here. And you think this is funny?’
Do you remember those enormous pasties from the bakery along the seafront? With huge chunks of swede and potato. Very, very peppery. Daddy would always buy three exactly the same size (for which read HUGE) and I would always say – shall we get a smaller one for Melissa? And he would say – oh, no. I’m sure she’s hungrier than you realise – so that he would have the excuse to finish yours as well as his own. Bless.
Do you remember the Snow White costume I made you for the fair day competition in school? God – I was so proud of that costume. You looked just edible, Melissa, and then the stupid judges thought that we had bought it so you didn’t get a prize and I was so disappointed for you… and I was thinking we may as well have let you wear the costume we bought in Disney. All those hours at the sewing machine!
What else? Oh – yes. I am hoping that you will remember the skittles. Cue the child psychologists – but this is actually quite interesting. You see I read somewhere when you were very little that working mums need to be very careful not to fall into ‘later, darling’ speak. Always so busy, busy, busy. Always a million things to do. As I said before, I am writing a special section about modern motherhood (the warts ‘n all version) at the back of the book. But this reference belongs here.
You see I wanted to set a good example to you by working and doing something I am passionate about. For me that is education. Continuing with my teaching. But even with all the school holidays sorted, it turned out to be busier and much, much harder than I had expected. To work and mother, I mean.
So back to this ‘later, darling’ tip. I read that it is important to regularly play with your child until they are sick to the back teeth of you. Not every time (because you just won’t have time) but often enough for the child to get the message that they are your priority (which I promise you are).
So I picked skittles. You had this really beautiful painted wooden set given to you by my father. Every week we would set them up in the long hallway and I would earmark the time to play until YOU wanted to stop. That’s the trick apparently.
And what a revelation.
I admit that with a lot of other things, I had to take the lead on moving on. Putting games away to get the supper. Putting the book away to get you to sleep. Turning off the television, to help you with your homework. Sitting you in front of a video while I marked books.
But with skittles, I made sure you were the boss. Again ? Of course. And again ? Why not?
----
Melissa closed the book. Her pulse in her ear again. She was entirely surprised now by her surroundings. The veranda. The temperature dropping just enough for her to notice the breeze. Until now, she had completely forgotten about the skittles and so it was just like the cupcakes picture. The cue. She was remembering how her mother’s knees cracked sometimes as she stood up to set up the skittles once more. Over and over. And the fact that she had not thought of this before – not ever – made her feel both disorientated. Smiling inwardly and yet also guilty somehow.
Why did she not remember these things before? Why?
And then, for just an absolute blink, she became conscious of another sensation. Turning the page back to the recipe and at first remembering the noise. It’s a rolling boil. Look, Melissa . The bubbling and the sweet stickiness of the jam. The memory of the smell. And then it was exactly like that moment when you are trying to remember someone’s name and it almost comes to you and you turn your head, trying to grasp the information. Suck it back to you.
Melissa turned her head once more and felt it again but only very fleetingly. Gone before she could hold it. Acknowledge the sensation properly. A shiver ran through her then, and not from the breeze, as Melissa closed her eyes to the realisation of what it was.
For one fleeting
Do you remember those enormous pasties from the bakery along the seafront? With huge chunks of swede and potato. Very, very peppery. Daddy would always buy three exactly the same size (for which read HUGE) and I would always say – shall we get a smaller one for Melissa? And he would say – oh, no. I’m sure she’s hungrier than you realise – so that he would have the excuse to finish yours as well as his own. Bless.
Do you remember the Snow White costume I made you for the fair day competition in school? God – I was so proud of that costume. You looked just edible, Melissa, and then the stupid judges thought that we had bought it so you didn’t get a prize and I was so disappointed for you… and I was thinking we may as well have let you wear the costume we bought in Disney. All those hours at the sewing machine!
What else? Oh – yes. I am hoping that you will remember the skittles. Cue the child psychologists – but this is actually quite interesting. You see I read somewhere when you were very little that working mums need to be very careful not to fall into ‘later, darling’ speak. Always so busy, busy, busy. Always a million things to do. As I said before, I am writing a special section about modern motherhood (the warts ‘n all version) at the back of the book. But this reference belongs here.
You see I wanted to set a good example to you by working and doing something I am passionate about. For me that is education. Continuing with my teaching. But even with all the school holidays sorted, it turned out to be busier and much, much harder than I had expected. To work and mother, I mean.
So back to this ‘later, darling’ tip. I read that it is important to regularly play with your child until they are sick to the back teeth of you. Not every time (because you just won’t have time) but often enough for the child to get the message that they are your priority (which I promise you are).
So I picked skittles. You had this really beautiful painted wooden set given to you by my father. Every week we would set them up in the long hallway and I would earmark the time to play until YOU wanted to stop. That’s the trick apparently.
And what a revelation.
I admit that with a lot of other things, I had to take the lead on moving on. Putting games away to get the supper. Putting the book away to get you to sleep. Turning off the television, to help you with your homework. Sitting you in front of a video while I marked books.
But with skittles, I made sure you were the boss. Again ? Of course. And again ? Why not?
----
Melissa closed the book. Her pulse in her ear again. She was entirely surprised now by her surroundings. The veranda. The temperature dropping just enough for her to notice the breeze. Until now, she had completely forgotten about the skittles and so it was just like the cupcakes picture. The cue. She was remembering how her mother’s knees cracked sometimes as she stood up to set up the skittles once more. Over and over. And the fact that she had not thought of this before – not ever – made her feel both disorientated. Smiling inwardly and yet also guilty somehow.
Why did she not remember these things before? Why?
And then, for just an absolute blink, she became conscious of another sensation. Turning the page back to the recipe and at first remembering the noise. It’s a rolling boil. Look, Melissa . The bubbling and the sweet stickiness of the jam. The memory of the smell. And then it was exactly like that moment when you are trying to remember someone’s name and it almost comes to you and you turn your head, trying to grasp the information. Suck it back to you.
Melissa turned her head once more and felt it again but only very fleetingly. Gone before she could hold it. Acknowledge the sensation properly. A shiver ran through her then, and not from the breeze, as Melissa closed her eyes to the realisation of what it was.
For one fleeting
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