What I really need tonight is alcohol and lots of it, but stupidly I resisted buying a bottle of wine while I was in Tesco this afternoon. These days I'm not a big drinker (truthfully) but I could easily sink a bottle of dry white right now. This might actually be a good idea - my precious son insists on sleeping next to me in bed, and by around 5am is wide awake and ready to start the day. Simon usually staggers into the front room and collapses on the sofa at some point during the night, worryingly he often doesn't have any recollection of his journey from our bed to sofa, and therefore wakes up in a confused and disorientated state. Harvey starts the process of waking me up by peeling my eyelids back and asking random questions until I finally surrender and stop my feeble attempts to hold him in a horizontal position on the bed. If I drink myself into a stupor and therefore cannot be roused by Harvey at the crack of dawn, then my theory is that he'll simply be forced to stay in bed - he isn't brave enough to walk the dozen or so footsteps from his comatose mother to his snoring father on the sofa alone in the semi-darkness. Simon will be happy not to be disturbed by his son and heir demanding to play Lego Batman on the wii before 5am - I have made a mental note to stock up on alcohol for tomorrow night. I remember knocking back 7 pints of cider and still functioning in my student days, now I'm under the table after two glasses of wine so at least my plan will be a cheap one.
So yesterday was Halloween and a milestone for my oldest child. Darcie went to her friend Evelyn's house and stayed overnight - with the exception of the (reasonably successful) school sleep over recently, and frequent trips to my parents house, she has never slept away from home before. Last school year, Darcie got locked into a strange friendship with a boy called Kamil (have no idea how to spell his name, but I'm guessing that's fairly accurate) who admitted he didn't like her because she isn't a Muslim, didn't want to touch her and considered her to be generally stupid and ridiculous. Despite this, Darcie and Kamil were "best friends" throughout the entire school year to the virtual exclusion of anyone else. Darcie initially ignored warnings from us and my parents that this friendship was doomed, but for some reason eventually decided over the summer holidays that she should find some friends who actually like her. Thankfully Kamil seems to have disappeared into the sunset and Darcie now has a little group of three or four female friends - this is more normal but sadly involves endless drama. They bicker and fall out constantly and at least once a week Darcie dissolves into tears at home because one of them isn't her friend any more. Stressful as this all is, it seems a much more normal set-up than being isolated with a peculiar Muslim boy (just going to state here that I have absolutely no objection to my children being friends with Muslims, etc. I had several friends from other cultures as I was growing up) who quotes random religious things and refuses to touch her in case he's contaminated with Christian germs.
Several weeks ago, Darcie introduced us to one of the members of her over-dramatic group of friends, Evelyn, whilst we were in the park one Saturday. Evelyn seemed normal; very toothy and gangly but showed no outward signs of insanity and was polite when we generously gave her a mini bottle of Pepsi Max. We also met her slightly rough around the edges Nan, who was angrily pushing Evelyn's baby sister in a buggy. A week or so ago, Darcie mentioned that Evelyn had invited her over for Halloween and that her Nan was going to approach me in the playground. I was stupidly nervous about this looming encounter, and spent days worrying - I ensured I appeared friendly and approachable in the playground in preparation. Sure enough one afternoon the slightly fierce Nan asked if Darcie could go over on Halloween and stay overnight. Her daughter, Evelyn's mum (also called Claire, I often find myself getting angry and defensive when I come across someone else with my name, it's wrong somehow - unfortunately my supremely unimaginative parents ensured that I will spend my entire life surrounded by people who share my first name) apparently works "all the time" a fact which obviously cannot be completely true as nobody can work all the time, but I wisely didn't quibble with that statement. Nan is left doing all the school runs plus caring for the baby, which seems slightly unfair and explains her scruffy appearance and defeated, slightly angry attitude. Anyway phone numbers were exchanged and I managed to swallow my nerves and respond in a suitably grateful and enthusiastic manner which for once put me in my daughters good books.
After several text messages to and from the elusive Evelyn's Mum, I'd managed to work out what road she lives on, and she'd offered to collect Darcie at 2pm on Sunday 31st, feed her, take her trick-or-treating, put her up overnight and deposit her at school the following morning. I pointed out that Darcie would have her Halloween costume, clothes from Sunday and night things with her which I would need to retrieve. As I was due to take Harvey into infant school, right next door to the girls junior school, it seemed logical that I would meet Darcie in the playground before school to collect her things. All sorted out and we were left with one very excited child who was desperate to escape from the hell which is her own home and into the safe haven which is Evelyn's house.
Fast forward to Sunday, and as predicted it was a day full of tension. I was feeling apprehensive about the whole sleep-over deal, and acutely aware that something usually goes horribly wrong in these situations. I had to pack countless things for Darcie to take, and was expecting an explosion at some point during the day. She just about held it together all morning, but the explosion came when I asked her to help me pack her things. Now, to me this isn't at all unreasonable - she's 9 year old, and it wasn't like I was asking her to organise her stuff alone. Simon & I have recently agreed that Darcie needs to start taking more responsibility for herself, and I politely asked her to come with me into her room and help sort out what she needed/wanted to take to Evelyn's. I realised the process was going to involve several bags, and also wanted Darcie to know where I was putting everything.
This honestly didn't strike me as unreasonable, but my request triggered the screaming session which had been brewing all day. Darcie swung between flat refusal to stand up and walk into the bedroom and wild accusations that I was plotting to kill her. I got seriously, seriously annoyed and said some horrible things as at the moment I'm feeling like her servant. I've run around after her for 9 years and I'm getting sick of it, she isn't a baby and she needs to learn to think for herself sometimes. Darcie won't even walk into the kitchen and get herself a drink; I have to go into the front room, ask what she wants, go into the kitchen, make it and carry it to her. Okay this is fine sometimes, but all the time? I feel like an unpaid waitress.
So, of course I had to get angry and lose the plot, which just made everything worse. Harvey got upset, Simon got upset and angry, and the whole thing just escalated. It was so silly, all because Darcie just won't ever do as I ask. I finally gave in and chucked her uniform for Monday into her school bag, night things into another bag and her Halloween costume (witch outfit courtesy of my mum) into a carrier bag. I couldn't bring myself to not pack something vital, although I was sorely tempted to. The nasty side of me considered deliberately not packing the costume, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.
We virtually threw a roll at Darcie for her lunch, and I darted off to get changed before Evelyn's mum arrived. The row had subsided but I was still angry; typically while I was in the bathroom they turned up early and whisked Darcie off with them. I didn't even really say goodbye; this was 2pm on Sunday and I was suddenly aware of just how long it was until 8.30-ish on Monday morning when I'd next see my daughter. All afternoon I felt sad; the half eaten roll she left behind, the half drunk drink all reminding me of what a crap mother I am. My little girl had been so excited, and I felt I'd spoiled things, I shouldn't have asked her to help me pack. All I'd wanted was for us to get her stuff ready together, to chat about all the things she'd be doing with Evelyn and have a bit of fun. I'd wanted to give her a hug and a kiss and wave her off, telling her to have a fantastic time, maybe she might even have a few wobbly moments and confess to being nervous. I'd have been nervous at her age, going off to a house I'd never been to before, not really knowing my friends family, and realising I'd be there all night. I'd have wanted my mum to reassure me, but as always Darcie didn't want me. All she wanted was to get away from me.
As well as feeling sad all afternoon, I also felt guilty. Guilty about the argument, sure, but also guilty because things at home are easier without Darcie. Harvey misses her like crazy and can be a pain as he wants someone to muck around with, but in many ways he's happier when she's not here. There's no real tension, we can relax and not worry about another row erupting. Of course it isn't all Darcie's fault, but she causes so many problems, she makes Simon & I feel physically ill. She upsets Harvey, and I honestly feel he's torn between loving her and hating her sometimes. At one point on Sunday afternoon, Darcie was almost purple with rage, screaming "please, please...." over and over again. I grabbed hold of her and shouted "what the hell is it that you want?" I looked into her eyes which are so much like my own (the only way she vaguely resembles me physically, she's a complete Rudd clone) and tried to get through to her, but there was nothing there, I may as well have been shouting at a brick wall.
Despite all this, I missed her. I hoped that I'd packed everything, thought about her while we were baking Bat cookies with Harvey before tea, and hoped she was okay. I didn't have the confidence to get on the phone to Evelyn's mum and check everything was okay, I chickened out and sent a text instead, around tea time. No response. I cursed myself for not giving in and providing Darcie with the fantastic super doper mobile she's always begging for, true we'd be bankrupt as she'd phone and text random people constantly, but at least she could have let us know she was okay. We chucked Harv in the bath and got him to bed, still no response from Evelyn's mum, A.K.A. The Other Claire. I ate my tea imagining newspaper headlines "Tragic 9-year-old chopped into pieces and microwaved by schoolfriends Mum", "Appalling mother heard shouting abuse at daughter; just five hours later innocent Darcie was raped and murdered" just as I was deciding what to wear for the TV appeal and getting vaguely excited about appearing on Crimewatch, a text came through. It was from Evelyn's mum; all was fine, Darcie was being good and the girls were just heading to bed. Relief washed over me, the poor woman hadn't replied earlier as she'd been distracted with the cooking. Of course I realised a text meant nothing; in theory Darcie could be buried under their patio Fred West style (yes I'm a huge crime fan, I read too many crime books and fantasise about studying Criminology) but all I could do was assume my little girl was having a fantastic time.
I drew the curtains in Darcie's room, and tried to ignore her empty bed, tried not to think about all the nights she lies there sobbing for no apparent reason. Too late I realised that her beloved Leopard soft toy that she's had since she was at nursery was still on her pillow, useless mummy had forgotten to pack it. I didn't sleep that well, and woke up to find a note from our neighbour asking us to take her mental son into school for her (he's in Darcie's year and is a less than pleasant little boy at times, putting it politely) the poor woman had just got too drunk and was too hungover to take her child to school, understandable really.
Harvey had been awake since around 4.30am and was weary before we ever left home, with Lloyd from opposite in tow. He entertained me with tales of how his mum lets him watch 18-rated films and justifies this by covering his eyes up when the really scary/rude bits come on! Just as we approached school, a car horn honked and I looked up to see Evelyn's Nan grimacing behind the wheel of a large silver car while Darcie waved like mad from the back seat. Once again relief washed over me, and for a few seconds all I could think was "she's OK." of course, logically, I knew she'd be absolutely fine, and I hadn't expected to feel so relieved. We caught up with Nan, Darcie and Evelyn just as they were clambering out of the car, leaving Evelyn's baby sister Lily wailing pitifully from her car seat. Darcie was in her uniform, hair looking vaguely like it had been brushed, but with green Halloween make-up still all over her face. I didn't have time to fuss though, I thanked Nan profusely who assured me that Darcie had been really good, and then we dashed across the road to school. Surprisingly all my darling daughter wanted to do was get away from me, I cursed myself for not bringing some baby wipes for her face and resisted spitting on my fingers and wiping the makeup off as that seemed a bit cruel in front of her mate. She handed me her bags, I gave her her lunch box and then she was gone.
Lloyd had vanished (hopefully) in the general direction of his classroom so all I had to do was deposit Harvey at his school and then walk home, suddenly feeling very alone. As I trudged back lugging my daughters things, I marvelled at how the little baby I'd once pushed in a buggy, and who had been so dependant on me for everything, could survive perfectly well without me. Recently I've reassured myself several times that my kids will always need their mum, but the truth is that one day Darcie won't need me at all. The scary bit is that I don't reckon that day is very far away.
I often think that this is all a dream, any minute I'll wake up and realise that I haven't really got two children, that all the responsibility and hard work has slipped away, it was never real. I ask myself how I'd feel if I woke up and realised that Darcie never existed, that she was just part of a dream. I'm sad to say that I'd feel relieved, glad that I don't have to battle with her any more, glad that my life isn't really like this. But also, I'd feel devastated. I look at my daughter sometimes and feel so proud of her; I grew this child, she wouldn't be here without me, we keep her alive and her good qualities are probably because of us. I look at her during the good times and think how beautiful she is, how kind and what a fantastic sister she is, Harvey is truly lucky to have her as his sibling. I wouldn't want not to be her mum, for this to be a dream, but I want it to be better.
Simon & I were saying just today that things can't go on as they are, we need to change the way we deal with Darcie and how we function as a family. There's a scene in one of my all time favourite films, "Riding in cars with boys" (or riding in cars with centipedes Simon calls it, he loathes the film) where the main character Drew Barrymore talks about her son. She says something along the lines of "I don't know if I REALLY love him, or if I've got to love him." I often think that applies to my relationship with Darcie, horrible as it sounds. Sometimes though, like when I saw her face in the back of Evelyn's nan's car and I knew she was okay, I realised that I REALLY love her.
Christ now it's getting late, Harvey fell asleep before 7pm tonight after wailing, sobbing and screaming through sheer exhaustion and refusing point blank to eat a bite of food so I'd better get some sleep before he starts peeling my eyelids back at 4am and asking if burglars have teeth and other random questions!
I'll be back.........
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