Totally Insane 35–Combinations.
by Angharad

For Darling Trish - Zalig Kerstfeest en een Gelukkig Nieuw Jaar

I spent the weekend doing my homework, worrying and babysitting. On Saturday morning, Auntie Em called over for me to look after baby Sarah while she went to get Uncle Kit from hospital.

In fact I took the call, Daddy was dashing off to one of his shops–he was using very colourful language–it was supposed to be his weekend off, and the shop had been burgled or something–someone might have crashed a nuclear submarine into it, although burglary seems more likely.

Mummy was lying in bed groaning–she had a cold or something and loads of marking to do. I did offer to help but she reminded me that my forgery of her signature wasn’t up to standard.

Brian was in bed and would stay there until lunchtime, so li’l ol’ me had to answer the phone. “Hello, Addams Family residence, Morticia speaking.”

“Hello, Kylie, you sound better this morning.”

“Appearances can be deceptive.”

“Oh, so you won’t want to look after Sarah for me?”

“Who said I won’t?” Any excuse to babysit Sarah, she is such a doll.

“Okay, you will which is good because I need you to do so this morning.”

“What time?”

“ASAP.”

“Eh?”

“A-S-A-P–as soon as possible.”

I glanced at the clock, it was half past eight, “Um–I need to get dressed.”

“Half an hour then?”

“Yeah, okay.” I put the phone down and dashed upstairs threw off my nightie and jumped into the shower, then jumped out again until the water came up to temperature–oh I also gave a very girly squeal–I know...

I washed everything then towel dried it, ran into my bedroom pulled on my knickers and bra–I know I haven’t got boobs yet, but they might suddenly pop out, say by lunch time, so I need something to catch them in. I shoved in my padding–hopefully not for much longer, pulled on some jeans–I have to wear skirts to school–so this is like rebelling–go figure.

My favourite top followed, a pink and white one, then I bent down to do my sandals and standing up afterwards I felt sick–oh not again. I ran into the bathroom and–I think you get the idea. Thankfully, I hadn’t taken my ’mones yet, I usually swallow it with breakfast–but today I didn’t have time for breakfast. I grabbed a banana and some milk and swallowed my tab.

I dried my hair and tied it back, it’s getting quite long, then picked up my bag and was about to leave when Mummy called me.

“Kylie, would you make me some tea and toast, I feel dreadful.”

I sighed, “Auntie Em has just phoned for me to babysit Sarah while she goes to the hospital again.”

“Have you had breakfast?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“What did you have?”

“Breakfast.”

“I know that silly, but what did you have?”

“I can’t remember–oh, a banana and some milk.”

“Make yourself some toast, too.”

“I don’t want toast.”

“Well I don’t want you going out without some breakfast inside you.”

“I’ve had all I want.”

“I don’t care, it’s what I want that counts–now stop arguing and go and do it.”

“But it makes me feel sick.”

“Too bad, go and do it–aren’t you wearing any earrings or makeup today?”

“I’ll do them at Auntie Em’s.”

I made her some tea and toast, and ran over the road still eating mine, it was nearly ten past nine.

“Ah there you are, I’ve fed her–she’s got some baby food there, which is warmed up to the correct temperature. I’d like you to give her it, then bath and change her if you could. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I think I must have been looking gobsmacked because she asked, “Is there anything wrong?”

“Um–no–yes, I mean; I’ve never bathed her on my own.”

“I thought you had.”

“I don’t think so, you’ve always been here.”

“But you did alright by yourself–look, I have to dash, if you don’t want to do it, then leave it, just change her nappy.” She gave me a hug and slipped out the door and the car started a moment later and she shot off down the road.

Baby Sarah was in her high chair, she was squealing and waving her arms about. I washed my hands and picked up the small dish of grey slime and began spooning it into her open mouth. I knew it was all going far too easily, then–on about the tenth spoonful–she gave this funny shriek and knocked the spoon out of my hand and the slimy stuff went all down the front of my top. She thought it was hilarious, I sponged it off with a cloth and a towel. I chucked the rest of the baby food in the bin–it looked and smelt disgusting, no wonder she didn’t want to eat it once she’d realised I was feeding her liquidised newspaper–well that’s what it looked like.

I filled her bath and checked the temperature against my elbow–it was okay. Next I lifted her out of her high chair and laid her on the changing mat and stripped her off. Her nappy was horrible full of–yeeeuckkky poo. I cleaned it up with baby wipes and then donning my plastic apron, I picked her up again and supporting her head, laid her in the bath.

She giggled and gurgled and squeaked and shrieked and kicked and flapped her arms like she was having fun. By the time she was clean, there was probably more water on the floor than in the bath.

She wasn’t too keen on having her hair washed, and I had to use a cup to rinse the shampoo off, but once that was done she was splashing and cooing again. I picked her out and wrapped her in swaddling clothes and laid her in a manger–oops, wrong baby.

I did wrap her in a towel and left her on the changing mat whilst I disposed of the dirty nappy into the nappy bucket–it’s one of those with some blade thingies in the bottom and if you twist the bucket round in circles it agitates the water with the nappy cleaning stuff and helps get the muck out before you put them in the machine to wash. It’s supposed to be better for the planet than disposable nappies which take about a zillion years to rot in rubbish tips. I also hear stories of stupid people who try to flush them down toilets and bung up the drains–I mean, how stupid can you get? I’m not surprised people like that block the drains probably ’cos the baby’s still in the nappy–duh.

I emptied the bath and got back to Sarah just in time to stop her rolling off the changing mat and on to the floor. Phew, that was close.

Then I dried her and powdered her and creamed her bum, like Auntie Em had shown me, after which I put another nappy on her and pinned it in place. Over that went the waterproof pants then a vest, some white tights–that was a challenge–a little dress and cardi and I was just combing her hair when I heard a car come into the drive.

Auntie Em rushed in, “Oh brilliant, Kylie, you managed to dress her–hello sweetie-pie,” she spoke to the baby and Sarah recognised her instantly and began smiling and cooing. “Look, Kit has broken his leg, he’s just gone down to theatre, they’re going to pin it for him–what was he doing up a ladder, for goodness sake–I tell you, the man’s crazy. I have to take him in some pyjamas and toiletries his shaver and so on.”

“Would you like a cuppa, Auntie Em?”

She stopped as if I’d slapped her with a wet fish. “D’ya know, Kylie, I’d love a cuppa.”

I set to making one. Auntie Em picked up the baby and took her upstairs with her. She came down carrying Sarah in one hand with an overnight bag in the other. “I hope I have everything.”

“How long will he be in hospital?”

“I don’t know, probably a couple more days, why?”

“I wondered if you’d be alright sleeping on your own?”

“You are sooo sweet, Kylie Mosse, d’ya know that? I’ll be fine, Kit is away quite frequently, so I’m quite used to it, but thanks for the offer–you’re really turning into a very nice young woman.”

“Look who I had as a teacher.”

“Rose–yes she’s very good isn’t she?”

“No–you’ve taught me as much as Mummy has.”

“I haven’t, I haven’t done very much at all.”

“Because of you, Brian fancies my dumplings.” That wasn’t quite what I meant to say but that was how it came out and she looked at me then burst into laughter, I laughed because she was roaring with laughter and then the baby giggled too. However, the laughter turned to tears and Auntie Em confessed she was frightened that Uncle Kit had to go to the operating theatre, so I hugged her and told her everything would be okay. She dried her eyes, told me how silly she was, then went and washed her face and redid her makeup and hair.

“Aren’t you wearing any, today?”

“Oops, I haven’t had time to do it–not and being a full time mother as well,” I stood with my hands on my hips and she sniggered.

“You’d better watch out kiddo, if you start to look like a slob, he’s going to go elsewhere for his comforts.”

I wasn’t quite sure what she meant but I assumed it meant my pretend husband would find another girl. “Oh, so what do I do to prevent his indelibility?”

She sniggered again, “I think you mean infidelity.”

“Sorry, I always say the wrong thing,” I frowned.

“No you don’t, you’ve cheered me up no end and done a lovely job on looking after Sarah, hasn’t she kiddo?” Sarah giggled and clapped her hands. “See, she’s giving you a round of applause.” I laughed after that. “Go and do your makeup and if you want to invite a friend over, providing you behave, that’s okay. There’s a bottle of milk in the fridge, and some more baby food if I’m not back by lunch. There’s some bread and cold meat so feel free to make yourself a sandwich and your friend.”

“I’ll be okay with just baby Sarah.”

“Up to you, but I don’t mind if you change your mind, I must go.” She swept out with the overnight bag, then came straight back in; I forgot his pyjamas–honestly, I’m losing the plot here.” This time she drove off.

I amused the baby and about an hour later she began to yawn and whimper, so I nursed her for a bit then put her down in her cot. She went off to sleep a few minutes later. I was in the kitchen cleaning up when my phone rang. It took me a minute to find my bag and extricate my mobile. I’d just missed Gemma.

I called her back and she asked if I wanted to go to town. Much as I’d have loved to I told her what I was doing.

“You’re what?”

“I’m babysitting.”

“You are soooo girly, Kylie Mosse,” she laughed, “everyone else our age has finished playing with dolls–except you.”

“I’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Yeah and how. I’d like, love to see this dolly of yours.”

“Why don’t you like, come over then, you can always go shopping later.”

“This is true, okay where are you?”

I told her which house was Auntie Em’s and which bus to catch and about half an hour later she was gently tapping on the door–I’d asked her not to ring the bell in case she woke Sarah.

“Oh she is like sooo sweet,” Gemma gushed when she saw her, “She’s adorable, look at her cute little nose–an’ her fingers, are like sooo small–they’ve got nails, too.”

I gave her a very strange look, “Haven’t you ever seen a baby before?”

“Duh–like, ’course I have, but I didn’t have time to like, study it.”

“If she wakes up, you can help me feed and change her if you like?”

“Wow–can I? I mean l like won’t her owner–I mean, mother–be upset?”

“I don’t think so, an’ she did say I could have a friend round. What about your shopping trip?”

“I can do that tomorrow, this is like, a real live Barbie doll, you are like, such a lucky bitch, Kylie Mosse.”

For a moment I thought that I wasn’t, at least Gemma could grow her own babies, I won’t be able to–then I thought, it’s possible she might not be able to either, not all girls can and for that moment, I felt sorry for both of us, then Gemma asked about something to eat.

Auntie Em had said we could have a sandwich, so I made us one each and cup of tea, there was still enough left for Auntie Em if she wanted one–a sandwich, that is. We were just finishing our lunch when the phone rang.

I rushed to grab it in case the ringing woke the baby. “Hello, Johnson residence ,” I said quietly.

“Hello, Kylie, it’s me, Emma, just wondered how things were?”

“Fine thanks, Auntie Em, Sarah is still sleeping and my friend Gemma’s come round, we had a sandwich each, I hope that’s okay?”

“I told you it was, Kit’s still in theatre–they were late taking him down, so I’m going to do some shopping while I wait. Is there anything you want?”

“Um, some boobs and some ovaries an’ the bits that go with them.”

“And where would I find all those?” she asked humouring me.

“Um–the Body Shop?”

“Okay, I’ll ask for you. I’ll try and let you know what time I’ll be back.”

“Auntie Em, could we take Sarah out in the pram?”

“If you take great care and make sure she’s warm enough, there’s quite a cool breeze blowing.”

“Oh, I will, Auntie Em.”

“There’s a spare front door key in the drawer of the phone table, take it with you to make sure you don’t lock yourselves out.”

“We will. Thank you, Auntie Em.”

“I have to go, Kylie, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Auntie Em.”

Despite my efforts, Sarah did wake up so Gemma and I got her up and fed her, then changed her nappy. Her clothes were clean enough and with a coat and little hat, she was soon warm enough in the pram. I tucked her in and after getting the key from its hiding place, we set off for a walk. I let Gemma push the pram, she seemed very enthusiastic to do so and I have done it before.

We stopped at the little corner shop and Mr Papagopolis gave us an effusive welcome as always. “Ah, my little locksmithing girl, it is still working after you mended it.”

“She’s very clever, isn’t she?” agreed Gemma and I was left blushing. Once I’d recovered my composure I bought us each a chocolate bar and Mr P gave us a banana each.

“What did you fix for him?” asked Gemma, as we strolled.

“He broke a key in a lock, was more fiddly than difficult.”

“Still, he obviously couldn’t do it himself.”

“I s’pose so.”

“Heard from Philip?”

“Not today,” I shrugged, sometimes it went a couple of days in between calls or meeting up with him.

“Boys–huh?”

I shrugged.

“What you doin’ for the sports day?”

“Going sick, what’re you doin’?”

“Four hundred and long jump.”

“Four hundred?” I had no idea what that was.

“Four hundred metres, y’know once round the track.”

“Is it that far, crikey? I wonder if they do a slow bicycle race?”

“No, nor a three legged one or egg and spoon.”

“How about sack race, I won that once in infants–I was the only one who didn’t fall over more than once.”

“So, what ya gonna do, you have to do two things?”

“I’ll have a go at the long jump and p’rhaps the hundred metres.”

“Can you run fast then–I didn’t have you down as one?”

“If Brian is chasing me–yes, I can fly.”

“Better ask him to chase you then.”

We chatted on as we walked and after an hour we returned to the house, where Auntie Em was back and eating a sandwich. She took the baby who was fast asleep and laid her in her cot. She gave me a twenty pound note and box of chocolates.

“That’s far too much,” I protested, but she insisted. I asked after Uncle Kit and her news was, he was progressing well.

For the rest of the weekend, I babysat when asked and looked after Mummy, who didn’t have Dengue Fever after all, it was just a cold–awwww. She did her marking and had me running round like her personal maid while she did it. I ‘spose it was good training for Monday.

I did try asking her to write me note, saying I had a sprained earlobe or something similar, which would mean I couldn’t participate but was quite capable of lying back and enjoying myself while the others slaved on the track or field. She refused, telling me to check my kit was clean.

On Monday morning, she took me to school complete with sports kit. Usually they do this in the summer term but for some reason they couldn’t and as they were doing the school report, they needed to show who won the various events. I worked out we’d have to do it twice–once again in the summer–bah, humbug.

I changed and pulled on my tracksuit over the top of my shorts and vest. Not exactly Versace but it was warm–that cold breeze was still blowing. As we stood round trying to keep warm, the school had a problem–some nice person had squirted superglue into the locks on the sports apparatus cupboard. They needed all the discus and javelins and such like and they couldn’t get them. It was suspected that some of the sixth form girls might have tried to sabotage the sports day.

Of course, some blabbermouth mentioned I was ace at locks and the headmistress sent for me.

“Can you repair these locks enough for us to get the apparatus out?” I was asked.

I asked to see them. “Yes, I think so, but I’ll need my kit.”

“You have a kit for this?”

“Yes, Miss, it’s like my hobby playing with locks and I’ve collected some tools for doing it.”

I was despatched home to collect it with the geography teacher who was a danger on the road, she’s so short sighted she can barely see to the end of her bonnet and she drives one of those Smart things. I was tempted to ask if I could walk back. Somehow the lorry didn’t hit us, mind you I don’t think she saw it even after it did an emergency stop shredding two tyres, nor the red light which her running through nearly caused the accident. Apparently she takes the sixth form on geography field trips and they always get lost. One year they ended up in North Wales instead of at the salt mine in Cheshire they were aiming for.

With my tools and some borrowed nail varnish remover I got the lock open, but of course it took me the rest of the day to clean it up and put it back together, so I didn’t have time to get all hot and sweaty like the rest of them.

“I’m sure you could have done that faster?” said the games mistress seeing through my cunning plan.

“And you could have called in a professional locksmith, Miss, and paid his fees of a couple of hundred pounds.”

She gave me a suspicious stare and walked away. I chuckled: they’d never find the two bottles of superglue I’d used––

Thanks to Gabi for improvements suggested–any faults remaining are mine, ’n’ Bonzi’s.