Diary of a Mummy Misfit #1 by Amanda Egan

attractive.
     
    She also brought along some ‘Prune & Date Delights’ - a big hit with the kids. Not!
     
    Poor Mrs Adams succumbed to one and then struggled with her ‘Malteser Acceptance Speech’, her teeth firmly glued together.
     
    My MG’s ‘Tantalising Tarts’ went down well - she does do exceedingly good cakes - and I can still see the venomous look in NM’s eye as several mothers asked me for the recipe.
     
    All said our goodbyes, slightly tearfully.  But when I saw NM, mine were tears of suppressed laughter as I saw her clutching an almost full tray of ‘Prune & Date Delights’.
     
    I waved at her with the hand that was carrying my empty tray.
     
    Petty I know, but very satisfying.
     
     
    PM
     
    Early night.
     
    Mum arrives at six tomorrow morning to house-sit and we’re off for fun & frolics in Scotland.
     
    Can’t wait for a bit of ‘normality’.
     
    Saturday 5 th July
     
    In Tilly at last!
     
    Think I’ve overdosed on wine and Galliano hot shots, so will keep it short as I need to sleep.
     
    Journey horrendous - “Are we nearly there?  How much further?  Is this where they live?” from Max - and that was only at Shepherd’s Bush! 
     
    Also, if I’d had to hear Ringo singing ‘Octopus’s Garden’ one more time, I swear I wouldn’t have been responsible for my actions.
     
    Begged Ned to put nursery rhyme CD on just for a bit of variation - wouldn’t have thought ‘Ten Green Bottles’ would be so refreshing and I could sing along with such gusto.
     
    Anyway, we’re here and I’m off to have a lovely sleep - once ‘Octopus’s Garden’ stops going round on a loop inside my head.
     
    Sunday 6 th July
     
    Woke to scorching sun.  Hello?  This is Scotland and all I’ve packed is winter gear.  Can’t borrow from Lou as she’s about half the size of me (I’d put it down to hiking up hills but Lou’s idea of exercise is twisting the lid off a bottle of Scotch).  Console myself with differing metabolism theory.
     
    Felt very sweaty eating my ‘Full-Scottish-Breakfast’ complete with black pudding, flat sausages and potato pancakes.
     
    Great!  Now even the jeans I brought are too tight.
     
    Lou and I went off to a local car boot sale for a spot of retail therapy ‘Pauper-Style’, leaving our menfolk to whatever it is they get up to.
     
    The expedition was reminiscent of our college days when, both smokers then, nothing would delight us more than buying a full outfit that cost “less than a packet of fags!”
     
    Grabbed ourselves some fantastic bargains.  The upside of having a best friend who shares the same guilty secret but not the same jean size is that way we never need to fight over who gets the Joseph top (me today) or the FCUK skirt (Lou).
     
    Got a bit frustrated with Lou after she’d called home for the third time in an hour, “Just to check on the boys.”  Always forget about her paranoia until I’m actually with her.  It’s one of her endearing little quirks, and I know it’s because she loves Finn so much, but I’m sure one of the dads would have intervened if aliens had tried to abduct him.
     
    Lou must have read my mind. “Well, you never know”, she said, “Finn could have fallen down the stairs or something.  You know how clumsy he is.”
     
    And that’s Lou - every spot is meningitis, every headache a brain tumour and there’s a paedophile lurking around every corner.
     
    Must be all that nervous energy that keeps her so skinny.
     
    Went to the local park in the afternoon, where Finn was told not to run in case he fell over and not to go near any dogs because they might bite.
     
    Lou just about relaxed over a bottle or two of wine when the boys went to bed - although she did go up and down stairs six times to check that Finn was breathing and didn’t have a temperature.
     
    “Cot death isn’t just restricted to babies yeh know Lib.”
     
    Just as well we love our friends, warts and all.
     
    Monday 7 th