8 November - Dad & Babes

Spend a couple of hours with an ex lover and one of his babies. He’s of the school of ‘the mothers want them, then let them look after them’. I mean, he can deliver them and support them, think he does it more for the boy than for the girl because technically he’s only the sperm donor for the girl. But an entire day with one when he's back in the country from his various pursuits, is … boring, which is why I get the call on the off chance I’m available, (I am) and whilst he’s with me he’s lining up the rest of the afternoon aunties or uncles.

Ella is stunning because she seems otherworldly. I didn’t feel much of a connection when I saw pictures of Connor who’s a sort of angel looking boy of 3, but this one year old is like Samantha Morton in the pool in Minority Report, you can’t look away she’s so mesmerising. All huge blue eyes, dreamy eyelashes and wonderment. She’s very amenable and friendly and not whingeing or whining and has a way to say a little ‘ooooohhh’ regularly as if all things are just a big pleasant world out there. She bops to the music when I walk into shops and touches garments when I lean her over to do so. She does so without grabbing at the fabric and as if she was evaluating the quality. Clearly she’s not mine but she could be. I wonder if she would be this gorgeous if I’d put my half of genes in there, though he clearly input three quarters. Must ask ex lover to show me pics of the mother, though that did not occur to me to ask on the day. I suspect she’s the usual ten years younger than me at least.

Ella is now clad in a new gift I bought her. Blue, to get away from all the pink she’s already saddled with. Minutes earlier dad and I were in a lingerie shop where am trying to encourage him to buy the same frilly knickers for both the women in his life (well two of, there are more) as he still bonks at leas one of them, and then we’re buying kiddie clothes and then we’re in another underwear shop. Not my fault, the little arcade had them to offer. He makes some comments about how lucky my boyfriend is as I buy my own electric blue frilly thong for later (I feel in the mood for colour) and thankfully does not remind me of anything past. Though he’s thinking about it perhaps. Is it possible to be more handsome I think? This man is going seriously gray and losing some hair but the swagger is still there, that’s what did it. Those articles that say that confidence is what gets the girl are true but this is confidence backed by perfect teeth and perfect... lots of other stuff. And it’s so sweet he’s apologising for the not so good leather jacket he’s wearing, says it’s not his. Blimey, I am truly the fashion police to my friends. Have no idea how I’d feel if Toph didn’t exist and was waiting for lunch at home.

Am totally enjoying this little foray into strolling along with big daddy and doll in my arms, though arms are knackered within the hour – silly girl for insisting on carrying doll, he has sling ready to take her. Ex lover tell me he’s fascinated by how different the kids’ mothers are and Ella’s mum is very disorganised compared to Connor’s. Yet she's the lawyer and the other is the designer. I have no idea which one I’d be. Somewhere in the middle I think, organised but relaxed. I hate neurotic mothers, they make their kids a mess.

Anyway, time is up, we’re at the tube station. I suddenly remember that at a recent friend’s 50th, her younger sister, 46, was being congratulated on the bump that contains triplets. Yes, at 46. Way to go. Though surgeon ex lover says highly likely one won’t survive so that will sort out the problem of how to deal with so many. He’s surprised it’s not IVF but when I say it runs in the family and she’s got 3 grown ups already, one at Uni, such fun, he’s less awed.
Three kids, I find it sort of a mad enterprise. Then again, I always did. God I’m looking forward to my coffee and book back at home by the time I wave him and doll goodbye.But I hope to see her again