Guess my secret!
I still need ID to buy booze!
Typing up a report at work, I barely noticed my phone ping.
It was January 2017 and I was busy catching up on admin.
It was a message from my daughter Clarice, then 17.
Mum, I’ve got something to tell you, the message read. I’m pregnant.
As I read and reread it, I could barely take it in.
I’m going to be a grandma,
I thought. I was only 35! Still, having kids young was nothing new for our family.
My mum Jo, 56, got pregnant with me at 17, and I fell pregnant at the same age. That was back in June 1999. I’d accidentally missed taking a few contraceptive pills. So when I started feeling sick, I was pretty sure why. I took three pregnancy tests. Even though I’d suspected it, I was overwhelmed when two blue lines appeared on each one.
Throwing them in the kitchen bin, I ran to my room, crying.
What will Mum say?
I thought, panicking.
Later that night, there was a knock on my bedroom door.
‘Can I come in, love?’ Mum asked softly. I knew what was coming. ‘I found these in the bin,’ she said, handing me the positive tests. ‘I thought I’d better get them out before your dad finds them.’ I smiled weakly. ‘It’ll be OK,’ Mum said. The next step was breaking the news to my boyfriend. ‘We’re so young,’ he said. ‘I know,’ I admitted. ‘But I want to keep it.’
On 19 January 2000, I gave birth to my beautiful baby girl.
‘Welcome to the world,’ I whispered, beaming down at her in my arms.
When Clarice was 2, her dad and I split up. We’d tried to make things work, but we were just two very different people.
Still, we vowed to stay friends and bring up our daughter in the best way we could.
Before I knew it, Clarice was a teenager.
Going out with her mates, getting her first boyfriend.
Then, on Christmas Day 2016, Clarice complained she was feeling sick.
‘I can’t eat that, Mum,’ she’d said, her face green at the sight of the turkey.
I eyed her suspiciously.
‘Anything you want to tell me?’ I asked gently.
‘No, why would there be?’ Clarice snapped.
But a few weeks later, she caved in.
As soon as I got her text message, I dashed home and gave her a big hug. ‘We’ll do this together,’ I said. But inside, I worried. I had my own young daughter, Casey, then 4, to look after.
How will we manage?
During the pregnancy, Clarice and her boyfriend went their separate ways. Still, I was there for her. In July 2017, Clarice went into labour. ‘I need you in the delivery room, Mum!’ she gasped through her contractions. I wished I could take the pain away for her. After 27 long hours, my beautiful granddaughter, Jessica, was born. ‘I can’t believe I’m a grandma!’ I laughed. Clarice and Jessica were allowed home three days later and we settled into family life.
Casey was so excited about being an auntie.
But I wasn’t happy with my new title.
‘Call me anything but Grandma!’ I begged Clarice. ‘It makes me sound ancient.’
A few weeks later, it was Clarice’s 18th birthday.
‘Let’s have a big party,’ I suggested.
I headed to the supermarket to buy alcohol, taking Jessica in her pram.
Only, at the checkout, the woman at the till refused to put the drinks through.
‘I’m going to need to see your ID,’ she said.
What?
‘I’m 35!’ I gasped. ‘And this is my granddaughter!’
I scrabbled through my purse for my driving licence and handed it over.
‘Wow, I’m so sorry,’ she said, clocking the date. ‘But you look so young!’
I smiled and hurried away
I’ve had a boob job, Botox and hair extensions
with my shopping but, deep down, I was flattered.
‘Must be the Botox,’ I joked with Clarice when I got home.
But I did try to look after myself. I was always exercising and loved kickboxing classes.
I had my nails and eyebrows done regularly. And I’d spent £20,000 on cosmetic surgery. In November 2011, I had my boobs done, too – going from a 34A to a 34DD. I’ve also had veneers, Botox and hair extensions. So I’m definitely not a regular granny! I’ve even posed for racy photo shoots in my lingerie and posted the photos online. But Clarice isn’t embarrassed – she’s proud I’m such a glam gran! Now we’re bringing up our children together, and sometimes it’s like we’re sisters, rather than mother and daughter. We live together, and I’m always giving her advice and support with little Jess, now 10 months. But she draws the line at letting me come on a night out with her mates. Even if I do look younger than most of them!