I AM ABSOLUTELY RUBBISH AT MATHS. My family teases me for it all of the time as they watch me counting my fingers. If, in a restaurant, a friend says “OK, let’s sort the bill out,” I’ll be the first one rushing to the loo - and not because I need a pee or don’t want to pay, just because I don’t want to look thick! My brother-in-law spent many a patient night trying to help me get to the grips with the basics. Now I’m an adult, he (quite rightfully) shrugs his shoulders and says, “Well, you had a good teacher!” See, even he’s given up on me! My son over took me at about the age of five - and that’s no exaggeration. He just knew what numbers go together to make ten and I don’t. It’s a fact. I can spell words and I can put them together in a reasonably interesting fashion (you must think I’m OK or you wouldn’t be reading my blog every day!) but I just can’t do the number thing. My one numerical talent is to be able to double the three numbers on car registration plates in a flash - a totally useless, almost idiot savant skill which will get me nowhere in life.
I AM A RIDICULOUSLY OVER-PROTECTIVE MOTHER. Think of the most suffocating and all enveloping mother in any sitcom or book and multiply it by ten, and that’s me. There, I’ve said it! I make no secret of it and am ribbed constantly by close friends and family, but I’m a worrier. A headache is meningitis, a cough is the plague and an infected toe will lead to certain death. Maybe it’s because he’s an only child - which is just as well as I’d never be able to spread my paranoia around any more of them! And heaven help me as he’s now approaching 16; drugs, booze, one night stands, rock concerts, out all night - I’ll be doing them all!
I HAD A FAIRY GODMOTHER. Yes, I really did. Her name was Vi and, aside from my mum, she was the most precious and loved lady in my life. Some of my happiest days were spent with her doing the simplest of things - looking for metal ring-pulls on the common (for charity), playing ‘Crossroads’, learning to knit and baking days. Anything I needed - for school, Brownies or a naked dolly - she could magic up from nowhere. I often tell my mum that my godmother was the best present my parents could ever have given me. She taught me so much and is missed every day.
I WAS CO-HABITING (quaint word), ENGAGED AND WITH THE SAME BOYFRIEND FOR 10 YEARS WHEN I MET MY (now) HUSBAND! What a hussy, eh? Yep, got settled in a relationship and thought it was for life, when … bam … realised I’d met my soul-mate. Much soul searching followed, with me constantly saying to (what was to become) hubbie, “But I’ve been with [?] for ten years, and you and I have only known one another for five minutes, what if it doesn’t work out?” He just said we’d make our own history and one day we’ll have been together longer than that, so I took the plunge and 21 years later I’ve never looked back. Take heart girls, it can all work out for the best.
I SUFFER FROM BOUTS OF EXCRUCIATING BACK PAIN CAUSED BY A DISC THAT DECIDES TO SLIP WHENEVER I’M STRESSED OR UPSET. I call it my ‘mother back,’ as it’s partly caused by an epidural given while in labour and partly by my own mum when I’m worrying about her. After several long episodes (one which lasted five months), I decided I couldn’t afford the osteopathy bills anymore, I didn’t want an op and it really wasn’t a very attractive sight for my husband to witness me in my PJ’s lumbering around the kitchen mooing like a cow in labour as I breathed through another spasm of pain. So, after advice from my osteopath when I was finally on the mend, I took matters into my own hands, bought a yoga DVD and forced to myself go through the motions. I would not be that old woman crippled with pain if it was something I could sort for myself. So far, so good. I can’t promise I’ll be swinging from the chandeliers when I’m 90, contrary to my blog a few days ago, but it won’t be for want of trying.
See you tomorrow for the next instalment … but if you don’t pull your fingers out and buy my novel, I might keep you in suspense even longer!
Diary of a Mummy Misfit is available at Amazon for Kindle. Now also in paperback at Lulu.