by Suzy K Quinn
Tuesday, July 5th
Told Althea about crying over Skype.
She suggested I go to baby meditation with her and ‘chill out’.
Somehow, Wolfgang broke the Buddhist prayer bowl.
I’ve never seen a Buddhist monk get angry before.
Wednesday, July 6th
Ugh. One pound heavier this morning. How?
Must remember to weigh myself BEFORE I drink any water or eat breakfast, but AFTER I’ve been for a poo.
Thursday, July 7th
Trying the Nutri-Soup diet today: soup for every meal, no white carbs, no caffeine, no alcohol, etc.
The plan is to be all puritanical and wonderful and cleanse my body with lovely nourishing vegetables.
By eleven o’clock I was starving.
Lunch was parsnip and ginger soup.
In the book, it looked really nice. A lovely white bowl of bright orange soup with a single parsley leaf floating in it. But after boiling the parsnips, all this scummy stuff appeared. I couldn’t be bothered to clean the blender AGAIN. So I just mashed everything up with a fork and got this lumpy brown stuff that looked like a muddy puddle.
Friday, July 8th
What happens to your brain when you have a baby? Simple things, like reading bottle warmer instructions or finding a complete pair of shoes are completely impossible.
Saturday, July 9th
Brandi is dating someone she met on Facebook called ‘Spider’.
She can only meet him at his house because he has an electronic curfew tag on his leg.
Dad asked why she couldn’t find a nice man like ‘Laura’s Zachary’.
Brandi said, ‘BLURG! Vomit city! Those two are soooo soppy. Oh, you go first, Laura. No, you Zachary.’
Mum said it would be lovely if Laura and Zach got married.
Brandi told her to ‘get real’. She said, ‘Zach knows Prince Harry and walks like he’s being held up by string. He’s very nice, but he’s from fancy land. There’s no way he’d marry Laura.’
Mum roared about Laura being drop-dead gorgeous and having a university degree.
‘They so could get married,’ she shouted.
Brandi said, ‘If you believe in fairy tales.’
Sunday, July 10th
Had the BEST idea today. String! I tied a piece of string to the stroller, and then sat on the sofa and pulled it back and forth.
Brilliant!
Got to watch all of Downton Abbey while Daisy slept. Why didn’t I think of this before?
Monday, July 11th
Daisy has got wise to the string. She cries and tries to eat it.
Shit.
Tuesday, July 12th
Nick came over today to see Daisy.
It was pretty awkward.
He was supposed to come at 1 pm but didn’t turn up until 3 pm.
He’d been rowing with Sadie, apparently. She’s being ‘pregnant and mental’, to use Nick’s words, and wasn’t happy about him seeing Daisy.
Nick spent twenty minutes chucking Daisy into the air and saying, ‘Say Dadda! Say Dadda!’ But then Daisy got tired and started grizzling. He panicked and asked what was wrong with her.
I said she was just tired.
‘How do you know things like that?’ he said as if I was some magic oracle.
Then he gave me his puppy-dog eyes and said, ‘I miss this, you know. You fix things.’
I remained all aloof and snooty and asked when he’d be coming to see his daughter again.
Nick did his guilty head-scratching thing and said he couldn’t commit because of ‘Sadie’s hormones’. But he’d be in touch soon.
Wednesday, July 13th
Whenever I think of Nick, I get this sort of aching in my chest. It’s not exactly that I miss him. But … we were together so long.
It’s weird not having him around. It feels a bit like having a leg missing. Except it turns out that leg was kicking me up the backside this whole time …
Thursday, July 14th
The paternity test arrived today.
Mum tried to smash it up with a beer-tap wrench, but I stopped her.
The instructions made the test sound sophisticated, but really it was just a giant cotton bud.
I suppose at least it’s over and done with now, and my virtue won’t be called into question again.
Saturday, July 16th
Woo!
Mum won the bingo last night and wanted to buy a ‘family memory’.
So she’s taking us on an all-inclusive holiday.
She told Dad, ‘See. It pays to gamble.’
Dad put on his glasses, got out his calculator and added up everything Mum’s spent on bingo over the last ten years. It was enough to buy three holidays.
But Mum’s mood wouldn’t be dampened. She told him his calculator was always getting things wrong and reminded him of the cherry brandy miscalculation that’s still propping open the cellar door.
A holiday will be lovely, but going away with my parents has downsides.
For a start, Mum is so LOUD. And she wears teeny bikinis and fluorescent hot pants.
Also, Mum and Brandi don’t believe in sun cream. They think turning slapped-face red proves they’ve been on holiday. So everyone knows we’re British and tries to sell us things.
Dad always reads up on the local culture and bores us to death with a load of pointless facts.
(‘Did you know that feta is a native Greek cheese?’)
Brandi is very happy about the trip. She ran right out to buy spray tan and travel miniatures.
Laura wasn’t sure at first. But Mum and Dad are booking an extra suitcase for her study books, so she said okay.
Mum is already talking about holiday clothes. She’s packing her day-glo pink dress from Cyber dog – the one even Brandi tells her off for wearing.
Dad said, ‘Oh that’ll look a treat at the disco.’
It’s like neither of them knows she’s fat.
I suppose it’s quite sweet in a way.
Sunday, July 17th
AWESOME news!
Laura told Zach about the holiday, and he’ll put us up at any Dalton hotel free of charge. All we have to do is choose a location.
Mum and Brandi spent hours on the Dalton Hotel website ‘oohing’ at pictures.
They’ve decided we should go to Dubai because it is ‘hot as f***’ and we can go on a camel ride.
Dad was happy because he wants to find out more about the history of cinnamon.
I’m a little bit nervous.
I have visions of Mum in pink Lycra, barging into the fancy hotel restaurant and asking if they have tomato ketchup.
Still. We’ll have a laugh. And a fancy hotel will be nice.
Last time we went away, it was to an all-inclusive resort, and it was a bad idea.
Mum and Brandi started drinking at 11 am every day.
And Mum got in trouble for filling her handbag with chocolate chip cookies and apple strudel from the buffet.
Monday, July 18th
Googled Dubai today.
Getting a bit nervous. Apparently, Arabic people dress very conservatively.
I tried to tell Mum, but she just laughed and said, ‘If you think you’re getting me in a one-piece swimsuit you’ve another thing coming. I’m only fifty-five. I’m not dead yet.’
Tuesday, July 19th
Saw a documentary last night about wheat and now it ALL makes sense.
Wheat is the reason I weigh so much! It’s been bloating me and stopped me digesting properly.
Decided to go wheat-free today so that I won’t look bloated on holiday.
Althea’s going to do it with me. She says she’s known for a long time about how damaging wheat can be for the digestive tract. ‘Not to mention the fucking planet.’
Had a vegetable omelette for breakfast. No toast with it.
Mum was cooking chocolate croissants, but I stayed strong.
11 am
It’s amazing how many foods h
ave wheat in them. Even that squeezy yellow mustard.
7 pm
Had a wheat frenzy.
Ate a Warburton’s thick-slice cheese sandwich, two packets of Iced Jems (feel bad about that because they’re for Callum’s packed lunch), a Findus crispy pancake and a bowl of super noodles.
I’ve decided that denial isn’t the way forward. As soon as you can’t have something, you want loads of it.
Phoned Althea and she’s decided the same thing. She’d just eaten a cream-cheese bagel and a packet of chocolate bourbons.
Flying to Dubai TOMORROW!
Can’t find my new swimming costume.
Wednesday, July 27th
Back from holiday.
A week gone, just like that!
Great trip.
Bit of a shame it was Ramadan, and all the restaurants were closed.
Lucky Mum bought enough Pringles and Toblerone from duty-free to see us through.
Spent a lot of time on the beach, being sprayed with Evian water. That was nice.
Daisy ate a lot of sand. She loved playing in the shallows, giggling and slapping the water with her hands.
Wish I’d found my swimming costume before the trip though.
I had to borrow one of Brandi’s costumes – a sheeny silver G-string bikini that cut big grooves into my hips and back.
We did manage a trip to the old town, but it got too much – everyone staring at Mum and Brandi in their bikini tops and denim cut-offs.
I tried to tell them about the modest Muslim culture, but neither of them was prepared to risk their suntan (meaning sunburn) by covering up.
Zach flew out for a day to see Laura!
Awwwww …
Thursday, July 28th
Unpacking.
It’s taking quite a long time.
I shouldn’t have packed so much stuff for Daisy – I hardly used any of it. Those baby goggles were a waste of time. And she didn’t touch any of the water learning toys, rubber beach books or the water baby walker.
Friday, July 29th
Althea phoned today to moan about her sex life. She’s seeing some twenty-year-old guy who lives on a canal boat. But apparently, he has ‘no sexual energy’ and can only do it once a night.
She asked me how many times Nick and I used to do it.
I told her that after Daisy, our sex life was pretty much non-existent.
Daisy slept in our bed half the time, and Nick was always getting home late.
Then I got to thinking, was that why Nick cheated on me? Because we never had sex?
Althea tutted and said, ‘Don’t start down that road. You didn’t do anything wrong. Nick is a teenager in a grown man’s body. He needs to grow the fuck up, and you need to find someone better.’
I told her my weight loss was going well, even after the holiday, and she said, ‘If it’s making you feel good, then I won’t knock it.’
Saturday, July 30th
Real Ale Festival at the pub this weekend.
Dad spent all morning lugging ale kegs around, while Mum drank half pints from each of them.
After lunch, I picked up Nana Joan. She loves the Real Ale Festival.
I set her up in the shade with a pint of cloudy cider and Daisy on her lap. But she wanted to be nearer the band.
So Dad showed Daisy how well his raspberries are growing, while Nana sat by the stage stamping her feet.
When I took Nana home, she was a tiny bit worse for wear but happy. I had to help her to bed and got covered in sparkles from her party dress.
Sunday, July 31st
The pub is PACKED.
The whole village is downstairs, drinking beer with funny names like Rat’s Piss and Bishop’s Foreskin.
Mum tried every one of the thirty on offer. Then she got all shouty and called the vicar a ‘massive fucking hypocrite’ for drinking on a Sunday.
The vicar started swearing back, and Dad had to intervene. After years of running a pub, he’s good at calming people down. Even the vicar, who has major anger management issues.
Monday, August 1st
Summer Bank Holiday
Mum claimed she wouldn’t drink any beer today.
Then Dad put out a new keg out called ‘Morning Sparkle’, and she said, ‘Oh go on, I’ll try it then.’ And had a big tankard full with her cornflakes.
I’ve lost six pounds!
It must be the running. Because it’s certainly not my diet.
Not after a weekend of beer and sausages.
Tuesday, August 2nd
Read the Ferber controlled-crying book today and realised I could be overfeeding Daisy at night-time. Maybe that’s why she wakes up so much – because the poor little lamb has too much food in her tummy.
The book says babies need to learn to self-settle. And that parents need to help them self-settle by ignoring them.
Daisy woke at 10 pm as usual and cried for nearly an hour.
For the first three minutes, I was strong and serene (I am teaching her to self-settle). Then I started to panic (what if she’s dying in there?).
Phoned Althea, and she told me I was being very cruel, and that Daisy was just expressing herself.
Then I phoned Laura, who told me to take it ten minutes at a time.
After three more minutes, I cracked and went in to cuddle her.
She howled, even more, when I left. It actually turned into ear-splitting screams.
So I fed her. And then she still wouldn’t stop crying.
I thought, ‘Oh my God, I’ve broken her! Now she’ll never stop crying!’
She did eventually. After half an hour of shushing and rocking. At which point I was way too stressed to sleep.
I kept going over and over the Ferber technique in my head like a mad woman. Then I obsessively googled ‘controlled crying’ and read a load of mums who said it didn’t work. Although plenty more said it worked brilliantly.
I just want to do what’s best. But there are a million different opinions on what ‘best’ is.
Why are there no answers! No instruction manuals! Why are babies so confusing?
Wednesday, August 3rd
Just saw Nick with Sadie in Great Oakley.
Feel violated, like they’ve broken some unspoken pact.
Great Oakley is MY place. They should stay in London.
They were having lunch with Helen and holding hands over the table.
It’s bad enough knowing they’re living together in London. But to have them flaunting their relationship on my own doorstep …
They were even brazen enough to be on the patio outside, where everyone walks past. It’s like they wanted to be seen.
I know they saw me because they suddenly got really interested in their salads.
I walked past, head held high.
Dignity, dignity, dignity.
Then I saw Nick’s car parked across the street and squirted one of Daisy’s apple and banana pouches all over the windscreen.
Ha ha ha!
Thursday, August 4th
Lost four more pounds!
Whoop whoop!
I can never get my head around weight loss. It seems to me the weeks I’m really good, I don’t lose much weight at all. And when I let the apron strings loose … poof! It all comes falling off.
Laura reckons it’s the running.
And she’s probably right – it can’t be what I’m eating.
After I saw Nick and Sadie at the restaurant, Mum and I shared a box of Milk Tray, then ordered Domino’s pizza.
I’ve been doing crazy over-thinking since I saw them.
I suppose deep down I’ve always expected Nick and Sadie to split up.
But what if they stay together? What if he’s a proper father to her baby and not to Daisy?
Helen must be over the moon. For all Sadie’s faults, she comes from the ‘right background’. She knows about cutlery. And sitting up straight. And I doubt she’d ever let a dog get hold of a shitty nappy.
Friday, Augus
t 5th
Dad’s birthday.
He said he didn’t want any fuss, but Mum arranged a surprise party.
It’s not much of a surprise these days since Mum does it every year. But Dad was as delighted as ever, hugging all of us and saying he’s the luckiest man in the world.
Dad is easy to buy presents for. He likes anything practical, so I gave him a special rack for arranging his spanners.
He got all teary and kept saying, ‘How did you know? How did you know?’
Mum gave everyone at the pub shots of her homemade butterscotch vodka to ‘get the party started’.
I only drank fizzy water, though. I can’t drink much these days. Not now Daisy is moving around. She’s a little demolition machine. It takes her less than a minute to unwind a whole toilet roll or pull the bin over and eat whatever she finds inside.
Saturday, August 6th
Daisy would NOT nap today.
I spent twenty minutes rocking and shaking her, swaying back and forth, humming ‘Like a Virgin’ and making sea noises in her ear.
Mum kept popping her head into the bedroom, asking if I ‘had everything under control’. So I kept having to start all the shushing and rocking all over again.
Monday, August 8th
Got a call from our solicitor, Ted Grunty, today.
The paternity results are back. They show Nick is Daisy’s dad.
Of course.
‘Fancy Nick putting you through all this,’ Ted said.
I told him I didn’t care anymore. Then I burst into tears and asked why Nick was doing this.
Stupid pregnancy hormones. Shouldn’t they be gone by now?
Tuesday, August 9th
Visited Dr Slaughter today for my maternity health check-up.