So half-term is here, I swear the kids spend more time at home than they do at nursery/school! As always I had plans for this holiday but things have gone pear-shaped......Darcie was supposed to be met after school on Friday by her adoring Granny, who would then whisk her off for a few days of fun in Selsey. I honestly don't know exactly what my mum does while Darcie is staying with them, but I'm led to believe that their house is more fun than Disney World, Hamleys and a chocolate factory rolled together......I'm certain my parents weren't that much fun when I was a kid! Simon & I would have been left with just Harvey to entertain, which I was dreading in a way as he misses playing with/tormenting his big sister when she's here. At least Darcie would have been happy though, but my mum inconsiderately fell and fractured a bone in her arm last Monday. I arrived home with the kids after spending over an hour boiling in the park to find that my dad had phoned, luckily Simon was in to take the call. When I finally dragged my two sweaty, thirsty, moaning kids home, he greeted me with the news that my mum had fallen over and gone to hospital. Men are generally more sparing with information than women; they state the basic key facts whereas most women spin those facts into a long and unnecessary monologue rather than just getting to the point! So, my dad had phoned, mum was hurt and had taken herself to casualty. When I asked Simon which part/s of her body she had injured, he replied that her brain had fallen out. I rightly assumed this was incorrect, a joke intended to lighten the atmosphere I think.
My dad had also been curiously stingy with info, and even after I phoned him he was reluctant to fill in the blanks. Given that my mother is one of the most stubborn creatures on the planet (a characteristic I'm relieved not to have inherited) I was surprised that she had gone to hospital as I can only ever remember her admitting defeat and heading to casualty twice in my whole life. Luckily the next morning she phoned, sounding surprisingly chirpy, to say that she has fractured a bone in her arm and has a huge sling, the damaged arm being both immovable and rather painful. I was relieved that my mum hadn't done more damage, and at once said that there was no way we expected her to have Darcie over half term. I do fully sympathise with my mum; she's the one who has always done every bit of housework, cooking, etc. and my dad is pretty useless in that respect. I offered to go and help her out, but she seems to be managing okay and my dad is apparently being very helpful. He has pegged out washing, hoovered, helped change the beds, followed simple instructions in the kitchen.....I would love to be a fly on the wall as this is the man who thinks he has done well if hes carried his empty beer cans to the recycling bin! I'm glad he's leaning though, perhaps this will make him appreciate my mum a bit more.
So, our respite has been cancelled, and we're facing another 7 days of Darcie. That sounds horrible; we shouldn't dread having our daughter at home, and it makes me sad that we do. As I've said before, there are two separate Darcie's....the one who's calm, great to talk to, absolutely brilliant with Harvey (who is admittedly a pain at times) and very mature. Darcie sometimes shocks me with how grown-up she can be, and how considerate she is. Last week it was sports day for her year, held at another local school - parents from her school couldn't go and watch as there apparently wasn't space, think there's another event soon which we will be invited to. Darcie has always been absolutely useless at sports, as I was and apparently my mum was too! Some people excel at it, which is great for them, but lots dread sports days. Apparently one race involved dressing up in peculiar items of clothing at various stages, sounds completely horrendous and of course Darcie was chosen for this race. She claimed she was doing okay until she noticed her friend Michelle was struggling with some buttons and was almost in tears - rather than ignoring her and carrying on, Darcie stopped and helped. I doubt she'd have won anyway, but she admitted that when she paused and helped Michelle, she realised she had ruined her chance of victory. I thought that was a mature thing to do, and not something lots of kids would even consider, and I was really proud of her. I tried to explain that I was more proud of Darcie for putting her friend first than I would have been if she'd have won, but as always it came out wrong and I don't think she got what I meant at all!
The Other Darcie has been out in full force this weekend; she's furious at missing her holiday with my parents, of course I understand her disappointment but resent being blamed and punished for something beyond my control. She flips so easily, and it's frightening how erratic and uncontrollable her mood swings are. We can see in her eyes that she's lost the plot, there's no reasoning with her and she accuses us of all sorts, from breaking her bones to never wanting her to be born. Darcie constantly accuses me of preferring Harvey, and I know it's horrible but sometimes I do because he doesn't treat me the way she does. Everything that goes wrong in her life is automatically my fault, and she is never to blame for anything. There's always a rude answer, or an excuse, or an argument, and it completely wears us out. I look at Darcie sometimes and wonder how I created something so beautiful, so clever and so considerate, but those moments are rare. I seem to spend most of my life battling with her, she doesn't do anything I say (even little things like going to the bathroom and getting washed) and reacts against me so much of the time. The most hurtful times are when she says things like "I wish I was dead" and the latest, "I'd rather spend 24 hours a day at school working hard than be at home with you." Minutes later, she's drawing me lovely pictures and claiming she loves me. So which is it, does she love me or hate me? Or both?
Wednesday is my birthday, I can't believe I'll be 31, madness! As they say, age is just a number though, and you're only as old as you feel.....sometimes I feel like I'm still 16 and can't possibly be the mother of these children and have all this responsibility. I don't know how I feel about my birthday really, last year I promised myself that my thirties would be the decade that I would change, and do something with my life. I feel like I've let myself down this past year as nothing has changed so far, and the thought of turning 40 and still being in this situation terrifies me. Still, I've got another 9 years of my thirties so all is not lost!
I was thinking about my 21st birthday, ten years ago. I managed to come down with a stinking cold on my actual birthday, but the following weekend Simon & I travelled up to Croydon where my parents were still living at that point. I remember the tram system had just started operating and the London Eye was also new, my parents took us on it for my birthday. They've got a photo of Simon & I on the Eye up in their front room, and when I look at it I often think about how much has changed since that day. We were just a young couple at university back then, and neither of us realised how much things would change following my 21st. Almost exactly 7 months later we'd conceive our first baby, and when my 22nd birthday rolled around I was five months pregnant. My twenty-first birthday was officially my last without Darcie and I can't believe shes been in our lives for nearly a decade. Despite everything, if someone offered me the chance to turn the clock back ten years and not get pregnant with her, then I can say with absolute certainty that I'd refuse.
I wonder how different our lives will be in another ten years? I like to think that on my 41st birthday my daughter will phone me up from some pub where she's busy getting seriously drunk with her university mates. She'll say something like "Happy birthday Mum, God I can't believe how incredibly old you are! Didn't you get the card? I posted it days ago, honestly......no, I swear I didn't forget to send you one! Anyway, we were just talking about when we were all kids and I was telling everyone about how weird I was, how I used to scream endlessly, God I was a nightmare kid - I can't believe how horrible I was to you and Dad....."
and I'll smile to myself and say "No, you weren't."
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