Diary of a Mummy Misfit #1 (50 page)

Both agreed it was our best party to date and the kids will probably be talking about it for ages - allowed to let their hair down!  What would ‘Naughty Mummy’ have to say?  Well, if she hadn’t been parting her own hair for the cabbie she might have been around to host it herself.

Spent a lazy morning preparing for ‘Dog’s Do’ this afternoon - defrosting Fenella’s nibbles and bunging the champers on ice.

Can’t believe a year has passed since the scruffy but rotund little mutt arrived on our doorstep - and what a year it’s been!

PM

Think Dog and the dogs enjoyed themselves.  They looked very sweet in their matching bandanas - floral prints, courtesy of Fenella.

Nic said Dog looked a bit gay in his - six puppies later and we’re
still
gender confused.

Mrs S seemed to enjoy herself and has cheered up slightly since Skunk bought her a canary - Desmond.  No reason for the name, she told us, just a name she’d always liked and, we were told, a good name for a canary.  Anyway, Desmond also seemed to enjoy himself.  As did Skunk, who’s trying to teach him to whistle, “Twisted Fire-Starter”.

Not quite sure how Pritesh managed to
again
wrangle himself an invite but he was there, charm personified and flirting outrageously with Fenella.  Confess to feeling an irrational flash of jealousy and realised that the atmosphere changes slightly when he’s around.  I feel more desirable and Ned pulls himself up to his full height and sucks his tummy in.  Half expect him to cock his leg at any minute to mark me as his territory.  Which, of course, I am and a little bit of harmless fantasy will never change that.

Sure the animals consumed far too many tid-bits than considered healthy so around six, after settling Mrs S and Desmond back next door, the rest of us set off for a booze-fuelled hike across the common to walk their (and our) excesses off.

Ended up at the pub on the cricket pitch and had a makeshift game with the dogs fielding.

A fantastic time had by all.  Dog and Dot are now crashed at my feet and having little doggy dreams.

Happy Dog Day!  Off to have dreams of my own …

Sunday 17
^th
May

Went to visit Elle, Rob and Baby Grace.

Asked Rob what he’d done with my sister - the change in her is almost incomprehensible.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking so fulfilled and relaxed.  Lucky for her, she’s one of those women who pop out their babies and are instantly back in their size eights.  But, aside from that, she just seems to have become a confident and calm mother overnight.

Grace lay at her breast feeding hungrily and Rob fussed about with tea and cakes.  “Have you told Lib our news, Elle?” he grinned at her, obviously excited by what they had share.

Elle looked slightly sheepish and sat Grace up to wind her.  “I’ve decided I’m not going back to work after all.”

Well, you could have slapped my butt and called me Charlie, as Nic is so fond of saying.

My sister, the hard nosed exec who’d bitten, scratched and clawed her way to the top, was now prepared to give it all up for her little bundle - wonders would never cease.

Told her how (genuinely) pleased I was and she continued, “I don’t want to come home to a nanny who tells me Gracie has taken her first steps or said her first word.  I’ve done ‘business woman’, now it’s time to do ‘Mummy’.”

She could teach some Manor Housers a thing or two!

Spent a lovely afternoon having cuddles with Grace and changing her nappy with Max’s ‘help’.  “See Mummy.  I could be a really good big brother, couldn’t I?”

Agreed that he’d make a perfect older brother, whilst still trying to manage his expectations, “You’d be fantastic, Maxie, but I think Mummy might be a bit too old now so we’ll just have to make do with loving little Gracie won’t we?”

Knew in my heart that he wasn’t particularly happy with the answer but what else could I say?

Thankfully Grace helped me out by producing a timely but runny little dollop all over the changing mat.

“Oooh, gross!” Max covered his nose and mouth and heaved.

“Well Max, that’s one of the downsides to having a baby around.  Sure you still want one?”

Didn’t hear his answer as he’d fled the room to tell Ned how smelly Grace was.

Monday 18
^th
May AM

Waiting on tenterhooks to hear back from the school.  They break up for half term on Friday so I’m just praying we’ll know something before then.

Strange phone conversation with Mum.  Lots of the usual Bert references but also smattered with unsure (very un-Mum-like) questions like, “You do
like
Bert, don’t you?” and, “Do you think your father would approve?”

Can’t be certain but I think she may be up to something.

Received invite to summer cocktail party at the school next month - and just noticed, good grief, it’s
free! 
Might push the boat out and try to find a glam charity shop special.  Haven’t spoiled myself for a while so I’m sure we can spare a tenner.

Ooh, quite excited by the prospect of a little Oxfam therapy.

PM

Told Ned about the peculiar conversation with Mum.  He suggested she might be thinking about remarrying.

Told him not to be so ridiculous.

Called Lou for advice.  She agreed with Ned.

Told her to shut the fuck up.

Two further phone calls to Fenella and then Nic, put me in a minority of one.

Went to bed in a grump.  My mother, remarry?

Surely Bert wouldn’t agree to a shenanigan-less marriage?

Tuesday 19
^th
May

Chatting with Fenella at the school gates this afternoon when ‘Letchy Dad’ joined us on pick-up duty.  “Aah, our gorgeous reps.  What a treat!” and his eyes did a swift appraisal of any bits of flesh on show.  “So tell me, lovely ladies, being ‘Seedlings’ reps isn’t as bad as they all make it out, is it?  Of course, I wouldn’t have wanted Nerissa to take it on.  What with the risk of ‘you-know-what?’”  This was said with a finger to his nose and a furtive wink.

Fenella and I looked at one another, each hoping that the other had got his drift.  Sadly, we were none the wiser as he excused himself to flirt shamelessly with a notorious man-eater, ‘Bikey Mummy’.

“What a strange little man!”  Fenella giggled.  “What on earth was that all about?”

The risk of ‘you know what’ - sounded like some dreadful Manor House curse that no one had let us in on!

Wednesday 20
^th
May  AM

Mum called at a ridiculously early hour to say she’d like to pop in on us later.  “Say about six-ish?  Don’t bother cooking or cleaning.  We’ll be quite happy with a glass of wine and a crisp.”

Had hideous vision of Mum and Bert seductively nibbling on the same crisp and meeting in the middle for a denture clanking snog!  Ugh .. put me off my Cornflakes.

Bumped into a very blotchy and puffy faced Gestapo at the school - obviously run out of Crème de la Mer and Touche Èclat.  I could give her dozens of tips on cheap alternatives but can’t quite see her hitting Superdrug or eagerly collecting her Boots loyalty points.

Once home I had so many scenarios running through my head.  Perhaps Mum had a serious illness with only months to live?  What if they were marrying and moving to Guadeloupe or some other far-flung clime?  Had to stop myself before I started to fret like Lou.

Managed to pull myself together and decided to go for my usual stress relief.  Attacked an MG book and rustled up a few nibbles from some bits found in the fridge and cupboard - sadly, not an emergency pantry but a very fine cupboard nevertheless.

Skunk popped in while I was part way through my cheese straw mixing and, after washing his hands and mucking in to help, he told me he was a bit concerned about Mrs S.  “Don’t get me wrong, Libby, I mean she loves Desmond and all that but he don’t seem to be enuff for her.  I fink she might be getting a bit shaky, you know.  She don’t even seem that bovvered about Ba’s Kitchen no more.”

Felt a bit guilty that I hadn’t noticed any decline myself but there’s just been so much going on.  Reluctantly promised him I’d email Pritesh for advice.

PM

Butt slapping and calling me Charlie doesn’t even go close.

Mum and Bert are moving in together!  Yep, my hussy of a mother is about to cohabit, live in sin, become a dishonest woman.

They’re both selling up and buying a flat about ten minutes walk from us.  “It’ll be much handier for babysitting Max and little Gracie.”  Mum seemed to think she needed to sell the idea to us.  “We’ve emailed Elle and Harriet as they’re both so busy and they gave us their blessing.  We just want to know that you approve.”

Tried to sound enthusiastic and not too prudish when actually I’d come over all protective and wanted to say, “Hey, Bert, good enough to live with is she but not good enough to marry?”