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!”

Nothing fits!

Saturday, October 4 08

Mrs Bennet shot out of her noisy, cluttered house into the plush, immaculate courtesy car on the drive and sank into its luxurious leather seat. She rested her head on the steering wheel and resisted the urge to press the horn very loudly. This was not good. She knew it was going to be tough, but living in a lounge with six other bodies for hours on end, was doing her head in. The Sat Nav didn't work so she couldn't programme it to take her off to some exotic place, so instead she sat motionless, allowing the silence to wash over her in calming waves. It took at least 10 minutes for it to have any effect. She was so worked up. Never in her life had she felt so stressed. She stared straight ahead at the empty garage. Change was afoot, she knew that, but it didn't take away the immediate problem. There was just nowhere to get a minute's peace. She so related to Jill Murphy's Large Family stories where Mother Elephant couldn't even have a bath without her children following her.
She'd just returned from doing the weekly shop. But she'd bought too many frozen items and had forgotten the garage's chest freezer was now sitting on the front lawn waiting to be collected. The garage was being pulled down within days. The tiny kitchen freezer desperately needed defrosting and wouldn't let Mrs Bennet give it any more offerings. Instead it gave her an offering - several shards of ice which fell on the floor and formed a puddle around the unpacked shopping. Meanwhile, one by one little Bennets appeared, expecting her to respond immediately to their requests.
Miss Naomi Bennet wanted her mother to find oil pastels for an important picture she intended to draw; Miss Emily Bennet needed Mrs Bennet to find two pairs of baby socks for her dolls the twins no longer used and Miss Megan suddenly announced that she had to have a blanket for her doll because it needed a nap. And only Mummy was allowed to fetch it. Miss Kezia Bennet was shaking the milk out of its bottle to create a white mottled effect on the lounge carpet and Miss Rosie Bennet was pulling anything and everything she could out of every drawer she could find. She had also perfected her throwing technique and was particularly good at hurling playdough at her poor mother.
Mrs Bennet was also struggling under a mound of washing, work commissions which had tight deadlines and sleepless nights due to wakeful twins. She didn't have enough arms, hours or space. But for now, this plush brand new car, which she knew would have to go back in a couple of days, was her life saver. She listened to a track which included the lyric, "I'm gonna fly, no one knows where, I'm gonna fly, soaring through the air...."
She looked up through the sun roof and watched an aeroplane overhead leave its vapour trail behind. "One day I'll fly," she thought. Just another six months and she'd have a house to spread her wings in and a shed to fly to when she needed it.
"I just might need something stronger than Mr Latte to help me get there," she decided, "mmmm I think Mr Champagne would do very well."