I’m just off to work with only one bottle of Otrivine and a packet of Strepsils. This is an improvement on the Benilyn, Otrvine x2, packet of man sized tissues and a some vocalzones that I had to shove into my leatherette back pack with over-sized day glo yellow pompom. I think I’m finally on the mend. I am off up town after work. Whoop! Get me. Off out to see me bitches. However, illness and Easter has not been kind on my waist or arse so I have gone with a rock chick look as this involves a lot of black. However, I am sporting a cream tee with gold palm trees just to accentuate that easter egg Mum tum as little bit more. I look like a short, Minnie Driver who has decided to go to a fancy dress party dressed as a fat Alison Mosshart from The Kills. We don’t have a full length mirror at home and that’s actually quite a good thing. The clothes are on and I’m not stood in the mirror sucking in my stomach, mourning my skinny calves of yesteryear. Strong lip is well, strong and I have actually painted my nails. Well, I’ve tarted up the colour that I was wearing over Easter which was a bit scarred from washing up and putting teething granules in my daughter’s mouth. She’s a monster. I liken it to brushing a dog’s teeth. Ruddy lethal.
I am really missing my small one today. I have spent a week with her and my family and it’s been really nice. I dropped her off at our wonderful childminders this morning, got into the car and had a real pang of missing in my stomach. I immediately drove to Starbucks for a coconut flat white to ease the pain and to also wake myself up. I miss her but the little bugger did wake up at 5:45. Today, work is taking me to that cultural and fashion epicentre that is, Harlow. Where I work, there is a Toby Carvery, no M&S food hall but they do have a drive thru KFC. Every cloud. It was only yesterday that we were running on the green, chasing doggies and staring at young, attractive men. ( My daughter of course. Always blame the child. The great thing about my daughter is that she has really good taste in young, attractive men.) We picked up sticks and other dubious looking stuff and parked up the buggy so that I could swing her round and make her walk like a drunk person. Really quite amusing. Whilst we stopped a little girl toddled over to us. Her Mum followed slowly as she was heavily pregnant. We said hello to this little girl and watched her. Ah, she’s cute isn’t she. Gosh, she’s very friendly. Oh, right. She’s now emptying the contents of our buggy. Yes, every last sodding thing. Most of the things belonged to my daughter. I managed to move my handbag out of the way. That oversized yellow pompom was too attractive to an over friendly 17 month old, with no boundaries. My little one just stood there as this child swung her butterfly handbag round and played with the contents. The mother just stood and watched. Then she found the snacks at which point I had to politely retrieve our stuff from this tiny Artful Dodger and say our goodbyes. I mean. WTAF!? If I hadn’t of stepped in this kid would have gone off with my handbag, a stick, a set of old keys and a butterfly handbag, oh and a packet of Tomato naughts and crosses. The Mum wouldn’t have said a ruddy thing.
What does one do in these situations, when someone’s child comes and nicks your stuff without a by your leave? It happens a lot. There’s inquisitive and then there’s just plain frickin rude. If my small one had even attempted to empty the contents of someone else’s buggy I might just have stepped in. I might have even used that little known word, “NO!” Yes, “No!”. Simple, yet so ruddy effective. It seems that a lot of parents have omitted it from their vocab. A bit like when other children come to our house and start chucking shit about. Maybe a. stop them and b. Say NO! We’re in someone else’s home. They don’t want Aunty Sue’s wedding gift totally fucked by your small hands ricocheting it off the screen of our television. Go outside and throw the gravel but then again, not at our windows and not all over the sodding decking. Gravel is a swine to get out of the grooves and I don’t have the time to kneel down and pick it out individually with my painted nails.
We had another run in at the library. My little one was sat down quietly thumbing through ‘Zog’ and this kid just came up to her and yanked it from her small, warm paws. The Mum did shit all! What is happening in the world. We’re going to end up with a generation of people who feel that they can just go up to others and rip their property from their very hands. Oh, I want an Iphone 6S. That’s mine mutha fucka. Ooh, I quite fancy a leather clad Kindle. Hand it over, bitches. That’s a nice Volkswagen Passat with ABS and Bluetooth connectivity. Get out of the driving seat and hand over them keys, ya bastard. It’s a scary prospect. It’s going to be like a very aggressive episode of Swap Shop but without any swapping. I am showing my age but take a leaf out of the kids of Grange Hill’s text book and “Just say, No.” Go on. Say it. I dare ya. If they roll around on the floor and scream, so be it. Remember, we are supposedly in control. Well, apart from that time when she wanted that Windy fruit thing in our local bakery. And there was that other time in Sainsbury’s when she wanted a ride on Iggle Piggle’s boat. Oh, and then there was the time in Waterstones… Oh, bum. What have I created? Time to lock up your Passat and hide the Kindle.