Day 61 - Son of a Preacher man

‘’Ding Dong’’

Bollocks – another Saturday morning disturbed by the door bell. It should be illegal to ring on door bells before 1pm on a weekend. Not only do I have to contend with some random at the door but I have to deal with Summers obsession with answering it as quick as she can, No matter what is going on, how partially dressed we both may be she will haul ass and sprint to the open the door regardless that my nunny may be on show or that part time dad is strutting around in those ridiculous fertility killer boxer shorts.

So there it was, the door bell going off, Summer running down the stairs with just a vest on and me scrambling to find some leggings to cover my hairy legs before she exposes me. I scream at her to stop, cover up, don’t answer the sodding door!!!!

‘’who the hell is it?’’ Summer bellows through the letterbox.

Leggings, leggings where are my leggings?

‘’is you mother in?’’ I can hear a man’s voice question – god I hope she covered up

‘’she is getting dressed – is that for me?’’

God what is going on down there – she has opened the door – leggings where are my leggings

‘’it is a magazine that we are giving out, it’s for your mother, Jesus can save you, do you believe in Jesus little one’’

‘’yeah she is ok but I think Rhianna is better’’ says Summer

Sod the leggings – I’m leaving Summer to it

‘’maybe you could get your mummy?’’

‘’no.....what’s in the magazine?’’

‘’it’s about how to raise a child’’ this preacher must see the ironic situation he is in right now!! ‘’there are a lot of bad children out there – look at the rioters this summer, they were children’’

‘’ no, cha, that’s lies... the man who gave my nan the TV was huge and fat..... he wasn’t a child’’

Shhiittt leggings, leggings got to get down there

‘’and my dad was saving the burning puppy shop at the riots and he is not a child, i mean he is stupid but he is like 57 or 80 and he smokes, so he isn’t a child. Mum couldn’t go to the riots, she was sick, she did a pee in a cup and left me for 2 days, I saw fires’’

‘’is your dad home? Your mum?’’

‘’I’m coming’’ , just.... got.....  to...... squeeze.... . into.... these..... Skinny....jeans            

I get to the door panting and chaffed to see this visiting Jehovah and his petrified 10 year old son hiding behind him. Before I can say a word he thrust the parenting manual into my hand, squeezes my arm sympathetically. Grabs his son and legs it down the road.

Day 60 - Break - Fast

We keep getting busted in the morning Summer and I.

For the last month or so a mum from Summers school stops her car whenever she sees us on the morning walk to school. The problem is for the last month or so I have taken to giving Summer her breakfast on the run. Its always been a struggle to get something down her in the mornings and with her penchant tardiness. So the morning rush results in her getting a honey sandwich stuffed in her gob. This is the eaten messily in the good samaritains prestine car. "Is that a sandwich she has there for breakfast?" She asks uneasy at the sight of the sugary carby meal. Had the bread been toast I suspect I would have got away with it. If this wasn't bad enough, when summer refused her honey sandwich one morning I shoved her a cereal bar, a coco pop cereal bar in her mouth and off we trotted to school. Had this been served in a bowl with milk on top I would have definately got away with it. This time she wasn't going to hide her disgust "is that her breakfast?l she asked shocked and horrified.

"Oh no " I nervously laugh " she had something else at home"

"No I didn't mummy'

"Ssh now Summer, mummies talkng"

"Yh but your lying.,"

I can feel the judgement bearing down on me like the coco pops monkey beating my chest. I have to get away from these burning eyes, the awkward silence!

" Do u mind walking summer in so I can  jump out and catch my train" the lady pulls over and practically chucks my abusive self out the car.

I make a run for it and abandon Summer in the back of the car still eating that fucking coco pops bar. That's it now, Summer is alone to tell her the truth about me. Not just breakfast time but maybe last night when she ate 4 aero desserts!

You know if she didn't pick us up we would burn those calories, offsetting her nutrionless breakfast. So in fact it she who is damaging my child! Yeah. Hell yeah.

In Summer news she broke up a fight between the cat and the dog and then took the cat to her operating theatre upstairs where she proceeded to pull out clumps of loose hair from the cats neck with tweezers and trim the rest with nail scissors. The  Cat naturally went ape shit on Summers ass and was rewarded a can of Tuna

Day 59 - If you go down to the woods today

I haven’t blogged for a while – and I think it’s because I don’t really have that much to moan about. Don’t get me wrong Summer is still an arse and part time dad still watches Babestation – actually he now records Babestation as Summer found out to her horror today.

Yes things have been going well for me since I turned 30.

Firstly I got a mortgage so I can stay in my mums house – it was a great feeling when we ripped the ‘For Sale’ sign down. It’s nice to have your Saturday’s back to yourself and not having to find new ways to deter people from buying your house, there are only so many times you can force a cat to pee in the hallway and Summer got so into our regular patter she began to think the house was actually haunted.

So with this newly acquired debt, comes responsibility and I have also had to take on a new job with longer hours and more stress. My friends tried to put me off, ‘’if you take this new job yeah you can pay your mortgage, get a car, and a cleaner but you will never see Summer’.....I handed my notice in there and then.

In Summer news, my friend and I took her sons and Summer to Keston Ponds for some good old fashioned wood walking round the ponds. It was delightful to see them run around the trees and jump in the stream. Not so delightful was watching Summer get stuck in a mud pool. Bare in mind there were 5 of us and only Summer the smallest one manages to find the UK’s only sinking mud spot. In a matter of seconds she was knee deep wriggling for her life. The other 2 kids were clawing at the mud trying to rescue her. I made the mistake of trying to help and ended up flat on my face .  by the end of our little wholesome walk. Summer had lost both Pugg boots to the mud and was  so soiled that she had to strip naked and walk back bare foot through the woods past families walking off there Sunday lunch wearing nothing but my leopard print snood. It looked like we had rescued  Mogli from the Jungle.

Day 58 - Bonkers Conkers

Today was nice. On collecting Summer from school I was presented with a surprise!

She was all sweaty when I got there , so I recoiled when she gave me a kiss- it’s essentially her fault for demanding to wear Ugg boots -sorry Pugg boots (Primark brought) leopard print leggings and a  long sleeve top on the hottest day of the year. We need to stop watching the only way is Essex.

Anyway...I am just heading out the classroom door when the after school club lady stops me. ‘’Oh yes, I need to give you this’’

Shit what is it, another medical slip, an exclusion letter, extra homework, social services letter....

‘’its a note home from her teacher’’ shit shit shitty shit.  I skulk back to collect the note that will ruin my weekend.

But neh, yeah of little faith mummy,  tis but a certificate of achievement ‘’Star of the Week’’ I have heard about these awards but thought them a fanciful piece of fiction, Summer bringing Mr Tumnus home for tea and cake was more likely .

On the back there is a hand written note from the teacher....to me... because I am her mother and I have born a star (see day 56 I told you so) Now I know how Mary felt – not my mate Mary,I mean  Jesus n Mary.

I start to read...

‘’In PE yesterday...’’ oh PE , not Star of Math or English....PE, never mind a star is a star ,more people know Usain Bolt than some Mathalete anyway.

‘’Summer worked well in the group and chose  to .....’’ I love the way her teachers always write ‘chose ‘ to  because Summer will only take part and excel in something she has chosen to do.

‘’Chose to develop a sequence of movements to create a dance’’ errrr isn’t that what dance is ??

‘’She listened very carefully to the music that was playing and kept with the tempo and the rhythm’’ Hell, she is black what you expect woman.

‘’Her dance was magnificent’’ oh do calm down dear

‘’...and told the story of a conkers experience during Autumn’’ ......ohhhh kaaayyyy then, someone picked up the hash cake at the bake sale today.

What does a conker experience during Autumn?  It sprouts, grows out of its shell, drops to the ground and then kids use it as weapons.  Shit she would have to be talented to dance that scene.

When we get home I ask her to perform this MAGNIFICENT dance. She willingly agrees.  She wants me to get involved, Stand like a tree, this I can do. I stand arms out like a tree, she stands underneath my armpit, dramatically drops to the ground in a ball. Then rolls around the floor ( a little bit too proactively if you ask me)

And now as promised many moons ago (thinking that I would never have to) I am grudgingly obliged to buy her a present as she won Star of the Week, for her ability to sexualise a conker.

Day 58 - I have a dream

‘’you wanna hear about my dream?’’   was the first non abusive sentence Summer spoke this morning, before that was a series of Jamaican abuse and teeth kissing for daring to wake her up for school.

‘’there was a robot with lasers and it was killing people’’

I’m not really listening we have 5 mins to get out the door ‘’thats nice put your shoes on’’

‘’he killed you, daddy and the dog...me and the cat were fine’’  I am listening now because she says this with a smile and I vividly remember hearing her laughing in her sleep last night – now I know why.

On the way to the bus stop she pauses and looks into the fog ‘’this looks just like my dream, the monster is coming mum, he has lasers for arms – everyone is going to die, people will be dead in rivers’’ The people at the bus stop shuffle away from us.

‘’what will we do when it comes for us mum?’’

‘’its ok, Dad will sort him out there is no need to worry about monsters’’  I like to bring up Part time dad in public places, I think it surprises people that one can have a mixed race child and have  relationship with the father. It makes us seem modern and cultured rather than just another statistic. They don’t need to know he is a moron

‘’don’t be stupid mummy, Daddy would just save himself and the pub’’ now people know he is a moron.

All the way to school on the bus – Summer retells her dream at the perfect volume to ensure the whole bus is listening, as more and more people engage with her the more graphic she gets until she is wriggling on the floor gurgling showing how it will sound when the laser melts her belly.

No one is amused – they all look at me in disgust  - how can this small innocent child imagine such horrific scenes.  

‘’There is blood on the roads, there are zombies eating flesh and the only way I survive is by pretending I am a robot too and I must kill and lick the blood yum yum yum ‘’  I pull her down the school path as she screams and howls as the zombies in her mind are gnawing at school caretaker – who looks at her bemused as she whispers  ‘’save yourself, save yourself ‘’ to him.

I chuck her into breakfast club and she strolls into a room full of children eating jam on toast – I admire the new reception kids and remember how that was Summer just last year.

I mention to the club leader as I head out the door –‘’ don’t entertain her if she offers to tell you about her dream’’. They know this could mean trouble, this could lead to an army of kids scared and literally wetting their pants, As I walk away I see the class turn to listen to Summer, she throws her arms up in the air to tell her tale as the assistant leaps through the air to cover her mouth.  I wont be surprised if tomorrow I get a call from the school.

Day 57 - Dear Mum

Dear Mum

Today I turned 30! I want to let you know that everything is alright. That like you said the choices I made would mean that life may be a little bit harder than they had to be – but I am doing it, despite your initial doubts.

To be honest I always thought you would be here, not for me but for Summer, like when I played that game when I was a kid, when I would leave you with my baby while I picked my husband up from the airport in the Porsche. I think you would have wanted that for me. Not this life with part time dad and Summer being cared for by strangers 8 hrs a day and me being the breadwinner. God I wish I could just leave Summer with you sometimes.

I was never going to fit the norm mum, but I think you liked that in me, a rebellious streak that you never let live yourself, my fondness for taking the wrong path, the way I always turned out ok in the end drove you insane and I still do it. And we are , we are OK. We would be better with you; Summer would probably be better behaved with you around. But she is healthy, strong and loved.. . . . . and mental, I ‘m not sure you being here would have changed that.

I think you would be proud of me, proud that I didn’t fall apart when you left, that I did things the right way as you wanted and I am glad you instilled that drive within me.  I still try and make you happy with things I do even though you’re not here.

So today I am 30 – an adult, not your baby any more. I didn’t get your card with its neat hand writing and embarrassing message, but that ok, I know you were there. I know you were the one that closed the tattoo parlour when after my third Jaeger bomb I decided to get a tattoo behind my ear tonight, the one who made me get the last train home and text to make sure Summer is ok.

I’m 30 now and it’s time that maybe I stop waiting for you to come back and save me – I still think you died to just prove a point, and stubborn as I am I proved you wrong – but you knew I would.

We still talk about you – we live in your home (thanks for that!)  I cringe when I find myself doing the same nerdy things you did for me as a child to Summer.  She moans about my cooking and singing too.

You would have really enjoyed her mum – she is nuts,

But listen I am a big girl now – so bugger off and have some fun up there, get stoned  or something radical, hell get laid by a black man!! . I’m fine. Don’t worry. You taught me well

Love

S x 

Day 56 - Lunch

So we made it two weeks this school year before I get the call from the school office

‘’Hi mum, its Miss K’’ – in an instant my gut drops. Miss K only ever calls with bad news. She always starts off with the same line ‘’don’t worry Summers fine’’ you know, for once I wish she wasn’t fine. I wish the school would ring me because Summer is vomiting or running a temperature. At least then I could get a half day off work. No such luck for me – it’s always down to behaviour and I always get judged. Miss K really doesn’t like me. She has been there at the start of all my call ins to the head. She is the one who is concerned first about things like Summers erotic dancing at school and Summers insistence on running into walls to get plasters, she is the one that sees me drop Summer at school late when I am hung-over from a works party the night before (just the once).

. She is essentially the school secretary but she has been put on some half day course and transformed into parent liaison officer. Whatever that means. She has taken this extra responsibility on and with it power above her station and she is desperate to find a social services case. The easiest target so far is Summer.

‘’Summer has made a formal complaint to me’’ says Miss K – quite how a 5 yr old makes a formal complaint I don’t know. Does she do it via alphabetical flash cards or play dough animation ?

‘’She is refusing to eat her packed lunch’’  - so bloody what! make her eat it!

‘’ we here at (insert name of primary school) listen to children’’  she is reading this out of a manual. ‘’Summer is protesting about the quality of her packed lunch, the sandwich was soggy, she says the food is off and there is a funny smell in her lunch box’’ this all coming from a girl who I caught drinking washing up liquid yesterday.

Soggy sandwiches are part and parcel of school days aren’t they? – who has not had a soggy sandwich at least 10 times during their school life. I thought sandwiches were meant to be wet until I was 15!

I am smiling now at the thought of Summer protesting. Standing on a chair in the lunch hall making herself heard, demanding change, throwing her soggy sandwich to the ceiling and starting a petition. This is silly, and the school are calling me about a soggy sandwich. I wait for Miss K to crack, say how stupid  Summer is being, but she doesn’t, she is as appalled by the sandwich situation as Summer. She is taking this ‘formal’ complaint very seriously.

‘’Summer tells me that the lunchbox has been in the fridge for 2 days’’ Summer is a fucking liar and out to get me. I remind Miss K that this is not possible as she had the accused lunch box yesterday thus breaking this supposed  48hr fridge imprisonment.

‘’Summer is demanding school dinners from now on- we had to give her one today as we cant see a chid starve- you owe us £2’’ oh shut up – I now have to pay you £2 because you won’t let a child eat a soggy sandwich! And now Summer has rights to demand school dinners and you want a cheque upfront for £150 to cover the term. Tell Summer if she wants a hot meal at school she needs to get a job and then she can decide what she can and can’t have.

When I get Summer from school later she is looking sheepish, she knows she has done wrong, but she also knows she is victorious.

‘I am sorry they called you mum, I begged her not to, I told them It would make you mad’ yes Summer go on, imply that I beat you

‘’I just don’t want packed lunch anymore and this is the only way you will stop making them’’

And so I get my cheque book out and sign away a shit load of money for Summer to eat the same thing day in, day out – a tuna jacket potato.

Suffice to say on checking the lunchbox I found it empty – she had somehow managed to force herself to eat her lunch at the after school club, soggy sandwich and all.