The Darker Side of Mummy Misfit #2 (2 page)

Knowing full well she doesn’t have a shelter, I went next door to find her in the cupboard under the stairs and it took me a full half hour to coax her out.

If she’s only doing this for attention it’s certainly having the desired affect.

Sunday 14
^th
September

Left Skunk in charge of Mrs S today as the time had come for us to make our dreaded first Sunday lunch visit to Mum and Bert’s since they moved in together.  Feel really mean when I put it like that.  Of course it’s always great to see them but our digestive systems tend to pay for the privilege of Mum’s cooking for a few days afterwards and I’m still shaking off the last of my morning sickness.

My ears suffer for it as well because I have to listen to Ned harping on about how my mother’s lack of culinary talent could be shortening his life by a few years.  Trouble is he’s been too spoilt by my own prowess in that department - Nigella taught me everything I know.  Well, not how to put squirty cream and jam on a digestive, admittedly, but I am rather partial to them at the moment and I’m sure she ate some pretty odd things when
she
was pregnant.  She can’t be so bloody perfect
all
of the time. 
And
she didn’t get that figure from living on air!

Skunk also said he’d take Dog and Dot for the day, as they always cheer up Mrs S and Mum’s flat’s not really big enough for us all to visit.

Our dotty next door neighbour and the dogs sorted, we set off to Mum’s for … well, what can only be described as a gift from heaven.  Bert can
cook!

Not only does he know his way around a kitchen but the meal was delightful, delectable and mouth-wateringly marvellous.  Ned was practically beside himself with both his gastric and complimentary juices flowing.  Anyone would have thought he was a ‘Masterchef’ judge, the twaddle he was spouting, but I think he was just so relieved to be eating something at Mum’s that wasn’t likely to rupture his spleen or burn the lining of his stomach.

Luckily Mum took it all in good grace and basked in Bert’s glory.  He was
her
man so, if he was being complimented, then so was she.  So typical of her.

“Oh yes, we often dine on escargots or foie gras now, don’t we Bert?  You get to our age and food becomes one of the only things worth living for.  But don’t worry, Ned, I’ve not left it
all
to Bert.  I’ve prepared dessert - your favourite!  Apple pie - with my own pastry!”

She looked so proud, bless her.

And Ned tried
so hard
to look enthusiastic but I could see the panic in his eyes and the subtle check for Rennies in his jeans pocket.

Went home, burping all the way - with Max asking why Granny’s pastry tasted like burnt cardboard and her cinnamoned apples looked like cat puke.

Such a poetic child.  Manor House is clearly teaching him so much.

Monday 15
^th
September

CCL meeting

Think my morning queasiness might be letting up a bit now - unless Mum’s pie is some kind of miracle cure - because I actually felt a lot better this morning.

Poor Fenella is really suffering though and rarely has an hour when she’s not chucking.  “Honestly Sweedie, I didn’t have it with Todd or Charlotte - Josh says it’s because I’m so old and decrepit my poor body can’t handle it.  Charming husband!  What if I’m ripped asunder by a ten-pounder?  I may never walk again without a zimmer and I bet they don’t do a designer range.”

This has become one of our favourite pastimes - envisaging the worst possible birth scenarios so that the reality won’t actually seem so bad.  Last week Fenella decided her ultimate nightmare would be to go into labour whilst trapped in a Harrods lift with Pierce Brosnan.  “Oh Lib, can you imagine?  The one time I’d ever get to be alone with him and none of my bits would be in working order.  What a waste!”

But I’ve waited so long for the baby I thought I’d never have, I’d walk over hot coals and have my genitals pierced if I had to.  I’m just so pleased it’s finally happened again.

Got my first CCL committee meeting at the school in my official capacity tonight, with Fenella as second-in-command.  Through our ideas and fundraising we can make a difference to less privileged children’s lives by giving them the chance of a fantastic education at Manor House.

I feel I owe the school at least that much when I consider how close we came to being on the receiving end of their help ourselves last year.  Now we can pay our own way
and
help others.

Boy, I hope I’m up to the job and they take me seriously.  What do I know about fundraising, other than my first foray with the cookery book and Christmas fair last year?  Why should they listen to me?  Am I prepared enough?  Oh, so many questions and concerns.

I might be on an equal financial footing now, but the old insecurities still kick in from time to time.

Oh well, at least I’ve still got Fenella as my side-kick and partner in crime.  I can always rely on her to calm troubled waters.  Even if it usually involves a good few expletives, a flick of the hair and finishes with, “Oh for heavens sake, Sweedies.  Will someone open a bottle of Moët and put an end to all this nonsense.  Everything looks better with bubbles.”

With our growing baby bumps though, we can’t even fall back on the fizz to keep us sane.  Just hope we’re man enough for the job.

Tuesday 16
^th
September

Went to dinner at Fenella and Josh’s tonight to celebrate our official start to fundraising and Ned’s new job.

Fenella and I told Ned and Josh that we figured childbirth would be a breeze compared to dealing with a committee load of Meemies.

Yesterday - let me set the scene and its assorted cast of characters …

Fenella and me - pregnant, hormonal but totally compos mentis compared to the rest of the assembled party.

Mrs Montague and Mrs Hardy - heads of lower and upper school (AKA ‘Hinge & Bracket’, à la drag queen double act).  Very sweet but one slightly twittery and arse-licky and the other a bit too jolly-hockey-sticks Sergeant Major.

The gorgeous Mr Rooney - maths teacher, CCL staff rep and general object of desire / lead role in many a bored school mum’s fantasy.

Tamara Harper-Knox - AKA ‘Shergar’.  (Fenella so loves to give nicknames.  Must be something to do with her boarding school days.)  This particular name is just perfect as I’ve never seen a woman in possession of such equine features and the laugh is most definitely a bray.  All that’s missing is the nose bag.  She’s such a hateful woman though, it’s almost an insult to the species.  Clearly ‘wearing the charity hat’ because she’s bored and feels it’s the ‘thing to do’, she seems the type to remind me at every available opportunity of my own near charitable status.  She’s made two references already to last year’s close call.  For heaven’s sake, Ned and I donated a whole year’s school fees since our good fortune - surely we qualify for a modicum of respect?  Anyway, she’s our treasurer for the year but frankly, if she can add up to ten, I’ll be surprised.

Emily Hamilton - ‘Dress-up Mummy’ - hasn’t got a bloody clue about anything because her head’s so stuck in the clouds she’s practically floating.  She drifts from day to day in a Prozac/weed induced haze in assorted ridiculous outfits ranging from tutus to wedding dresses.  Dress-up Daddy is also rather partial to weird and wonderful attire - just this morning I spotted him in a kilt and feathered cap as he set off on his push-bike.

Millicent Finnigan-Potts - AKA ‘Barbie Mummy’.  Your classic dyed-in-the-wool, yummy mummy Meemie.  From the top of her oh-so-subtle highlights to the bottom of her Louboutins, it’s all about
her.
  She shops, she lunches, she holidays, she hires and fires staff, she spends hubby’s hard earned City dosh and doesn’t give a flying shit about anyone else.  I have to question her motivation for joining the fundraising committee because it’s really not in her make-up (Bobbi Brown, of course).

And finally, for your delight and delectation, may we present:

‘Letchy Dad’ - I’ve never bothered to find out his real name.  Having recently taken garden leave, he obviously sees the committee as a sly opportunity to share his time with a bit of fine totty whilst trying to convince everyone that he’s actually a ‘decent and generous guy’.  Being married to the Gnome (Gestapo’s diminutive side-kick), nobody could really blame him for seeking an escape and, once you whack his wandering hands a few times, he’s usually quite well-behaved and contrite.

So, heaven help us, that’s our team for the year - not exactly the most inspiring bunch of get-up-and-goers, and Fenella and I will certainly have to hone our “Will you please stop digressing, talking about yourselves and boasting” skills, but I think the meeting went rather well and my own ideas were received with some enthusiasm.

Even if Shergar
did
ask me how it felt to be one of the Nouveau Riche.

She’s lucky Fenella’s coffee had gone cold when it mysteriously deposited itself onto her Diane von Furstenberg skirt - people still haven’t cottoned onto the fact that Fenella is very protective of me and that no one messes with either of us or she’s likely to clock them with her Hermès.

They’ll learn!

Wednesday 17
^th
September

Spent the morning going through the list of fundraising suggestions and have (for obvious reasons) abandoned the following:

Gymkhana
- Shergar’s suggestion of course.  We live in south west London for God’s sake, with barely a donkey between us.  What’s the woman thinking?

Manor House Calendar Girls -
Letchy Dad!  No, mums with strategically placed pencils and board rubbers
wouldn’t
be a good idea, even though some of the Posh wannabes might jump at the chance to flash the flesh.  Nice try, Letchy.

Sponsored School Sleepover -
Dress-up Mummy.  By the looks of her at the meeting, sleep was about the only thing she was capable of.  And this morning
she was her usual eccentric self in tartan pyjamas with a floppy lace bed-cap - I wouldn’t leave her in charge of Dog and Dot, let alone a school-load of kids.

Mini Makeovers and Fashion Shoot -
Barbie Mummy.  “Sooo cute for the little ones to dress up like their mummies and shake their little tushes on the catwalk.  I know my Florence would just adore it.”  Sick, just sick.

So, after abandoning those suggestions, thankfully we still have:

The Manor House Poetry and Prose Anthology -
after our success with the cookbook last year, our printer dad has again volunteered to produce another compilation and we again have a captive audience with all the parents and grandparents wanting to see their little darlings’ contributions in print.  Twenty quid a time, thank you very much Guv, nice doin’ business wiv ya.  Barbie Mummy volunteered her services for this one as it involves no manual labour and her acrylics will remain intact.  Feel she may have a little trouble with any big words though.

The ‘Manor House Has Got Talent’ Evening -
planned for next June with entries being encouraged from pupils, staff and parents.  Barbie Mummy has already treated us to a sneak preview of her Madonna, demonstrating her look with makeshift cones she fashioned from the A4 handouts - much to Hinge & Bracket’s horror and Letchy Dad’s drooling delight.

Auction of Promises -
planned for November by last year’s committee and already delivering a ludicrous assortment of goods as each silly Meemie and hubby battle to outdo one another.  “Oh we’ve volunteered our villa, car, flights and yacht for a fortnight” will be met with “Ya, we’ve done the same - only for a month and with
staff
.”  Wouldn’t surprise me if someone donated a human organ or ovarian egg just to be the ‘goss at the gates’.

Oops, I guess in my own way I’m as big a bitch as any of them but at least, despite my new found wealth, my own feet are still firmly on the ground without a Manolo between them.

Thursday 18
^th
September

Phone call from Nic, best gay friend in the world, today.

He and Rick are adopting a Russian baby boy!

I’m in total shock.  They’ll probably collect him in November and I knew
nothing
about it.

“Oh Libster, we
so
wanted to tell you when we started this whole process but we knew how much you wanted a second child and didn’t want to upset you.  Then you went and got yourself duffed, you clever old thing!  We
then
decided we didn’t want to tempt fate and find that something had gone wrong with our application for little Mikhail, so we kept it quiet even longer.  But now … well, it’s all systems go and we should have him in a couple of months.  I’m soooooo excited and Rick is flitting around like a cross between Linda Barker and the Earth Mother herself, doing up the nursery.”

Wow, I’m so pleased for them.  What fun we can have, all of us with our new babies.  Can’t wait to tell Fenella.

Friday 19
^th
September