Interrogation of: Shelley V.

Shelley V. was once a Party Girl. She and I worked together and flatted together. I borrowed her clothes (still have some actually), ate her gourmet cooking and was a willing Plus One to loads of gigs, fundraisers, movie previews and theatre shows. Back then, she was a radio breakfast host so she got lots of free tickets to stuff. (I encourage you to find your own pet radio announcer. They may be going out of fashion, but they’re still getting the freebies.)
 

I, in retrospect, realise that I did absolutely nothing for her except encourage her to dump this useless lump she was seeing (he was one of those noxiously plentiful types who treats you like crap and then sends you flowers). But it was apparently a life changing moment for her - one which took our friendship from a ‘hey, how you doing’ acquaintanceship to a ‘please hold my hair back while I vomit’ bosom buddy-ness.

And now, this ex-Party Girl is interrogating Shelley about her transition to motherhood - just to prove I'm not the only one who finds the whole thing just a little bit odd.



Just back from Playgroup

What did you do B.C? (Before Children)
Whatever I bloody well liked - including:
: Remorseless drinking that didn't involve spending the next day counting every second 'til bedtime (that's the children’s bedtime - not mine).
: Uninterrupted and completed conversations with girlfriends.
: Actually talking to my partner about – I don’t know - world affairs, Man Booker Prize winners or even the possibility of us ever leaving the house together without children - as opposed to just giving him instructions on feeding, cleaning and rounding up the kids.
: Shopping in places that don't sell clothing covered in mutant ninja turtles, Ben 10, Batman or Spiderman.

What do you do now?

Inwardly sigh when I hear nappy tabs being ripped off at 5:57am as the three year old dumps his nappy on the floor and thumps (he does not ever pitter-patter) down the hall. Give up trying to go back to sleep when the four year old gets into the bed and a massive fight erupts over who gets to go in the middle. Decide getting out of bed is preferable to being smacked in the eye with Winnie the Pooh or Peter Rabbit. Drag myself to kitchen, make Nutella on toast. Eat it myself (even though I hate Nutella) after massive tantrum because it was cut in squares not triangles. Make porridge. Try and distract three year old from throwing tantrum because I forgot to let him stir the porridge. Stop him from eating brown sugar out of bowl in handfuls. Wipe sugar off bench. Make half-hearted attempt at positive reinforcement - "I really like the way you are holding your porridge bowl so carefully!" Turn on Disney Junior, scream after standing on impossibly painful piece of Lego. Limp back to kitchen and begin to assemble lunches...bored yet? 

 

What has been the grossest thing your child has ever made you do?

I just witnessed the three year old take the most ginormous bogey out of his nose and eat it. I said to him, "No, nooo don't eat it. Put it in the rubbish!" and he replied, "I like it." Arggghhh Yuck!

 

What is the most pointless piece of baby equipment you ever bought?
Baby oil. What idiot thought babies needed oiling? I still have a full bottle of it and my son starts school on Monday.

 

What was the last party you went to?

A 5th birthday at the rec centre where you could take your bike or scooter and there were cheerios, jet planes and a really cool Spiderman cake.

 

Any words of advice for ex-Party Girls?

There's nothing wrong with wine with dinner, although preferably while preparing dinner to numb the pain of having made a healthy, nutritious meal that no one, except you, will eat - unless you have a Labrador.

 

Do you ever lie awake at night wondering what happened to your life?

No, am too exhausted...but often wonder what happened to my life while mopping up squashed spaghetti from the floor or scrubbing tomato sauce off the white vinyl chairs or wiping up the pee from the seat and tiles around the loo or after spending 45 minutes looking for a piece of Lego the four year old needs to finish building the Lego space shuttle.

 

But was it worth it?
You want an honest answer to this one or the one I should give just in case my kids ever read it? Sometimes I think they're quite lovely and I'm glad they're in the world, but it would be nice if someone else was responsible for the long and tedious bedtime routine while I drank cocktails at a swim-up bar.

Happy Birthday, Shelley