You know when people say it’s when your children are quiet that you need to worry more? That appears to be the moral of this particular sorry tale…
It was the last day of the summer holidays and, on my young ones request, we had invited her best friend over for a lovely play date…Molly arrived and the two of them, thick as thieves as usual disappeared upstairs to play princesses and babies, as most 5 yr olds do! Brilliant, I thought to myself, gone are the days where I have to come up with 100 things to do with PVA glue and paper plates, I can continue dashing round like a mad woman doing all the back to school jobs that, as usual I’ve put off to the last few hours of the last day of the holidays. And what a productive afternoon I had! Mountains of uniform ironed, labels dutifully sewn in (I curse the decision that my naive new mummy self made, ordering 500, ‘proper labels from posh John Lewis’ for Esme. Really??!! When did I ever think I’d have that time! But out of sheer stubbornness I put myself through using them every year as a kind of mental punishment to myself for making such foolish decisions! Subsequently, poor middle child Lucy and Bella are lucky if they get their name scribbled on to their collar with a Bic!)…anyway, I digress, obviously as the responsible Mummy I am, I checked on them from time to time, enjoying the sound of their seemingly innocent little giggles and only having to reprimand them both for stealing Esme’s sweets from her carefully hidden stash once…all in all a successful play date! Or so I thought!
At the end of the afternoon, I dropped Molly home and collected Lucy to take her to her music lesson. Whilst trying to do an uphill 25 point turn with a 4×4 up my arse already 1 minute late for her lesson, my phone rings, and helpful Lucy obviously thinks this is the perfect time for Mummy to take a call, so answers it. Mummy suddenly realises, while blaspheming loudly about F’ing drivers and F’ing hills, that she is now on handsfree with innocent little Molly’s very nice Mummy! “Ooh, sorry Lottie, I’ve caught you at a bad time, I just wanted give you a call about something that has happened at your house this afternoon that I thought you ought to know about, but we can talk later if it’s a bad moment….” Oh shit and bollocks. Deep breath. No, I brightly assured her, my heart silently sinking in to by boots, this was the perfect time, please impart upon my listening ear the details of this ‘happening’… So really very nice, kind and diplomatic Molly’s Mum proceeded to explain that my precious little poppet Bella, had clearly fancied herself a bit of a hairdresser and embellished little Molly with a haircut using her crafting scissors, and not just a little bit of a trim, but a full on chunk at the front and in parts right up to her neck at the back. And wasn’t it terribly funny that I hadn’t noticed it?! Shit and bollocks and shit, shit, shit.
There were no words. I glanced in to the mirror and observed Bella’s lip beginning to make that all too familiar tremble and her eyes fill up as she realised that she’d been caught out. Torn between the uncontrollable urge to laugh my tits off or scream myself blue at my monster of a child, I did as any other Mother would. I calmly took her from the car, grabbed Lucy’s guitar and walked brightly into her music teachers house muttering apologies for our lateness, damn hills and 4×4’s….
There are three things that make this story worse.
- It was Mollys first day at school the following day, so as it was late, her poor mother had to follow guidance from a youtube video, and cut her hair so she would look vaguely presentable for that once in a lifetime photo…
- Bella and I had thoughtfully chosen a beautiful hair accessories set, to match her uniform and had given it to Molly as a ‘starting school’ gift only hours before the incident. Suffice to say the bobbles and bows were now surplus to requirement.
- Molly had been growing her hair and was due to be having it all cut off and donated to charity in the next couple of weeks.
Like I said, Shit and Bollocks!
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It's a mums life. 