Bad Mother's Holiday - Hilarious Summer Holiday Reading! Read online

  Nick refused to come round to mine and refused to ask Sadie to leave.

  So we really are at an empath. I mean an impasse.

  Saturday 14th April

  Althea is going to Legoland tomorrow and has offered me a free adult ticket worth £30, plus a ‘kids go free’ voucher.

  The adult ticket was originally for Wolfgang’s dad, but he backed out at the last minute when Althea refused to put reins on Wolfgang.

  I’ve accepted the free tickets, much to Daisy’s delight and excitement, and offered to drive us all down there tomorrow (Althea doesn’t want to ride her moped and sidecar on the M25).

  Have moved my pub shift around, so I can sleep over at Althea’s tonight in preparation for a 7am set off.

  Need to chivvy Althea in the getting ready stakes, because otherwise we’ll end up leaving at midday. It’s all very well believing time is a man-made construct, but Legoland has set closing hours and I intend to get maximum value from my free tickets.

  Got a few angry text messages from Nick this morning, but am ignoring them.

  Althea thinks there’ll be consequences.

  She’s probably right. Nick is a sneaky, vengeful sort. But what else can I do?

  Mum also thinks I’m doing the wrong thing. She says that Sadie’s shouting isn’t the end of the world, and I’ll turn Daisy into a wimp if I’m not careful.

  ‘Your dad and I argue every day,’ said Mum. ‘And you turned out just fine.’

  ‘I didn’t turn out just fine,’ I said. ‘I’m separated from the feckless father of my first child. I got pregnant by someone totally cold and aloof. Now aforementioned feckless dickhead is living with my horrible ex-best friend and creating a toxic environment for my child. I don’t see my life as ‘just fine’. I see it as ‘massive room for improvement’.

  Felt like a real failure then, and cried.

  Mum told me to go have a brandy.

  Didn’t have any brandy, so had a shot of John Boy’s Malibu (he’s made me swear not to tell anyone he drinks this).

  Mum was right.

  Alcohol did make me feel better.

  Sunday 15th April

  Legoland.

  Was aiming for a 7am set off, but realistically that was never going to happen.

  Wolfgang needed a cooked vegetarian breakfast (three eggs, five Linda McCartney vegetarian sausages, fried halloumi, mushrooms, tomatoes and a thick slice of fried rye bread) before we could leave, and Daisy had the usual meltdown about wearing clothes.

  The car journey wasn’t too bad – we only suffered minor damage to the car interior. But we didn’t get to Legoland until lunchtime.

  After eating our picnic, the kids fought over which rides to go on first.

  Wolfgang wanted something thrilling, and Daisy wanted something pink.

  Althea had to bellow ‘Oi!’ to bring the children to order. Then she told them she would make the decision.

  After ten minutes of turning the map around and around, Althea finally settled on the Duplo play area, because it had ‘awesome Lego sculptures’.

  We set off.

  Stupid to let Althea map read. I should know by now she takes a very creative approach to navigation.

  We ended up in the super-pink girly ‘Lego Friends’ zone and couldn’t find our way out.

  As we wandered around searching for the exit, a trio of dancing girls appeared, singing, ‘Best Friends Forever’ in fake American accents.

  Wolfgang liked the song and added his growly voice to the musical mix.

  However, Althea put her foot down, claiming if we didn’t escape she’d need a ‘shot of insulin’.

  Eventually, we found our way to the Duplo play area.

  As soon as we arrived, Daisy demanded the toilet.

  Told her to go in her nappy.

  Daisy said, ‘No nappy. Baby nappy.’

  After weeks of failed potty training, she certainly picks her moments to be continent.

  Turned the map around and around, looking for a toilet.

  Eventually found one, back in the Lego Friends zone.

  Told Daisy the toilet was too far away.

  Daisy took in a sharp intake of breath, poised for a mega-tantrum.

  ‘Just take her in the bushes over there,’ said Althea. ‘No one will see.’

  It seemed like a sensible suggestion.

  Took Daisy into the shrubbery for a wee, but she announced she also needed a poo.

  ‘No Daisy!’ I said. ‘Not here. Hold it in. NOT HERE!’

  Daisy ignored me and pooed on the grass.

  Then I heard a heart-stopping ‘Choo choo!’

  The Duplo train thundered through the undergrowth, its carriages filled with smiling families.

  There was nowhere to hide.

  Daisy was a defecating tourist attraction, and me her paralysed enabler, as carriage after carriage drove by.

  Some people gasped, others covered their children’s eyes.

  ‘Althea!’ I shouted. ‘Althea, I need wet wipes and a carrier bag!’

  Daisy waved and shouted excitedly, ‘Train! Train! I do poo!’

  A few kind souls waved back.

  After many carriages of shame, Althea pushed through the shrubs with a packet of wet wipes and a carrier bag.

  ‘What are you all looking at?’ Althea shouted at the remained carriages. ‘It’s a perfectly natural function. You all do it.’

  Needed a large dose of sugar after that, so we headed to Papa Moles for many ice creams and doughnuts.

  I think a few families from the train may have recognised us, but were kind enough not to mention it.

  All in all, I’m not sure the free Legoland tickets were worth the trauma.

  Monday 16th April

  SUCH sore feet today. Theme parks are a real marathon.

  Thankfully, found my Christmas present from Nana Joan – gel-filled ultra-comfort foot insoles.

  Nana was right. They are like walking on a cloud.

  Afternoon

  Just bumped into Helen today at the Co-op supermarket.

  I was bouncing around the aisles, enjoying my gel-filled insoles, when Helen’s big witch nose and black helmet of shiny, bobbed hair appeared from behind the discounted Cadbury’s cream eggs.

  ‘Juliette,’ said Helen. ‘Nick says you’re refusing to bring Daisy to the Gables. I hope you realise that’s against the court order.’

  ‘Helen,’ I said. ‘You really should mind your own business.’

  ‘It’s a sin to deprive a loving father of his child,’ Helen continued, examining a bag of rocket salad. ‘And a very spiteful way to behave. I thought more of you.’

  ‘Daisy had nightmares the last time she visited Nick’s house,’ I said. ‘It’s your son you should be talking to – not me.’

  ‘Oh, you’re being very dramatic,’ said Helen, with a wave of her leather driving glove.

  Couldn’t think of any decent reply to that, so settled for a simple, ‘Fuck off, Helen’.

  Tried to walk away with dignity.

  Unfortunately, in my haste, one ultra-comfort gel-filled innersole leapt free from my sandal.

  I realised, as I turned to see the insole lying on the supermarket floor, that it was exactly the same size and shape as a sanitary towel.

  Impulsively shouted, ‘It’s not a sanitary towel!’ as I shoved the insole into my handbag.

  Wish I hadn’t said that.

  Tuesday 17th April

  Was in such a flap yesterday after the Helen supermarket ambush that I left two bags of shopping in the car.

  Only remembered this morning, when Daisy asked where her new toothbrush was.

  Dashed out to retrieve the shopping, and found various frozen and refrigerated items melted, misshaped and spoiled in the car boot.

  I struggled to open Daisy’s new toothbrush too, because it was in one of those plastic wielded cardboard packets. I tried ripping, biting with my teeth and snipping with nail clippers, but the packet wouldn’t budge. The to
ugh plastic even pushed the kitchen scissors out of alignment.

  In the end, I had to use the ten-inch combat knife John Boy gave me as a moving in present.

  John Boy was right – a big knife does have its uses.

  Wednesday 18th April

  Mum invited me over for ‘nutritious homemade soup’ today.

  This is all part of her supposedly healthier diet.

  The soup wasn’t all that nutritious, since Mum added butter, garlic croutons and grated cheddar, but I suppose it’s good she’s moving in a healthier direction. Her lunch is usually a 1970s buffet affair, comprising sausage rolls, pork pies, crisps and biscuits.

  Told Mum about bumping into Helen at the supermarket.

  ‘That old tart,’ said Mum. ‘She’s got a nerve, criticising you when she’s responsible for that pathetic little shit of a son. If I’d have seen her, I would have chased her around the supermarket aisles.’

  Said I’d told Helen to fuck off.

  Mum congratulated me.

  Sometimes, I think the women in our family should be less angry (with the exception of Laura, who is extremely reasonable), but as Mum says, anger runs through the Duffy women like the caramel syrup core in Ben and Jerry’s Karamel Sutra ice cream.

  Thursday 19th April

  Brandi brought her new boyfriend to the pub today.

  Callum’s right – he really isn’t her usual type.

  Richie is skinny as a rake, with pale, grey-tinged skin and unkempt blonde hair. He couldn’t look anyone in the eye and spent most of the visit playing some war strategy game on his mobile phone.

  Mum ignored his shyness and went into interrogation mode:

  ‘Where do you live? What do you do for a living? Do you have kids yet?’

  She covered Richie’s lifestyle, family and sexual preferences. Then she found a weakness – Richie is a year younger than Brandi.

  ‘What are you doing with someone older?’ Mum probed. ‘Can’t you find anyone your own age?’

  Brandi said, ‘He’s very mature for his age.’

  ‘He’s no good for you then,’ Mum joked. ‘If he’s mature.’

  ‘I am mature,’ Brandi insisted.

  It’s hilarious that Brandi thinks she’s mature. She still kicks off if someone else gets the free plastic toy in the Sugar Puffs packet.

  When Richie and Brandi left, Mum said, ‘Well he was a big, long streak of piss.’

  For once, we were all in agreement.

  Friday 20th April

  John Boy was a bit down today. He’s had way more sugary tea than usual – seven cups so far.

  Asked why he was sad, and he said, ‘’Cause I don’t have a girlfriend.’

  I suppose he’s still pining over Gwen, but really they were never well matched. Gwen was very well-to-do. John Boy is a gentleman at heart, but he is also a bit of a football hooligan.

  Saturday 21st April

  Ugh.

  Have some kind of stomach bug today – almost certainly brought on by John Boy’s attempt at dinner last night.

  John Boy’s getting better at expanding his range and has progressed beyond full English breakfasts. But I don’t think he’s quite competent enough to make his own gravy yet.

  My apple tree has blossomed into fluffy, fragrant pink flowers. I looked at it today and thought of the baby Alex and I lost. It made me think that the baby isn’t lost after all, but waiting for the right time to come out. Just like the blossoms, it will come when the time is right. It just won’t have Alex for a father.

  Sunday 22nd April

  Callum has been put in the special needs class at school. They don’t call it special needs anymore – they call it extra support. But it’s basically the same thing.

  Brandi is going to talk to Callum’s teacher tomorrow. She is furious, so I can’t see the talk going well. In my experience, teachers don’t like parents shouting at them.

  Monday 23rd April – St George’s Day

  Callum has been taken out of the special needs class, following Brandi’s visit.

  I asked Brandi how she got Callum moved, and she said she’d promised to spend a lot of extra time reading with him at home.

  But I’m not sure Closer and Heat magazines count as good reading material.

  Tuesday 24th April

  Shift at the pub tonight, so had tea with Mum, Dad, Brandi and Callum.

  Mum greeted us at the door with jam doughnuts and bad news.

  Callum has head lice.

  Went upstairs, and found everyone sitting around like monkeys, inspecting each other’s hair.

  Felt immediately itchy, but Mum only found grey hairs and dandruff on me.

  Brandi doesn’t have nits either. Nothing could survive all that peroxide she uses.

  Wednesday 25th April

  My head is very itchy today.

  Am paranoid that I’ve caught Callum’s nits. He’s had three treatments of Hedrin, but I read somewhere that head lice are scarily hard to kill these days.

  Checked Daisy’s hair, but I don’t think there’s any way lice could make a home. It’s really just fluff.

  Asked Mum to check my hair again, and she got all nostalgic about childhood parasites.

  ‘This takes me back,’ said Mum, tugging at my hair with the Nitty Gritty comb. ‘You never would sit still. Sit STILL Julesy!’

  Then she went on about the nightmare of head lice when you have three girls at home.

  ‘And the treatment was bloody awful in those days,’ said Mum. ‘None of this ‘gentle non-odour’ business. It used to take the skin off your hands and made your eyes water.’

  Mum’s a bit irritable today because she broke her diet last night.

  The brewery came by with a load of new beers to sample, and she decided it would be ‘unprofessional’ not to give them a whirl. Then there was a darts tournament in the pub, so Mum laid out the usual platters of hot chips and sausages along the bar.

  The five sample pints from the brewery weakened Mum’s resolve, and she ate two platters of chips and an unspecified amount of sausages.

  To her credit, Mum had a bowl of porridge with skimmed milk this morning.

  The trouble is, whenever she eats low fat stuff, she has twice as much.

  Thursday 26th April

  Had another go at potty training Daisy this afternoon, before my pub shift.

  Mum gave me a good tip – take Daisy’s clothes off and potty train her in the garden.

  Daisy did the tiniest little bit of wee in the potty, which resulted in me whooping and cheering and giving Daisy princess stickers.

  I think we’re finally getting somewhere.

  Friday 27th April

  ARG!

  I have head lice!

  Have been scratching all day.

  Demanded Mum check my hair again, and she found three eggs.

  Went to the chemist and browsed the many nit lotions and potions on sale.

  Things have changed since I was a kid.

  We were given nasty smelling chemical stuff, but now everything claims to be ‘pesticide and odour free’.

  I remember going to bed with choking, toxic nit lotion that burned my scalp and ears.

  Bought a bottle of Herbal Healing, which uses natural tea-tree oil and is kind to skin.

  Kids today don’t know how lucky they have it.

  Dad was sceptical about the Herbal Healing treatment.

  ‘It says it works in fifteen minutes,’ he said. ‘I can’t see anything working in that time. When we were kids, they used to shave our heads and paint them with violet-coloured chemicals. We lined up at school for hymn practice looking like a row of Bryant and May matchsticks.’

  Saturday 28th April

  Nick’s weekend with Daisy.

  Suggested a compromise – meeting in a park, or other neutral ground.

  Nick refused, calling me manipulative.

  ‘Why should I have to dance to your tune?’ he said. ‘It’s my visitation weekend.’

&nbs
p; ‘This isn’t about me wanting to have my own way,’ I said. ‘I just want what’s best for Daisy.’

  ‘Why are you making my life even more difficult?’ Nick complained. ‘Living with Sadie is hard enough. Oh god, I think she’s listening.’

  There was an ominous pause, and what sounded like a plate being smashed.

  Then Nick said he had to go.

  Felt a little bit sorry for him then.

  Just a little bit.

  Sunday 29th April

  Daisy has learned to hustle, and she’s not even three.

  Last night she called out, ‘Mummy. Where rabbit? Rabbit gone. MUMMY.’

  I investigated the empty cot and found her striped rabbit hidden under the pillow.

  ‘Daisy,’ I said. ‘Did you hide this?’

  ‘Yes. Hide it,’ she announced proudly. ‘Then you come.’

  Today, Daisy hid striped rabbit before bedtime and refused to divulge its location, believing if rabbit was lost, she wouldn’t have to go to bed.

  ‘If we can’t find rabbit, you’ll have to sleep without her,’ I said.

  Daisy suddenly remembered rabbit had been ‘put away’ by ‘someone’ in the oven.

  Monday 30th April

  Tried again to potty train Daisy after lunch.

  This resulted in wee all over the floor.

  Praised Daisy for doing slightly less wee on the floor than last time.

  Felt frustrated, but had to keep it inside. The books all caution you about getting upset, but surely Daisy should be able to use a toilet by now?

  Wolfgang has been continent for weeks, and even cleans the toilet himself. He also makes his own breakfast – a ‘mix up’ of Althea’s spelt and paleo breakfast cereals, combined with soy and almond milk.

  Phoned Althea for advice, re: potty training.

  Althea said Wolfgang was just physically advanced. Except in the respect of getting breakfast, which Althea put down to ‘just greed’.