Mary Vommins

If you’d have asked me before I met old Romeo ‘would you date anyone with kids’ my answer would have been: ”do you want a dog shit milkshake?”

It’s not that I don’t like kids, it’s that when I imagine someone with kids, I imagine the type of person that only talks about nappy rash and wears leisure wear to pick the sprogs up from school and basically is on the verge of having an aneurysm but they just hide it by laughing at Michael McIntyre then going for a cry.

But Old Romeo is none of those things and he has two kids. Two boys, that are 5 and 8. That means they must know how to sleep all night (in theory) and are way over the shitting themselves stage. So when he asks me if I want to meet them, I actually think it could be fun. I like Lego and Fidget Spinners and colouring. It can’t be that hard.

I decide that I’m going to pad this potential social hand grenade with as much ready made fun as I can. I say we should go to the garden centre, the good one that has fish you can touch and llamas. I also decide on the way there I’ll pick them up a gift. Just a straightforward ‘love me, I’m cool’ bribe. Except I don’t know what boys those age like apart from saying the word poo and making fart noises with your armpit and you can’t get those in ASDA. So I ask my friend Ruth who used to work for CBeebies and her verdict was ‘get them one of those magazines for a fiver that their parents never get them because they’re a massive waste of money.’ SOLD.

It was the night before the big event and me and Ruth had tickets to a very sophisticated documentary about a musician that traveled round South America, followed by a live acoustic performance. It was so classy that we decided to take in white wine and drink it directly from the bottle until around 2am. As you can imagine, the next day, after a diet made up of nearly exclusively lady petrol, I wasn’t at my freshest.

Ruth being the trooper she was though, drove me to ASDA, got me macdonalds chicken nuggets, chose the magazines for me and dropped me off at the train station. When I arrived at my destination I thought I was pulling off the ‘I’m a real human being’ look fairly well. So off to the garden centre we went!

All sounds hunky dory doesn’t it? Well it would have been apart from Old Romeo didn’t exactly know the way, so it was my responsibility to use google maps on Romeos phone to get us there. Apart from Old Romeo didn’t exactly have it installed, so I had to download it whilst asking for his password, and the roads were getting pretty windy at this point. The tension was also getting sort of palpable, and I sort of started feeling a bit hot. Bit dizzy. Arms went all tingly. Mouth went a bit watery…

Me: Wouldn’t mind pulling over would you?

Ro: What for?

Me: Oh I just feel a bit you know, car sick

Ro: Ah can you hold on just a sec we’re nearly there

Me: Absolutely not please pull over.

Ro: *Pulls over* Boys! Whats in those magazines? Show me!

Me: *Scuttles behind the car to a point where these kids would have to had had the optic ablility of a tawny owl to see me and proceeds to chunder pure white wine and chicken nuggets all over my own feet.

Old Romeo sticks his head round and whispers if I’m alright and hands me a bottle of water. I rinse my feet off and get back in the car. He looks and me and mouths ‘you alright?’ and as I look into his concerned eyes I couldn’t be more grateful that he loves me despite the fact I’m an irresponsible childless arsehole.

 

 

 

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