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.
Showing posts with label shed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shed. Show all posts
Sunday, 30 November 2008
Monday, 17 November 2008
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!”
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!”
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