Tuesday, February 17 09
Mrs Bennet was surrounded by children, plasterers, electricians, builders, rubble and dust - and it was half-term. She had done her best to get all five daughters and herself out of the way. But it meant dividing the day up into bite-sized chunks and ensuring she wasn’t in one place too long to cause rebellion and boredom amongst the ranks. It wasn’t the older three girls so much she had to worry about, it was the smaller two of her brood who if allowed to sit still too long, wriggled and writhed so much it caused all heads to look and stare. Mrs Bennet was already a talking point just by walking into a shop or building. Like a mother duck with all the baby ducks following, she could hear the whispers around her. If anyone of them started quacking even more eyes looked at her. She felt like walking around with a sticker on her back. The sticker would read something like this: “Yes, I know I have my hands full, so if you have a spare one and you can lend it I would be most grateful.” Going to the toilet alone was a major expedition and not to be considered unless the utmost preparation was in place – i.e. one or two of those wet wipe bricks, spare vests, nappies and clothes for herself as inevitably one of her girls would spill a cup of water over her trousers in an embarrassing place.
Because there was only one room to play, eat and work in, this room - once a comfortable lounge – was now a dumping ground for coats, toys and endless creative productions the Miss Bennets generated. Mrs Bennet had an article to write, but for some reason she couldn’t think. The room was in such a mess, it bugged her and she knew she’d have to tackle the mountains around her before she could climb her own. Armed with a bottle of root beer – which was she knew an acquired (peculiar more like, according to Mr Bennet) taste, she pulled every thing off shelves, out from under sofas and anything offending her. She was in the mood for tackling it and had that ruthless edge and any armless, headless or legless animal or doll a chance wasn’t going to stand a chance. Even the sock bin, now overflowing with 143 man-black, school-white, ballet-pink, baby-striped and lady-spots was in Mrs Bennet’s firing line.
“Why have I still got oodles of oddies desperately waiting for their sole-mates when I know full well they’re never going to find them! I’m just going to take them out of their misery. Seven years of waiting is long enough!” And with that she emptied the Bennet collection into a black bin-liner and thus removing their hope.
It was just as well the Bennet girls weren’t in the room. Their mother worked relentlessly, trying to regain an inch here and there to make the lounge - and week - more bearable, largely for her sake rather than for anyone else.
The caffeine fix from the root beer kept her going until midnight, when she sunk into a now cold bath to prepare herself for another day. She couldn’t sleep but watched her husband enjoying his. She wondered where he went when he dreamt and whether she was part of his dreamful world. Eventually at 3.30am she dropped off refusing to believe it was morning when the alarm informed her it was day two of the half-term holidays. She put a pillow over her head and pretended it wasn’t.
Showing posts with label socks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label socks. Show all posts
Tuesday, 17 February 2009
Sunday, 15 February 2009
Valentine Love
Saturday, February 14 ‘09
The little twin Bennets were sitting at Mrs Bennet’s feet contentedly feeding each other Cheerios. Miss Rosie, the elder and more confident sister was pushing the tiny hoops into Kezia’s mouth. They both were grinning. Occasionally they lent forward, touching noses and giggled. As they did so Rosie pinched a few more cereal snacks from Kezia’s bowl and fed her twin again. They were biding their time. They did not want to go to bed.
This was Valentine’s weekend and Mr and Mrs Bennet were staying in a four star hotel. It was just as well it wasn’t a romantic break because the room they had been given had two single beds which had no intention of becoming a couple. They were firmly attached to the wall and no amount of reconciliation was going to unit them. The fact there were two travel cots in the room was a double insurance of uninterrupted passion.
It was a church leader’s conference and as there were crèche facilities for the under two’s during the day sessions, Mrs Bennet decided she would join her husband. Finding childcare for three daughters was slightly easier than five. She was used to handling the needs of five little people at once. But most of her friends and indeed family, were not, apart from Mr and Mrs Bennet Senior who had brought up five children of their own, albeit of the male species. They were now having a taste of the female variety. Hopefully it wasn’t too much of a shock.
The little twin Bennets were relishing having their parents to themselves – happily running down corridors, invariably in different directions and wooing both hotel guest and staff alike with their cheeky and mischievous grins. As the conference didn’t provide childcare in the evening, Mrs Bennet stayed back with her daughters. Sleeping – certainly in strange cots and in a strange room – was clearly not on their agenda, even it was on Mrs Bennet’s. One of her friends had instructed her: “Get some rest!” But his children were 21 and 17. Hers were 21 months and rest wasn’t yet part of their vocabulary. So for the next four hours Mrs Bennet did her best to entertain them. Although they did quite a lot of that themselves by doing a pretty good impression of the Andrex puppy, pulling toilet paper and running with it, stretching it as far as they could from the disabled bathroom the Bennets had been allocated, to the bedroom. Thankfully the twins didn’t think to pull the red emergency cords which dangled from both rooms. Mrs Bennet thought about it though. As both girls spent two hours crying and protesting about bedtime, she did debate calling for help. In the end, she turned the lights down and shut herself in the bathroom so she could sit on the toilet seat and read a chick lit novel until the sounds of her angry daughters dissipated to more of a whimper.
This was Valentine’s Day and her evening was spent cooped up in a bathroom. It would have been easier if she had a bath to soak in. But a hole in the floor didn’t quite do the trick on the relaxation front. To keep her spirits up, she rang her older three girls from her bathroom throne, who were only too delighted to tell her about their adventure that afternoon. Granddad’s car had broken down and they had had to be rescued in a tow truck. Just hearing their cheerful voices was a great compensation for the grumpy ones filtering through the bathroom door. Half an hour later, the cries from the cots were still strong. A further call was needed. Mrs Bennet rang her mum, affectionately known as Jannie, who made her laugh. Away for the weekend with Mrs Bennet’s dad, Jannie answered her mobile phone rang while she was in her hotel bathroom in Torquay - also sitting on the throne. That alone made Mrs Bennet giggle. Loo to loo, their chat was almost surreal but enough to maintain Mrs Bennet’s sanity. Although she knew she was in for a long night.
She was right. Having forgotten any spare socks for the twins, Mrs Bennet tried washing and drying the ones they’d been wearing. Having rinsed them with soap in the sink, Mrs Bennet realised her only drying option was the room’s hairdryer. In trying to quietly unplug it so she could do her laundry in her throne room, Mrs Bennet pressed the on switch, and promptly woke one sleeping baby and upset the one who was almost asleep. She was back to square one. Mr Bennet returned to find three unhappy ladies in his room – one jumping up and down in her cot, the other trying to escape from hers and the other knelt on the floor trying to dry four baby socks with a hairdryer. He sent his wife out for a much needed drink at the bar, calmed both babies and dried the socks in the trouser press. Mrs Bennet decided a man’s “fix it” qualities were sometimes just what a woman needed.
The little twin Bennets were sitting at Mrs Bennet’s feet contentedly feeding each other Cheerios. Miss Rosie, the elder and more confident sister was pushing the tiny hoops into Kezia’s mouth. They both were grinning. Occasionally they lent forward, touching noses and giggled. As they did so Rosie pinched a few more cereal snacks from Kezia’s bowl and fed her twin again. They were biding their time. They did not want to go to bed.
This was Valentine’s weekend and Mr and Mrs Bennet were staying in a four star hotel. It was just as well it wasn’t a romantic break because the room they had been given had two single beds which had no intention of becoming a couple. They were firmly attached to the wall and no amount of reconciliation was going to unit them. The fact there were two travel cots in the room was a double insurance of uninterrupted passion.
It was a church leader’s conference and as there were crèche facilities for the under two’s during the day sessions, Mrs Bennet decided she would join her husband. Finding childcare for three daughters was slightly easier than five. She was used to handling the needs of five little people at once. But most of her friends and indeed family, were not, apart from Mr and Mrs Bennet Senior who had brought up five children of their own, albeit of the male species. They were now having a taste of the female variety. Hopefully it wasn’t too much of a shock.
The little twin Bennets were relishing having their parents to themselves – happily running down corridors, invariably in different directions and wooing both hotel guest and staff alike with their cheeky and mischievous grins. As the conference didn’t provide childcare in the evening, Mrs Bennet stayed back with her daughters. Sleeping – certainly in strange cots and in a strange room – was clearly not on their agenda, even it was on Mrs Bennet’s. One of her friends had instructed her: “Get some rest!” But his children were 21 and 17. Hers were 21 months and rest wasn’t yet part of their vocabulary. So for the next four hours Mrs Bennet did her best to entertain them. Although they did quite a lot of that themselves by doing a pretty good impression of the Andrex puppy, pulling toilet paper and running with it, stretching it as far as they could from the disabled bathroom the Bennets had been allocated, to the bedroom. Thankfully the twins didn’t think to pull the red emergency cords which dangled from both rooms. Mrs Bennet thought about it though. As both girls spent two hours crying and protesting about bedtime, she did debate calling for help. In the end, she turned the lights down and shut herself in the bathroom so she could sit on the toilet seat and read a chick lit novel until the sounds of her angry daughters dissipated to more of a whimper.
This was Valentine’s Day and her evening was spent cooped up in a bathroom. It would have been easier if she had a bath to soak in. But a hole in the floor didn’t quite do the trick on the relaxation front. To keep her spirits up, she rang her older three girls from her bathroom throne, who were only too delighted to tell her about their adventure that afternoon. Granddad’s car had broken down and they had had to be rescued in a tow truck. Just hearing their cheerful voices was a great compensation for the grumpy ones filtering through the bathroom door. Half an hour later, the cries from the cots were still strong. A further call was needed. Mrs Bennet rang her mum, affectionately known as Jannie, who made her laugh. Away for the weekend with Mrs Bennet’s dad, Jannie answered her mobile phone rang while she was in her hotel bathroom in Torquay - also sitting on the throne. That alone made Mrs Bennet giggle. Loo to loo, their chat was almost surreal but enough to maintain Mrs Bennet’s sanity. Although she knew she was in for a long night.
She was right. Having forgotten any spare socks for the twins, Mrs Bennet tried washing and drying the ones they’d been wearing. Having rinsed them with soap in the sink, Mrs Bennet realised her only drying option was the room’s hairdryer. In trying to quietly unplug it so she could do her laundry in her throne room, Mrs Bennet pressed the on switch, and promptly woke one sleeping baby and upset the one who was almost asleep. She was back to square one. Mr Bennet returned to find three unhappy ladies in his room – one jumping up and down in her cot, the other trying to escape from hers and the other knelt on the floor trying to dry four baby socks with a hairdryer. He sent his wife out for a much needed drink at the bar, calmed both babies and dried the socks in the trouser press. Mrs Bennet decided a man’s “fix it” qualities were sometimes just what a woman needed.
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