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!).

20 July 2016

Nearly the End of Term (Thank Bacon and Cake)...

The awesomeness that is the 'End of Term' is nearly here.
Actually it cannot get here quick enough.
Six long weeks of summer holidays are seriously needed.

I'm pretty sure Boy9 is going to explode.
Bang. It's not going to take much. The wrong fork at breakfast. His favourite toy found millimetres in Miss5's room. Dad has eaten all the cake.
That boy is primed and ready to blow...

Mrs. Amazing: 'What are you doing?'
Shhhh <Continues to prod Boy9 with long stick>
Mrs. Amazing: 'WITHOUT ME?'
<Nods and loves her even more>
Mrs. Amazing: 'Come on, shove up! My go!'

(... I have never been bowled when using my lucky bat...)

As long as Boy9 is doing something he likes.
He's fine. But ask him to do anything? Ask him to help?
Ask him to push the switch that closes the very doors to hades, so their hoardes and demons won't come into the house and burn everything, and roast us in the eternal fires of oblivion. Ask him to do that?
It’s a long shot.

He's very much like a smeggern over wound toy car.
It kinda works…. But in spits and spots.
Sometimes it goes off like a rocket.
Other times it just makes this annoying noise and doesn't move at all.
But then sometimes you just need to nudge it... a teeny bit... and BROOOOOM off it goes and it scares the crap out of me you at night...
(I may have lost focus on this metaphor).

You know when you see a parent out with an annoying child.
A child being rude, abusive, mean, hitty, shouty, just urghhhhh!
And the seems to just be sitting there, calming talking, letting them behave like that.
And inwardly, you tut them.
Well you shouldn't. You should clap them.
Because any parent that is calm and still managing to reason with the child is doing it right.
I promise.
<Puts hand on R2-D2> Hope to be shot down by frugal laser turret gunners if I'm wrong...

I know.
Because it's what Team Parent (yay!) are currently trying to do with Boy9.
It's exhausting and annoying and we hate it.
But it works. When nothing else does.

School has utterly drained him this year.
Poor loon. Boy9 just needs to be left alone to do whatever he wants. For about a week.
Then he'll be back to himself in no time.

Miss5 however has been running on fumes for ages.
She has given her all to her first year at school.
And it's easy to say like that isn't it. Miss5's done one year at school.
There! Easy wasn't it?
One year. Doesn't seem much? One year.

(Quick blow it out! That candles gotta last everyone’s teens...)

But that's one year of classes with a teacher for the first time.
One year of needing to be on time, and dressed sanely correctly.
One year being with lemons and fools others around you. Who you may not like.
One year of having to act big, and be on your own all day.
One year of filling your brain with more information than you've ever know. Probably twice over.
One year of having to concentrate for hours and hours.

<Runs off after a butterfly>
Missed it... Where was I?

One year of having other adults telling you off.
One year of having of swines other children being mean to you, just coz.
One year of having unfair stuff happening and that's it. It just happens.
One year of a million brilliant and lovely experiences.
One year of having no one pick you up if you cry and hugging you to little bits.
And really someone (me) should always be there doing that.

Can you imagine how hard that change is to adjust too?
Yeah. It's just one year for Miss5... But crikey!
What a year!

Luckily for us.
Miss5 has taken to school like chocolate does to cake (well). But. For every brilliant bit at school… There's been the flip side at home...
The screaming.
The hitting.
The kicking.
The meals at the table where Miss5 isn't at the table at all. Unless you count screaming and kicking the cupboards the other side of the room as being at the table (we do not).
The fights, two damn hours after bedtime, about her wanting to wear a fleece to bed. In an English heat wave (A whopping 30! It was so hot I even questioned whether or not having cups of tea all day was such a good idea) (It was Obv.).
The naked little girl screaming she's too cold to put on pyjamas.
The confused Dad struggling with Miss5's reasoning and grip of thermal dynamics...

Then... But... Then you'll be.... ARHGGHGHG!!! <Brain pain>
WHAT DO YOU WANT??? TELL ME!!! Pleases <Sobs>

Excellent first year of school Miss5.
Now hurry up and finish it so you can rest.
You deserve it, and Team Parent (yay!) need it.

Mrs. Amazing needs the holidays to start too.
Not for herself you understand. But for the inmates children. They are all acting a bit nuts.
Which is driving Mrs. Amazing a bit nuts as well.
She needs a good break, on a beach, in a swimming pool of sparkling white wine, surrounded by rugby players playing volley ball, and piped in Radio 4.
I understand I would be allowed to visit during pre-agreed visiting hours.
The children would not.

I got a message from Mrs. Amazing. A movie and this text…

I feel her pain. There's a lot of thirty seconds in a day.

Well there's no school yet for him. But holidays mean no more getting bundled into a hot car forty times a day. No waiting about in playgrounds for grumpy siblings. No dashing about with Mummy on errands all day.
Summer holidays will mean BabyBoy2 gets Miss5 and Boy9 to play with all day. And he loves playing with them so much. He’s gonna love the next six weeks.
And the pace of BabyBoy2's life will slow right down.
Which is what he needs.

BabyBoy2: 'One more?' <Cocks head to the side>
BabyBoy2: 'PwEEEEEase!' <Gorgeous smile>
Oh OK! One more Octonauts then... But then we better get dressed before it gets dark...
<Both watch Octonauts and love it>

And me?
Well at this time of year I end up working late, and early to make up time so I can go to their sport days. Their open days. Their Hand-Over-Your-Money-We-Want-To-Build-Stuff-At-School days. Their Fifty-Pounds-A-Burger days? And Very-Cheap-Cake days (my fav).
My work days are longer at the moment. But that's fine. And my choice.
I know I am lucky to be able to attend their school things.
Once the holidays start I'll go back to normal hours.

I'm going to miss dropping Miss5 off at school.
A lot. I'm going to be missing that for the next six weeks.
Nothing starts my day off better than a Miss5 chat...
Miss5: ‘... and that's how bees fly!’
You sure?
Miss5: ‘Oh yes. Yep’
But where do they get this ‘rainbow petrol’ from?
Miss5: ‘By flying round all rainbow-colour flowers. Obv.
Oh… Makes sense… <Is Surprised>
Hang on… <Takes notes>

I’ve also got six weeks of listening to fun.
For the next six weeks I am going to have to hear about all fun the they are going to have.
All the plans the four of them will now make for the next six weeks. Without me.
All the places they will go, the fun they will have. Without me.
All the flobbing about, watching Star Wars, eating cake. Without me.
And I really love watching Star Wars and eating cake. I’m excellent at it.

Stupid male Dad life…
<Grumbles off to work>
<They have cake!>