Love... And Sleepless Nights MAY 2012 (7 page)

I can thank Laura’s pregnancy for providing me with the first genuinely
useful
reason in my life to use the stupid social network.

It’s very convenient to tell everyone that you’re going to be a father in a status update. You don’t actually have to communicate with
any
of them face-to-face or over the phone.

Let’s face it, there are a limited number of people you actually care about enough to tell them the big news stories in your life.

I feel no urge to tell Kathy Wilkins – a girl I got off with once at a school disco – that I’m going to be a dad. Nor do I feel it necessary to pick up the phone and call my cousin Alan, given that he lives in Canada, has questionable personal hygiene, and a disturbing tendency to marry women a lot (really,
a lot
) younger than him. I occasionally check the
Montreal
online newspapers… you know, just in case.

The first announcement came on Friday evening.

We invited just about every friend we wanted to break the news to. Laura asked Tim and Dan along (we made sure to buy plenty of man-size tissues, because those boys can cry like an Oscar winning actress when they want to), as well as her best friend Melina, her ex-flatmate Charlie, and a few other randoms I frankly don’t get on well enough with to mention here in more detail.

I elected to keep my guest list a little smaller, knowing full well that the gossip machine and Facebook would largely do most of the announcing for me.

Still, Ryan would kill me if I didn’t tell him to his face, so I invite him - even if it does mean having to spend a couple of hours in Isobel’s company. I was hoping those two would have split months ago, but it appears true love blossoms in the strangest of relationships.

I’m more than happy to invite Dave and Katherine, and even happier when they tell me Angela and Mitchell are out of the country skiing, so there’s no need to conveniently ‘forget’ to ask them along.

Our guests have no idea why we’ve decided throw this little shindig, so Laura and I have twinkley little smiles on our faces for the first hour of the evening. There’s something quite excellent about sharing a secret no other bugger knows about.

I can understand why people think spies are cool.

At about
nine o’clock
, we both get up and shush everyone into silence.

‘Guys, we have an announcement to make,’ I say, taking a deep breath.

‘Oh God, you’re getting a divorce!’ squeals Tim.

‘What?’ I scowl. ‘What makes you say that?’

Tim contrives to look extremely sheepish. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Little signs…’

‘Little signs? What bloody
little signs
? There haven’t been any signs. We’re perfectly happ - ’

‘Jamie!’ Laura butts in before I can launch into a proper tirade. ‘We’re not getting a divorce Tim,’ she tells him.

‘Are you getting that sex change you’ve been on about?’ asks Ryan, sending Isobel into a fit of drunken cackling. I’m pretty sure she’s already polished off a whole bottle of chardonnay. The way she keeps shoving Ryan’s hand between her legs is a dead giveaway.

‘Very funny cock features,’ I retort with rapier-like wit.

‘Come on, tell us what it is,’ Dave shouts, earning a dig in the ribs from Katherine.

I keep expecting one of them to guess what we’re about to say and ruin the surprise, but none of them have so far.

I guess Laura and I have never given off the signals that we would even contemplate having kids, so why would any of them make that connection?

I decide to concentrate on their faces as Laura gives them the big news to see what reactions it gets.

Laura takes a deep breath. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she says matter-of-factly. ‘Nearly fifteen weeks.’

Right then, here’s the scores on the doors:

Tim and Dan: Pretty much what you’d expect. Two little high-pitched homosexual whoops, followed by furious hand flapping in front of faces.

Dave and Katherine: Dave dumbfounded, jaw wide open. Katherine wide-eyed, but pleased.

Melina: Delighted. Hands clapping and smiling broadly.

Charlie: Somewhat confused. This is no surprise. Charlie is a lovely girl, but not over-blessed in the brains department. There’s every chance her brain is still working out the meaning of the word pregnant.

Ryan: Pissing himself laughing. This is also not unexpected. The amount of conversations we’ve had about never,
ever
having children is in double figures at least. He will dine out on this for months - if not years - to come.

Isobel: Hmmm. Not sure about this one. The cross-eyed, glazed expression may be a sign of happiness, but it could equally just be the wine. I don’t think massaging Ryan’s groin has much to do with her feelings about my upcoming fatherhood. Nor does the thin line of drool coming from one corner of her mouth… I hope.

‘That’s so, so fantastic!’ Tim squeals, this time in happiness. Dan’s hands have gone to his face in delight. I love these two, but sometimes I do wish they’d dial down the camp just a bit. ‘Ooh! Ooh!
Bagsy being a Godparent!’
Tim wails.

Dan gives him a playful clout. ‘You bitch, I was going to say that.’

‘Well paint me bright yellow and call me a fucking banana,’ Dave says. ‘You’re the last couple on Earth I would have expected this from!’

‘Dave!’ Katherine says in a horrified voice.

‘It’s alright Katherine, we felt exactly the same way,’ Laura says. ‘It’s taken us weeks to get used to the idea.’

…of never buying a Lamborghini
, I think in the dark recesses of the pettiest parts of my brain.

It seems that the general reaction is a good one.

I note that Katherine and Isobel have both got their smart phones out and are probably changing their status updates. There will be tweets and re-tweets happening as well, I have no doubt.

God bless the social network revolution. My cousin Alan will be up to speed in no time… provided he’s not been banged up for inappropriate touching by the
Montreal
police.

The rest of the evening is awash with the usual questions.

The one I’ve been dreading is asked by Isobel: ‘So, did you plan to knock ‘er up, Jame? I hope there was no pictures of Jesus nearby!’ This sends her into another gale of drunken laughter. Laura gives me a look that screams
‘you’ll be explaining that one to me in bed later, mister’
.

I’ve managed to keep the explicit details of my night of terror with Isobel to myself for two years now, but no longer it appears.

‘It wasn’t planned Isobel, no.’ I tell her.

‘But we’re happy about it nonetheless,’ Laura interjects, just to make everybody clear. I feel like she’s trying to convince herself more than anyone else, but I put the thought out of my head. The horny leer Isobel is aiming in my direction is helping to do this magnificently.

Other than that little embarrassment (thankfully Laura was so tired by the time everyone left she’d forgotten all about Isobel’s cryptic utterance) the evening ended well.

We sent our friends off armed with all the information they’d need about the pregnancy to spread the story across the internet, and we both sat down to do our own Facebook status updates.

Laura’s received ten times as many Likes from her largely female friends list as I did from my predominantly male one - which just goes to show who’s really paying attention, doesn’t it?

I’d like to say that the following evening with the relatives went as well, but families (mine anyway) have a distinct and never-ending ability to fuck up even the happiest of occasions.

Laura’s Diary

Wednesday, June 12th

Dear Mum,

There are many times I wish you’d squeezed out more siblings for me to fight over the bathroom with. I always feel I missed out somewhat because I never had a large family.

Saturday night convinced me that on the whole, I was actually better off with just you…

Friday evening went brilliantly. Tim and Dan were beside themselves, Melina immediately wanted to tell me everything she’d learned during her pregnancy, and Ryan and Isobel had sex in the airing cupboard while the rest of us were downstairs wondering what they were up to.

I went into Saturday night in a positive frame of mind.

Ha!

More fool me.

It’s not that I don’t like my husband’s family, it’s just that I sometimes feel decidedly ganged-up on when Jamie and I are at odds. If I had you, my useless dad, or any of the aforementioned bathroom hogging siblings to back me up it might not be so bad.

…oh, and on the subject of my shitbag of a father, I spent a fairly unpleasant hour the other night talking to Jamie about whether we should contact him to let him know he’s going to be a grandfather. The last I’d heard he was still in
India
somewhere – probably
Goa
– wearing a kaftan and smoking his own body weight in cannabis.

Even if I did want to tell him, the chances of getting hold of the feckless idiot are slim to none.

Jamie was dead set against it anyway. ‘All he’ll do is tell you to call it Moonbeam Sunrise or some other hippy shit, and ask if he can borrow £500 to fix his motorbike.’

He’s probably right. It would have been nice to have a father who is actually an adult, but we can’t always get what we want - as Mick Jagger insists on telling us.

You’re the one I really miss being here Mum, that goes without saying.

Every time I remember I won’t be able to show you your new grandchild it makes me blub like a school girl. It’s all these bloody hormones. I seem to cry at the drop of a hat these days.

I’m even starting to fill up now as I write this diary entry. It’s quite pathetic.

Still, getting a few wet spots on a diary page is far better than breaking down in front of your husband’s relatives, which is what happened on Saturday.

Jamie doesn’t have a huge family, but he’s got two more parents and two more siblings than me, so we’ll call that a win for his side.

I get on pretty well with Jamie’s sister Sarah and brother Chris. I would get on better with his dad Michael if it weren’t for the fact he looks at my tits whenever he gets the chance.

The relationship I have with his mother Jane has always been a bit distant, but tonight showed me there was more bubbling under the surface than I realised.