by Poppy Dolan
Esme is still sobbing but manages to croak a little sorry. Olive barks hers to prove she really doesn’t mean it. Fair enough. I was asleep on the job.
As I’m double-wiping around my nose and lips, eyebrows and chin line, I make my own apologies to Will. ‘I’m so sorry, mate. I honestly didn’t feel myself going. I suppose I knew we were in this enclosed space, maybe that’s why I felt so relaxed… but that doesn’t excuse it – I should have had my eyes open and on them at all times. You would think I’d learned my lesson after The Event—’
‘Hey, hey,’ Nelle cuts in, ‘that’s all in the past and Will gets it, don’t you?’ He nods. ‘It’s not something you did on purpose. So, how much real sleep did you get last night?’ She picks up a wipe and dabs at a spot I’ve missed on my forehead.
‘Two stretches of three-ish hours. So that’s pretty much six, which is what most people get, isn’t it?’
‘But in one go, not broken,’ Will disagrees.
Nelle clambers down to sit next to me, Joe’s head bobbing in his trusty sling. ‘Was Cherry up all that much? She looks peachy this morning, the ragamuffin.’
‘No, she was pretty good. I just needed to write in between. And I had a few extra ParentFest ideas for you. What do you think about classic, vintage-style carnival games? Those really classy ones, rather than the big, flashing, whirly-gig rides that blast out music? Something where you can shoot an air rifle, but instead of winning cuddly toys you get a free coffee voucher?’
‘No. I mean, yes, I do like that idea, but, Stevie, you have got to stop spreading yourself so thin. Surely Ted has noticed by now that you’re burning the candle at both ends?’
All I can muster in reply is a guffaw.
‘Well, you’re banned from coming to the keepsake event this weekend. You need to stay at home and blummin’ well relax.’ She nods her head with a very Don’t Mess With Me mum-look of decision.
‘Nooooo! I’m really looking forward to that, and not just for the carrot cake again. I want to help out. Please?’
‘Nope.’ Nelle picks at some grass. ‘Stay at home, give Ted his Father’s Day card, let him watch a whole rugby match on the telly, then cash in some favours for a break for yourself. You’re going to end up ill. And I won’t have it.’
‘Oh. Yes. Father’s Day is this Sunday, isn’t it?’ My voice is flat.
‘Still plenty of time to get a card, and some socks,’ Will says.
I pile the used wet wipes up unnecessarily tidily. ‘Um, it’s not that. He’s away. Again. For ten days. Actually.’
‘Again? So soon!’ Will splutters. ‘And over Father’s Day?! Well, that is’ – Nelle shoots him a stern look – ‘that’s unfortunate. For you. And him. Where is he this time?’
‘Hong Kong again. They’ve offered him’ – I fill my lungs with a steadying breath – ‘a job there. He wants us to move. I do not.’
‘Fu-fuddlysticks.’ Nelle catches herself in time.
‘Exactly. We fell out in a big way, and he went off to look at dream homes there, for his dream life and dream job. Uprooting Cherry and me doesn’t seem to bother him.’
Will whistles softly. ‘Christ.’
‘We can’t talk about this properly without more food and drink.’ Nelle carefully stands up. ‘I’ll be back.’
After two varieties of chorizo sausages in buns, some slurpy pho and a huge paper cone of churros, we have a plan between us. A Modern Parenting Family Plan. This is why I have fallen for these guys so hard and so fast. They’re not going to let me wallow; they’re going to help me achieve!
Will can have Cherry for a morning while Ted’s away, only if I promise to sleep as much as possible the night before. Then I can write like the wind. Nelle can meet me at the library or baby sensory class, where I can drop Chezza with her and grab another very useful hour’s working.
‘But I’m warning you.’ She prods my wrist with her churro, which is still actually pretty hot and singes my arm hair a bit. ‘I will randomly WhatsApp you at silly hours and, if you read it, if it goes all blue ticky, but you don’t have a child attached to your boobs, I will be very, very cross.’
‘Yes, miss.’ I dip my head in deference. ‘But I’m allowed to come to the keepsake day?’
Permission is granted, so at least I’ll have something crafty and distracting this weekend to keep my mind off the long hours that stretch ahead, partnerless.
‘I’ve thought of a new activity for the keepsake day, actually,’ Will chimes in from his laid-back pose on the blanket, looking as comfortable as any person could with two toddlers sitting on his stomach. ‘Edible homemade face masks. We could get some salsa, some sour cream and onion dip. Mix it up a bit. On Stevie’s face, of course.’
‘Ha ha,’ I deadpan.
‘You’d better write a blog post about that, by the way.’ He ruffles the girls’ hair simultaneously as he talks. ‘I want that moment immortalised for ever. And it would maybe lift the spirits a bit after your last post.’
I feel a prickle of worry work its way up the back of my neck. ‘That one was a bit heavy, wasn’t it?’
He shrugs. ‘But after what you’ve told us about Ted, it makes a lot of sense. And you should always say what’s on your mind: the honesty is what people respond to. You can’t be all “jolly, jolly, my kid puked on me today”. That’s not real life. And don’t you dare become one of those perfect Insta mums. We don’t need another one of those.’
I bite my lip. ‘I haven’t actually checked what the response has been like. Once I’d blurted it all out, I didn’t want to look at my phone in case Ted had sent through his new salary details or something and I’d be forced to agree.’
‘It had a lot of comments yesterday,’ he tells me. ‘A lot of debate.’
‘Christ. Is that polite-speak for “trolls sharpening their pitchforks”?’
‘No. Genuine debate. Have a read tonight. People have got a lot of thoughts, some agreeing, some disagreeing.’
So once Cherry is in bed, later in the day, I do just that. I charge up my iPad and make a giant cup of tea. Time to engage with the followers, as those YouTube tutorials tell me. Or time to face the music, as my reliable old gran would probably have put it.
There is a real mix of comments. Some positively ‘For’ choosing your own family, and moving on from unsatisfactory relationships:
@ditzygirl78
Best thing I ever did, walking away from my first husband. He might have given me two gorgeous kids, but he took all my self-esteem as payment. Now I’m with someone who gets the real me and doesn’t need to chip away at that.
@Harryfan4Eva
All you need is you, your babies and the occasional Wispa. Sod anyone who doesn’t support you 200%.
@BrixtonLady
I’m all for the Urban Family – my little boy is looked after by his aunts, his grown-up nieces and nephews and a great nursery (his dad isn’t on the scene, I don’t see my parents). You could not meet a happier little guy! I don’t buy into this idea that you have to have two parents. Just lots of love, from whatever source it comes from.
Some: not so much.
@HannahandDave
If you’ve had a kid with someone, you’ve made a lifelong commitment. You can’t just change your mind because you had a bad day.
@Winewinetime
You owe it to your children to keep as much of your real family around you and them. My mum left my dad and wouldn’t let us speak to his family afterwards. It’s led to a lot of sadness in my life.
@82Maddie
How does your other half feel about you splashing your probs all over Facebook?!?!
And some just being a bit lovely and concerned for me:
@WingingItSoftly
First-Time Mum, what’s up? This is not like you.
@CarrieSparks
What has First-Time Dad DONE? Do we need to come and smother him with a used nappy for you?!
In those hungover early hours when I wrote the post, I didn’
t think it would read so much like a divorce SOS – as everyone seems to be seeing it. I started off wanting to champion my amazing mates, but I ended up pushing Ted off a ledge. And he deserved it, just then. But I don’t want to leave leave him. I just don’t want to follow him at the moment. Is that the same thing?
Regret nibbles away at my heart. I should revise the post, tone down the anti-OH stuff which is now glaringly obvious, or just take it down altogether. Ted may not be completely innocent, but he’s still my partner and Cherry’s dad – he deserves a certain smidge of my loyalty, and not to be put to public execution like this. But then again it’s had SUCH a big reaction. People are sharing so many of their important stories. To delete it and all their comments would feel like telling someone to just shut up in the middle of a deep-and-meaningful conversation between two best friends. And seeing it make such a splash is really good for my book proposal, selfishly: this way Francesca can see not just how many are connecting to my posts, but that I can tackle some heavier stuff, too.
My finger hovers over ‘Edit’.
But I don’t do it. Instead, I open up my working document and dive back into my ‘Mum Mates Will Save Your Life’ chapter:
Tips for finding some really cast-iron, honest-to-goodness mum mates who will never judge you for coming out with wet hair:
1) The first time you go to a toddler group, you probably won’t come away with five phone numbers. This ain’t an under-18s disco, Carol. You’ve got to go and loiter a few times, looking around the room cheerfully, sending out ‘I’m here’ signals. Yes, it’s terrifying and awkward and you feel like no one will ever ask you to dance to ‘Mambo No.5’ at this rate, but eventually the magic will happen. You have to show up to be lucky, folks.
2) Weakness is good. You know when you manage to drop your precious bottle of expressed milk in the cereal aisle at Tesco and you just want to cry? Cry. It will let someone know you’re in need of a chat. And when you see someone in a moment of weakness – having their own tears over spilled boob milk or otherwise – don’t be scared of the emotion or feel British about stepping in. Try. These are the moments you need an ally. These are the moments you can show yourself to be a great mate.
3) Let it all hang out. If you tidy your house for two hours before a prospective friend comes round for a play date, what kind of message are you sending? That you are perfect, that you have everything under control, and that your potential mum mate can’t possibly admit to her own disasters in front of you for fear of looking like a total imbecile. Yes, she might be saved from impaling herself on an abandoned plastic fork or Barbie shoes when she sits on an untidy sofa, but she might be left feeling too uptight to really talk to you honestly. Mess is human.
4) Men are parents, too. A bloke making conversation over his kids’ heads at the soft play is not necessarily trying to crack on to you, you know. You won’t be breaking any marriage/commitment vows yourself by passing the time moaning about the price of a cheese toastie with him. Don’t overlook the dads – they have had just the same disgusting, lovely, memorable experiences in parenting, so there’s plenty of shared ground to cover.
5) Soul mates not necessary. Yes, we all want to find someone that just gets us instantly, knowing all the same Dirty Dancing quotes and preferring milk in their Earl Grey, but don’t give up on a new mum mate if they aren’t a 100 per cent compatibility match. It’s always good for the soul to have a variety of people in your social world: those that get you, but also those that challenge you just a touch. Obviously if this person you meet is so your polar opposite that you feel unhappy hanging out with them, it’s time to move on. But if they just don’t know Dirty Dancing all that well, see it as an opportunity for an afternoon’s DVD watching, with watermelon slices for good measure.
I slump back against the sofa cushions, giving my fingers a flex and a rest. Even when Cherry is asleep, I can’t help but write in a speedy panic, as if a runaway train is about to smash into my iPad and drive a hole through all my hard-earned words. Time can be both so long and so short when you have a baby: the hours between 2am and 5am can seem like a full school term if you’re pacing about with a sleepless bub. But then your ‘break time’ after 7pm and before the 10pm feed disappears as fast as canteen chips before you know it. I need to crack on while the going’s good. Except my stomach is growling.
I suppose I should make myself a dinner that does not consist of McVitie’s finest. I’ll push myself. I’ll heat up something Heinz instead. Without Ted here, there’s no point going to the trouble of a stir fry or anything complicated. And I bet he’s getting amazing Asian food right now. Dumplings. Aromatic duck. Singapore noodles. I wonder what he’s eating. I wonder who he’s with. The chair opposite mine at the dining table looks so empty.
Just as I’m googling ‘Time difference with Hong Kong’, a new email alert pings in on my Stevie account, not my blog one. Maybe I can distract myself with a good trawl through the White Stuff sale, then. I have done a bit of work already, after all. I’m positively Karen Brady.
From: [email protected]
Subject: FWD: Yay HK stuff!
Dear Stevie,
I’m sorry we didn’t have time to talk before you left. Won’t get into that all now, we should talk in person when I’m back. But I thought maybe some more info about life out here might help in the meantime? I’m having a great time with the team, solid bunch.
Maddie will be a direct report of mine out here and she’s been so helpful – see below.
How’s my girl?
Ted
I have to admit my heart leapt at the sight of his name at the top of my inbox, but the email was less Officer and a Gentleman finale – some sort of gallant and noble gesture of total love – and more Office Warehouse missive about discounts on staplers: trying to sell me something I really didn’t want in a pretty bland kind of way.
Maddie. Hmm. I scroll down to her original message to Ted.
Hey Ted!
So I’ve asked around the office (hope I’m not overstepping!!!) and got the name of some nanny agencies that seem really great and work a lot with expats: www.premiercare.hk, www.angelsinyourhome.hk, www.A1aupairs.hk.
This was the agency that found my apartment and they were really, really good: www.trebonds.hk.
Fingers crossed she says yes! I hope I can be the first one to have you guys round for dinner and cuddle that gorgeous Cherry in person. She is just really the cutest baby I have ever seen!!!
Mads xxx
‘Mads.’ Hmm. Things I don’t like about her email: that she is overstepping (trying too hard to ‘help’ someone through their relationship issue is usually a dead giveaway that you fancy them and just want a ringside seat for it all falling apart); that Ted has clearly told her I’m the one holding him back from his big Barbie Dream House future. I mean, yes, I am, but this makes me sound like some backwards-thinking bitch who doesn’t want to see her husband succeed. I want good things for Ted – he works hard, he deserves it. But I want my life, too. What I especially don’t like is that she has seen pictures of my baby and thinks she’s actually going to touch her one day. Uh, no. Not happening, ‘Mads’. With multiple kisses. Hmm.
Plus, she uses ‘really’ the most times I have ever seen a human use a word. And it is just really, really irritating. Really.
I can’t believe Ted actually thought this would help! Some website links that he hasn’t even found and tried out himself, just going on the word of some office flirt who probably wears gel nail polish. And the idea that I want Cherry looked after by a stranger in our home – where did that come from? Was it my storming out the other night that gave him the impression: ‘Hey, I think she’s on the ropes about this! The deal with my difficult wife is nearly sealed! Hong Kong, here we come…’
And what really stings is his sign off: ‘How’s my girl?’ Not ‘girls’, just ‘girl’. Obviously I love that he’s thinking about Cherry. But couldn’t he spare a thought for me, too? When my bra
in isn’t whirring with ideas for chapters and themes, Ted, Cherry and our future are the only things I can think of. Where will we go from here?
Chapter 15
Darl,
I am just so in love with coconut oil. Have you tried it? I’m putting it on my shins, in my hair, frying my omelettes with it. It’s so fabulous. Do you have it in the UK? I’ll send you some.
Your father came by the store last week. He said that a shooting star over the Rockies reminded him of you. That’s sweet. He said it represents great change and big movements. I said, I hope that’s not in Cherry’s nappy!!!! But he didn’t get it. Sometimes divorce truly is for the best.
I’m thinking of replacing my futon. What’s new with you?
Love,
Mum x
What’s new with me? Well, not all that much I could actually tell you… I switch from Mum’s email to the Daily Britain website.
Scrolling through the ‘Showbiz’ column is a dirty habit I’ve long been meaning to expunge from myself. But today I cannot tear my eyes from the website, not for all the distasteful articles about Millie Bobby Brown ‘blossoming’ or Jennifer Lawrence ‘flaunting’ her size 10 ‘curves’. Because I’m in it. Rather, First-Time Mum is.
Thankfully it’s not an upskirt shot, but it’s an article all about my last post and the raging debate that’s crazily sprung up around it. ‘Slummy Mummy Blogger says: Mums are better off as single parents!’ the headline shouts. Well, no, I didn’t say that. I would never say that. I just had a low point in my life and wanted to talk to my followers about it. It wasn’t a judgement on all dads; it was a tiny snapshot of my relationship right there and then. The Facebook comments have spiralled out of control for the last three days. Once I posted the blog and after reading some pretty nasty comments that called me an ungrateful, fat cow, I decided to step back and let it die away. Except it hasn’t.