“What do you want for your birthday?” asked my husband. For a moment I thought about telling him what I really wanted. How I would long for a day off cooking, cleaning, washing, bathing children and being asked questions. I would love a day when I did not have to think about anything and could lie in a hot, oily bath reading a magazine in peace. However, I then reminded myself that this would utterly disappoint the children as it couldn’t be wrapped up and did not involve candle blowing and rounds of ‘Happy Birthday’. I opted for my second best present – a coffee machine, so I could enjoy cappuccinos at home.
A week before my birthday, my husband asked if I had looked into the coffee machine and done any research on which one I liked. This was a sure sign that he had not. I ‘googled’ for a while and spoke to a very helpful man in John Lewis customer service who talked me through his own personal cappuccino machine and the amount of frothy milk it produced. However, it soon became obvious that I was going to have to drive to a shop to take a look at one, so a dreaded trip to Southampton beckoned. My husband had just had two weeks off so the closest he was going to get to a cappucino machine was when he grabbed one from the nearest Starbucks during his lunch hour. There was no other option than to hit the china and glass department, with three small children in tow.
We had barely entered the store before the Toddler began grizzling and cries of “I’m hungry” began ringing out. In fact, the thought of a cappuccino to calm my nerves was very enticing, so off we headed to the canteen. With a dose of caffeine under my belt and the children given a quick sugar burst, we were better prepared. I glanced at a few machines on the shelf and was instantly baffled. Thankfully, a member of the Partnership’s staff came to my rescue, sensing my stress levels rising as the two boys began flicking on the switches of the rows of kettles beside us. She began to explain the differences between the machines and I felt like pressing a fast forward switch. “Which one would you get,” I asked. She pointed out a machine that looked nice and was not too pricey. “Great. I’ll take it.” I glance around to look for the children. I can hear them but not see them. I frantically dash around the department and find them by the fine Waterford crystal. They have launched into their familiar poking game, whereby the five-year-old prods the Toddler who rolls around on the floor laughing so much he has an accident. Virtually hyperventilating, I drag them out of the shop, under the gaze of other shoppers. Happy, happy birthday, I hiss to myself.
