Page 39 - Julie Thorley Nine Lives book

9. A Walk in the Park
The speaker is a young mum – thirty-ish – wearing at shoes, jeans and t-shirt: little make-up except a touch of red lippy. Her hair is clean and brushed, but disorganised. She is holding an opened carton of juice with the straw sticking out of the top.
I must tell you this. I met my friend Claire in the park the other day so our kids could have a play date. I say friend, but actually if her James and my Daisy weren’t best buddies I wouldn’t give her the time of day. We’re – what’s the buzzword? – oh yes, we’re in different tribes.
You see, Claire’s one of the ‘Perfect Mothers’. You know the type: back in her skinny jeans days after the birth; kids so smart they not only prefer quinoa to burgers, but can actually pronounce it.
Me? I’m more of a ‘Struggling On’ kind of mum. I’m not perfect, but I’m doing my best. OK, there was that memorable occasion on the bus when Daisy asked a fat woman: ‘Why are your arms all wobbly?’ On the whole, though, I think she’s pretty normal. I mean, I’m not worried that she’s going to grow up and have to have her prosecco in a sippy-cup.
Anyway, back to the story. As usual, I’d lled my backpack with provisions more suited to a siege than a trip to the park. The only things missing really were a distress are and a pack of re-lighters. Over her shoulder, Claire had a dinky little number containing lipstick and some loose change.
Before we set off, I took Daisy to the toilet.
She whined at me: ‘I don’t need to go.’
I said that irritating mum thing: ‘You will when you get
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