You didn't do nothing

In which I remind myself I have done some things

See what happened when I tried to take him off the boob?

You didn’t do nothing. You booked an appointment with the nurse for the baby’s immunisations.

You didn’t do nothing. You called the vet for your cat’s annual weigh in (always a few hundred grams up, never down) and booked his immunisations in, too.

You didn’t do nothing. You tried to book an appointment to get a coil fitted, which is almost laughable because, well, you’re almost certainly menopausal. Still, the thought of getting accidentally pregnant at 47 is quite embarrassing. But, you were number 7 in the telephone queue, and it took you 12 minutes to move up one place, so you hung up.

You didn’t do nothing. You tweezered the blackest, longest hairs from your nostrils to save your children from embarrassment in front of their friends. It hurt so much you cried.

You didn’t do nothing. You reheated the sausage and potato curry and ate it for lunch even though you weren’t hungry because breakfast happened at 11.30am. But you ate the curry because you hate waste, and everyone hated that curry. Sorry, Meera Sodha. You ate it while listening to the slosh and whirr of the washing machine.

You didn’t do nothing. You messaged Joab to ask him what he’d like for dinner. He said “I don’t mind – as long as it doesn’t have potatoes or sausages in it.”

You didn’t do nothing. You wrote two more lines of the children’s book you want your sister to illustrate. You don’t know anything about writing for children, but you thought you’d give it a go.

You didn’t do nothing. You messaged a friend to ask if they wanted to go to this. You didn’t know that Leigh Bowery was from Melbourne, which is where your friend grew up. Spooky.

You didn’t do nothing. You cleaned out the cat food bowl, the bowl that is always full of food the cat never eats (why is he fat?). He’s a lovely cat, but an arsehole when it comes to menu planning. One day he wants Sheba. The next day, Felix. Other days, it’s that disgusting cat soup that looks terrible, but for some weird reason is called “As Good as It Looks”.

You didn’t do nothing. You watched a bit of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia with your oldest son, who usually has great taste in television shows. You declared it the most depressing show ever.

You didn’t do nothing. You booked Don Toliver concert tickets for your middle son and daughter, because you’re so glad they like going to gigs. And amazingly, the tickets were a bargain bucket price of £35 each. (Take note, Kendrick and SZA).

You didn’t do nothing. You gazed at a photo that a friend had taken of you and your baby in the pub garden last week. You thought about how nice it is when people take photos of you and the baby. How it’s the nicest present of all.

You didn’t do nothing. You accepted that all the baby wanted all day was you, and your breast, and that the house would just have to stay really messy, and that most things would remain undone (or you’d feel a little undone).

You didn’t do nothing. You searched for mid-height heeled gold mules on the internet. They were either £700 or out of stock.

You didn’t do nothing. You logged onto Instagram via chrome (you got rid of the app because it was a terrific and dangerous time-and-happiness-suck) and before you knew it you were scrolling through pictures of a writer who is a colleague of your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend.

You didn’t do nothing. You wondered if your boyfriend ever thinks about his ex-girlfriend, but then you realised that you probably do that much more than he does. You’ve always done this with boyfriends and their exes. When you’re tired, when you’ve eaten too much chocolate, and you haven’t drunk enough water, and you’re feeling a bit lacking in all areas.

You didn’t do nothing. You sat in your bedroom, put the baby on his changing mat, took his nappy off, and let him kick his legs freely. Your eldest son came into the room and you played some of your favourite disco songs through the speaker and sang to the baby. He smiled a lot. You all agreed that Young Hearts Run Free should appear on the upcoming wedding party playlist. This was probably the loveliest part of your day.

You didn’t do nothing. You brought all the garden cushions in to protect them from the pissing rain. But you didn’t cover up the bikes. You looked at the bikes and thought: “Isn’t it sad that everything I own ends up rusty?”

You didn’t do nothing. You wrote this Substack instead of tidying the kitchen while the baby slept. This might get opened by 25% of the people who find it in their inbox.