Hell Is Other People's Children

This week, I planned a whole life in the Alps

Welcome to Baby Brain, a space where I - Charlotte, hi! - write about family life with three small children - Poppet (m, 5 years), Pickle (m, 3 years) and Peach (f, 1 year.) Those are not their real names. These are real stories from our days.

What’s your toxic trait? Mine is that I'll regularly send my husband links to houses I know we can't afford, and then get annoyed when he reminds me that we are a "one income household" and that sizing up right now would be "unwise."

‘Killjoy,’ I'll think, ‘life ruiner.’

Looking at houses online is not a habit I am willing to give up. Having developed over the past couple of years in line with me reaching my mid-30s, virtual house hunting is something I believe many women turn to once the biological clock has stopped ticking - a conclusion I have reached thanks to the admissions of other mums, and to the fact that every woman in my husband’s family does it, which I used to laugh about, but now admire.

This week, my skills were put to good use, when I took my house hunting to the Alps, after a conversation with one of the children sent me into a spiral. Having located a remote cabin within our price range, I looked up homeschooling. I started to consider ways in which I would socialise the 3 P’s. And then my plans for total blackout turned out to be an overreaction, which is both a massive relief and a huge shame, because I really think we could have made it work. Anyway I won’t say what happened but I will say that this scene, from Motherland, was entirely relatable as I went about planning our life in isolation:

Julia: Danny, her kid, once pulled Ivy’s shorts down in PE. I really fantasised about shitting him up, like getting totally into his face and just fucking him up for life.

Liz: I’ve fantasised about waterboarding Toby Warner in year four.

To paraphrase Sartre, hell is other people’s children.

(Bastards.)

Until next time 🏠

P.S. A line I cut but wanted to memorialise, because I made myself laugh when I wrote it: I started to consider ways in which I would socialise the kids, because despite the boys referring to their sister as ‘the queen’ we are not royal and I have no interest in keeping our bloodline pure.

P.P.S Technically we have two incomes now, but two mornings a week isn’t enough to double the mortgage, I’m told? WTF?