Confessions of a Demented Housewife

by Niamh Greene

  10 December

  Louise called to ask me for brunch. Was delighted – she was obviously going to rustle up something gorgeous to thank me for the Christmas shopping.

  ‘So you can come round tomorrow at ten-ish, then?’ she asked.

  ‘Great,’ I said. ‘Would you like me to bring anything?’

  ‘Bring anything? No, just yourself,’ she replied, sounding confused.

  Am so looking forward to having a scrumptious plateful handed to me – feel I may be lacking in essential minerals and vitamins and a gourmet meal could be just the remedy.

  PS Found myself watching the TV7 tape about Dargan’s dramatic car-park delivery again tonight. I really do look good on screen. Maybe Angelica’s right and I do have star quality.

  11 December

  Arrived at Louise’s to discover she had not rustled up Eggs Benedict and freshly squeezed orange juice. She had, in fact, made an appointment with the hairdresser and intended to leave me in sole charge of Dargan while she hotfooted it to the salon for a full head of highlights, lowlights and a deep-conditioning treatment.

  ‘Thanks, Susie. The time has come for me to get my act together. I’ve moped about for long enough and I really need to get my roots done,’ she said, as she pulled a sheepskin coat over her shoulders and checked her reflection in the hall mirror. ‘I don’t want to be one of those mothers who let themselves go and slob around in their tracksuits all day. Do you know what I mean?’

  She stared at me intensely, obviously waiting for me to say something in response.

  ‘Well, it’s OK to wear tracksuits sometimes,’ I mumbled, thankful my handy fleece was preventing her from seeing the mismatch of old sweatpants and bobbled jumper I had on underneath. ‘Looking after a baby isn’t all glamour. You have to be practical as well.’

  ‘Ah, yes, it may be OK for you,’ she said sympathetically, ‘but I firmly believe that you can take pride in your appearance and still be a good mother – the two don’t have to be mutually exclusive. And who knows? I may get back into the dating game as well – what man will look at a woman with a saggy jelly belly and grey roots?’

  She handed Dargan to me and gave herself one last glance in the mirror.

  ‘I’ve left detailed lists of instructions on the fridge,’ she called, slamming the door behind her and disappearing up the front path before I could say breast milk.

  Decided not to be annoyed with Louise. She is obviously still in the first deluded stage of motherhood, when you actually think you will get back to normal some day. Also, her hair did need doing. Which is precisely the trouble with having high-maintenance hair. It needs looking after.

  It was quite nice to spend some nice quality time with Dargan, though – it almost gave me a broody pang. Except it was a little disconcerting when he kept burrowing into my chest area looking for milk. Was just settling him for his nap when Louise burst through the door, hair dripping.

  ‘What happened?’ I gasped.

  ‘Nothing,’ she cried, snatching Dargan from me. ‘I just missed him soooo much I couldn’t stand it.’

  I smiled at her and switched on the kettle. She’s also at that stage when you can’t bear to be parted from your child – a fuzzy feeling I can just about remember.

  12 December

  Met Angelica at the school carol service. ‘Did you get those house keys for me, Susie?’ she whispered, as the kids warbled their way through ‘Little Donkey’ completely off-key.

  ‘Yes,’ I whispered back, passing them to her with written directions to get there. ‘It’s nothing fancy, though,’ I said. ‘I hope you won’t be disappointed.’ I was terrified she’d be repulsed by the modest house, even if the pared-back look was in.

  ‘Don’t worry, honey.’ She slipped the keys and the directions into her cashmere coat pocket. ‘This little getaway is exactly what the doctor ordered.’

  Then she joined in the singing lustily before I could ask her if she had been serious about my star quality and if she really could get me a high-profile TV job. (With maybe a PA, a personal trainer and a makeup artist on standby 24/7.)

  13 December

  Mrs H has bought the tickets! We’re going to see Westlife live in concert for Christmas!

  ‘I HATE Westlife,’ Katie moaned, after Mrs H announced the happy news when we dropped by. ‘They’re really old.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Katie.’ I rushed to cover her faux pas. ‘That’s very kind of you, Mrs H,’ I said, nudging Katie to say thank you. ‘We’d love to go.’

  ‘Yes, well, I thought I’d better organize some kind of entertainment,’ she said, obviously thrilled with herself. ‘Thanks for the tip, Susie dear.’

  ‘Not at all,’ I said, pretending to be embarrassed. ‘It was the least I could do.’

  ‘Yes, and I love that fellow with the sparkly eyes,’ she went on. ‘What’s his name? Oh, yes, Kian. He’s gorgeous and such a gentleman. I’ll bet he’d put up a few shelves for his mother if he was asked.’ She threw a dagger look in Joe’s direction while he hid behind the paper. ‘I just hope Max isn’t disappointed by my modest surroundings. He’s probably used to very starry affairs.’ She peered at the kitchen critically.

  In a rush of foolhardy sympathy, I suddenly found myself agreeing to bring her to Habitat to buy a few key accessories to brighten up the place for the holiday season.

  ‘Nothing too garish, mind,’ she said, ‘I know your taste can be a little eccentric, Susie dear. I’d favour more classic lines myself – muted, subdued shades. Taupe, maybe.’

  PS Hopefully Mrs H’s new muted, subdued self will refrain from buying me another hideous red dressing-gown for Christmas.

  14 December

  Called Angelica to see if she’d got into the country house all right.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ I asked, when she eventually answered her phone.

  ‘Everything’s just perfect, Susie, thanks, honey,’ she purred. ‘This place is soooo cute and the break is doing us both the world of good.’

  I could hear James giggling in the background.

  Am really pleased I have been instrumental in rejuvenating a celebrity marriage. If only I had been on hand to help Britney and Kevin things might have turned out very differently for them.

  PS Louise called. ‘Dargan just smiled at me!’ she half sobbed down the phone.

  ‘Really?’ I said, not wanting to burst her bubble and break it to her it was probably wind that was making him grimace.

  ‘Yes! Oh, Susie, it was so adorable. I feel like we really connected, you know? It’s as if all the sleepless nights are worth it now.’

  She rambled on for ages while I half listened. Highlights of I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here were on – Z-list celebs battling over a campfire is compulsive viewing.

  It’s nice that Louise has mellowed and is allowing herself to enjoy motherhood instead of worrying about her general appearance or her roots, though. This sort of stance has worked very well for me over the past five years.

  15 December

  Jack has a lead role in the playschool nativity production!

  ‘Your Jack is going to be such a cute shepherd,’ another mother said, as I tried to unhook Jack’s arms from their vice-like grip on my leg and propel him through the door this morning.

  ‘Sorry?’ I said, wondering what she was talking about.

  ‘He’s one of the shepherds in the play. Didn’t he tell you?’

  ‘Jack, is that right?’ I asked, incredulous that he hadn’t shared this nugget of information with me.

  ‘I hate shepherds!’ He gave the other mother an evil stare. ‘They’re for babies.’

  I quickly decided to downplay the subject before his rage escalated out of control, gave a weak smile and ran for the people-carrier, trying to conceal my distress that my only son was not confiding his innermost thoughts and secrets to me. God only knows what else is going on that I’m unaware of. Am going to tackle the Little Angels’ head teacher about her worrying lack of c
ommunication ASAP. This type of slip-up is simply unacceptable.

  PS Louise is becoming positively matronly.

  ‘Dargan gurgled at me this morning,’ she said, when she rang to ask if it was possible for such a young baby to lift his head off a pillow, or if she should contact The Guinness Book of Records. ‘I really think he’s very bright – don’t you, Susie?’

  Agreed with her just to get her off the phone. Thankfully I was never as boring about Katie and Jack.

  16 December

  Little Angels’ head teacher says she sent a note to all parents updating them about the nativity play. She also said that Jack is still being quite a disruptive force in the classroom. ‘I did try to speak to you about this earlier in the year, Mrs Hunt,’ she said coolly. ‘He’s still reluctant to participate in group activities, which is why we gave him the shepherd role – to encourage him.’

  ‘But you never told me he had a part,’ I stuttered, wondering what she meant by disruptive. ‘I didn’t even know you were having a nativity play this year.’

  The head teacher sighed loudly. ‘The note was distributed in October,’ she said. ‘We’ve been having dress rehearsals for some time now. Maybe you should consider becoming more involved in Jack’s learning here at Little Angels. It might help his socialization skills.’

  I slunk away, utterly humiliated.

  PS Have found half a dozen notes at the bottom of Jack’s Power Rangers backpack. They were hard to decipher, what with all the dried-in yoghurt and mushy banana. Am very ashamed.

  17 December: Joe’s birthday

  Had long one-to-one chat with Jack last night about his communication issues. Tried to make him see that holding back his emotions does not help matters. He must confide in me and share any concerns he may have. Think I may have got through to him, although he continued to play with his Hot Wheels toy car as I talked. He did glance in my direction every so often, though.

  Joe says I’m panicking about nothing.

  ‘Jack is just an active little boy,’ he said, when I confided that he might be heading for some sort of juvenile-delinquency centre if he doesn’t start to toe the line. ‘He has lots of personality and that’s what counts at the end of the day. Would you want him to be submissive and quiet all the time? That would be no use when he grows up and learns how unforgiving the world is and how you have to give up your dreams to fit in. The meaner and tougher he is the better.’

  ‘What do you mean, give up your dreams?’ I asked, a little concerned that he looked so forlorn.

  ‘When I was a boy I didn’t want to be a director, you know, Susie,’ he said, hanging his head. ‘I wanted to be something much more creative. But life gets in the way, doesn’t it?’

  ‘You know what?’ I said slowly. ‘We should probably talk about this in counselling. I mean, I didn’t want to be a housewife when I was a child, I wanted to be Wonder Woman. There’s probably loads of issues we need to explore.’

  ‘That’s a good idea.’ He smiled. ‘I’m so glad you’re taking the counselling seriously. It means a lot to me.’

  Felt a bit guilty when he said that but I’m secretly delighted that I can now introduce a new topic to the sessions – anything to divert attention from Lone Father and me. And who knows? I may even get some insight into how I ended up picking fluff off the hall, stairs and landing for a living instead of saving the day in a pointy bra and shiny pants.

  PS Think Joe was a little disappointed that I hadn’t organized a surprise birthday bash for him, but it’s probably better to ignore the whole day at his age. Have decided to dress up as Wonder Woman some night soon to make it up to him – just have to practise my twirling moves first.

  18 December

  Went to the third counselling session with Rita.

  ‘So, today we’re going to talk about your affair, Susie,’ she announced, before we had even sat down.

  ‘Eh?’ I said, horrified. ‘What about my childhood? I’ve loads of really damaging stuff to talk about. And Joe had a breakthrough last night. He feels he had to give up his childhood dream,’ I gabbled.

  ‘Yes, and we’ll get to that,’ she said gently. ‘But first I want to ask you why you felt the need to look outside your marriage for a relationship.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t exactly a relationship,’ I stuttered. I could feel Joe staring intensely at me. ‘He was just a friend, really.’

  ‘A platonic friend?’

  ‘Um, mostly.’ My face was starting to burn.

  ‘So, what do you think drove you to seek out his company?’ Rita was like a dog with a bone and she wasn’t letting go.

  ‘He paid me attention, I suppose,’ I said, looking at my feet. ‘Joe was busy with work. I was lonely.’

  ‘But you have lots of friends, Susie,’ Joe said. ‘How can you be lonely?’

  ‘Full-time motherhood is hard,’ I answered, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. ‘Sometimes I need more.’

  ‘Do you feel fulfilled by life, Susie?’ Rita asked.

  ‘Um, yes,’ I said, guessing that was what she wanted to hear.

  ‘Why don’t you think about it before you answer?’ She smiled kindly at me.

  ‘Well, I suppose I can get a bit bored and down at times.’ Tears pricked the back of my eyes. ‘Sometimes I think there’s got to be more to life – every day it’s the same endless round of thankless tasks.’

  I stopped, feeling a bit funny and out of breath.

  ‘I never knew you felt like that,’ Joe said softly.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I whispered. ‘I never knew I felt that way either until just now.’

  ‘And are you fulfilled, Joe?’ Rita asked.

  ‘Well, I do feel as if I’m searching for more. I had a near-death experience recently and it’s changed my perspective.’

  ‘So how can you both resolve these issues, do you think?’ Rita was chewing her pen thoughtfully.

  ‘Take a holiday to the Caribbean?’ I suggested, feeling a flicker of excitement. A week on a deserted beach was bound to do us the world of good.

  Rita smiled. ‘Yes, that would probably be nice. But what I’m getting at is that you have to find inner fulfilment to be happy with yourself and others. Why don’t you think about that over the Christmas break?’

  Didn’t like to tell her that we were going to be too busy concealing David’s true sexuality over the Christmas break to do anything else – thought it might have deflated her a bit.

  19 December

  Mrs H has gone into a Christmas frenzy. Spent more than an hour this morning trying to talk her out of a decision to buy a live turkey and wring its neck in the backyard to create the right seasonal atmosphere.

  ‘But Max is mad about all those organicals, or whatever they’re called,’ she said, looking worried. ‘David says he goes to a farmers’ market every weekend – although I can’t understand where all the farmers are in central London.’

  ‘It’s “organic”, Mrs H, and don’t worry – you can buy an organic turkey in the supermarket,’ I soothed. ‘You don’t have to slaughter one on the premises to get the same effect.’

  She didn’t look too convinced. ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I reassured her. ‘And we’ll buy nice organic vegetables as well. Everyone will be delighted.’

  Am quite annoyed that Christmas at Mrs H’s is starting to be such hard work – may as well have had it at home.

  20 December: Nativity Play

  Jack continued to express himself today by not participating in the nativity play in any way, shape or form. In fact, he ripped off the cute little tea-towel headscarf in the first five minutes, refused point-blank to say his lines and stomped off the stage at the first song.

  Am at my wit’s end. Despite what Joe says, if Jack doesn’t learn to be a team player how will he ever become an international sports legend? Also, I could see the other playschool mothers blatantly nudging and whispering to each other as Jack screamed blue murder off-stage. Wonder if V
era the dance teacher could take him in hand and groom him to be the next Justin Timberlake? Her knock-’em-down-to-build-’em-up policy could be just what he needs.

  Meanwhile, Mrs H announced that she needs a new outfit for Christmas Day and wants me to accompany her into town to choose something appropriate. Was quite flattered that she valued my good taste and eye for fashion, although I was also concerned that battling through the crowds in the week before Christmas wasn’t a good idea. I was still quite traumatized from completing Louise’s shopping.

  ‘Yes, I’ll need someone to help me with the bags, Susie dear,’ Mrs H said, dusting imaginary dandruff from my shoulders as she spoke, ‘especially if we’re going to Habitat as well. You have a nice strapping pair of arms so you’ll do nicely.’

  PS Have just realized that have not had an invitation to the Christmas drinks do from Evil Anna and my other former work colleagues. They have finally forgotten that I ever existed.

  21 December

  Next time I agree to accompany mother-in-law on a shopping trip I will remember the following.

  Do not offer an opinion on any outfits tried on. (NB Absolutely do not suggest that revealing too much cleavage is unsuitable for a woman of her years or that she suffers from VPL.)

  Ditto suitable colours or fabrics. (NB Never say that sequins can make a person look a bit bulky.)

  Ditto dress size. (NB Do not laugh out loud when mother-in-law insists she can squeeze into a size twelve, when she is patently a good size eighteen.)

  Do not laugh at enormous girdle worn by mother-in-law.

  Ditto bunions.

  Do not agree to barter with the shop assistant to get a better price for chosen outfit.

  Do not argue with mother-in-law when she insists on buying hideous retro velour cushions in Habitat.