New life
Clinical attachment
Zenga Longmore
Ask any mother, and she'lltell you the same thing. The reason she attends the clinic every week is to have her baby checked and weighed. She'll be lying, of course. The real reason she rushes to the
'The denture fairy's been!' clinic, eyes all a-glitter, is to obtain the weekly reassurance that her baby is super- ior to any other. Every Wednesday morn- ing it's the same. The conversation goes roughly as follows: Mother 1 (with pudgy baby staring dopi- ly from its elaborate buggy): How old is your child?
Mother 2 (with skinny scrap of baby drooping on her knee): Only three months old, but she's big, isn't she? She's sitting up already. • Mother 1 (with delicate lift of left eye- brow): Mmmm. Mine was sitting up when he was two months old. He's four months now and practically crawling.
Mother 2 (smirking): Really? Mine learnt to crawl last week. I'm a bit fright- ened, actually. After all, it's not good to be too advanced, is it?
Mother I (contemptuously): Quite. What do you feed her on?
Mother 2: Breast milk. Nature's best, you know. That's why she's so lively.
Mother I: Roger has already been weaned. He eats just about everything. (In unnaturally high-pitched squawk): Don't you, darling? Woochie woochie. (Baby stares back with stuffed expression.) Mother 2 (with studied nonchalance): Did you read that article in the Sun about overweight babies? Scared the life out of me it did. Luckily my Arabella has no problems in that area, do you, dreamikins? (Chucks scrawny creature under chin. Baby instantly bursts into tears.) Mother 1: My Roger used to cry like that, but I gave him attention, you see, so he only laughs now. (A thin strand of saliva dribbles down said baby's chin.) Enter Mother 3.
Mother 3 (pricing everyone's pushchair with scornful sweep of the eyes. Satisfied that her pram is the plushest, she seats herself daintily with smug smile): Windy, isn't it? (To Mother 1): Weren't you in the hospital with me when I was having. Sarah? Good grief! Wouldn't think they were the same age, would you?
Mother I: No you wouldn't, would you?
Mother 3: There again, I wish mine would grow more, er, chubby like yours, Sarah's too petite and finely boned for her own good, really — and too quiet. (To Mother 2): There are times when I wish she'd cry and scream like your little girl. (Mother 2 snorts.) It can be quite unnerv- ing to have such a peaceful contented baby.
All crane their necks so they can see into the pram in order to sneer at Sarah, but baby is too swathed in zarebas of lace and frills to be visible. At this point the nurse comes in and bustles me and Omalara out of the room.
I haven't, if you've noticed, uttered one word throughout. Why should I? It's so obvious that my Omalara is cleverer, pret- tier and better behaved than any of the others that there's no need for me to open my mouth.
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