Showing posts with label stay at home mum. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stay at home mum. Show all posts

Monday, 16 January 2012

The Tiger Who Came to Tea: a Mum on the Edge

While reading The Tiger Who Came to Tea to my daughter recently, it dawned on me that it's actually the allegorical tale of a Stay at Home Mum who's had one of those days.

I've been that woman. I know how her day went. October half-term. Raining. She's run out of let's-have-fun things to do with her daughter, Sophie, who's been playing the part of spoilt little witch perfectly since she woke at 5.30am. The man who came to fix the broken floorboard hammered a nail through the mains water pipe. Now the water's off 'til next Wednesday 'at least'. The milk's off too. No tea! She has the energy of a dead battery and can't face Tesco. She certainly can't be arsed to tidy the kitchen. She feels frumpy and tired, and she's just listened to a voicemail from school-friend, Clare, who's been nominated for an award from the Society of International Journalism for her gripping account of the plight of three freedom-fighting, cave-dwelling female rebels who've overthrown a vicious dictator using only pointy sticks. By now it's clear she's made the wrong life choices and if someone offered to buy Sophie, right now, she'd do it for a packet of grapes and fifty pence. She's at her wit's end and finally resorts to 'just one of Daddy’s beers'. When six o’clock hits she realises with a thump to her stomach she's polished off all four. Now she can't even drive to the garage to pick up some pasta and pesto for tea. She slumps on to the kitchen table and bursts into tears. 


"Mummy?" says Sophie quietly. "Why are you sad?"
Mummy lifts her head and tries to smile. Sophie wipes away her mum's tears with her little pudgy hands. "I love you, Mummy."


And then Mummy remembers that even though her mind is jelly, her body is shot to pieces, and she'll have to pick up the phone and congratulate Clare in a minute, she loves Sophie with all her heart. So she straightens her shoulders, forces a smile, and pulls Sophie on to her lap. She tells her the reason she is sad is because the house is a tip, there's no food, and no water in the tap, and this is because a huge tiger, who plays a trumpet and walks on his hind legs, came and ate and drank it ALL! He messed up the kitchen and rumpled the bed covers. He even drank all of Daddy's beer. When Daddy comes home Sophie rushes up and tells him all about the tiger. He steps into the bomb-site of a kitchen and sees the madness residing in his wife's bloodshot, puffy eyes. He sees her fists, clenched at her sides, knuckles white. Then they both notice the bread knife on the kitchen table. They re-lock eyes. He thinks for a moment, and then, because he's seen this look before, and because she's closer to the bread knife, he pops his hat back on, grabs Sophie's coat, and suggests they go out for sausage and chips. What a sensible man. 

(On their way home he stops at the off-license and buys a four-pack of Carling. Never let it be said this sensible man is a selfless saint...)