The phone rings. It is a friend asking if I would like to play tennis. I leaf through the diary and mentally work out a convenient time between school pick-ups and the baby’s sleep time and warn her that I have not played since school. Thankfully, she assures me that she too struggles with ‘back hands’ and we agree it would make a nice change from catching up on the latest tantrum or sleepless night over the usual cups of coffee around the kitchen table.
Predictably, the childcare arrangements fall apart at the last minute so I call to cancel. “Bring them with you and they can all play on the side of the court,” she says casually. I am a little sceptical but the sun is shining and I am eager to work off the remains of my daughter’s Easter Egg which, until this morning, had been sitting at the back of the fridge begging to be eaten. Dressed in an old pair of track suit bottoms and a white t-shirt, which has now turned a dull shade of grey, I spend the next half an hour rummaging through the contents of the understairs cupboard searching for my tennis racket.
I arrive with tennis racket in hand, baby on the hip and a small three-year-old trailing behind me. My friend is carrying two large baskets of toys which we take down to the tennis court and set up a mini play area in the corner. Things begin well and I have visions of regular weekly tennis games ahead, with children happily playing beside me. However, towards the end of the first game, the baby begins to cry, so we stop and hand him a drink and the obligatory box of raisins. Final point and the ‘brooming’ noise coming from my son becomes louder as he pushes cars around the court. Two minutes into the second game and my friend lets out a shriek and runs off. She has left her casserole on the stove. The baby’s screams are now at full pitch and I struggle to hear whether my ball is in or out, let alone remember which point we are on. The court is littered with PlayMobil and Lego and for health and safety reasons plus a school run looming, we declare the game over. Despite all the distractions, at least I have made an attempt to shed one mini egg.
