The birth anniversary of Modern Mrs Bennet

Saturday, November 29 08

Modern Mrs Bennet was born the moment she looked up at a tiny television screen and saw two fluttering heart beats. It only took a split second, but it sealed her destiny. Mr Bennet looked as grey and shocked as she felt. And she would never forget that look as long as she lived. It was one of those moments when the enormity was such that it was almost hysterically funny. Although neither Mr and Mrs Bennet knew at this stage what gender their unborn 13 week non-identical children were, the possibility of two more girls hung in the air. After all the sex couldn’t be changed – the facts were there, just not yet revealed to the parents concerned.
Recalling this moment, Mrs Bennet remembered the long walk back to the car, crying and shaking in disbelief and awe as Mr Bennet reassured her at every step.
“I didn’t know how I was going to carry one. How am I going to carry two!” she quivered. And yet here she was two years on, with five fantastically different daughters who had made her what she was – a fulfilled, often batty walking zombie. Her tummy muscles may have departed company since their birth, but she had welcomed two more exquisitely different individuals who made her laugh every day. Five daughters stretched her patience, emotions, management and juggling skills, not to mention filling what use to be a somewhat spacious living area for two.
“I don’t think I can have children,” she had once whispered to her husband in the lounge, now full of lively limbs, daily squeals and squabbles. Of course Mr Bennet no longer believed her. Five offspring in seven years was going some. It did open Mr and Mrs Bennet up to certain remarks and mutterings from those around them about not having a television and wasn’t it about time the “problem” was sorted? Mrs Bennet didn’t care what they thought. Her double surprise had not only taught her an invaluable lesson of living a day at a time, they had been the making (or breaking) of her. Without Miss Bennets Four and Five, there wouldn’t be a Modern Mrs Bennet.
She was however entering a new decade of ducking hormones, fleeing to the shed and one which definitely would not involve giving birth.

Sinking in the arms of Darcy

Friday, November 28 08

Mr Bennet was sitting on the babies’ table, towel wrapped round his waist, his torso pink from bath heat, attempting to coax the DVD player to hand over a film firmly lodged in its jaw. The words “blocked” flashed up and try as he might, Mr Bennet couldn’t relinquish the DVD or get its mouth to open. Miss Rosie Bennet was like this. If she picked up something – particularly a fistful of Playdoh, Mrs Bennet couldn’t dislodge it. Although she wasn’t clutching on to a bath towel at the time.
The Bennet house was full of furniture badly needing limbs and joints replaced. Chests of drawers littered every room in the current squeeze while the Darcys in the dirt worked on building bite-size Pemberley around them. The lounge chest – dedicated to uniform – was constantly dropping its drawers and causing a scene. As Mrs Bennet pulled out Miss Megan’s drawer, those containing Miss Naomi and Miss Emily Bennets’ clothes, would crash down on top of her fingers. She couldn’t even open her own clothes drawers upstairs.
The fridge had a blocked tear duct and wasn’t draining properly. Instead a puddle of icy water gathered on the bottom shelf, threatening to flood on a daily basis. And the understairs cupboard and kitchen units were so crammed full of “stuff,” Mrs Bennet feared their wrath any time she approached them. She decided to look at something positive. As the seven Bennets had now outgrown Mr Bennet’s bachelor sofa, she was pouring over a certain catalogue to consider corner settee options which would accommodate the Bennet bottoms. She pointed out a suitable design to Mr Bennet, who by now had won his quest over the obstinate DVD player, his towel still in tact.
He nodded in agreement at the child-friendly deep chocolate brown hue, then started to chuckle.
Mrs Bennet did wonder if the bath water had been too hot for him. What was funny about a sofa?
“I don’t believe it," he started."You’ve got a certain gentleman on the brain. This sofa is called Darcy.”
"Let's see!" she cried. Mr Bennet was right. If they did plump for this design, she really could legitimately sink in the arms of Darcy!

Wages in double portion

Monday, November 24 08

Mrs Bennet no longer required a television for entertainment purposes. She could quite happily live without it. Mr Bennet couldn’t. A certain ball kicked by a certain team meant it still had its uses – that, and taping certain children’s programmes for certain emergency calming-down moments.
Miss Bennets Four and Five deserved glowing reviews for their Oscar-winning dramas and comedies. They obediently sat in their feeding chairs with little rose-bud mouths opening in bird-like fashion as spaghetti came their way, scooping pasta worms as Mother bird gave them her morning’s work. Armed with a spoon, they relished the freedom of attacking yoghurt pots, giving a running commentary as they did so. Then suddenly, without warning they swapped pots and carried on eating. Mrs Bennet was intrigued. This habit had become intrinsic to meal times. If she gave them each a bowl containing a medley of bananas, raisins, apples, breadsticks and cheese, they’d cheerfully tuck in, then after five minutes, push their bowl at the other and finish their sister’s meal.
If Miss Kezia Bennet wanted to really upset her twin, she would crawl off with Rosie’s reassured, well-worn and well-cuddled rabbit. She’d then poke it through the playpen bars and tilt her head as if to say: “na,na,na,na,na!” But Miss Rosie Bennet had her ammunition ready. She’d find Kezia’s soothing tool – the dummy – wave it, chew it, then run off with it, leaving Kezia pursuing her bigger and stronger sister. It made fantastic viewing and their interludes were equally as comical to listen to, such as now.
Mrs Bennet was perched on the stair’s bottom step, listening to their animated babbling. For the past hour, instead of dozing for an afternoon nap, each peered at the other through cot bars, nodding heads and waving arms as if to explain their point. Mrs Bennet knew this as she peeped through the tiny gap where the door was slightly ajar.
Feeling excluded from this intimacy and secret language, she smiled and left them to their conversation, knowing eventually they’d run out of talk and fall asleep – bottoms in the air, limbs hanging out of each cot. It was moments like these when parenting wages were bountiful for Mrs Bennet. They were indeed her double portion.

Darcy goes grey

Friday, November 21 08

One of the “Darcys in the dirt” was notably more grey than he had been when he first started building Pemberley. Mrs Bennet didn’t like to say anything, but she did hope the Bennet building project wasn’t causing him too much stress. Incidentally, although Jane Austen’s Bennet family lived at Longbourn, the Modern Mrs Bennet chose to go straight for a bite-size Pemberley. As Miss Bennet numbers one and two’s future husbands were currently between the ages of seven and nine, their pocket money wouldn’t stretch enough to provide for their “wives” just yet. It’s why Mr and Mrs Bennet had chosen to step in. As it happened the giddy, youngest Kitty and Lydia Bennet equivalents had already found their men. If they had been boys they’d have been “wowed” by the enormous cement mixers, various diggers and grinders. Full of baby hormones, they preferred to show their dimples at the Darcys in the dirt. Mrs Bennet had given up washing the hand and kiss marks off the lounge window.
It was a strange feeling being surrounded by an assault course of bricks, scaffolding, tiles and steel poles. It was fine during the day with just herself and the twins Bennets. But at six o’clock with seven bodies, school shoes, bags, lunch boxes, pens, crayons, doll’s arms, squashed raisins, a ball pool of rice crispies and a derailed train, it wasn’t so pleasant. Two objects epitomised how the Bennet parents felt at such moments - Dora the Explorer’s dad was spreadeagled on a cushion, while a lady’s voice warbled painfully slowly from a toy mobile phone as her battery was running low.
As light was getting obscured by Darcy activity, the dark winter days felt even darker. But it was reassuring to be surrounded by men, even if they did require the occasional cuppa. However, the leading Darcy in the dirt did look worryingly grey. As she handed him a cup of coffee, Mrs Bennet realised next door’s garage roof had also changed colour.
“I’m having a bad hair day today,” remarked the Darcy, tapping his head to create a dust cloud.
“I had noticed and did wonder if you were OK,” replied Mrs Bennet. “I only wish I could shake my grey hair out like that!”

Hot tubs and Champagne

Monday, November 18 08

Mrs Bennet drew herself up to her new height of five foot three and promptly fell over. High-heeled boots were all very well in enabling her to feel like an adult - and not just a Mummy - but it didn’t mean she necessarily walked like one. A friend she met 38 years ago in the playgroup Wendy House, was celebrating her 40th birthday, and Mrs Bennet couldn’t wait. She was off to spend a few hours in a luxury spa with fellow mums, who too needed a few hours off child responsibility.
She felt like a care-free giggly girl as she tried her spa slippers on. Her feet looked ridiculously small in the cumbersome white indoor shoes, which both veered sharply to the right, causing her to walk like a crab. And as the over-sized white gown wrapped round her twice, it had the amusing effect of making her feel like a four-year-old who’d raided her mother’s wardrobe, rather than an-almost-40-year-old.
But after a back massage which painfully ironed out her knotted shoulders, a relaxing swim and a leisurely 45 minutes, glass of Champagne in hand, chatting amicably with new friends in a bubbling hot tub in the cold night air, warmed sufficiently by a roaring fire, Mrs Bennet didn’t want to go back to being a Mummy. She wanted to stay here forever.
However as the clock struck midnight, she kicked off her glass slippers and retreated back to being Cinders. The silence of a sleeping house was shattered as an electronic toy teddy sensed her presence and started crying.
“Shhh! You’re not really hungry,” she told it, using the same tone she used on the little Bennets. But she knew if she didn’t stop and feed this tiny bear with its minute bottle, the real children would awake.
“Yum, yum, yum…” went the bear, until it finally sighed and said, “I love you.”
“That’s very kind of you, now go to sleep,” she automatically replied.
“Now I’m talking to toys. I really need to get out more. I wonder if Mr Bennet would notice if I hid a hot tub and a stash of Champagne in my shed?” she daydreamed, adding: “He mightn’t but the neighbours would!”

Bears and Bennets

Monday, November 10 08

It was a huge responsibility to look after five lively girls. But it was an even bigger responsibility to look after the classroom teddy. Girls were one thing, a cuddly bear was another. The Miss Bennets were extremely vocal if they were unhappy or left out. A cute-faced furry bear couldn’t tell you if he had been left behind. Such was the case for poor Benjamin Bear who had gone missing. This high-flyer, accustomed to travelling all over the world and well-cuddled by four and five year olds, had somehow got lost on his recent vacation in his very own town. Last seen in a certain fast-food restaurant, the little bear was sorely missed. Even Mrs Bennet was sorry. Little Benjamin had been on holiday with the Bennets on numerous occasions. As the school was mourning his disappearance, Miss Emily Bennet walked out with Benjamin’s older brother Barnaby.
“Mummy, Barnaby can come with us to Liverpool!” declared Emily.
“That’s lovely for him!” Mrs Bennet replied, inwardly praying he and his red knitted trousers which were hanging round his knees, (he’d obviously lost weight worrying about his brother) would remain in one piece after a week with the Bennets. To report back that Benjamin’s next of kin was also lost, last seen wearing a red scarf at Anfield would be awful for both Mrs Bennet and school.
As it happened, Barnaby thoroughly enjoyed his time in the European Capital of Culture. He perched on a lambanana, a sculpture half-lamb, half-banana; was pressed against aquarium glass so he could watch humbug and puff fish; and was even allowed to sit on Ring Star’s drums, worth £30,000! Mrs Bennet was constantly counting heads – including Barnaby’s – to ensure no one was left behind.
Thankfully he wasn’t and Mrs Bennet breathed a sigh of relief as Emily with Barnaby and his photographic record of his Liverpool trip in tow, bounced back to school, where jubilations were in the air as little Benjamin had been found.
Mrs Bennet was eternally grateful that her children’s school no longer had real classroom pets. As a bachelor, Mr Bennet had accidentally killed a poor hamster after hitting a cricket bat at the ceiling to stop it running round its wheel in the flat upstairs. It died from shock three days later.
“Hmm, a cuddly bear is a much more sensible option. Five girls and a live four-legged animal on loan would be far too risky,” decided Mrs Bennet, adding: “And too much for the Bennet nerves!”

Glow Baby Glow!

Tuesday, November 4 08

Mrs Bennet couldn’t believe it. Miss Rosie Bennet was sitting at the end of the bed shining like a glow worm. A strange aluminous green light radiated from her adorable chubby body. She was officially a glow baby in time for Bonfire night. The older Miss Bennets had discovered an unopened tube of glow sticks and decided they’d have their own firework display. Unbeknown to Mrs Bennet, they’ had handed a stick to their baby sisters, who promptly hit each other with their allotted lime green and fluorescent pink wands.
“Mummy can you come up and turn the light off please? We’ve got something to show you!” cried the Miss Bennets who could talk.
Mrs Bennet approached the bedroom with caution, but spotting their sticks, she realised five hands were ready to perform. In turning off the light however Mrs Bennet’s eyes were drawn to her fourth daughter who clearly stole the show.

Rosie’s stick had leaked. Her little arms and vest were now glowing impressively. Mrs Bennet did see the funny side, but concern about the liquid contents forced her to whip the stick and the vest off the glow baby, who didn’t want to be washed down by a warm flannel and shouted in protest.

The line between humour and danger was fine at times. Situations were only funny once the threat had vanished. A few months ago Mr and Mrs Bennet had found a 3cm-long screw lodged in Rosie’s belly button when they changed her nappy. Thankfully the long point was sticking upwards. It was at Rosie’s “I’m-now-a-speedy-crawler-and-I’m-going-to-pick-up-everything-I-find-stage.” She’d quite happily explored a friend’s kitchen floor, picked up the screw and dropped it down her vest.

And yesterday, Mrs Bennet had laughed aloud as she changed Miss Kezia Bennet’s nappy. Obviously not yet aware of belly-button piercing, Miss Kezia had opted for the safer option and a currant was nestling nicely in her belly button, tailor-made for her tiny body! Mrs Bennet couldn’t resist taking a photograph so to embarrass her daughter at a later stage in life. Unfortunately Mrs Bennet’s “safety first” approach, meant there was no photographic evidence of the glow baby to produce at her 18th birthday. But it was a memory Mrs Bennet would never forget.