Bad Mother's Holiday - Hilarious Summer Holiday Reading!

by Suzy K Quinn

  I was too flabbergasted to be angry or sad, so ordered Alex a gin and tonic and invited him to join us on the sun terrace.

  Daisy was delighted when Alex came strolling out. She didn’t question why he was in Corfu, instead asking about his swimwear preferences and whether he was brave enough to attempt the ‘Yellow Devil’ waterslide.

  Alex and Daisy chatted for a while about waterslide accomplishments. Then Daisy suggested giving Alex a ‘grand tour’ of the resort. She grabbed Alex’s hand, pulling him towards the swimming pool and chattering about the ‘all the fassies’ (facilities) and ‘sunbathes’ (sunbeds).

  ‘Kid’s club bit smelling,’ she told Alex sadly, then shouted to me: ‘MUMMY! COME TOO!’

  Daisy, Alex and I walked all the way around the tennis court and towards the beach.

  ‘I’ve never seen a tennis court with towels drying over the net before,’ Alex commented. ‘Or sand this colour. Daisy – I’m delighted with this tour.’

  Daisy, puffed up with her tour guide status, started hectoring Alex to go in the sea.

  ‘Take shoes off, Rex. Take shoes off!’

  He did.

  ‘Daisy is happy to see you,’ I said.

  ‘And I’m happy to see her,’ said Alex, his long, tanned toes negotiated seaweed and froth. ‘I’ve missed her. I’ve missed you too.’

  We walked a little further, and I said, ‘Alex, you know we’re just friends now – right?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And you’re okay with that?’

  ‘If those are the terms, those are the terms. And I’m okay. Not great, but okay.’

  ‘How does Bethany feel about you coming out here?’ I asked.

  ‘I imagine she’ll feel fine. I don’t see why she wouldn’t.’

  ‘You don’t think she’ll be upset?’ I challenged. ‘That you’ve jetted off to see an ex-girlfriend?’

  ‘I don’t see it as being any of her business.’

  Felt really sorry for Bethany then. Clearly, Alex has terrible double standards. What woman wouldn’t want to know their boyfriend was seeing his ex-girlfriend?

  The women on that Womb Wisdom course were right – men are bastards.

  I’ve had a lucky escape.

  I said, ‘Shall we go back?’

  Alex said yes.

  In the evening, Alex joined us for dinner. He only made five or six criticisms about food quality, and even declared the feta cheese ‘not at all bad’. It was nice for Daisy, having Alex there. She seemed calm and contented.

  After dinner, we all watched the sun set over the swimming pool, drank pink cocktails and played dominos and cards.

  The ‘just friends’ thing with Alex seemed okay, but I was still fuming over his treatment of Bethany. To not even tell her he’s visiting us.

  Alex left for the airport at 9pm. He had a late-night flight to London for a conference tomorrow. After that, he’s off to Dubai.

  Daisy was sad to see Alex go. She said, ‘Miss Rex, Mummy. Had lovely time. Like Rex.’

  ‘I know, Daisy,’ I said. ‘And we’ll still see Alex from time to time. But from now on, it’ll just be the two of us.’

  Monday 14th May

  Laura’s birthday today.

  We Facetimed her from beside the swimming pool, holding rum and slushie cocktails.

  It was only 11am, but as Mum pointed out, it’s the last day of our holiday so we may as well enjoy ourselves and get value from the bar.

  Laura was happy to hear from us. She said she wished she could be in Corfu, but baby Bear is especially demanding right now, only sleeping seven hours at night.

  Seven hours uninterrupted sleep! Daisy still wakes at least once with some cunning ploy to get me out of my warm bed.

  ‘Mummy! MUMMY! Can’t put dress on TEDDY. TEDDY NAKED!

  Mummy. MUMMY! Had a dream. A princess had a sausage in bed, Mummy. A SAUSAGE, mummy. VERY messy.’

  AND she often wakes at 5am.

  Laura held baby Bear to the phone, so he could see his relatives getting drunk before lunchtime.

  Mum said we should toast Laura’s ‘not-really-a-wedding’ and pulled out an eight-euro bottle of prosecco she’d bought at the resort shop.

  We added the prosecco to our rum and slushie cocktails, then raised our plastic glasses and whooped and cheered.

  ‘To my little girl signing a bit of paper,’ said Mum. ‘And the wedding that’s not really a wedding.’

  Tuesday 15th May

  Home.

  Feels nice to be back in my own bed, but I miss having someone else doing the cooking and washing up for me.

  Now I just need to do post-holiday weight loss in time for Laura’s not-really-a-wedding.

  Am starting a nice healthy eating routine and cutting out alcohol, with immediate effect. Although John Boy makes a good point – there’s no need to shock the system. Might have a few pints of Guinness tonight just to ease myself back into reality.

  Evening

  Alex just phoned from Dubai. He wanted to make sure I got home safely. Thanked him for his concern, but told him to save it for Bethany.

  ‘For goodness sakes, Juliette,’ said Alex. ‘What has Bethany got to do with anything?’

  ‘Are you taking her to the wedding?’ I asked.

  ‘The subject has come up,’ said Alex. ‘But I think better not. I don’t want to give her the wrong impression.’

  ‘That’s so unbelievably shit, Alex,’ I said. ‘Stringing her along.’

  Alex was silence for a moment. Then he said, ‘Perhaps you’re right. I should talk to her. Make it very clear what my intentions are.’

  ‘We’ve got to move on, Alex,’ I said. ‘We tried. Many times. It just isn’t meant to be. We’re no Zach and Laura.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that,’ said Alex. ‘With this lacklustre wedding of theirs. If I ever marry you, I’ll do it properly.’

  ‘Laura doesn’t want a big wedding,’ I said. ‘It’s not who she is. She wants something low key. It’s just signing a piece of paper, when all is said and done.’

  ‘Then I hardly know why they’re bothering,’ said Alex.

  Asked if Alex was surprised about his brother’s wedding. After all, it did come out of nowhere.

  Alex said no. He was more surprised Zach hadn’t married Laura already.

  ‘Zach has good morals,’ said Alex. ‘I always found it odd he had a child out of wedlock.’

  ‘So you think it’s morally bad to have children out of marriage?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Alex.

  ‘Your morals aren’t up to much then.’

  ‘It would seem so,’ said Alex.

  Asked him how he felt about the wedding being so soon – just a few weeks away now.

  Alex said the short notice was ‘inconvenient’. Apparently, it’s a busy month for private jets, so he’ll have to fly back to London via First Class charter flight.

  ‘But these things are sent to try us,’ said Alex. ‘I’d do anything for my little brother.’

  We had a chat about the holiday, and how happy Daisy was to see Alex.

  ‘I enjoyed seeing her too,’ said Alex. ‘And it was interesting to visit a hotel with no dress code.’

  ‘Actually, there was a dress code,’ I said. ‘No swimwear in the restaurant.’

  Of course, Mum broke that rule, as she does every year, and ended up in a shouting match with the restaurant manager.

  Wednesday 16th May

  Dad keeps going on about camping. We’ve all said no, but he’s persistent. Today, he asked if I’d like to visit Go Outdoors and stock up on camping gear ‘just in case’.

  ‘This is the time to buy equipment, love,’ Dad enthused. ‘Just before the summer rush.’

  I think Dad was hoping the consumer delights of outdoor equipment would change my whole indoor personality.

  Agreed to the Go Outdoors trip because it was raining outside, and I know Daisy loves running in and out of tents.

  To be fair, Dad wa
s right about it being a good time to buy camping equipment. There was a 30% sale on at Go Outdoors, because only an idiot would go camping during rainy, cold May.

  Dad was in his element, gazing with wide-eyed wonder at fisherman’s camp beds, innovative gas stoves, solar-powered compasses and other practical joys.

  ‘Modern camping equipment is astonishing,’ said Dad. ‘Polycanvas is light as a feather, and these fibreglass poles are a revelation. Compare that to the big, heavy canvas tents we used to go camping in. They took two men to lift and days to dry out.’

  Dad was, however, appalled by the more frivolous camping items on sale, top of the list being fairy lights (‘a hellish waste of electricity’).

  ‘Camping is all about simplifying,’ said Dad. ‘Getting away from all that consumerist nonsense. If you’ve got some God-awful boom box belting out loud music and an electric shower set-up to wash your vegetables, you may as well be at home.’

  Dad was equally dismissive of the Arctic sleeping bag ranges. As a younger man, he went camping in a thin, paisley-patterned sleeping bag, which he still owns and uses. He describes the Scottish expeditions as ‘a little bracing at night’, but claimed, ‘all it took was a nice cup of tea and a mess tin of scrambled egg to warm you up.’

  Sadly, I haven’t inherited his hardy, Scottish genetics.

  In the wrong conditions, I can reach levels of cold that only a hot bath and central heating can fix.

  Thursday 17th May

  Mum and I visited Nana Joan today.

  Nana Joan needed bananas and Murray mints, because she’s had a dodgy stomach since the holiday.

  We took my car, because Mum and Dad’s old Toyota is having its engine replaced.

  Mum insisted on driving, because she hates being a passenger. My poor car has now been shouted and sworn at and thumped with an angry fist – all because Mum couldn’t get used to the windscreen wipers and indicators being on different sides.

  At every junction, the windscreen wipers whizzed back and forth, followed by a cacophony of swearing.

  Nana Joan was pleased to see us. Her stomach was quite bad – it made gurgling noises like a blocked drain.

  ‘The trouble with places like Greece,’ said Nana, ‘is the hygiene standards aren’t as good as the UK. It’s not a very advanced country.’

  ‘The Greeks invented civilisation,’ said Mum. ‘Have you been reading the Daily Mail again?’

  Nana admitted that she had ‘glanced at a copy’ and was worried about too many Polish people coming to the UK.

  Mum pointed out that Nana was herself a Welsh immigrant and wasn’t born in England.

  ‘But there are so many Polish people now,’ Nana insisted. ‘They’re setting up their own shops. It’s getting out of hand. This is England, not Poland.’

  Mum reminded Nana that she and twenty-two Welsh family members moved into the same street, flew Welsh flags from their windows, sang Gwahoddiad in the church every Sunday and held Tom Jones street parties every year.

  Friday 18th May

  Helen called round today.

  It was a horrible shock, seeing her nasty beaky face trying to peer through the windows.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I shouted, ripping open the front door. ‘Halloween was months ago.’

  ‘Juliette, I thought we could talk,’ said Helen. ‘Nick’s very upset about not seeing his daughter. But I do understand how you feel about S.A.D.I.E. I hoped I could poor oil on troubled water.’

  I think Helen was trying her best, because she didn’t say anything about the messy house. She even put on a horrible smile when she saw Daisy eating breakfast, and said, ‘Oh, hasn’t she grown?’

  ‘Who this, Mummy?’ Daisy asked.

  Helen said, ‘Perhaps we should talk privately, away from little ears?’

  Called upstairs to John Boy and asked if he could take Daisy out.

  John Boy agreed and came downstairs a moment later sniffing the inside of a Nike trainer. After a quick spray of Odor-Eaters, he stuck Daisy on his shoulders and took her to the park.

  ‘How did it all come to this?’ Helen asked, when Daisy’s ‘little ears’ had gone. ‘Sadie is … oh, she’s vile. Did Nick tell you what she said about my new Hermes scarf?’

  Asked Helen if she had anything important to say.

  ‘I just wondered if there’s any chance, any chance at all, of a reconciliation,’ said Helen, blue eyes watery and pleading. ‘Nick was so much happier with you.’

  I asked her if she was absolutely fucking kidding.

  After a bad language wince, Helen said, ‘Juliette, this family is falling apart. I know Nick made bad choices.’

  ‘What do you expect me to do, Helen?’

  ‘Maybe help build some bridges. I know you’re good at that.’

  ‘Nick can see Daisy whenever he likes,’ I said. ‘But I’m not leaving my daughter at his house while Sadie is there.’

  ‘Juliette, I understand Sadie can be … challenging,’ said Helen. ‘If you’d consider getting back with Nick, I think he’d leave her.’

  ‘Does Sadie know you’re asking me to get back together with her son?’ I asked.

  Helen stiffened. ‘You mustn’t tell Sadie about this conversation. She is unstable. More than unstable.’

  ‘Don’t you think she’d find out sooner or later?’ I asked. ‘If I got back together with Nick?’

  ‘So you’re saying there’s a chance?’ said Helen, blue eyes bright and hopeful.

  ‘No, I was just speaking hypothetically,’ I said. ‘There isn’t a chance at all. I’m not throwing myself down that toilet again.’

  Helen’s eyes turned sad. ‘I thought we were friends, once upon a time. The bridal dress fitting and all those chats at the old apartment. Can’t you give Nick another chance, for my sake? He’s grown up a lot.’

  It felt rude to say that I never liked Helen and only ever put up with her for Nick.

  ‘How many times do I have to say it, Helen?’ I said. ‘Nick and I are never getting back together.’

  ‘Can’t you see we’re on the same side?’ Helen insisted. ‘Sadie is appalling. The way she talks to Nicholas … even Henry can’t stand her. Nick tells me he doesn’t see a future.’

  Helen looked at me expectantly.

  ‘Bloody hell, Helen,’ I said. ‘You’re just not listening. Nick’s made his bed. And now we’ve all got to lie in it.’

  Helen left then, looking upset. I think she really believed she could convince me to get back with her cheating, irresponsible son.

  She’s as delusional as Nick is.

  Saturday 19th May

  Bullied Althea into dress shopping for Laura’s wedding.

  I needed a friend to give me the brutal, honest truth and Althea is that friend. Plus, she’s surprisingly knowledgeable about designer shops.

  To the undiscerning eye, Althea looks like a charity shop hippy, but most of her clothes are very expensive. She just has a knack for picking things that look second-hand – in part due to alterations with cheese graters and glue guns.

  Althea didn’t want to come shopping at first. She had a detox hangover, having eaten nothing but organic fruit and vegetables for two days. However, I suggested a cream-topped Starbucks drink with mashed up chocolate cookies as a post-shopping treat, and she changed her mind.

  Found a nice dress in the end – this lemon chiffon thing. At least, I think it’s nice.

  Could have done with Althea’s opinion in the dressing room, but she was busy with Wolfgang.

  He’d gnawed a hole in a mannequin’s leg.

  Sunday 20th May

  REALLY need to crack potty training now.

  So sick of changing Daisy’s nappy.

  Attempted the Gina Ford method.

  Made Daisy sit on the potty for ten minutes at a time, four times an hour.

  Didn’t want to hold Daisy down by the shoulders, so just ended up chasing her around holding the potty under her naked bottom.

  Daisy mana
ged a little bit of wee in the potty, and I make a big fuss about it – giving her cuddles and high fives, offering her a princess sticker and a handful of smarties. But just like before, every other wee went on the floor.

  I suppose we’re sort of making progress.

  There was no poo this time.

  Monday 21st May

  Am having a few housemate issues with John Boy.

  First on the agenda is sugar. We’re always running out.

  John Boy has six spoons in his tea, four on his Frosties cereal and eats a spoonful if he’s ever feeling ‘under the weather.’

  PlayStation cables are constantly strewn across the living room floor and the recycling people won’t take all our waste now because there are so many Stella Artois cans.

  John Boy also comes home drunk several nights a week and writes philosophical thoughts such as, ‘Kids are the sunshine of life’ and ‘Life is short, so you may as well have a drink’ on the wipe-clean kitchen cupboards in felt-tip pen.

  Tuesday 22nd May

  Getting a bit worried about Daisy’s aggression. She’s losing her temper at the tiniest, most ridiculous things.

  This morning, Daisy flew into a rage because she couldn’t get her scrambled egg on the fork. She was so furious I thought she might burst a vein.

  Mum says it’s normal for two-year olds to have a temper. She reminded me about my second birthday party, and the older boy I beat up for snatching my cheese and pineapple cocktail stick. It took two adults to restrain me, but Mum wasn’t one of them.

  ‘I was dead proud of you for beating up an older boy,’ said Mum, ‘and also for seeing the value of a cheese and pineapple cocktail stick.’

  Wednesday 23rd May

  Nick’s birthday today.

  Did a Facetime call so Daisy could sing Happy Birthday. Nick looked hungover, with bleary eyes and a scruffy beard. For all his talk of responsibility, Nick seems to be sliding back to his old self these days. I suppose he must be under a lot of stress, living with Sadie. But you would have thought, as a father of two children, he’d find a better way of dealing with things by now.