The problem is, when I try to look at Jonathan Elliott’s inner beauty I just see a bighead-nerdy-know-it-all. How disappointing is that?
I braced myself for one of his rambling lectures about splitting the atom. But he didn’t even start. He just turned to me and looked searchingly into my eyes.
“So,” he said, “why exactly is your chin brown?”
When I got back from the park, Mum had finally surfaced. It’s so unlike her to sleep most of the day! This has left me completely confused. I thought I was an expert in Mum’s start-up patterns. After all, I’ve studied them carefully.
START-UP OPTIONS
There is no “Quick Start” with Grown-Ups. Generally they are very slow to get going, especially in the mornings. Many cannot perform even the simplest operation or function without the essential fuel known as a “Cup of Coffee.”
However, there are some exceptions to this rule. Some Grown-Ups wake early, such as the over-the-age-of-seventy-five models. Many of these models have got up, had their breakfast, washed up and done the crossword before seven a.m. Which gives them nine hours to fill before Countdown.
My Great-Grandma Peters is eighty-seven, so she’s definitely an exception to the slow-start rule. She gets up before six and by the time it’s ten o’clock she’s done everything she needs to do. From then on it’s just filling the hours. She can’t exactly go for a cross-country run or join the gym, so it’s daytime TV and nosing out of her window, plus endless cups of tea with anyone who cares to pop in.
Great-Grandma Peters watches so much TV she thinks she actually knows all the celebrities personally.
If I go to her house, no matter what the time of day, there’s usually someone else there who’s had the same idea. Sometimes there are too many people for her tiny living room and she has to say, “Go on, clear off, the lot of you!”
What’s funny is that even though she’s always got people at her house, Great-Grandma Peters is convinced that she’s lonely and neglected.
That’s Grown-Ups for you. No matter how old they are, they never seem to learn. Which leads me on to a little bit of general advice.
A NOTE ON THE OLDER MODELS OF GROWN-UP
Grown-Ups aged over thirty must be treated with extra caution, due to the number of years they have been operating. They can be suffering from a “Midlife Crisis”—an age-related condition that causes erratic mode swings but usually passes with time.
MIDLIFE CRISIS MODE
If your Grown-Up starts asking you whether what they are wearing makes them look old, or they are dressing totally inappropriately for their advanced years (losing what little dignity they once had), they are in Midlife Crisis Mode. They may organize school reunions and go on and on about the good old days. Be warned: It is tragic to witness and may result in Embarrassing Mode, which will usually be at its worst when your friends come round.
Mum must be in Midlife Crisis Mode—that’s the only explanation I can think of for her acting so strangely and wanting to go out with Yellow Tie Man, who rolled off the production line five years after her. He’s a younger man, so in her desperate midlife crisis she’s obviously latching on to him to try to recapture her lost youth! That’s why she’s worrying about the wrinkles and trying to act younger than she is by staying out all night.
While I think Mum is pretty old (I mean, she’s over thirty), she’s actually young compared to lots of my friends’ Grown-Ups.
Mum was eighteen when she had Mandy. That’s only three years older than Mandy is now. YIKES! She and my dad were at school together and started going out when they were seniors. Dad was supposed to either study heating engineering or train as a chef after graduation, but when Mum got pregnant they got married and he got the first job he could: driving a van for the parcel delivery firm where Granddad Williams (Mum’s dad) worked.
Dad said it was the best thing that could have happened and he loved his job, but I think he just said that so Mandy wouldn’t feel bad about being born.
Thursday, August 13: 4:39 p.m.
Six whole days after my serious and traumatic chin injury, and Mum hasn’t even asked how I am feeling about it! She doesn’t even care about making me go out in public—she sent me (and my chin) to the minimart to get some milk yesterday. I begged her to let me stay hiding at home, but she wasn’t having any of it.
Of course, when I got there, Nan shouted from the other end of the shop, “Look at you, Katie Sutton! With that bruising on the end of your chin, you look as if you’ve got a goatee! You look like a man!”
I looked around, expecting to see Ben Clayden. But there was no sign of him. Then I saw Thomas Finch staring at me from behind the bargain DVDs. I had to hide my chin behind a two-liter carton of milk. Not sure if I got away with it.
Mum doesn’t seem to care about my humiliations. She’s too busy looking disgustingly dreamy. This must be down to her needing to be in Sleep Mode. I refuse to be disheartened by Mum’s recent selfish behavior. It’s just a phase, due to her meaningless fling with Yellow Tie Man. It’s just Midlife Crisis Mode. It’s not like they’re in love or anything.
PERFORMANCE OPTIMIZATION
To achieve optimum performance from your Grown-Up, it is important to acquaint yourself with their Operating Modes. Familiarization with their complex modes is essential in order to operate your Grown-Up with maximum efficiency.
That’s the trouble with Grown-Ups having power over our entire miserable lives. It all comes down to the mode they are in.
When I really needed Mum to help me save my social life by covering up my mutant chin, she completely let me down by being in Sleep Mode. And there was nothing I could do. I have to remember that it’s not my expertise in question, it was just a problem with the timing.
USEFUL HINT
Timing is everything. Choose your moments carefully and be alert to unexpected chances. Also, remember that you can make opportunities. Be creative!
When I bought my fabulous pair of shoes and miniskirt for the school dance back in April, I got home from my shopping trip and saw that Mum was in Grumpy Mode. She’d filled in for a friend teaching a step aerobics class and one of the people in the class had fallen off their step and made a complaint to the leisure center manager about Mum making the routine too difficult.
“That’s the last time I do anyone a favor!” she was moaning.
So there was no way I’d have shown her my stuff at that moment. Otherwise she’d have told me the shoes were too high and the skirt was too short and I should take them back to the shop immediately. I couldn’t risk this, as both Hannah and Loops had, that very day, bought almost identical shoes and miniskirts. If I didn’t have them too, I would be an Outcast.
So what I did was this: I was incredibly helpful round the house. I did some light vacuuming (remember my top tip from earlier?), and then guess what, Mum’s not in Grumpy Mode anymore. She’s telling me that I’m a great help to her and a good girl. (Really, I’m not. I’m a calculating fraud.)
That evening, I waited till Mum was halfway through the ironing and her favorite soap, as I knew she’d be totally relaxed then. When I walked into the living room wearing the outfit, she choked slightly on her cup of tea, but—thanks to my careful groundwork of being the perfect daughter for the afternoon—she didn’t tell me to take them back. In fact, she started rambling on about her first miniskirt and what she used to do when she was a teenager. (She was in Been There, Done That Mode, a particularly irritating mode.) Too much information, to be honest … but total parental approval.
Now, that’s what I call Performance Optimization at its best.
7:48 p.m.
I’m very bored, so I text Hannah. I’ve got to check up on her and Loops, otherwise they could get into all sorts of trouble.
ME: how u doing?
HANNAH: at park w Loops Neil+T+J hows ur chin?
ME: purple
HANNAH: LOL
ME: nan sed it looks like beard
HANNAH: Thomas F says s
he sed goatee
(At this point I just about died of embarrassment, but I had to think of something else to say so I didn’t appear too bothered.)
ME: r u going to shops for choc?
HANNAH: U go Urself?
ME: Not w beard
HANNAH: Loops says hi
ME: me too hv fun kisses!
HANNAH: !!!!! C U L8R
Great. So to Thomas Finch I am now Goatee Girl. Fantastic. I see my future clearly now: as a bearded, bald, toothless, donkey-riding nun.
Saturday, August 15: 3:20 p.m.
SMITTEN MODE
Smitten Mode is when Grown-Ups get all infatuated with someone and lose what little dignity they once had (if they ever had any, which is unlikely). This mode is one step further than Fancying the Pants Off Mode but not as serious as Love Mode. If your Grown-Up can’t stop talking about somebody, or if they keep staring into space with an idiotic look on their face and sighing contentedly, they are probably in Smitten Mode.
Be aware this may cause them to become absentminded, which is not ideal if they forget important things, like your allowance.
You know how I said at the beginning of this guide that I know a thing or two about Grown-Ups? Like I can give great advice? Maybe I spoke too soon.
Today something happened that made me question my abilities. I was so sure Mum was just having a midlife crisis. I never considered she might actually be in Smitten Mode. I thought I could predict her behavior. But no matter how predictable you think they are, Grown-Ups can still shock you.
WARNING
Grown-Ups can take you by surprise. Be prepared for anything. At all times.
Mum’s shocking behavior is all Yellow Tie Man’s fault. Today he went into Reckless Mode, probably influenced by being in Smitten Mode.
RECKLESS MODE
If Grown-Ups act the opposite of how they expect you to act, without any apology or awareness of their massive double standards, they are in Reckless Mode. This is a highly dangerous mode that hampers smooth operation.
This morning Stuart turned up out of the blue on our doorstep with a bunch of about thirty red roses.
This set my alarm bells clanging madly straightaway. I mean, I thought this was just a fling. But if you know the language of flowers you’ll know that red roses mean “I love you.” Which is NOT good.
He stood there smiling hopefully, peering through the armful of blooms. At least he had ditched the tie and was back in his usual T-shirt and jeans.
Even Mum was embarrassed by his ridiculous display.
“Did you walk all the way from the bus stop with those?” she asked.
We knew what she was worried about. She was thinking about her entire family—especially the disapproving and beady eye of Gran Sutton—and everyone else in the village twitching their curtains and having a great laugh at Yellow Tie Man walking along like a prize idiot with his mobile rose garden.
“Yes!” said Stuart proudly, and we could see that all sense had left him. If he’d been a dog, he’d have had his ears back and his tail would have been wagging madly.
I almost felt sorry for him, until I remembered how much Mum’s behavior has changed in the last two weeks thanks to him. She’s so different! Suddenly she’s got her own plans, instead of fitting in with mine. It was a relief to see that she did not seem to be in Reckless Mode as well. (Or so I thought …)
“You’d better come in,” said Mum in an abrupt voice. You could see the disappointment on Stuart’s face. At least he must have got the message now, I thought happily. Nobody could ever in a hundred million squillion years replace our dad, not ever. No matter how many red roses they turn up with.
I looked across at Mandy, who was making herself some toast, and she smirked at me, equally triumphant. I realized that I had somebody on my side and we were obviously thinking exactly the same thing: zero points to Stuart. Jack bounced into the kitchen just at that moment and stared at the roses, puzzled.
“Are we going to a funeral?” he asked. Typical of Jack to say the right thing at the right moment—I could have hugged him. Stuart looked even more miserable and uncomfortable.
But in the time it took to boil the kettle, Mum had softened.
“They’re beautiful, Stuart,” she relented, arranging them in the big blue vase from the display cabinet. “They’re really, really lovely.”
I think she felt bad about being short with him and was trying to make up for it.
Stuart looked like he’d won the lottery, the Euro Millions rollover.
“I’ve never bought anyone flowers before,” he said, his face all flushed with pleasure. “I don’t know why I did it. I haven’t even checked if they’re—”
But before he could finish going on about organic produce or sustainable sources or whatever he’d been going to say, Mum was kissing him. Right in front of her children, right there in the kitchen!
WARNING
When one Grown-Up goes into Reckless Mode, it can cause others to do the same. It’s infectious. Like a terrible, unstoppable disease.
I stood there thinking, Who is this woman, and what has she done with our mum?
I don’t understand how this is all happening, why she’s even interested in him. I mean, how could she be? He has an enormous nose and he owns a yellow knitted tie!
It would be fair to say that we were all seriously traumatized by what we witnessed. No child should have to see such a sight without getting counseling.
Mandy turned round, pretending to be looking for something in the kitchen drawer. Jack, inexplicably, put his fingers in his ears. And me? I stood with my mouth wide open like a human flycatcher.
SAD BUT TRUE FACT
It’s a horrible fact of life, but Grown-Ups snog too. They take something that is perfectly acceptable in young and attractive people and turn it into a disturbing and tragic act.
USEFUL HINT
The only solution when you witness Grown-Ups kissing is to leave the vicinity of the incident immediately or scream loudly. It is essential that you protect yourself from major trauma, as this could lead to you needing years of therapy. If you find it hard to obliterate the image of the kissing incident from your mind, try to replace it with another more pleasant image—like trench warfare.
I wished that I had a magic remote control in my hand, with a guaranteed way of stopping the shocking scene. Even hitting Pause while I thought up some brilliant scheme would have helped. Better still, Rewind. If I could have rewound Stuart all the way out of the door backwards and down the street and back to the flower shop, I would have done it. But I was powerless.
The kiss probably only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like it was going on forever. I thought the horror would never end.
Mandy sidled up to me and hissed, “The Cupboard, five minutes.”
I was there (two minutes early), and somehow Mandy had got Jack rounded up as well. Soon the three of us were all sitting on my bed (the lower bunk of course, the curse of the younger child) having our first Council of War.
“Was it just me,” said Mandy, “or was that one of the grossest things you have ever seen in your entire life?”
“It was more yuck than if Mum was kissing one of the Ood,” said Jack. The Ood are aliens in Doctor Who. The ones with giant tentacles coming out of their faces.
“No,” I said, “it was WORSE than that. I will never get it out of my head.”
Just thinking about it made me realize that Mum wasn’t just in Reckless Mode—she was in Smitten Mode too.
“Look,” said Mandy, “I thought he was an idiot, but he’s not, is he? Not if he can get Mum to kiss him in the kitchen in front of her own kids. She’s obviously massively into him! If it carries on like this, Mum and Stuart might get married and he might try to be our new dad!”
“No way!” said Jack.
“Yes way,” said Mandy. “And who wants that to happen?
I shook my head. I can’t imagine having Yellow Tie Man here all the time … it would feel
weird.
Jack looked thoughtful.
“Maybe he could stay if he took us to Disney …,” he said.
Jack has this idea that when your mum gets a new boyfriend they automatically take you to Disney World or Disneyland, since that happened to two different friends of his at school. So now that Stuart’s on the scene, Jack’s obviously waiting for the invitation.
Mandy rolled her eyes.
“Jack, that is so not the point! Listen, if we all work together we can probably get rid of him before school starts. Are you with me?”
“Definitely!” I said. Jack was still staring into space. No doubt thinking about meeting Mickey Mouse. Really, he has no idea.
8:23 p.m.
I phoned Hannah an hour ago. She was, quite rightly, disgusted on my behalf.
“So they were practically having sex in your kitchen!” she shouted. “That’s like child abuse!”
Which was just like Hannah, making a drama out of anything. You get like that when you live in Brindleton, where nothing ever happens.
“Shhhh! No, not quite. But it was as bad as if they were,” I hissed. “Mandy and Jack and me have decided he’s got to go.”
“I’ll help if you want,” offered Hannah, “I’ve got a brilliant idea! Let’s pretend he’s got terrible body odor whenever we see him. I could actually faint if you want.”
“Hannah, that’s just immature,” I said. “We’ve got to be much cleverer than that. Especially now that Mum is in Smitten Mode! Listen, I’ll let you know when I have a proper plan. You phone Loops and fill her in and we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
Diary of a Parent Trainer Page 5