Halfway through the summer, I had dropped Esme off at her theatre school and was on my way over to see my Mother with Lucy and Bella in tow. The day started reasonably uneventfully,
I set off on what is usually a 45min journey and all was good! It was a beautiful hot day and what could possibly happen. Singing loudly to Frozen, we were suddenly in a jam of traffic, in a set of roadworks that apparently no-one had thought to sign post. Problem is, myself and the vehicles around me were on a one way system, so well you can imagine the ensuing chaos. 10 minutes later and the situation was not improving and the patience of my little ones was beginning to wear thin..10 mins later again, Frozen had finished, I was still stuck and now Lucy needed a wee. 10 mins after this, still stuck now myself needing a wee, Bella announced she was feeling sick. Oh buggery bollocks. After another 15 mins we were finally moving. Taking a deep breath, I tried to jolly along the girls, brightly informing them we were on our way and would be there soon. Bella responded by projectile vomiting all over the car and then bursting in to tears, Lucy then also started to cry. Deep breaths. “Nevermind my little darlings! Mummy will sort it out!” Pulling into the next petrol station, I realised that I hadn’t come prepared with either wipes (What Mother forgets frickin’ baby wipes, they are the fail safe cleaner of all things) or spare clothes, but hang on, I had that charity bag in the boot…scrabbling together some change I ran in to the petrol station to buy some of the most expensive wipes in the world (How Much?! Robbing bastards!) I then proceeded to clean Bella up as much as possible, dress her in one of Max’s old T-shirts and squat Lucy over a bush, all whilst jiggling myself. Now what I should have done at that point, is give it up as a bad job and go home to lie in a dark room dreaming of all the gin, but, silly, silly wildly optimistic Mummy said “NO! I shall not be defeated by traffic, vomit, hot sun and a bursting bladder, I shall ring mother dearest and arrange to meet her in that lovely garden centre that’s not too far away and we’ll have a lovely lunch and all the coffee..” It would seem retrospectively that was very definitely NOT what I should’ve done…
The garden centre was very busy, as you’d expect on such a glorious day. I met Mum in the cafe where we managed to find a table in the now packed outside area. After the girls had finished their lunch, they left the table bored and started pottering about, looking at all the birds and pretty flowers, I had already had the chat about looking with our eyes and not with our fingers, and figured with the best will in the world, sitting with Mum and I was not the most fun for them, so thought what harm? And let them wander, distractedly keeping an eye on them as they did. The next thing I hear is the voice of Bella booming over the noise of the other diners, ‘Look at me Mummy!” In fact, I didn’t need to look at Bella as the look in Mum’s eyes told me something monstrous was happening. Turning in my chair, along with everyone else in the surrounding area, I saw my angelic little 4yr old proudly riding the 5ft metallic stag that was making up part of the display. Sucking in the air through my teeth, I was about to calmly ask her politely to climb down as the clearly very expensive stag was not a climbing frame, knowing if I showed any emotion, it might panic her. Instead I heard the shouting of my, oh so helpful Mother dearest, telling her what a naughty child she was and to get down at once. Poor Bella looked absolutely bloody terrified and immediately panicked, as predicted, as did Lucy who went running over to her to try and help her off, I also ran over but in a slow motion film like scene, the stag began to sway. I got to her just in time to pull her clear of being squished and unfortunately thus relinquishing the safety of said stag. There was a deafening crash as it landed on the ground, followed by a deathly silence, apart from the noise of my children sobbing and my mother still yelling at them. Helpful. By this stage, I wanted to simultaneously throw a full on tantrum about what the hell else could happen to this day, sink a litre of gin, and yell something choice at mother dearest for really not f’ing helping at all. Instead, I calmly took the girls hands, apologised to the horrified looking member of staff that had rushed over to see if the girls were ok, ( bless him for his concern!) and did the only thing I could think of and offered to pay for the stag as, in falling, its sodding antler had snapped clean off. The very nice and helpful member of staff gently explained that it was a very expensive stag, but, not wishing to draw any further attention to ourselves I said that was absolutely fine, silently thanking god that I’d got my credit card. So in a little procession of the helpful man, two snotty children, my still shouting and muttering mother and me, trying to look breezy, we wheedled our way through the crowds to the tills so I could pay for the affected stag. At the till the kind man said he’d spoken to his manager who had agreed I could pay half the price for the stag, and then I could in fact keep it as a momento of this wondrous day, breathing a small sigh of relief I took my card out thinking I might have got away with it at about 50 quid or so….THREE HUNDRED AND NINETY FIVE POUNDS later, I muttered to the cashier I would have to return later for the stag as it wouldn’t fit in my car, then I walked with as much dignity as I could muster to the car listening to my mother still muttering on about my errant children and her serious concerns about Bella’s behaviour and really we ought to be doing something about it…I then drove home, via collecting Esme, ran in the house and shut the door lest anything else go wrong that day…
Max and I went to collect our new possession that evening and he now stands rather grandly in the garden. He makes a great reindeer at Christmas. We affectionately name him Caroline after my dear old mum who I still don’t think has fully recovered from the incident….!
Enjoyed this post? Please like and share…
It's a mums life. 