Hi! <Waves>

Funny and honest tales from a made-to-work Dad of three, wobbling, graying, and laughing his way through parenthood. Armed to the teeth with Nerf guns, full of pie, fighting a chocolate addiction, but genuinely honoured to be at least half of Team Parents (yay!).

28 October 2015

Car Attack...

I have a cold. Well had.

I have the sniffles, it's not the same. And no it's not man-flu either. It's just a cold.
Which will pass with rest and warmth and whiskey
But whilst it hangs about, it will make me more grumpy, more snotty and extra tired.

But the worst part of it all, the absolute bum in the ointment, is that I am poorly just in time for the weekend. Why can't I be ill during work time? Monday is ill day. Monday...
<Shakes fist at sky>
<Bird poo falls on head>

Friday evening I got back from work feeling ropey. Threw a child or two into bed, ate something spicy and good (lovely noodle soup, thanks Mrs. Amazing), and did as many house jobs as I could before I headed to bed with snot pouring out of me. My head decidedly banging and my brain in power save mode.

'Do you want a cuppa'?
'Was that a yes?'
'Hmmm this isn't working...'
'How about, you hit yourself in the face for yes, chest for no...'
<Indicates yes>
'That looked painful, are you OK?'

I was even refusing some cups of tea. The madness.

(I'll just have a half cup then…)

Mrs. Amazing let me sleep all night. Children may have come and gone through out the night, I do not know. I was left to sleep.
However I bet they did come in during the night as both Boy8 and Miss4 are knackered.
And like all children exhausted children they are refusing to sleep through the night, go to bed early, or lay in even a little bit. The swines Bless 'em.
Children can be right idiots constantly sometimes.

Go to sleep, you're very tired
'I AM NOT <Yawns> Tiree... <Yawns> tir...'
<More yawns>
<Has to lean against wall as so tired>
<Picks up sleeping child and places them into bed>

BabyBoy1 however cares not about anyone being tired or ill. 
BabyBoy1 operates purely on a need basis. I need food, feed me. I need sleep, Zzz. It's morning, someone play with me. etc... It's all me, me, with him. Wise lad.

Annoyingly though at 6:00 am on Saturday morning, BabyBoy1 woke up.
Normally he just sings to himself in his room and is very happy until we drag ourselves out of bed. But not so this morning. This morning BabyBoy1 awoke cross and unhappy and wanted to share his message with the world at top volume.

'AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH' (* 'I would like someone to share my woes with')
'He's gonna wake up the ratbags others'
<One eye lid flickers, once, in recognition>
'I'll get him shall I?'
Please do
Bring back tea

The crying stops and I am about to resume my cold infested sleep. When Mrs. Amazing bundles a very cute, but wide awake, BabyBoy1 into our bed. Brilliant! Both Mum and Dad in the big bed! Yayyyyyy!

BabyBoy1 bundles on top of Mrs. Amazing and tries to lay on her face. It's hard not to laugh. We try not to laugh too much. But BabyBoy1 is so happy to be awake, and alive, and full of life.
It's hard not to smile.

Team Parents (yay!) are not so full of life.
One half of Team Parents has so much snot and gunk in his nose and throat he cannot talk and his eyes seem to be lined with lead. Gestures at this time of the morning are my own means of communication. But even I manage a smile at the happy little boy bouncing about on the bed.
Mrs. Amazing is very tired too, and tries to go back to sleep, but is finding BabyBoy1's hugs, face licks, and bundles hard to ignore. Plus she keeps giggling.

I am just drifting off again when it's my turn to be bundled by BabyBoy1.
He lies on my face, a move I am sure the cat taught him. I pick him up and he giggles.
How can anyone be this cute? at 6 am? Almost everyone else is bloody annoying. He's magic!

Meanwhile the snot and gunk in my throat is really making breathing hard and my body does what it needs to. I cough and splutter and clear the channels. I feels loads better. But it has woken me, utterly, up. Damn.

(Toned down and nice-d up...)

I could try to go back to sleep. But it seems pointless and Miss4 and Boy8 are due in in (!) thirty minutes. They are nothing if not punctual in their early waking of us.

So like a man diving on a grenade (literally), a captain going down on his ship, a chocolate cow knocking at my front door, I grab the happy and wide awake BabyBoy1 and head downstairs. Leaving the delighted Mrs. Amazing in bed asleep.

I do this because I love her, because I want to show her how much she means to me, because I want to show her much her well being and mental state is important to me. Yeah I know. Sweet.
And because it's Mrs. Amazing's day for a lie in anyway.

Me and BabyBoy1 have to pass Miss4's and Boy8's room on the way. We need to be utterly silent.It takes nothing to wake them.
Ninja mode engaged. 
I have become one with the corridor and it's squeaks and creaks. No one would, could, or will hear me move. I navigate the corridor of noise and surprise without a single noise. Ah yeah!

But, as I said before BabyBoy1 doesn't give a crap about anyone else sleeping and starts singing to himself. Loudly
He utterly ruins my ninja groove and shushing him doesn't work either. He just tries to eat my finger.
Still we manage to make it downstairs without either of the children grumps waking up.

After a long, heated, discussion me and BabyBoy1 choose the box of cars to play with. I wanted to play trains. I make myself a cuppa to aid the morning pain and go to plonk myself down on the floor, ready to play. When BabyBoy1 gestures at the microwave...

'UhUhUhUhUh' (* Where's my milk? You forgot my milk? WTBiscuit?)
<Frowns at me>
'Uhhhh Uhhhhh' (* You have your tea, where the smeg is my milk?)

I explain that no milk shall pass his lips until 6:30 am. Normal wake up time. I am not about to adjust his tummy clock to go off thirty minutes early. That would be madness.
BabyBoy1 handles it well. He appears OK with the milk refusal and comes over to play cars.

He leans over the big car box and starts sifting through the cars. I am quite amazed about how picky and choosy he is being. Normally just grabs the first one and starts to play. It's as though he is looking for one particular car. The right size and shape, to match his requirements. Not that one, not that... he is head first in the box searching as fast as he can. Then finally finds what he wants.

A big, red, metal car and he looks right at me.
I don't understand what is going and am utterly intrigued...

Dude! Why's that car so special?
Is it the fastest?
Is it the strongest?
Is it the reddest?
BabyBoy1 why that car?

(Car on the right: small and plastic doesn't hurt… Car on the left metal, painful and cooler)

Happy he has my full attention. BabyBoy1 throws the car right at me and it hits me in the face. 
I am still half asleep, with cold, and wasn't expecting a car attack from one so young.

Owwww! What was that for? 
I'm telling Mrs. Amazing

But before I can work out what made BabyBoy1 feel he needed to pick a car, and then luzz it at me. I am distracted by Miss4 entering the kitchen.

She managed to stay in bed a whole five minutes extra thanks to BabyBoy1's non-ninja skills. Boy8 is right behind her. Oh bravo my tiny ninja of noise.
Ah well.

We all play and have lots of fun with the cars and I manage to shove breakfast into all three of them before Mrs. Amazing awakes from her slumber.

It isn't until later, when I have a moment to think about it, that I realise why BabyBoy1 threw that car at me. It's quite obvious really, if I put myself in his tiny shoes. 
I am not at my smiliest first thing in the morning, and if someone (a brave, but foolhardy soul) told me I had to wait for my cup of tea… ooooo can you imagine the mess? Salt water everywhere.

No wonder I got car-ed, I made BabyBoy1 wait for his milk.
I'm lucky I walked away...

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