Baby, Me, OMG: Motherhood fiction (Surprise Baby Romance) Page 5

Alex said, ‘I’ll train you.’

  I said there was no point wasting his time on an amateur like me.

  Then we saw Laura up ahead, and Alex said, ‘I’ll see you later.’

  Off he went, all tall and athletic, jogging into the woods.

  I explained to Laura that Alex had helped me out of a puddle.

  She said, ‘That was nice of him. Did he mention Zach?’

  I teased her all the way home about fancying Zach.

  Nick’s been calling and texting all day. Promising he’ll never drink again. Begging to see pictures of Daisy.

  It’s a start I suppose.

  Wednesday February 25th

  Decided to give Nick another chance.

  Got the train home this morning, and Nick met me at the station – just like the old days.

  We had a long heart-to-heart, and he told me how down he felt.

  He said, ‘But it’s no excuse for my behaviour. I’ll try to do better. I WILL do better.’

  The thing is, Nick’s very good at saying the right things.

  I told him if he was ever drunk in charge of Daisy again, I would leave him.

  He looked pretty scared, so I think he knew I was serious.

  When we got home, poor Daisy just wouldn’t stop crying. I cuddled her for HOURS and ended up temporarily losing hearing in one ear.

  Nick worked himself into a panic, worrying that Daisy was really ill. He phoned the emergency doctor and shouted down the phone for them to ‘hurry the fuck up!’

  By the time the doctor arrived, Daisy was absolutely fine. Grabbing our fingers and laughing.

  I could tell the emergency doctor was annoyed about the pointless call out. He mentioned something about missing Breaking Bad.

  Thursday February 26th

  Told Althea about me and Nick’s big row.

  She suggested I go to baby meditation with her and ‘chill out’.

  Somehow, Wolfgang broke the Buddhist prayer bowl.

  I’ve never seen a Buddhist monk get angry before.

  On the way home, the bus driver wouldn’t let us on because there was already a wheelchair in the pushchair space.

  The wheelchair lady looked pretty smug.

  Then it started raining, and I realised I’d left Daisy’s rain cover on the balcony to dry. So we had to get a taxi, which cost fifty pounds.

  What happens to your brain when you have a baby? Simple things, like reading bottle warmer instructions, finding a complete pair of shoes or remembering a rain cover are completely impossible.

  Friday February 27th

  Helen needed our flat for her ‘Dynamic London Women in Business’ group, so Nick and I went out for a meal in Soho.

  Helen couldn’t look after Daisy while her business colleagues were round, so we had to get a babysitter.

  I was sort of glad about that. Helen reminds me a little bit of the child catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

  Was really hard leaving Daisy. But the babysitter was very nice and promised to read all twenty pages of the instructions I left.

  On the way to the restaurant, Nick said, ‘You know, you’d be so much hotter if you lost that baby weight.’

  I said, ‘Fuck off, Nick. I only had Daisy five months ago. You’re supposed to love me no matter what.’

  He said, ‘Sure, sure. Of course I do.’ But he totally hesitated.

  It was a nice meal in the end. Had a good talk about our future and the wedding and what we want from life.

  I think Nick got how important a proper family home is. The wedding is a great step, but the house is the crucial thing.

  Nick took my hand and promised he’d work harder than ever to make it happen. That we would definitely move out of his mum’s apartment.

  Nick and I should have more date nights. We get on really well when Helen isn’t around.

  When we got home, I ran straight to Daisy.

  I always feel guilty about leaving her, even for a few hours.

  She’s so lovely when she’s sleeping. And when she’s smiling. And crying. All the time, really.

  Saturday February 28th

  Miracle of miracles, Sadie showed up for training today.

  Laura came too – she’d only jogged 30 miles this week so wanted to get a few more in.

  We jogged along the Thames.

  On the way back, Laura asked if Sadie and I were going to the Dalton’s Spring Ball.

  Catrina Dalton does a big charity ball twice a year and invites the whole village. It always involves some horrible charity auction where they sell off the girls for dates with boys.

  Nick never bids more than fifty quid on me. It’s just hideous.

  I told her I didn’t fancy it this year.

  Sadie said, ‘Will it be at the Bond Street Dalton again?’

  Laura said yes.

  Then Sadie gushed about the delicious food and cocktails at all the Dalton hotels, and how she’d had the most amazing calamari last year. She asked if Alex Dalton was still single.

  We said yes.

  Sadie said, ‘And what about the younger brother? You know. The blond one.’

  Laura said, ‘Zach Dalton? Yes he’ll be there.’

  Like we don’t know Zach’s last name.

  I asked Laura how she knew Zach was going, and she went all red.

  Then she admitted that Zach had asked her to the ball. As his date.

  I screeched ‘Oh my God!’ so loudly that a pigeon took off from a lamp post.

  It turns out Laura has been seeing Zach Dalton.

  He uses her university library sometimes, so they’ve been bumping into each other.

  Sadie said, ‘Don’t get your hopes up Laura. You’re hardly in his league.’

  Bloody negative Sadie.

  I told her Laura is nice and kind and well mannered. And that she could be in anyone’s league.

  Sadie muttered something about ‘the rest of the family’. Meaning Mum and Brandi I suppose. And maybe me. She’s such a snob.

  Then Laura got all nervous and said, ‘You will be there, won’t you Jules?’

  So of course I said yes.

  Laura never asks for anything. I know this must be really important to her. Correction, Zach must be really important to her.

  She said, ‘You’re the best little sister in the world.’

  I said, ‘And you’re the best big one.’

  Sadie said, ‘Ugh! Sentimental family stuff is so nauseating. I’m glad I’m an only child. They say we’re more selfish. But I just think we’re honest about not wanting to share.’

  Monday March 2nd

  Took Daisy to baby group today.

  She did a Mega Poo while we were singing head, shoulders, knees and toes.

  It was so massive that it went right through her stripy tights and ra-ra skirt.

  I put on her spare outfit, but then she did a second Mega Poo and ruined that too.

  Luckily the other mums leant me stuff. Women are so nice.

  When I got home, Helen was at the granite breakfast bar on her laptop, ready to go over wedding table arrangements.

  She’d downloaded a wedding seating plan app, and kept saying, ‘Isn’t technology marvellous?’

  Of course, then she looked all the way down her nose at Daisy and said, ‘The socks – one orange, one pink? Really?’

  I told her odd socks were the fashion these days, and she needed to get with the times.

  I didn’t admit I’d borrowed clothes. She’d only have lectured me about ‘proper preparation of the baby bag’.

  Tuesday March 3rd

  Daisy is officially old enough to have food, which means that she MUST sleep better from now on. Right?

  The books all say start with baby rice, but it just looks so gluey and boring.

  I phoned Althea for advice, and she said babies can’t digest grains until they’re at least a year. And that I should give Daisy a soft-boiled egg yolk.

  Apparently she did it with Wolfgang.

  So. Here goe
s.

  12pm

  OMG – nearly had a heart attack.

  Daisy has just retched and retched until nothing more would come up.

  Was so close to phoning an ambulance. Phoned NHS direct instead, and they told me off for giving Daisy semi-raw egg.

  I phoned Althea and she said, ‘Oh yes, Wolfgang threw up too.’

  I said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  She said it only lasted the first couple of days. Then he was fine. Although he hates eggs now.

  Wednesday March 4th

  Tried baby rice.

  Daisy loved it.

  Thursday March 5th

  Worst night’s sleep ever. I think the baby rice gave Daisy wind. Or something. She was up every two hours and just would not settle.

  Poor little lamb.

  I thought when babies had food things got easier.

  Friday March 6th

  Mum, Helen and I visited the village church today to get ‘ideas’ for the wedding.

  Mum was very good. She only said, ‘Oh be quiet, Helen’ once. And she didn’t say a bad word about Nick. In fact, when Helen was inspecting the prayer cushions, Mum told me she wished Nick and I every happiness.

  ‘I’m always proud of you,’ she told me. ‘No matter what.’ She got all teary and told me she had the best daughter anyone could ever wish for. And that she’d always dreamed of me marrying in the village church.

  I got teary too and we stood with our arms around each other, looking at the altar. Then Helen interrupted to tell us she was very concerned, because one of the prayer cushions had ‘an unidentifiable brown stain’.

  Monday March 9th

  Helen has got us a ‘present’ – a cleaner called Juan.

  He’s coming once a week to ‘help out’.

  It’s Helen’s way of saying I don’t clean the flat properly, but I really don’t care what she thinks.

  Juan works part-time as a masseuse, which means his hands are very strong.

  After he’d cleaned this morning, the kitchen tap was loose and the oven clock was hanging off by its wires.

  He also likes to fan things out. Takeaway leaflets. Remote controls. My sanitary towels on top of the toilet.

  It’s weird having staff. I’m just not cut out for it. I spend the whole time apologising. ‘Sorry it’s not very tidy. Sorry I’m in the way. Sorry Daisy keeps trying to climb on the vacuum cleaner …’

  Tuesday March 10th

  Met Althea at Great Oakley library today for Little Tiddles Story Time.

  Wolfgang kept trying to grab the storybook from the librarian.

  The librarian laughed at first. Then it turned into a bit of a struggle.

  Wolfgang ended up sinking his big front tooth into her hand. He wrestled the book from her and no one could get it off him.

  Althea was very proud.

  She said, ‘He’s so confident, isn’t he?’

  Wednesday March 11th

  Althea phoned today to moan about her sex life. She’s seeing some twenty-year-old guy who lives on a canal boat. But apparently he has ‘no sexual energy’ and can only do it once a night.

  She asked me how many times me and Nick did it.

  I told her my sex life was non-existent right now.

  Daisy sleeps in our bed half the time, and Nick is always getting home late. Truth be told, he doesn’t seem that interested these days. Which suits me fine, because I’m way too tired to do anything in bed other than sleep.

  Althea tutted and said, ‘Sex is part of womanhood. He’s depriving you of being a woman.’

  But I don’t really care. Maybe it’s because we’ve been together so long. Maybe it’s because I’ve had a baby. I’m sure things will pick up when Daisy’s a bit older.

  Thursday March 12th

  Read the Ferber controlled-crying book today and realised I could be overfeeding Daisy at night-time. Maybe that’s why she wakes up so much – because the poor little lamb has too much food in her tummy.

  The book says babies need to learn to self-settle. And that parents need to help them self-settle by ignoring them.

  Daisy woke at 10pm as usual and cried for nearly an hour.

  For the first three minutes, I was strong and serene (I am teaching her to self-settle). Then I started to panic (what if she’s dying in there?).

  Phoned Althea, and she told me I was being very cruel and that Daisy was just expressing herself.

  Then I phoned Laura, who told me to take it ten minutes at a time.

  After three more minutes I cracked and went in to give her a cuddle.

  She howled even more when I left. It actually turned into ear-splitting screams.

  So I fed her. And then she still wouldn’t stop crying.

  I thought, ‘Oh my God, I’ve broken her! Now she’ll never stop crying!’

  She did eventually. After half an hour of shushing and rocking. At which point I was way too stressed to sleep.

  I kept going over and over the Ferber technique in my head like a mad woman. Then I obsessively googled ‘controlled crying’ and read a load of mums who said it didn’t work. Although plenty more said it worked brilliantly.

  I just want to do what’s best. But there are a million different opinions on what ‘best’ is.

  Why are there no answers! No instruction manuals! Why are babies so confusing?

  Sunday March 15th

  Mothering Sunday

  Laura did a lovely thing – she booked me a facial in Kensington as a Mother’s Day treat.

  I think she guessed Nick would forget. He’s not great with dates. He forgot his own birthday once, so I don’t take it personally.

  Nick got all panicky when he realised he’d be looking after Daisy. He said that he didn’t know what he was doing and that Daisy would ‘probably get separation anxiety that will fuck her up in later life’.

  Phoned Mum to ask how long she left us for as babies.

  She said, ‘As long as I could bloody well get away with.’

  Decided a few hours would probably be okay.

  After going through Daisy’s routine with Nick (she naps at 11am and will ONLY sleep with her Teddy Snuggles, her pink sleeping bag and her waffle blanket), I made a break for it.

  I did offer to write everything down, but Nick waved me away with a ‘Stop stressing. Me and Daisy boo will be fine.’

  Facial was lovely. And I stayed awake for most of it too.

  When I got home, Daisy was red-faced and screaming the place down.

  Nick had put her to sleep without her Teddy Snuggles, pink sleeping bag or waffle blanket.

  After shouting at Nick, I spent an hour walking and shushing, trying to calm Daisy down.

  When she finally fell asleep, she sprung awake five minutes later like a manic devil child and I had to go through everything all over again.

  Nick tried to help. He sang ‘Strangers in the Night’ in Daisy’s ear. But it just made her worse.

  When she finally fell asleep, I shouted at Nick for a full half hour.

  He admitted he’d panicked and forgotten my instructions. And that I probably should have written them down.

  ‘I’m very sensitive,’ he said. ‘Daisy’s crying goes right to the core of my being. I can’t think straight when she’s upset.’

  Actors are SO dramatic!

  Monday March 16th

  Am really excited about the wedding now. Once we’re married, everything will fall into place. We’ll find a great house and FINALLY Daisy will have a garden and a kitchen and a bedroom of her own.

  Tuesday March 17th

  St Patrick’s Day

  Mum and Dad are doing their usual Paddy’s Night party at the Oakley Arms this evening.

  I really wanted to go, just for an hour or so, but Daisy just wouldn’t settle.

  Mum has just phoned to drunkenly sing ‘The Irish Rover’. She was so loud she woke Daisy up.

  The pub sounded pretty lively.

  I could hear an Irish band, and the ‘sta
mp! stamp! stamp!’ of people dancing on the bar. And Dad telling Brandi off for drinking Guinness from the tap.

  Saturday March 21st

  Ugh.

  Nick’s got a last-minute theatre role. He’s playing a dancing jack-in-the-box. So he can’t take me to the Dalton Spring Ball tonight.

  The charity auction is bad enough when you have a boyfriend. God knows what it’ll be like alone.

  But I have to go. I can’t let Laura down.

  Sunday March 22nd

  Spring Ball was worse than expected.

  Sadie took her gay make-up guy from Nick’s theatre, and Brandi took a semi-professional wrestler called Thorn. Laura went with Zach.

  So it was just me without a date.

  Just to make matters worse, Brandi insisted on doing our hair before we went.

  Laura looked like a beautiful forest princess, with long, curly blonde hair all woven with silver thread.

  Sadie looked like a fashion model.

  I looked like I’d been electrocuted.

  I suppose it wasn’t Brandi’s fault really. She’d never done highlights on a real person before.

  On the plus side, we ended up sitting on the top table with the Daltons so we got all the good food.

  I ended up two seats away from Alex.

  He kept looking at me, so I asked him if he knew his vintage MG was parked on double yellow lines outside.

  He said, ‘Yes. How’s the running going?’

  I said, ‘Crap. I don’t know how anyone can run twenty-six miles.’

  He said, ‘A marathon is twenty-seven miles.’

  I said, ‘Maybe you can give me a piggyback.’

  Alex said, ‘Juliette, you can do this. Don’t pay any attention to Nicholas Spencer. Look, I’m serious about training you. I’m in London this week – are you still at Helen Jolly Piggott’s place?’

  I said yes, and Alex said, ‘I’ll call round midweek.’

  A little later in the evening, when I was coming back from the loo, Catrina Dalton was leaning over Alex’s shoulder, all rock-hard white French pleat and finger-fulls of diamond rings.

  She was whispering about ‘Sheila Duffy’s girls’, and saying, ‘Steer well clear if I were you.’