“Oh. Right. What’s up?” said Mark.
“Any chance you’d do the bandage change on Elite Dancer – you know how he tosses me around the stable?”
Oh please. I tried to restrain myself from rolling my eyes – ‘Poor little old me, could big strong Marky Warky protect me from that mean old horse?’
“Well,” Mark looked at me and hesitated, “I was going to drop Holly and the kids back home.”
“Oh no, we’re fine,” I answered quickly. “We’ll walk. In fact, I’d love to walk. Honestly, you go do whatever it is you have to do and don’t worry about us.”
“Really? It’s quite a way . . . you’d better wait for me.”
The backs of my heels screamed in agreement but I was cross now and wouldn’t hear of waiting for a lift. I rushed around, gathering together the children, and before they knew what was happening we were trying to push the buggy through the deep-gravelled driveway again.
“But I wanted to stay,” whined Jamie.
“Yes, but Daddy’s busy and, anyway, I’ve got a surprise,” I said, racking my brains valiantly for an idea for a surprise.
“What surprise?” Jamie asked huffily.
Then it came to me. “Who’d like to go for a bun?” I asked with exaggerated excitement.
It worked. They whooped with excitement, and even Jamie announced that this just might be “the best day ever”.
Twenty minutes later we were safely ensconced in Myrtle’s Coffee Shop, a treasure trove of a place on one of the back streets. It reminded me slightly of the Magnolia Bakery that myself and Monica used to go to on nearby Bleecker Street before the cupcake craze had swept through New York City, resulting in queues down the block. I wondered how long it would take before one of the Mother andToddler Mafia walked in and caught me feeding my charges giant e-number-laden buns. Well, stuff them, I thought as I picked up my equallygiant latte – everyone deserved a treat every now and then.
“This is delicious,” Jamie said, his mouth full of bun.
“Lishish,” said Amber, not to be outdone.
“Say dee – lish – us, Amber,” I coached. I had decided from observing other children at the school gate that Amber’s speech was quite poor for her age. Perfectly natural given the turbulent nature of the last year but, still, I was determined to bring it on.
“Dee – lish – iz,” mimicked Amber happily.
I smiled, looking at the two contented children sitting in front of me. Every now and again, I’d have a moment like this and think: Another thing you thought you couldn’t do!
“So are you glad you’re back playing football then?” I asked Jamie as he took a huge sip from his carton of orange juice.
He nodded. “’Cept I wish I could go every week,” he said.
“Of course you can go every week. Why couldn’t you?”
“What if you can’t bring me?”
“Well, if I can’t bring you, your dad will.”
“Oh.” This seemed to come as a surprise to him. “Will you tell him to bring me when you’re sick?”
I laughed. “I won’t be sick. Why would I be sick?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged. “Mummy couldn’t bring me when she was sick. And then I missed it and Eamon Murphy used to get to be the striker.”
“Now, Jamie,” I smiled at his solemn little face, “I’m sure your mummy wasn’t sick that often.”
He nodded, his little eyes like saucers. “She was, you know. She was sick a lot. And she’d stay in bed and I’d have to mind her and Amber and miss football.”
I ruffled his hair affectionately. “I’d say your mammy just wanted a lie-in. And, while I can’t say I blame her, I promise I won’t be sick and, if I am, I’ll make sure Daddy takes you. Deal?”
“Deal.” He smiled.
“Dee!” said Amber.
I started to clean up the debris around us.
“Five more minutes now, guys, then we’ve got to hit the road. Daddy said he might try and get home early and imagine if he got home and we weren’t there.”
Jamie giggled. “Daddy might go mad!”
“It’s a definite possibility,” I said wryly,“and we don’t want that, do we?”
“Excuse me,” said a voice from the table behind me.
I turned around to see another woman sitting there, a small child in a buggy beside her.
“You must be the American lady minding the Fielding children.”
Gosh, word travelled fast around here.
“Eh yes, I suppose I am,” I said, “though I’m, well, I’m actually not American although I did live in New York for quite a while.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon!” The lady looked embarrassed. “It’s just when they said you were a nanny from New York, I assumed –”
“Oh it’s not a problem!” I smiled. “Happens all the time!” I held out my hand, “Holly Green.”
“Well, I’mNoreen – Noreen Costello.”
“Nice to meet you, Noreen.”
The woman blushed again and looked around as if to make sure no one was listening.
I waited. Clearly she wasn’t finished with me.
“The thing is,” she whispered, leaning in towards me, “well, he’s nearly three . . .”
I looked at the child asleep in the pushchair and nodded, wondering where this was going.
“Yes?”
“And Ellen Higgins said that you’d know.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Well, it’s just that this is our seventh day, you know?”
“Know?” I whispered back, afraid to raise my voice. “Know what exactly, Noreen?”
“He just won’t do it. I mean this is the seventh day and he’s just refusing. Wants nothing to do with it. I’ve tried Superman underpants and no luck. Soaked.”
Oh Sweet Jesus, what could she be on about?
“How, Noreen?”
“How?”
“How did he get soaked?”
“Well, from the wee, of course! I mean I tried to get him to go on the potty, but he won’t! Not even a teaspoonful. And then the little fecker stands up in front of me and just does it! On the kitchen floor! All over his socks!”
The penny dropped. “Oh – you’re trying to toilet-train him!”
“Well, yes, I mean he’s almost three! And I’ve tried everything –stickers, star charts – everything!”
I looked at the poor child sleeping in the buggy.
An underachiever and not even three years of age!
“Well, maybe he’s just not ready,” I said quietly, more to myself than to the anxious woman sitting in front of me.
“Not ready?” Noreen Costello looked at me. “My sister’s fella is a month younger and he’s doing poos and all!”
“Be that as it may, Noreen,” I said, a slight defensive tone in my voice, “all children are different. He’ll do it in his own good time and the worst thing you could do is put him under pressure.”
“I never thought of that.” Noreen Costello’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Maybe I should just leave him for a while.”
“Well, what’s the rush?” I asked.
“There’s none really. I just thought as Sally’s young lad seemed to be –”
I held up my hand. “Stop, Noreen! You’ll get nowhere by comparing them!”
Except a lifetime of insecurity for him.
“You’re right!” she said happily. “Anyway, I suppose they are all different. I mean he has way more words than Sally’s young lad.”
She seemed delighted with this thought and I smiled.
“I’m sure he does, now go home and stick a nappy on him and get yourself a takeaway and a bottle of wine!”
She grasped my arm and shook it.
“You know, I think I will. Ellen was right. You’re a real expert!”
She started to pack up her stuff, still beaming from ear to ear . . . then suddenly turned towards me again.
“Now that I have you . . .”
Shit.
>
“Well, it’s about his naps. How many should he be having?”
Double shit.
“Ehm.” I looked at the sleeping child, “What age is he again?”
“Well, he’ll be three in two weeks.”
“Mmm.” I had no idea what answer to give her. I racked my brains to try to think of something to say. “You know, Noreen, I’d like you to leave that with me. I mean, I could give you an answer but the guidance on these things changes all the time.”
“Oh, don’t talk to me!” The disappointment was obvious in her tone. “They tell you to let them sleep on their front, then they tell you no, that’ll kill them, so you put them on their side and sure then –”
I had to stop her. This could go on all day.
“Well now, luckily enough, Noreen, I was at a conference of the Sleeping Association of America just before I came over here and I’m nearly certain I have the notes back at the house somewhere. Let me look them up for you.”
What? Of all the lamest . . .
“Would you?” Her eyes were wide with awe. “I would be so grateful!”
“No problem at all, Noreen!” I couldn’t believe my stalling had worked. “Write down your number and I’ll give you a shout when I dig them out. In fact, I’ll go home straight away and look for them!”
I got up hastily, put Amber back in her buggy and bundled Jamie into his coat. The last thing I wanted was for her to think up some other kiddie-conundrum for me.
I wasn’t sure I could wing any more questions.
The Sleeping Association of America.
Like really.
Chapter 28
I was still chuckling at my hard-neck response to Noreen Costello when we got back to the house. How had I gone from a hotel bed with Oliver to doling out parenting advice to an anxious mother in just twelve hours?
“Right! Jamie, up to the bath – Amber you too – come on. Let’s all be nice and clean for when Daddy gets home.”
The two children scampered up the stairs ahead of me. I knew it was only lunchtime, but I needed to get to my books to see if I could come up with some answers for Noreen Costello. Within minutes they were in the bath and I was sitting beside them on the bathroom floor, books spread out around me.
“Is that your homework, Holly?” Jamie asked.
“It kind of is, Jamie.”
All those years of studying financial methods and theories and here I was, cross-legged on the bathroom floor with the Toddler Whisperer.
Nice work, Holly.
“Homework?”
I jumped as I heard a voice behind me.
“Daddy!” screamed the children.
Feck. I’d been caught.
“Eh, yes,” I stuttered, my cheeks flaming. “For my CPD, you know, Continuing Professional –”
“Development,” Mark finished, towering over me like a virtual giant from my lowly position on the bathroom floor. “I didn’t realise you had to do that.”
“Well, you don’thave to,” I said, scrambling to my feet, wondering how many more lies I was going to have to tell just to get through the day, “but I like to, to keep abreast of changes and, well, stuff.”
“Ah, stuff, of course, very important. I agree.”
Damn it, he was laughing at me again.
I hastily bundled the books into the corner.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he said. “In fact, why don’t I take over here and you go study for a while – you’ve had them all morning.”
I looked at him, not sure if he was still teasing me – after all, I had them all day everyday but that was what he was paying me for.
“I’m serious,” he smiled, “I can handle bathing them. Probably.” To be fair, he looked slightly wary of Amber who was at this stage firing all of Jamie’s toy boats out over the edge of the bath. “And anyway, you never know, I might get called out again later and this way I won’t feel too bad.”
This Mark-with-a-conscience was a whole new concept for me but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Oh. Well, okay then, I’ll go upstairs to my room for a while if you don’t mind.” I grabbed my books and then remembered. “Oh, I met Mrs Murphy earlier, at football.”
“Did you now. Full of chat, was she?” He turned and started to pick up the boats.
Instantly, I knew from his tone that I shouldn’t have mentioned it.
“Well, no, not really,” I said, my cheeks flushing at yet another lie. “She was asking for you, that’s all.”
“I’d say she was, alright.” He threw the boats back in the bath.
“She was, seriously.”
This time he said nothing so I just turned and, after warning the children to behave, went upstairs.
I had no interest in whatever might be up with him. After all, I had bigger issues. Somewhere out there was a mother expecting me to phone her back with the findings of the latest study by the Sleep Association of America on the Napping Patterns of the Three-Year-Old.
Once up in my tiny loft I flopped on the bed and looked at the books beside me. Really I had neither the time nor the energy to leaf through them page by page. I sighed wearily, then spotted my laptop lying on the bed.
Oh my God, how had it not occurred to me before now – surely the internet could help?
I typed “naps three year old” into Google and hit search.
Whoosh! And there it all was.
My son won’t nap – HELP . . .
Refusing to nap – why it happens & what to do . . .
All about sleep – who needs it and when . . .
Do three-year-olds need a nap?
How long should a three-year-old nap . . .
The list went on and on and on . . . I couldn’t believe my eyes. All postings from what appeared to be different forums and websites such as practicalparenting.com, successfulparent.com and even ultimateparenting.com.
Three clicks and I had all the information I needed. It was so easy that I couldn’t figure out how it hadn’t occurred to Noreen Costello to do the same. But then it hadn’t occurred to me either and I used to live with my laptop practically attached to me. Back in the good old days, before this godforsaken village made me feel like I was living in a time warp. I mean, how much trouble would I have saved myself if I had thought of the internet? There was a wealth of information out there for the asking. I suppose I had never connected the internet with such mundane things – high finance, yes – toddlers’ naps, no.
I jotted down a few answers and then, out of curiosity, typed “parenting websites” into Google.
Again, another list that seemed to go on and on forever.
My eye was drawn to the first on the list though, partly because it wasn’t called giftedkidsareus.com, but mostly because it was Irish.
Ireland’s Number One site for pregnancy, parenting and everything in between. The babyline is on call twenty-four hours a day, because you are!
Now this sounded like a resource I could use.
I double-clicked on its name.
Up came a bright screen divided roughly in four. One square had a picture of a beautiful blonde girl, caressing a giant bump, and was titled ‘Mums-to-be’. To the left of it was another square with a cute baby wrapped in soft blue blanket with the title ‘Babies, Toddlers & Beyond’. Below this was another, showing two women, presumably mothers, having coffee, titled ‘Discussions’ and then the final square was aptly called ‘Everything Else!’.
I decided to take the discussions option. Clicking on the square brought me into a screen showing a long list of topics to choose from. These seemed to range alphabetically from Adoption to Weight Loss, including all sorts of topics like Finance, Recipes and What’s On. I came back out and clicked on the ‘Mums-to-be’ square. This time a new window opened up but instead of a list of topics, you had to choose how pregnant you were by selecting the month you were due.
Out of curiosity I randomly picked January. When I spotted the first topic entitle
d ‘Anyone else with piles?’ I exited rapidly to the home screen.
So next was ‘Babies, Toddlers & Beyond’.
You had to choose exactly how new your baby was: new-born, toddler, preschool or school-going. I selected toddler.
What came up then was literally a list of every question I’d asked myself over the last week.
Constant whinging and seeking attention
18-month-old won’t sleep
Recipes for fussy eaters – please!
Which car-seat for 2-year-old?
Help! My three-year-old is violent
The list went on and on and on.
I scrolled down to find a topic that interested me. Aha! Activities for 2.5-year-old. Pity I hadn’t seen that the other day before my trip to Johnson’s.
It appeared to have been posted by someone with the username Babylicious. I wondered if the username referred to her child or herself, or rather some image she’d had of herself prior to Baby’s arrival.
Anyhow, Babylicious had posted the following request:
Wondering if u could suggest some activities for 2.5-year-old which we can do indoors or else in garden. Due new baby in a week and want to be organised to be able to give her time too. We normally do painting, tea parties, drawing, jigsaws . . .Anything else? Tks B
Fair request, I thought, scrolling down to the replies with interest.
The first was innocuous enough.
Hi Babylicious
Huge congrats in advance on the new arrival.
Wow, you are so organised, sorting all this out well in time. The activities my dd loves are painting, making towers with blocks and of course Play-Doh. Don’t put yourself under too much pressure though, remember a bit of communal TV-watching can sometimes be a great thing.
Hth
Star7
Okay, so I’d no idea what a ‘dd’ or a ‘hth’ was but apart from that it was a nice friendly answer.
Onto the next one.
Hi Babylicious
The last thing you should do is plonk your dd in front of the TV. She’ll feel lonely and left out and it will lead to all sorts of problems down the road.
Whoa! Don’t hold back, tell us what you really think!
Between You and Me Page 19