Page 4 of The Bad Mother's Diary

Everyone asked me about Big Nose. Meaning Nick’s mum.

I admitted that Helen had let herself into the apartment this morning and checked the stainless steel windowsills for dust.

She found plenty. I have a baby. I hardly ever dust. I barely have time to use the toilet.

Everyone told me off (again) for letting Helen come round unannounced. But they don’t get it – Helen isn’t like a normal person. I’ve told her hundreds of times to let us know she’s coming, but she doesn’t listen.

Brandi pointed out that Nick and I pay rent, and that we could take Helen to court under the Landlord and Tenant Act for unauthorised visits.

True. But Helen gives us a pretty hefty discount. When I think of all my London friends, I’m the only one whose elevator doesn’t smell of piss.

I said, ‘Helen probably won’t be around so much after the wedding. She only visits to nag us about place settings and colour schemes.’

‘So the wedding’s still on then?’ Mum asked.

I said of course.

We had the usual family ‘discussion’ (row) about me marrying Nick.

I mean, yes – he does wear his sunglasses indoors. And yes – he needs to realise he’s not a child star anymore and roles aren’t handed to him on a silver platter. But he’s Daisy’s dad, and we’re in this together, for better or worse. I want Daisy to have a real, proper family life.

I told everyone I was dieting for the wedding, and Mum said, ‘Righty-o. Just four potatoes for you then. Don’t you worry. I’ve cooked this whole roast in olive oil.’

I showed her the calories on the Aunt Bessie’s roast potato packet.

She said, ‘Two hundred. Is that a lot?’

Yes – if you add olive oil when you’re cooking them. And eat four.

Considering Mum is overweight and has type II diabetes, it’s pretty shocking she knows nothing about calories.

She had eight roast potatoes on her plate, a mountain of buttery mash, oven chips and three huge slices of beef. And last week she asked me if coffee beans counted as one of her five a day.

I worry about her (we all do) but I’ve given up nagging. Mum just calls me ‘obsessive’ and warns me about getting an eating disorder.

She said, ‘Men like a bit of something to hold onto. Isn’t that right Bob?’

Dad replied, ‘It certainly is!’

Mum still dresses in skimpy tops and skin-tight leggings. And Dad still wolf-whistles at her. If anyone criticises Mum’s weight, she says, ‘I’m a complete original. Which makes me absolutely fucking priceless.’

Dad asked me if Nick and I had ‘any joy’ looking for houses.

I told him no – everything in London is way over our budget. But we have to live in the city because Nick has almost all his auditions in London.

Nick wouldn’t move back to Oakley village anyway, even if we could.

It’s too near his parents (I didn’t admit he’d said it was too near Mum and Dad’s pub too).Plus, muddy fields and shiny leather shoes don’t go well together.

Dad said, ‘You can’t rent his mum’s place forever you know.’

I know.

Monday January 5th

All the trains are buggered, so Daisy and I are still in Great Oakley.

Nick was distraught when I said we’d be staying away overnight. He asked me to send video footage of Daisy’s bedtime, plus email instructions for the coffee machine, microwave and television.

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