Shit. Zsuzsa needs to be in London for a week with work and I’ve just discovered that she’s not taking Mila with her. I’m going to be a single parent for a week. Shit.
Look, I love Mila, love spending time with her etc, but I also love handing her back to Zsuzsa and turning off my brain every now and again. I’m running over the scenarios in my head and struggling to come up with solutions. How am I going to do this? How am I going to get Mila up in the morning, make her breakfast, dress her, change her nappies, take her to nursery, collect her from nursery, take her to the playground, feed her dinner, wash her clothes, bath her and put her to bed as well. I also need to work! It doesn’t add up. I can’t see how I’m going to fit in feeding, and dressing myself. Also, when the devil am I going to find time to take a poop!? I love taking poops! This is not good.
Come on Gareth. Deep breath. All you need to do is keep a small human alive for a week. You can do this. Maybe.
If this was a film, I’d probably be played by Simon Pegg, and at about this time in the story I’d bump in to a weird old man, with one eye, who warns me that a storm is coming. The viewers would wonder if he’s just talking about the weather, but it would turn out that the blind old bastard is a prophet of doom. He can see trouble on the horizon.
Or maybe I should be played by Tom Hardy! Yes. I like that better. Starring Tom Hardy as Gareth Hutchins!
Hang on though. If it was a Tom Hardy movie it would probably be a lot more serious and dramatic. I’d probably also get in to a fist fight with gangsters at some point. I don't want to get in to a fist fight with gangsters. No. Let’s go back to Pegg. Much safer with good old, harmless fun Simon Pegg.
Zsuzsa is now in London and day one of single parent life is done and dusted! A doddle! I don’t know what Zsuzsa has been moaning about for the last year. I woke up at 0630, the sun was shining and I proceeded to run a tight schedule with surgical like precision. Mila arrived at nursery on time, I arrived at work on time. No crying. No drama. No problem. I then spent a lovely afternoon with Mila at the playground and even found time to have a delightful wander around Buda Castle with the sprog before visiting a wine shop to stock up for the week. Mila is now tucked up in bed like a good little girl, I’ve just stepped out of a lovely, relaxing bath, and I’m about to watch Wonder Woman whilst drinking white wine. Christ! I’m probably only one episode of Gossip Girl away from kick starting my menstrual cycle.
That said, I could be a single mother. It’s not so bad.
Fuck being a single mother! I’m done. Mila woke up just after 0600. It was raining outside, I had a headache from drinking too much white wine and I couldn’t find the right clothes for Mila to wear. I ran around the flat in a blind panic, rifling through piles of tiny tights and blouses. I arrived at work late and covered in pureed pear. I didn’t have time to have a shower and we’d run out of coffee. Several hours later, still stinking of pear, I collected Mila in the pissing down rain and had to spend the afternoon in a garishly coloured indoor play centre in a shopping mall just to keep her amused. I was also desperate for a poop for more than five hours and couldn’t deal with it until Mila was in bed.
I'm exhausted and I think my period is coming.
PS I’ve just realised that I’ve only fed Mila food beginning with ‘P’ for the last two days. She’s eaten pear, peach, porridge, pancakes, potatoes and pogacsa (a Hungarian breaded thing). Maybe I should move on to ‘Q’ tomorrow and only feed her quiche, quinoa and quince.