Things That Never Happen with Kids in Soapland

Things That Never Happen with Kids in Soapland

During soap births, there is never any mention of the placenta. Where the hell is the placenta? Whether the baby pops out in the back of a car, or in a phone box, or in a hospital bed clearly not soaked in amniotic fluid, once the cord is cut the placenta is forgotten. The 'newborn' baby (who is always miraculously clean, at least 10lb and never has a cone-head or forceps bruising) is handed over and everybody gets on with their day. I blame soaps entirely for my ignorance around this, and my look of bewilderment when the midwife asked if I wanted the injection to get things moving afterwards. What do you mean there's more? Unsurprisingly I also didn't know that the placenta could fail to deliver and get stuck. Yes, that happened.


Recovery from childbirth is immediate in Soapland (after a quick waddle and wince). There is no mad dash to Dev's to stock up on maternity pads or six weeks of avoiding car seat lifting post-section. That said, who needs a car seat? They don't venture further than the 500 square metres surrounding the house.


The baby never has reflux. Colic is mentioned in passing, as they all head off for another child-free drink at the Rovers (don't worry though as Sophie Webster must be babysitting). Nobody says 'Fucking hell, have you seen the sofa? There are pools of vomit in the cushion creases again.' Or 'Why are his neck folds so cheesy?' 


Nobody is ever sat on the sofa with their boobs out and everybody is armed with a bottle and steriliser from day one, which I find surprising. In real life, some people bottle feed, some people breastfeed. Of course, this isn't real life (the residents of your average street don't enjoy every hot drink in a café and every cold one in a pub, or 'The Bistro') but still, surely amongst the bottles somebody could be tucking into their Roy's Rolls sarnie with a baby on the boob?


Soap toddlers rarely behave like arseholes. You never see Lexi lying on the floor of the Minute Mart screaming, or Lily Platt lobbing her Ella's Kitchen snacks at David's face. In fact, where the fuck is Lily Platt? I expect she's upstairs in one of the many bedrooms or bathrooms that Gail's two-up two-down must be hiding (with Sophie Webster supervising, obvs). Sometimes these soap children hold onto an adult's hand and stand quietly while a conversation about adultery or pre-mediatated murder of a family member goes on around them. Where are the 'Mummy, mummy MUMMY' interruptions and demands for Star Wars Angry Birds on the iPhone?


Equally, these kids only ever come out with boring stuff. Like 'can you read me a story?' as they blatantly look at the camera crew and wonder who the fuck the stranger is masquerading as their dad. They never shout, 'knickers poo poo bum bum head!' or ask Siri what the fox said ("Fraka-kaka-kaka-kaka-kow!" if you're wondering).


Clearly, I have too much time on my hands because despite all of this, I bloody love my soaps. (Except Hollyoaks, because that was an omnibus reserved solely for Hangover Sundays, and they died in 2012).



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The Unmumsy Mum