IN the changing room at Puddleducks yesterday I became reasonably fed up after about ten minutes.
Not because Erin was wriggling around making it virtually impossible to tug on her two sets of swimming pants and costume (they have to wear more in the pool than out of it). It was the moaning, a constant stream of it, from every single mother in there.
“I just don’t think they (the nursery) are doing enough to wear her out.” An interesting quote from mother number one (I literally have to go by my numbering process, as other than having reasonable recognition of their children’s names, I have never been aware of the mothers’ names).
I have no idea what nursery this lady’s 11-month old goes to, but it certainly isn’t the one Erin goes to. It’s hard to keep Erin awake till bedtime when she’s had a day at Applegarth. It’s actually the perfect way to tire her out, even when she’s had a two hour nap with them after lunch.
“God I’m totally fed up of being the only one going straight home from work on a Thursday, and not heading to the pub for karaoke night..bloody kids eh?!”
If she really thinks about it, I’m guessing mother number two, spent years before having her beautiful little girl, with hangovers on a Friday, a purse with a near-certain lack of at least £40 every week, and almost certainly the reputation for the worst rendition of ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ ever heard (after hearing her ‘Jelly on a Plate’ during the swimming class, I’d say this was a dead cert).
These are just two examples of the endless moaning and mindless babble. Not one of them said how proud they are of their children for saying their first word, or taking their first steps. More like a roll of the eyes at the fact that their child can now move around, or a groan at the repetitive nature of their little one’s grasp of the English language.
One week I’m going to attempt to start a positive conversation and see where it goes!
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