Secret Diary of a Demented Housewife
Secret Diary of a Demented Housewife
NIAMH GREENE
PENGUIN BOOKS
PENGUIN BOOKS
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First published by Penguin Ireland 2007
Published in Penguin Books 2007
13
Copyright © Niamh Greene, 2007
All rights reserved
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
5 September
Have decided that summer is seriously overrated (unless you own a top-notch villa in the South of France and have a Swedish au pair on red alert 24/7).
After eight weeks, two days and three hours alone with Katie and Jack, I am practically a shadow of my former self. Well, not a shadow of my former self exactly. In cruel twist of cosmic irony, have actually put on six pounds due to excessive strawberry Cornetto consumption, but am definitely suffering from that serious celebrity affliction – mental exhaustion. In fact, feel very strongly that I may need to check myself into the Priory at any minute.
Luckily, Katie goes back to playschool (and to bona-fide child-care professionals who actually know what they are doing) tomorrow. I will now have lots of vital bonding time alone with Jack (crucial for second children so that they don’t grow up to be axe-wielding mass murderers who slay all their co-workers in one fell swoop). Will also have lots of free time to pursue fulfilling hobbies, like Pilates (how hard can it be to move so slowly?) or knitting (hot new celebrity pastime).
Vow to resist temptation to devour Heat in one sitting, even if I am dying to read all about Britney and Kevin.
Also vow to spend endless carefree hours (well, at least an hour and a half while Jack is napping) doing quality, life-affirming things to reclaim my spirit à la Oprah Winfrey. Will not resort to dawdling round shops in the Centre to fill in the time, like last year.
List of Things to Do to Reclaim Spirit and Find True Inner Self
• Resist temptation to lounge in new Starbucks in the Centre, drinking caramel lattes and eating muffins. Engage in productive, soul-enhancing activity instead. (Productive, soul-enhancing activity To Be Advised.)
• Resist temptation to trail round shops, buying unsuitable clothes I cannot afford. Engage in productive, soul-enhancing activity instead. (See above.)
• Ditto shoe shopping.
• Start reading quality literary fiction recommended in Sunday Times, instead of Heat, to improve intellect.
• Read Trinny and Susannah’s What Not to Wear to focus on positive body image. Try not to be scared by pictures of them glaring out of pages at well-washed trackie bottoms and greasy hair.
• Buy Dr. Phil’s Relationship Rescue to reconnect with Joe on a spiritual and sexual level. (Absolutely crucial to recapture romance ASAP – Joe has been picking his nose in front of me quite a lot lately. Who knows what lies ahead?)
• Investigate life-enhancing volunteer opportunities (something with elderly/poor/sick).
• Try to lose interest in Posh and Becks.
• Ditto Britney and Kevin.
• Accept, once and for all, that am no longer important public-relations assistant (with direct responsibility for ad-hoc administrative duties) but stay-at-home mother and honest-to-goodness housewife.
• Try to remember that being a stay-at-home mother and housewife is a noble profession, not a thankless job. (NB under no circumstances spend long periods of time staring vacantly into space and wondering if the selfless decision to leave the workplace after Jack was born was such a good idea. Also avoid engaging in selective-memory exercises, such as remembering what fun work lunches were or how talking to real adults was so fulfilling. Instead focus on recalling heartbreak of leaving child at crèche. Use of further memory aids such as electric-shock therapy, nettle vest, etc., may be necessary.)
6 September
Very draining day. May well need a bit of celebrity cupping like Gwyneth in order to cope.
Joe’s mother rang at the crack of dawn. ‘I’m just in the door from six o’clock Mass,’ she wheezed (rather alarmingly). ‘Poor Father John needs all the support he can get after all those scurrilous rumours about him.’ Quickly decided the crack of dawn was way too early to hear sordid tales of fallen priests and loose women so kept quiet. ‘Anyway, I’m just calling to wish Katie luck, dear,’ she continued, sounding a bit put out that I hadn’t begged her for juicy details. ‘Has she had her breakfast yet? A bowl of porridge would be just the trick - I always gave it to my Joe when he was going to school.’
Made fatal error of admitting that
(a) We were all still in bed. Yes, even at 6.45 a.m.;
(b) Katie wouldn’t touch porridge even if Barbie personally endorsed it and it came in a neon-pink box; and
(c) Joe now prefers Coco Pops.
‘Not up yet?’ she shrieked in alarm. ‘You’d want to get a move on, Susie – the day will be half over. You don’t want the child late on her first day back.’
The thought of it sent her into another fit of panicked wheezing. Took opportunity to stumble into Katie’s room and thrust the phone at her head. ‘Your granny wants to speak to you,’ I mumbled, trying to wipe the grit from my eyes. (NB Must purchase lavender-dipped eye mask with soothing chamomile extract advertised on Lifestyle TV ASAP.)
Katie scowled and promptly burrowed back under her Dora the Explorer duvet.
‘Not very excited, is she, dear?’ Mrs H tutted, as I stumbled back on to the landing and heard Jack screaming for his bottle. ‘I do hope she’s not going to find it difficult to settle back in. My Joe was so brave: he used to run in like a little trooper. Not even a backward glance. Katie is probably more like your side of the family.’
Pretended Jack had fallen down the stairs so I could hang up.
Spent ages fiddling about making extra-special toast with smiley faces made of sugar and honey to give Katie a proper send-off in case she was feeling nervous. Getting the sugar/honey smile to look happy and not downright creepy was tricky, but persevered. Crucial to let Katie know that am here for her in case she has deep-seated issues of abandonment or rejection about the return to playschool. That sort of emotional scarring can take years of therapy (and quite possibly cupping) to get over.
Confided my fears to Joe as he
gulped his Coco Pops while simultaneously trying to do his tie.
‘She’ll be fine, Susie,’ he mumbled, chocolate milk dripping down his chin. ‘She’s a tough little nut.’
Was aghast that
(a) Katie’s own father seems to have very little insight into her very sensitive character, and
(b) He thinks his daughter is some sort of Lil’ Kim gangsta type
but was unable to pursue matter as conversation was cut short by bloodcurdling screams from upstairs.
Katie, on a mission to find the perfect back-to-school ensemble, had attacked Jack with Malibu Barbie for using her favourite pink T-shirt to wipe his snotty nose.
Had reassuring chat with Katie on way to school. ‘It’s OK if you feel a bit sad to be leaving Mummy and Jack,’ I ventured, feeling a little wobbly. ‘You’ll soon get used to playschool again, and remember that Mummy will pick you up at twelve o’clock. OK?’
Caught her looking at me in the rear-view mirror as if I needed special counselling, and then she almost jumped from the car while it was still moving, she was so anxious to get away. Am a bit concerned she seems so eager to get rid of me.
7 September
Fear I may be suffering from some sort of serious attachment-adjustment disorder. Was quite sniffly and traumatized all morning, but consoled myself with two cappuccinos and a double-chocolate-chip muffin in the Centre. Katie is apparently so overjoyed at returning to playschool that she has discarded me heartlessly by the wayside. At least Jack still has some interest in me. For once, he sat quite happily in his buggy without screaming the place down to get out, but only because I let him mush some of the muffin down his pants.
PS Came home to flashing light on answerphone – dove on it in case Katie had had some serious life-threatening mishap at playschool, but it was only VBF (Very Best Friend) Louise. Afraid to call back – can’t remember if she is still fighting with MOM (man of the moment) or not and don’t have energy for the whole commitment-phobe discussion. Again.
8 September
Jack seems to be pining for Katie now she has gone back to school. Caught him scratching her face out of the family photo in the playroom with a Magic Marker this morning. Think it was his sweet way of expressing his confusion and sorrow.
PS Just thought – maybe I’m suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder. May well need overseas holiday in plush Caribbean resort to restore my health and vitality. Or maybe I could dot a few UVA lamps around the living room.
9 September
Mum thinks I need to invest more time in Jack now that Katie is back at playschool. ‘What sort of social activities are you involving him in?’ she asked, in quite a serious tone, when I phoned to say hello.
‘Em, he likes to talk to Play Along Barney in his playpen,’ I said, instantly regretting calling her.
‘Hmm ... I think he may need extra mental stimulation,’ she said. ‘And you could do with getting out and about a bit more. Baby yoga is all the rage now – you should give it a go. I’m sure Jack would adore it.’
Am a bit annoyed. Baby yoga is obviously a blatant attempt to swindle the vulnerable out of their monthly child allowance. It’s ridiculous to expect babies to contort themselves every which way at such a young age – Mum can be very unrealistic sometimes. Also, how am I supposed to juggle a baby exercise class with my hectic schedule? Dr. Phil at eleven simply cannot be missed.
PS Called VBF Louise at work to relay hilarious baby-yoga conversation, but she was too busy to talk. Tried to tell Jack all about it instead, but he just eyed me with serious disinterest and waddled away in the other direction.
PPS Maybe Mum is right and I should do more activities with Jack. Am considering buying some Baby Mozart tapes to transform him into a child prodigy.
10 September
Joe in Very Good Mood.
‘I really think Maurice is going to promote me, Susie,’ he confided excitedly, over dinner. ‘All the signs are there. This time next year I’m going to be a director and we’ll be on the pig’s back.’ He whooped with glee, sending the dog cowering under the table with fright.
‘That’s great,’ I said, trying desperately to chop all of Katie’s spaghetti into exactly the same length and width as per her specific instructions. ‘You deserve it – you work very hard.’
‘Well, that’s the thing, Susie,’ he went on, looking a bit uncomfortable and less gleeful almost immediately. ‘I’ll have to put in extra hours for a while, just to guarantee the promotion. But it won’t be for long, I promise.’
‘How do you get on the pig’s back, Daddy?’ Katie piped up, her face and hair smeared with tomato sauce. ‘Can you wear a cowboy hat and boots?’
PS Wonder how Joe can possibly put in extra hours when he already commits so much time to the firm, but am keeping quiet. Must try to be supportive, loving wife.
11 September
Oprah did a very inspiring show on recycling and the environment today. It was really touching when she confided that since she visited Africa she always thinks of the poor, starving children and their dirty, insanitary water when she’s having her power shower. Thought that was really kind and sensitive of her. From now on, will not run the taps for longer than necessary or use the washing-machine too much. This will teach Katie and Jack to be more environmentally conscious when they’re brushing their teeth, etc. Crucial to show the next generation how to conserve the planet and so forth. Also, am sneakily quite happy to have an excuse at last to let the dirty laundry build up.
PS Rumours everywhere about Kevin sneaking out of seedy stripper joint. Lots of really good pics in OK! of poor Britney looking very sad. No wonder she’s smoking even more than usual.
12 September
Joe wasn’t home until midnight last night. Good thing I hadn’t cooked him any dinner or it would have ended up in the bin.
‘Is this the way it’s going to be from now on?’ I hissed, as he crawled into bed beside me, furious that he had disturbed a fantastic dream I was having about Brad and Jude at a crucial moment.
‘Sorry, Susie,’ he mumbled, then immediately fell into a deep, snore-filled sleep. Am very worried. Joe could experience serious burnout in no time if this continues. Then he will be even more useless at getting up to Jack in the middle of the night. Must remember to buy him some multivitamins.
13 September
Think Katie is being subjected to some seriously bad influences at playschool.
Mrs H was aghast when she used the S-word today. ‘What did she say?’ she squeaked, spluttering her Barry’s Gold Blend tea all over her perfectly ironed blouse.
‘Spit?’ I volunteered, glaring at Katie and vowing to have a stern conversation with her when Mrs H vacated the premises.
‘No, Mummy, I said shit,’ Katie chimed, as clear as a bell.
‘Katie, that’s very naughty,’ I scolded, trying my best to look innocent and horrified at the same time.
‘Why? You say it all the time,’ she retorted, pirouetting prettily for Mrs H and smiling widely.
Mrs H looked at me through slitted eyes, obviously trying to decide whether or not to contact social services straight away.
‘She must be picking it up from the other children,’ I said, whipping a fresh packet of fig rolls out of the cupboard in an attempt to distract her. ‘I’ll have to have a word with her teachers tomorrow.’
PS Mum says all children use profanities and it’s nothing to worry about. ‘It’s their way of exploring their boundaries and expressing themselves, darling,’ she reassured me. ‘Just ignore it, she’ll soon get tired of it.’
Could hear Dad bellowing in the background – something about a two-finger salute.
PPS Am getting a bit sick of fig rolls – even if they are only one WeightWatcher point each. Have decided to allow myself custard creams on an ad-hoc basis.
14 September
Louise called to discuss latest developments with her MOM. ‘The thing is, Susie,’ she said, ‘I don’t have time to be play
ing games at my age. I need to know if we’re going to get serious and I need to know it now. If I ever stand a chance of having a baby, we need to hit the ground running.’
Thought she should get to know MOM’s middle name before she has a baby with him, but decided not to say anything. Louise can be a bit aggressive when she gets emotional, so mumbled something vague and supportive instead.
‘You’re so lucky to have met Joe when you were both young, Susie,’ she went on.
‘Yes, I suppose we have kind of grown up together,’ I said, filled with a warm, fuzzy feeling at thought of secure and happy home life.
‘Yeah, and you don’t even have to bother trying to look good any more,’ she sighed, ‘he just accepts you the way you are.’
Felt a bit uncomfortable at this so tried to change the subject and talk about Katie’s latest obsession with potty language and whether it reflects some sort of deep-rooted unhappiness at return to playschool.
Suddenly, Louise had to deal with some high-level emergency. Have sneaking suspicion my children may bore her, just a teeny bit.
15 September
Have decided to take up power walking and sculpt my sagging body into a lean, mean sexy machine ASAP. Just need to invest in a serious-looking three-wheel jogging-type buggy that will mow down all other pedestrians at a flick of my wrist. Also need proper walking gear – such as new trainers, breathable Lycra leggings, wraparound shades, etc.
Joe thinks it’s a great idea. ‘It would be good for you to get into shape again,’ he said, when I told him my grand plan. ‘Power walking will tone you up in no time.’
Was furious he didn’t reassure me that I’m firm, fit and fabulous just the way I am. Bet Becks always says the right thing to Posh when she’s feeling fat and unattractive. Or buys her a Range Rover or some such.