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!).

19 January 2017

Goodbye Christmas (Until Next Time You Sexy Holiday You)...

Christmas is finally done and gone. <Weeps>
The tree is down and the sitting room suddenly seems huge again.
The fairy lights have mostly gone from the house (Team Parent (yay!) are keeping theirs).
And I, personally, have dealt with all that nasty chocolate that was hanging about the place...

Mrs. Amazing: 'Where's all the chocolate gone?' <Checks cupboard>
Mrs. Amazing: <Checks the more biscuity-chocolate cupboard>
Mrs. Amazing: 'Have you hidden it?'
Mrs. Amazing: <Checks secret chocolate stash cupboard that I always forget about>
Mrs. Amazing: 'Seriously there was loads? What's happened to it all?'
Mrs. Amazing: <Finds me sprawled out on the floor, chocolate all around my face, wrappers everywhere>
Mrs. Amazing: 'You haven't? ... All of it?' <But already knows the answer>
You're welcome...
Mrs. Amazing: <Tuts>
I feel sick...
Mrs. Amazing: 'I am not surprised... on all accounts'
(Don’t be so damn rude and show respect to your father
<Is bounced on>)

The decorations are down.
And sat in boxes waiting to be carried up stairs and into the loft. Which I am putting off as it's really cold up there.
And as jobs go, it sucks. We have a narrow loft hatch which means pushing boxes up with my face whilst holding on for dear life, one handed.
I do things that are more fun.
But a bit of me is concerned that Team Parent (yay!) may incur the dreaded decorations-still-up bad luck that is the scourge of those that celebrate Xmas the world over.
<Shudders> <Stubs toe>
But also I'm pretty sure we will be fine as 'technically' they are down. No-one ever said the decs need to be packed up and away in the loft.
In a lump at the bottom of the stairs I am sure is fine.
Except for when BabyBoy2 walks by.
As he tends to picks something up. And then demands to read it...

BabyBoy2: 'WOOK!' <Grabs Father Christmas book>
BabyBoy2: 'Ho-Ho!' <Points at Father Christmas>
<Pisses self laughing and hopes BabyBoy2 doesn't pick up a Katie Price in the library anytime soon...>
<Chuckles> Yeah mate! Ho-Ho!...
BabyBoy2: 'Me read it?' <Head tilt, irresistible cute-a-rama>
... Sure! But it's almost packed away! I'd love to...

For Xmas I took two weeks off work.
Bliss. That's what I do / have done every year [now]. It's how I choose to spend my precious work holiday.
At home for Christmas surrounded by loonatics loved ones.
Playing. Getting jumped on. Being a horse. Dancing the days away. Shooting Boy9 over and over with Nerf bullets. Ah ha ha ha.
I would happily light-contact ninja dance-fight anyone to a bit of a bruise death if they tried to stop me doing so.

I think of that time as catching up.
Catching up with Boy9, Miss5 and BabyBoy2. And Mrs. Amazing. Obv. All my -toys- stuff.
And the house I work so much to afford, but mostly only seem to visit to sleep in.
In those two weeks I get so many jobs done that have been buggin' me all year. I try and visit all my friends.
It's either my reward to myself for a hard worked year, or bribery to convince me to start another.
And time for myself.
Time for stock checking.
Smelling the roses...

<Sniffs> These stink? How old are these?
Mrs. Amazing: 'They're as old as when you last brought me flowers!'
Oh... Doesn't matter... <Leaves>

... Time for chilling out...

Oy Boy9! Shut the door! Were you born in a barn? <Shakes fist>
Please shut the door behind you! <Un-clenches fist but still shakes> <Is waving>
Boy9: <Nods but clearly doesn't mean it> <Waves back>
<Shuts door> <Mutters>
Miss5: <Opens door and runs outside to -be upset by Boy9- dance> <Doesn't shut door>
Oy Miss5! Shut the door behind you please!
Miss5: <Ignores me>
<Shuts door> <Mutters more>
BabyBoy2: 'Daddy pwease?' <Is trying, but failing to open the door>
<Opens door for BabyBoy2> <Closes it behind him>
<Watches BabyBoy2 runs off and then runs back, opens the door, and then jar it open>
Oh no! Jam everywhere!
<Gives up and goes back to bed under one million duvets to warm up>

(Cow: ‘And keep this door open… Were you born in a house?’)

I match the kid's holiday.
When they break up for Xmas. So do I.
And it was lovely. It felt ages (almost a year) since I had last been able to just sit and play day after day. We had so much fun.
And it was a delight to be there for BabyBoy2. Who frikkin' loved suddenly having his Daddy there all day to play.
Naive Fresh faced and eager to do so.

And of course BabyBoy2 this Christmas was brilliant.
Still experiencing Christmas for the first few times. Gorgeous.
As Boy9 and Miss5 sent their (probably a bit late, but flume post seems quick) letters off to Father Christmas. BabyBoy2 watched.
Wondered what the hell was going on...

BabyBoy2: <Thinks> Why is Boy9 and Miss5 putting their drawings (letters) in the fire? Why is Daddy taking photos of it? I am so doing that later with whatever paper I find! Wooohooo!

Boy9 and Miss5's requests had been guided.
So expectations were managed and very achievable. One big / key thing each.
Team Parent (yay!) had put effort into this and our reward was watching the letters burn, knowing Father Christmas wouldn't disappoint (or have to spend a fortune). BabyBoy2 obviously asked for nothing, as he's two and a blob.
What more could he need than his loving family?

BabyBoy2: 'Fireman outfit, that cake' <Points> 'And I really think I should be allowed to drive now'
What? <Wasn't listening>
BabyBoy2: 'Me cake?'
Sure <Shares cake>

On Christmas Eve BabyBoy2 watched more madness.
He watched us put down some booze for Father Christmas (that old soak). A mince pie. And a carrot for the reindeer.
I say carrot but they had all gone into a stew the night before. We had celery. We had special Christmas celery which I confirmed reindeer love, and is just as special and magical as a carrot.
And of course we only put down the one carrot (read celery). Which is weird.
There are at least twelve reindeer. Maybe thirteen. Depends on how modern you are.
Yet we leave one carrot. One between twelve/thirteen reindeer. Which are not small creatures.
Do they fight it out for the carrot. Is one of them, Dancer I presume, who's let him/her self go and found comfort in food, and is now huge and bashes the others out of the way with his/her antlers and gut. Grabbing every carrot and wolfing it down. Whilst Father Christmas is necking the brandy / white wine / beer.
Surely we should put out twelve carrots?
I digress...
BabyBoy2 watched us all set this up. Listened to the carrot / celery debate.
And then we all explained to him what was going to happen.
First Mrs. Amazing with my backup. Then Boy9 who could tell BabyBoy2 was looking confused.
Then Miss5. Because talking.
Then Team Parent (yay!) again to clear up the message that gotten confused.
I am not entirely sure he understood...

Tonight... Father Christmas and his reindeer are going to land on our house <Is using 'magic stuff is going on' voice>
BabyBoy2: '...'
They're going come down the chimney and trespass
BabyBoy2: '...' <Looks suspicious>
Leave presents for us all. Have a drink, a nibble and then bugger off go
BabyBoy2: '...'
BabyBoy2: 'That's utterly nuts'
That's Christmas. Shhh.. Just go with it. You'll get presents
BabyBoy2: 'Deal'



Mrs. Amazing: 'Let's have some cheese and crackers!'
Mrs. Amazing: <Checks fridge> 'Where's all the Stilton gone?'
<Looks at own stomach>
Mrs. Amazing: '... And the Brie? We can't be out of Cheddar as well... ?'
<Rubs sore tummy> <Hides cracker plate under sofa>
Mrs. Amazing: 'Where HAS all the cheese gone?'
I feel really sick... <Groans> <Rubs tummy>
Mrs. Amazing: 'I am not smegging surprised! You fat bagger!'
It wasn't the cheese! It was the salad I had to wash down all the cheese
<Winces at tummy pain>
Mrs. Amazing: 'What salad?'
<Points at plate of eaten bacon>
Mrs. Amazing: 'BACON does not count as a salad'
It DOES at Christmas thank you very much. Christmas. Salad. <Points at Bacon plate>
Mrs. Amazing: 'Fine!' <Rolls eyes> 'I'll just have a bacon sarnie instead then!'
<Starts waddling off as quick as possible...>
Mrs. Amazing: 'Now then. Where's the bacon...?’

(Mrs. Amazing: ‘Now, I know it’s Christmas and all… But I feel you may have gone a bit overboard on the cheese...’
You don't want to eat it with me?
Mrs. Amazing: ‘I didn’t say that! ... Get the crackers’
Mrs. Amazing: ‘I doubt it... I’ll be too full...’)