I sit on my bed and read the Guardian.
Maisie has gone shopping with Sylvie who has anorexia. Sylvie is very sad and going shopping with her makes Maisie feel sad too. It also makes her feel fat. Maisie is not fat, she is perfect but she has a genetic propensity for feeling very fat so I am worried.
Zac is being very quiet in the playroom. Bim has gone home. Bim said he was very sorry. I feel sorry for Bim.
I read the Guardian family section which normally makes me feel very inadequate. Today the Guardian family section is oddly reassuring. A woman has written about how her daughter died from taking MDMA. She says she is smothered. Her daughter is very beautiful and her daughter is dead. I am glad my children aren't dead, although I probably shouldn't have had them.
Then I read that Lucien Freud wasn't cut out to be a father. I read about what an extraordinarily bad father he was and how his son is very sad about this but has come to terms with it. I feel quite liberated. I am a very bad mother because of the wine and the rowing and the choice of father but actually it transpires that you don't need father much.
Phew.
I go downstairs with The Guardian and I read this to Zac who is sitting on the sofa next to some vomit staring at the floor.
"Young men often come with a narrative in which they feature as victim. By seeing myself as victim," recounts David McAdam Freud, "I felt powerless and blamed my weakness on strength I granted others. I can now own the responsibility for accepting or changing these things."
Zac looks quite interested. "So you see," I say. "You need to stop wanting something from someone who can't give it to you. John is not a bad man, he is just remarkably unsuited to being a father. Lots of very high achieving men are poor fathers," I add "because they are doing one thing at a time, which is what men do, and that is being successful rather than fatherly."
Zac looks sceptical.
"Anyway," I tell him. "You don't need and you can't have this fantasy father thing you're after. You can manage perfectly well without it just as millions of other young men must."
I don't say "Man up." but I nearly do.
Sunday, 15 December 2013
Very bad row
So, two weeks before Christmas.
Lots of things have happened.
Evil died in the summer.
We went to Mauritius, all of us. all five, to celebrate our twenty fifth wedding anniversary, it was nice. We have a house in France but we let it out this summer. We won't be doing that again.
We have a new car.
John has a new editor, which is good because the last one was a wanker.
Abigail lives with her boyfriend. Did I tell you that? At my age you get quite repetitive, sleepless, exhausted, wise, ill, lined, paranoid (no, that was there anyway) and distracted. I was much prettier at thirty but I could have walked down the High Street naked and no one would have noticed, but now I'm all the rage. O well.
John and Zac had a huge row. Actually Zac was soo badly behaved that not having a row would have been very impossible. He came home from university. He was monosyllabic. Obviously we didn't notice because we have lots to do. We have Christmas shopping and moaning. We have sleeping which is always just beyond us and we have cooking and decorating and we have no friends, so… quite busy, as you can imagine.
Anyway Zac is monosyllabic and a bit red in the face, so we ignore him and tell him to have a shower and go to bed and eat sensibly. He has been in the North where there is no food and it's very cold, so on balance, we are quite sympathetic.
Then it all goes tits up.
Zac decides to go out with Bim. Bim is a bad influence but really we don't mind because we are quite sure that Zac is a bad influence too and he hasn't seen Bim for ages.
We have decided to go to Long Melford and buy a chester draws. A chester draws is what Maisie calls a chest of drawers and the best place to get one is Long Melford. After that we are going to Henry's house to have dinner with someone who used to write for the Observer or similar, but I have a lot to do so I'm not very happy about that, but I'm going because we have no friends and I think I had better cultivate some. It's a long shot but I think maybe if I concentrate the Observer man might be our friend and as Henry is already our relative we will have one relative and one friend.
Anyway…. After that John is going to watch football with Henry and I am going to wonder around by myself observing a provincial cathedral city on a sunday afternoon by myself. I am not happy about this but I have no friends so I have very little choice.
But it all goes wrong.
Zac comes in at 4.30 am. He has hiccups, he slams the door, He has someone with him and he collides with something in the hall and hiccups some more. I try to go back to sleep.
Why haven't they taken their shoes off?
John stops snoring so I know he is awake.
"What's going on?" Asks John.
"Zac is drunk," I tell him.
"I thought you texted him and told him not to be drunk." says John.
"I did." I say. I am quite annoyed.
I hear talking downstairs. I hear laughing. I hear the tap running. I hear the tap clunking off.
I hear the tap clunking on again. I have to go to Long Melford tomorrow to buy a chester draws. I am way too tired for all this.
I go downstairs. Zac is standing in the playroom. The lights are on and he is swaying slightly.
"Will you shut the fuck up?" I ask, quite reasonably.
I am not irrational, I am differently rational, so asking some one to shut up, with a fuck, at four in the morning when I have to go to Long Melford and out to meet someone who used to work on the Observer seems quite rational to me.
"Zac is very red is the face. "What is wrong with you? He says, swaying. "I… am going, went out with my friends, it's the holidays, what's wrong. Fuck." He says.
I am beginning to reassess my casual swearing policy.
"Go the fuck to bed." I tell him calmly. Not reassessing it quite as much as I would have liked.
I go back to bed.
"What's going on?" says John.
I'm not talking to John. This is largely because he is never here, because he has executive breakfasts and dinners and needs his dinner jacket drycleaned and because he is very busy and clearly couldn't give a fuck about me or Christmas, and because I am very tired and differently rational.
"Huh." I say and I pretend to go to sleep.
I can't actually go to sleep because technically 4.30 AM is the morning so I stay awake and think about the Polish electrician instead. Thinking about the Polish electrician is not very soothing but it is quite interesting.
I get up at 9.00 AM.
I hang up the washing.
I go downstairs and I clear up the kitchen which is unaccountably full of washing up and grease splats.
I go into the playroom and shout at Zac. Bim is there too. They are huddled under sleeping bags and the room smells of beer and vomit.
"This is fucking unbelievable." I tell them. There is sick on the floor.
Zac closes his eyes very tightly.
"Go away." He says.
I don't know what I have done wrong. I have very smugly been a full time mother with botox and no grey hair. I have cooked lots of nice food and ironed the sheets and I have learned to use a Black and Decker power drill. Zac has been to a very posh school and has been to Australia. I am confused.
Next time I am not going to be a mother.
I am not going to Long Melford. I decide that I have to stay here and look after Maisie. I can't leave Maisie at the mercy of someone with no moral compass and a propensity for vomiting on the floor.
"I am not going to Long Melford." I tell John. "You go and watch football and hang out with people from the Observer who will hate you on sight and I will clean up vomit and go to Homebase to buy more paint for the Polish painter, who is not as distracting as the Polish electrician." I tell him.
"You have to come."Says John. "The whole dinner party is built around you."
This is patently untrue. I have no status. I have status anxiety and I am very very boring so nothing is built around me except the washing basket.
I am not going to Long Melford. i unpack my bag and John goes to Long Melford without me but not before he has a big row with Zac.
Zac comes into our bedroom.
Zac tells John that he hates him.
John tells Zac to get out of his bedroom.
Zac tells John he doesn't give a shit about him.
Zac says he's going to the North to kill himself.
They say all this very very loudly and the neighbours gather outside the house and stare up at our bedroom window. They text their friends and marvel. They wonder how we could be so dysfunctional and congratulate themselves on not being our friends.
I feel quite depressed. I tell Zac not to drink so much.
"Ho, he says and this coming from an alcoholic. Ha!" He scoffs.
I feel very depressed and John goes to watch football with Henry.
I lie in bed and wonder what to do.
I don't know what to do.
O well.
Lots of things have happened.
Evil died in the summer.
We went to Mauritius, all of us. all five, to celebrate our twenty fifth wedding anniversary, it was nice. We have a house in France but we let it out this summer. We won't be doing that again.
We have a new car.
John has a new editor, which is good because the last one was a wanker.
Abigail lives with her boyfriend. Did I tell you that? At my age you get quite repetitive, sleepless, exhausted, wise, ill, lined, paranoid (no, that was there anyway) and distracted. I was much prettier at thirty but I could have walked down the High Street naked and no one would have noticed, but now I'm all the rage. O well.
John and Zac had a huge row. Actually Zac was soo badly behaved that not having a row would have been very impossible. He came home from university. He was monosyllabic. Obviously we didn't notice because we have lots to do. We have Christmas shopping and moaning. We have sleeping which is always just beyond us and we have cooking and decorating and we have no friends, so… quite busy, as you can imagine.
Anyway Zac is monosyllabic and a bit red in the face, so we ignore him and tell him to have a shower and go to bed and eat sensibly. He has been in the North where there is no food and it's very cold, so on balance, we are quite sympathetic.
Then it all goes tits up.
Zac decides to go out with Bim. Bim is a bad influence but really we don't mind because we are quite sure that Zac is a bad influence too and he hasn't seen Bim for ages.
We have decided to go to Long Melford and buy a chester draws. A chester draws is what Maisie calls a chest of drawers and the best place to get one is Long Melford. After that we are going to Henry's house to have dinner with someone who used to write for the Observer or similar, but I have a lot to do so I'm not very happy about that, but I'm going because we have no friends and I think I had better cultivate some. It's a long shot but I think maybe if I concentrate the Observer man might be our friend and as Henry is already our relative we will have one relative and one friend.
Anyway…. After that John is going to watch football with Henry and I am going to wonder around by myself observing a provincial cathedral city on a sunday afternoon by myself. I am not happy about this but I have no friends so I have very little choice.
But it all goes wrong.
Zac comes in at 4.30 am. He has hiccups, he slams the door, He has someone with him and he collides with something in the hall and hiccups some more. I try to go back to sleep.
Why haven't they taken their shoes off?
John stops snoring so I know he is awake.
"What's going on?" Asks John.
"Zac is drunk," I tell him.
"I thought you texted him and told him not to be drunk." says John.
"I did." I say. I am quite annoyed.
I hear talking downstairs. I hear laughing. I hear the tap running. I hear the tap clunking off.
I hear the tap clunking on again. I have to go to Long Melford tomorrow to buy a chester draws. I am way too tired for all this.
I go downstairs. Zac is standing in the playroom. The lights are on and he is swaying slightly.
"Will you shut the fuck up?" I ask, quite reasonably.
I am not irrational, I am differently rational, so asking some one to shut up, with a fuck, at four in the morning when I have to go to Long Melford and out to meet someone who used to work on the Observer seems quite rational to me.
"Zac is very red is the face. "What is wrong with you? He says, swaying. "I… am going, went out with my friends, it's the holidays, what's wrong. Fuck." He says.
I am beginning to reassess my casual swearing policy.
"Go the fuck to bed." I tell him calmly. Not reassessing it quite as much as I would have liked.
I go back to bed.
"What's going on?" says John.
I'm not talking to John. This is largely because he is never here, because he has executive breakfasts and dinners and needs his dinner jacket drycleaned and because he is very busy and clearly couldn't give a fuck about me or Christmas, and because I am very tired and differently rational.
"Huh." I say and I pretend to go to sleep.
I can't actually go to sleep because technically 4.30 AM is the morning so I stay awake and think about the Polish electrician instead. Thinking about the Polish electrician is not very soothing but it is quite interesting.
I get up at 9.00 AM.
I hang up the washing.
I go downstairs and I clear up the kitchen which is unaccountably full of washing up and grease splats.
I go into the playroom and shout at Zac. Bim is there too. They are huddled under sleeping bags and the room smells of beer and vomit.
"This is fucking unbelievable." I tell them. There is sick on the floor.
Zac closes his eyes very tightly.
"Go away." He says.
I don't know what I have done wrong. I have very smugly been a full time mother with botox and no grey hair. I have cooked lots of nice food and ironed the sheets and I have learned to use a Black and Decker power drill. Zac has been to a very posh school and has been to Australia. I am confused.
Next time I am not going to be a mother.
I am not going to Long Melford. I decide that I have to stay here and look after Maisie. I can't leave Maisie at the mercy of someone with no moral compass and a propensity for vomiting on the floor.
"I am not going to Long Melford." I tell John. "You go and watch football and hang out with people from the Observer who will hate you on sight and I will clean up vomit and go to Homebase to buy more paint for the Polish painter, who is not as distracting as the Polish electrician." I tell him.
"You have to come."Says John. "The whole dinner party is built around you."
This is patently untrue. I have no status. I have status anxiety and I am very very boring so nothing is built around me except the washing basket.
I am not going to Long Melford. i unpack my bag and John goes to Long Melford without me but not before he has a big row with Zac.
Zac comes into our bedroom.
Zac tells John that he hates him.
John tells Zac to get out of his bedroom.
Zac tells John he doesn't give a shit about him.
Zac says he's going to the North to kill himself.
They say all this very very loudly and the neighbours gather outside the house and stare up at our bedroom window. They text their friends and marvel. They wonder how we could be so dysfunctional and congratulate themselves on not being our friends.
I feel quite depressed. I tell Zac not to drink so much.
"Ho, he says and this coming from an alcoholic. Ha!" He scoffs.
I feel very depressed and John goes to watch football with Henry.
I lie in bed and wonder what to do.
I don't know what to do.
O well.
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