Thursday, June 07, 2007

Slummy Mummy

I admit, I am not the most glamorous thing to have ever graced the streets of London (or any other city for that matter), but I have had my moments, back before most of me headed south. I am, however, normally presentable. The last time I checked I owned a hairbrush, a case of reasonably pricey make-up and a few decent (and indecent) little dresses. I'm not being unrealistic here when I say that when I'm out in public I don't expect to attract much attention but when I do, I labour under the impression that it's normally of a reasonably positive variety. 'She looks like a nice person'. 'I like her shoes', 'Oh look, a mummy'. Worst case scenario here is that nobody notices me at all and they're just thinking 'Oh God, another baby'.

So. Out I went on Monday to pick the spud up from his child-minder. I'd been working inside all day (in my new cell office in the cellar) and since that morning I'd had to rush into the pit office right after changing a poopy nappy to make a conference call, worked straight through and then cut a telephone call short to dash off to meet him, I was pretty much the way God made me that morning. But with a pair of tracky bottoms on.

And lo it was sunny. And I smiled. And, as I was walking, I passed two gay young ladies dressed for summer prancing and dancing and showing off. And I smiled at them. And they laughed... AT me!! The little c...critters. In fact they didn't just laugh, firstly they did that thing where they looked me over, smirked at each other and then they laughed, as they danced away with their skinny legs and their cotton dresses and their poncy little dog.

I looked myself up and down. I was wearing a pair of pink suede winter boots (because I was late, they fell out of the cupboard when I opened it and they don't require laces or zips), grey tracksuit bottoms, a black t-shirt from the day before with puree on one shoulder, baby sick on the other and grey cat hairs all over it and I was carrying a woven shawl (for the spud's legs because it was cold). I looked like something winter had yakked up after an all-nighter with the abominable snowman.

Immediately I was depressed and only the sight of the spud grinning up at me all the way home made me feel good again.

The bad-mother part is that the spud, due to my stellar parenting skills, has had a runny tum for several days. This is because I introduced him to unsweetened, organic fruit juices. Which he loves. Which you dilute 10-1 with water apparently for babies his age. That, my dears is 10 parts WATER to one part JUICE. Not the other way around. Poor little bear. He's pooping out pearl barley that was in a stew I fed him two weeks ago. Organic pineapple juice - reaching the places other juices fear to go.

Anyway, so there we were, walking down the street, me in my gay apparel and the spud with poo leaking out of HIS tracky bottoms (because he's outgrown all his proper trousers and that's all that will fit him at the moment) and I felt as though someone should just issue us an ASBO and have done with it.

The worst part is that today we went to visit some neighbours who have been threatening to invite us around to meet Charlie since the day he was born and I showed up in the same t-shirt. The implication is clear. I have ceased to exist except as a mother. My best hope is to remain invisible, or at least to do enough to perk myself up so that my son doesn't cringe with embarrassment once he's old enough to notice.

Pass me those chocolate digestives... and wipe that look off your face while you're at it.


lady macleod said...

Take heart this stage passes and you become all slinky again. truly it does you can trust me on this one. In the interim however you might want to wash that shirt.

jenny said...

If you plan to have another kid, do it now so you can be done with the sicky shirts sooner than later! With my youngest now 18 months, I am FINALLY starting to eye new clothes at the stores again and I am tossing an old, sick-stained shirt weekly into the bin! I still have my moments where I am using the same outfit 3 days in a row because I havent had time to do laundry, but that is happening less and less now. I can only imagine how relieved Hubby must feel to see his wife coming back to "normal".

secret lady said...

i am still learning how not to be JUST a takes us over with excitement &

Clay Feet said...

I have to say that your writing is the most refreshing and funny I have ever read on the net. I have been one of your secret fans for some time and recommend it to my friends and family. My wife hails from your part of the world and I enjoy reading your posts out loud to my wife and daughter's to enjoy with me. I was beginning to miss my "fix" until today. Are you thinking about doing a book? I really enjoy these.

Elsie Button said...

i LOVED the 'I looked like something winter had yakked up after an all-nighter with the abominable snowman' line! I am sure you didn't though - actually you probably did (sorry!) i look like that pretty much all the time though.

i thought of you actually, when i recenlty had a freak out when betty started shovelling rose petals into her mouth and devouring them (latest post). i wondered how you would have reacted... and then i calmed down a bit

Am very excited - have taken note re. the fruit juice effects...

Sparx said...

Ah, yes, EB, you might try that if Betty continues to 'withold'!!

Lady M - I actually had washed the shirt, it's just that my days tend to repeat themselves... or rather, charlie repeats HIMself all over my shoulders!!

Jenny - the frog is a one-baby Daddy apparently... but we'll see.

Welcome SL and CF! Thanks for blurting at me so nicely... makes my day that much better (the Spud is currently harassing the cat and ripping up our copy of Time Out as I type... anything to get my mind off the impending catastrophe)

Rice said...

This has happened to me too. Those silly youngsters have no idea what they are in for if they decide to become a mummy.
I wish them many stained shirts and a pocket full of upchuck.

Lindystar said...

I can't believe those dirty hors actually laughed at you.

Oh yes they were definitely hors. And not the good kind like me but the dirty herpes hors. That's why they had thier little dresses on becuase thier shit is free.

Honestly! No decent hor that was raised right or has manners would do that. Take heart darling, they probably have syphilis.

Sparx said...

Lindy! You just made me lose my sandwich out of my nose! And reminded me that I haven't caught up on your blog in a few days... time to have a laugh, I think!

This Is Because I Can Spell Konfusion With A K & I Like It said...

Awww, I hope your baby gets better and are you having another one?

I bet you aren't ugly; I tend to look on the inside for beauty (just go look at the pictures of me and the one I love on my blog; he's adorable, I'm horrid).

If I was there, I'd hug you and tell you that things will get better :)

Sue said...

I feel your pain. So the other night, encouraged by the husband, I went out with his friends, all dolled up. Since baby-making has given me awesome curves (if I hold in the tummy), the night out did wonders for my self-esteem. I suggest you try it.


Krissie said...

Lindy's right, hors they were!
Well, I laugh at them! What do they know anyway?! You'll always have C and they won't always be skinny!

Anonymous said...

Ah, that era. Ive found myself with unwashed hair, dirty track suit bottoms and mu husband's only clean band t-shirt waiting in the cashier's line feeling ever so small once or twice. You know, with all those sharply dressed career women in the line too... Glad those days are over!
Or not... the baby of those days now terrorizes the other supermarket visitors... Progress?


~*~Snappz~*~ said...

*lol* Love the way you write! :o) Keep up the awesome work! And who cares about the way you look when you've got a gorgeous little spud looking up at you?! :o) Nothing else matters!

BOSSY said...

That sounds like Bossy's daily outfit minus the baby.

Orhan Kahn said...

This time will pass, just don't worry yourself too much. Don't need wrinkles of worry, thats for sure.

Samantha said...

Ahhh... yes, I can relate quite well to your chosen attire. Mine are usually covered with fur of the canine variety, but the overall picture is about the same. Soon, you will be able to wear clothes with stains you can claim!

I must say, your writing is wonderful. I do hope that you chronicle all these entries into a book someday - Completely enjoyable and utterly delightful!

Arban said...

Oh Gawd, do I know this story. It wasn't until this year that I really started to snap out of it and make an effort again (sometimes)...and it has everything with C finally having the vocabulary to tell me exactly how bad I look. I also do not want to embarrass him in nursery, either.

Ivanna said...

That was seriously some of the funniest stuff I've read in a long time. Have you read "My Life on a Platter"? (can't remember the author's name right now..) Your writing reminds me of the book, which has made me snort out loud laughing in the Lufthansa first class lounge to the dismay of all the serious people reading the Financial Times.. :)

Metropolitan Mum said...

Only two years on and you are clearly over that stage. Well done!

Crying with laughter,