Drinking Custard by Lucy Beaumont

Author:Lucy Beaumont [Beaumont, Lucy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Family & Relationships, Parenting, Motherhood, Parent & Adult Child, Single Parent, Humor, Topic, Marriage & Family, General, Performing Arts, Comedy, Self-Help, Health & Fitness, Women's Health, Pregnancy & Childbirth, Child Rearing
ISBN: 9781913183752
Published: 2021-09-29T23:00:00+00:00

I really enjoy going to playgroups with my baby. I’ve been ‘playgroup hopping’ to find the one that suits us, there are so many. We went to a Steiner one, that was WEIRD. It was like being in a Netflix documentary about a cult. I knew it was odd when I walked in and there were just a few wooden toys and everyone was quiet. Even Elsie thought it was weird. Everyone was in tie-dye and, don’t get me wrong, I’m a raving bad vegan, but these guys had spent years chained to trees. They were all very friendly and we sat around for a snack, which was carrots and apples, but, before we did, the babies had to follow a ritual of washing their hands in an urn while we chanted a song and they all sang it like ghosts.

My daughter gave me a look as if to say, ‘What are you playing at? Get me out of here!’ So we left. It wasn’t hard to find our shoes as not many had turned up in them.

I instantly felt the need to get a McDonalds and buy a DFS sofa just to level out the hippy vibes. I’m sure for us to save the planet we all should be acting like that but, well, my animalistic brain told me to run.

The second playgroup made me feel better about myself, but too much. I felt superior, and I’m sure a lot of people would think that’s the perfect place to be in to make friends, but superior in the way that I’d managed to have a flannel wash before we went and I didn’t swear around the children. I went for a few weeks until I couldn’t handle that people weren’t brushing their hair. I don’t brush my hair on week days but I like to be the only one. Our pram is covered in food and mud and gosh knows what else and I sometimes went with my PJs on underneath my jogging bottoms, but at least I had that inner voice telling me I should be making more of an effort. This led to my outer voice telling the organizer that she should be sanitizing the toys more. Once you’ve told the leader of a playgroup that the toys are dirty that’s generally the ‘goodbye Susan’ moment. We didn’t go back. Never explain, always complain – I think that’s the mantra for playgroups?

I found another playgroup, this time under the watchful, cleansing eyes of God, at a church. It was run by women who I’m sure liked children when they first started. They of course wanted us all to join the church in return for their playgroup efforts but as they were Church of England, they were too polite to tell us that. We did have to sing songs about God halfway through, which they apologized for and afterwards they did a little buffet to make up for it. I like God, I like religion and I love

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