothes.
Despite being completely one hundred percent on top of things, I am a little stressed. My hair is falling out and my arm is bleeding from me scratching it.
'Zen,' says Jesus. 'Why not learn kung fu? It's spiritual without worshipping anyone. You become at one with yourself and nature.'
'It sounds good but I don't want to leave the asteroid.'
'Maybe he could come here. The master doesn't really fit in on Zwingly and would be out of place on Juno. A little hut in the mountains would be perfect. He's completely Zen.'
I could do with a bit of Zen. 'Let's meet. What about on the mountain top, sunrise tomorrow?'
I expected sunshine, but the clouds have other ideas. They're annoyed that I'm invading their space in the middle of winter. It's blowing a blizzard.
Tat Moh walks out of the swirling snow wearing a simple orange rope and flip flops. His head is shaved apart from a small pigtail at the back. The Chinese age so well that it's hard to tell how old he is, he's probably in his sixties. Or is he Chinese, his dark eyes aren't slanty? They're alert, yet wise and warm and humorous at the same time. He bows politely. I'm not quite sure whether to bow or curtsy, so do a bit of a mixture. I want to touch him, so offer him my hand. His handshake his warm and firm with lots of positive energy. I nod to him; he smiles back then turns and vanishes into the cloud, barely leaving a trace in the fresh snow. He can stay; he's welcome on my asteroid, we'll get on well.
He turns up a few weeks later standing outside my door. I don't know how long he's been there, he hasn't knocked or anything. I open the front door to go out and are nose to nose with Tat Moh.
'Why were you wearing flip flops on the mountain top?' I ask him. 'Wouldn't bare feet be more kung fu?'
'It was bloody freezing!'
'It was, I had my boots and two pairs of socks on. Would you like to come in?'
'No.'
'Would you like to sit on the sofa?'
'No.'
'Could I get you a cup of tea?'
'No.'
'Well,' I say, running out of ideas, 'Welcome to Camillo.'
'Thank you,' he says bowing politely.
Castor gives me the scoop about kung fu. We watch videos of people crushing rocks into sand with their elbows and karate chopping bricks in half. It might come in handy when I next need to split some firewood. We watch Kung Fu Panda 2 to get an idea what it's all about.
We start our training on the top of the bluff. It's my favourite place, where I go when I need some space. It's high up above the sea and I like to think I have lofty thoughts when I'm perched there. Jesus comes too. He's been doing kung fu for years. He tells me a little about the Master. Tat Wah is an Indian Prince born in 493. That's like ages ago. He became a Buddhist monk and travelled to China where he spent nine years in a cave figuring out kung fu. He then taught the monks to defend themselves against bandits and pirates. Later he returned to be ruler of India. Now he hangs out here on Camillo. Cool.
I'm ready for a workout. I want to get a sweat up and get rid of my flabby tummy. Tat has us sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bluff thinking blank thoughts. It's tricky to relax because I've left Nelly asleep at home. The slugs said that they'll keep an eye on her but she has never been alone before; she could be abducted by aliens or anything. While Tat is hovering just above the ground I'm worrying about nappy rash and colic and wondering if she's missing me.
The next time I bring her along and she watches from her basket. She gets bored and goes to sleep because we're doing nothing. After a week of doing nothing we move on to slow exercises. Sometimes we don't move at all. I'm sore all over, every muscle aches and complains, I never imaged that doing nothing could be so painful.
After a few weeks it all starts to make sense and fall into place. I do the exercises whenever I have a chance, like standing on one leg while I peel the potatoes or trying to clean the bathroom standing on my head. I start to Zen out a bit too.
Nel is amazingly strong. I think she's picking up kung fu as well. She hangs on to my finger so tight that I can pick her up. She doesn't fall off for ages. Pollux tells me off because she's too little for the rough and tumble stuff.
I like Tat. He teaches me kung fu and I teach him to cook magic melting moments and how to teleport. He takes up surfing, hangs out in Azziz's cafe and makes a great babysitter. He even keeps his Zen when Nelly pees on him. They make a sight together, with my little naked brown baby wrapped up in the Kung Fu Master's orange robes. I draw
a picture of them and stick it on the wall.
Nelly is a time waster. I spend hours with her; holding her, cleaning her, feeding her and playing with her. She sits up and smiles and giggles and chortles at me, wanting my total, undivided attention at all times. I manage to fit the training sessions in but the chores don't get done and the mountain of laundry grows taller by the day. The slugs see that it's getting too much for me and send a team of zinodes around to help. I had good intentions of spending time up in the moons to see how other single mothers manage but when I do get a quiet moment I just want to chill, not watch baby TV.
Breast-feeding is really relaxing. She latches on and sucks away, watching me all the time with her dad's eyes. Then her eyes roll back and she's asleep. Sometimes I just hold her, not wanting to put her down.
14
I get a sudden urge to show off my baby. She's just so cute. Without even thinking, I click my fingers and Annie is here. She's stark bollocks naked and covered with soap bubbles. The look on her face is priceless.
'Emmmmmm!' She screams and gives me the biggest hug.
'Meet Nelly,' I say handing her the baby.
'Argh, it's a baby,' she screams, and nearly drops Nelly.
Nelly catches her eye and smiles at her, then sucks on her boob. 'Get off, get off! Stop that!' she says, but Nelly has latched on and won't let go. Annie doesn't know quite what to say or do. Finally gathering her wits, she says, 'I want one too!'
We chat about home and school. I'm glad I'm not at school anymore; it's like something kids do.
Azziz babysits; Annie and me go riding on Trigger. We follow the stream up to the meadow and gallop across the prairie until the long grass stretches from horizon to horizon.
'Look out!' shouts Pollux; I've got a problem.
We've got a problem. A slimeball crashes to ground just in front of us, rolling over and over until it comes to a halt.
