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!).
X

26 April 2017

Easter Rainbow Fountains...

Not sure why.
But Easter season in our house is puke season.
It's not over indulgent chocolate related either.
It just seems that whatever germs are about floating about Easter-ish our little charges get them all.
And then yip.

Oooooo <Rubs tummy in a give me sympathy way>
Mrs. Amazing: 'Bad tummy?'
Yeah... <Sad puppy Strong but suffering face>
Mrs. Amazing: 'Have you got what the kids have?'
Yeah probably... <Fights back tears>
Mrs. Amazing: '... er... you... er...'
Mrs. Amazing: '... you haven't just eaten lots of chocolate and now feel sick?'
...
Define lots?
Mrs. Amazing: 'The amount I eat in one sitting, times ten'
Then yes... <Sees all sympathy leaving>
<Rubs own tummy>

All the kids.
All four thousand three of them. Have been sick of late. Vomed. Yakked. Chucked up. Had an emergency food escape. Been to puke town. Greened.
Yippage.
But let's not call it being sick. As no one wants to read stories of people going to puke town.
Nope. Instead let's go with 'rainbow streams'.

E.g. Consider...
'Did Miss6 just hurl huge chunks everywhere?'
versus...
'Did Miss6 just rainbow fountain everywhere?'

See a lot nicer.

(As modelled by some pandas… as is the fashion… (it’s not))


All the kids have been creating rainbow fountains.
Everywhere. At night. During the day. On and on.
The washing machine has been working on overdrive. Constantly cleaning sheets, pillows, duvets and clothing. Only Boy9 is able to get to a rainbow collection bucket in time.
Well done Boy9. Thoroughly appreciated.
Miss6. Getting there.
BabyBoy2. Dude... You're not even trying.
(He's not, he cares not).

Anyhoo...

Team Parent (yay!).
Were giggling along to the latest episode of Peter Kay's Car Share. Great show.
When we heard BabyBoy2 leave his room. Shut his door. Because he likes doors shut (??) and THUD THUD into our room. For such tiny feet he has hella heavy foot falls.
A quick reminder that I am on BabyBoy2 duty as I put him to bed from the rest of Team Parent (yay!). And I am off to see what is going on.
Poor little lad. Stomping about in the dark trying to find his parents in their room.
When they are downstairs watching tele.
I switch on lights as I go and eventually find BabyBoy2 looking at our bed wondering where on earth we both are...

You alright mate?
BabyBoy2: <Sad voice> 'Wet'

And not just wet.
Wet would have been good. Wet is a change of clothes. A new nappy. Wet wipe anywhere that's too smelly. Cuddles. And back to bed. Easy.
Nope.
The smell on walking into the room tells me it's not just 'wet'. The poor little sausage has been sick.
Which always makes my heart skip a little in fear. Because what if?
But all three of them have done it for years and been fine.
Heart skip done. I pick him up and it's all down his front.
Rainbow juice that is.

I call for Mrs. Amazing.
<Grabs Bat phone>
And the standard Team Parent (yay!) disaster recovery team goes into action.
Mrs. Amazing arrives and takes BabyBoy2 into the bathroom. I pass her fresh jammies and nappy. Whilst I head into BabyBoy2's room to see how bad the situation is.
Rainbow fluid needs serious cleaning and clearing up. Else the smell stays.
I pray that by chance BabyBoy2 has somehow got himself a bucket and has filled it.
No chance.

(What’s in the bucket?
Boy9: ‘Rainbows’
Oh ni…. EWWWWW!

I nearly pass out walking into his room.
And I've been called to a lot rainbow affected rooms. Still this smell staggers me.
Yuk.
Like a crime scene investigator I work out where the rainbow fountain came from and what has happened. It seems pretty clear BabyBoy2 had sat up at some point. Created his rainbow.
And then gone back to sleep.

Rainbow damage can be severe.
Bed sheets. Duvet. Floor mat. Anywhere it touches.
Luckily he missed all his teddies. As they are a right pain to wash and kill germs with.
I pull off all the sheets and bundle them by the door.
Mrs. Amazing adds to the bundle with a towel and BabyBoy2's jammies. All rainbow stained.
Then I realise the very cool and very helpful plastic sheet we normally have on his bed.
Isn't there. Crap.
Undersheets off too. And brilliant! There's a towel there.
Mrs. Amazing you either had quite a moment and put a towel away really, really badly. Or, and it's this one, you're the kind of genius that puts a towel under your two year olds sheets just in case.
I remove the towel and sniff the mattress.

Brainzilla: 'You did what?'
I wanted to be sure...
Brainzilla: 'And if it was pukey, how would your nose feel?'
... <Head drops>... But it wasn't...
Brainzilla: 'This time!'
Good point git...

Then I clean up what is on the floor.
It's going to go in about third on my list of things I've done that were so gross I nearly rainbowed myself. And I've a long list. I watched a Bieber video once.
And I'm normally sent in as cleaner. This isn't my first clean up. It won't be my last.
And I'm male. I have to use male toilets. Which are gross. I am sure it makes you stronger against smells like this. Still...
It's a bad one.
<Nearly makes own rainbow fountain>

I fill the washing machine with sheets.
Boil wash to make sure the germs are deaded as much as possible. And as I don't want to be scraping off rainbow chunks. I stuff as much as I can in the machine without overfilling it. I want the machine to do the scraping for me. As I don't want to. Ew.
There's two loads worth. So the rest I wrap in itself and leave until the morning.
As a present!

Before I head back up stairs.
I turn off the tele. The lights. Everything. Power up the security grids, release the dragons, and set the attack robots to kill maim.
Without even asking Mrs. Amazing I know that tonight is done. We'll finish Car Share another night. Poorly boy has arrived.
All other activities suspended.

Once back in Team Parents (yay!) bedroom.
I find Mrs. Amazing in jammies ready for bed (told you). A smaller bed laid out next to ours.
BabyBoy2 was recently upgraded from cot to bed. So we have a mattress hanging about. Silver linings etc.
A spare pillow and case found for BabyBoy2. And there sat under a warm blanket, freshly cleaned and washed. Big smile on his face.
And basically very happy about life and what's going on. BabyBoy2.
Who it seems could not be happier to be in our room for a change. It's all very exciting for him. But he's knackered and after only a few Shhhh'es and Dude's!
BabyBoy2 finally crashes out.

Next day.
I have the day off to look after him. Mrs. Amazing heads off into the real world to battle sea demons and save ancient civilizations (I may have misunderstood what she said).
I call nursery as they refuse to have any rainbowers at all (and still charge us).
Then I launder the crap out of everything. Really put the washing machine through it's paces once again.
Sun is out and it's windy. So everything is dry and ready to go back on BabyBoy2's bed that afternoon. Which we do together (BabyBoy2 mainly watches and jumps on stuff).
As we (I) finish I tell BabyBoy2 the good news he can sleep in his own bed tonight...

BabyBoy2: 'NOOOOOOOOOOO! Me sleep in your room. Not go back my room!' <Cries a bit>
Come on... Let's see what sheets we can find for you...
BabyBoy2: 'Iron man!'
You mean Spider-man... (we don't have any Iron Man sheets)
BabyBoy2: 'Iron man!!!'
...
<Cannot find Iron Man or Spidey sheets anywhere>
<Finds Buzz sheets but no pillow>
How about Buzz Lightyear? <Is hopeful>
BabyBoy2: <Maybe face>
With this pillow case? <Holds pillow that is clearly not Buzz>
BabyBoy2: 'Iron man!!!' <Is going to cry again>
BabyBoy2: '...'
BabyBoy2: <Suddenly runs to Team Parent's (yay!) room>
Where are you going?... <Watches lazily helplessly>
BabyBoy2: <Returns holding the spare pillow he had last night>
Brilliant!

(No no!... No!
… that's my pillow…)

Would you believe it.
BabyBoy2 had remembered what pillowcase he had been given last night. Nutter.
I hadn't for obv. reasons. Who cares.
But back came BabyBoy2. Holding his Buzz LightYear pillow case like a sack of flour .
Now, very happy to sleep in his own bed again.
Little loonie.

X



6 April 2017

A Week? A Whole Week?...

As we stand there waving Boy9 off on his trip.
Mrs. Amazing is fighting back some tears. It's hard letting go.
And Boy9 will be gone a whole week.

BabyBoy2 is waving too.
Shouting Boy9's name in his little voice. Cute. Miss6 is waving too.
She's a bit grumpy, which Team Parent (yay!) secretly think is because she is going to miss Boy9, but we say nothing. And just ignore her grumps. Even when she hid, badly, in a bush.
BabyBoy2 and Miss6 are dressed in their pajamas as it's 7am. BabyBoy2 in very cool Spider-man hoodie. Wish I had one.
Miss6 in bright pink. Hence the poor hiding in greenness.
The school coach finally pulls off and Boy9 is gone.
For a week.
<Runs about cheering>

Which I am totally fine with.
I've no tears to pretend are not really there (I've some grammar to look at, but tears no). It's far too early in the morning for what you humans would call emotions.
But I do mention to Mrs. Amazing what will get me later. It will be this evening as we tame the little lions into bed. Again convincing them to sleep. As I walk past Boy9's room and he's not in there. Picking his nose or something equally gross.
It will be those moments I'll think most of him and miss him.
Each night this week.

It was an early start to the morning.
More so. The coach left at 7am. So we had to be at the school at 6:30am. Which meant setting an alarm for the first time in years.
If you've young kids than alarm clocks just seem silly.
Our actual alarm is covered in dust in the loft and has been there for years. For a while it sat optimistically near my side of the bed. Waiting to be plugged in again.
But it never happened. As we have three alarm clocks that still refuse to accept 6:30am is wake up time.
Even the incredible cot-escaping BabyBoy2 has joined in on the 'let's wake the exhausted parents' act. yay. Boy9 still being the main morning-too-early culprit.
He had even set his own alarm. In case he slept in.
No chance.
We set the alarm for 5:45am...

You're setting it for when?
Mrs. Amazing: '5:45am'
But that's still night time... and I've nine years of sleep to catch on...
Mrs. Amazing: 'Me too...' <Looks sad>
Mrs. Amazing: 'We'll be able to have two cuppas before we leave'
<Grumbles> Suppose... mines a very large one...
(What the hell is that in the sky??? <Is panicking>
And where’s the <yawns> sun gone?
<Just goes back to sleep>)

Boy9 was really excited.
And nervous. And looking forward to it. And worried about the unknown.
There was a huge mix of emotions rattling through that little boy. Good stuff I suppose.
He's suddenly so grown up and off doing stuff on his own. But then he's really small and not even ten yet. It's a funny time. Weird funny.
He's being pulled in lots of directions at once. Be good. Be bad. Fit in with the lads. Don't do what those lads are doing. Do what Team Parent (yay!) say. Really. What we say. Oh right... Fair point. Now, with that new information, do what we say. Oh go on! Please?
<Offers chocolate>
Boy9's internal conflict doesn't always seep out in the most constructive ways either (it never, ever, ever, does). (With the possible exception of light sabre battles).
Like the morning before...

[Finds Boy9 watching tele, NOT sitting down for breakfast, hasn't even said morning]
Dude! It's breakfast. I've made you breakfast? Big breakfast for big boy going away tomorrow?
You want breakfast? Breakfast?
Breakfast?
Boy9: 'Shut your face'
Hey hey... Don't be rude <Holds it together>
Now please turn the tele off and come in and have some breakfast...
I've asked twice al...
Boy9: 'Shut UP!'
<Eye twitches> ... please... for breakfast and your own safety ... come sit down...
<Turns off tele for him> <Is internally ablaze with fury> <But hides it well>
Come on, what track shall we list...
Boy9: 'OH! Shut your face'
<Cracks> GO TO YOUR ROOM!
Boy9: 'Good!' <Stomps off>
<Spends some time air decking certain people>

Not my best moment.
Especially as the night before Team Parent (yay!) had discussed this very situation.
About how Boy9 would be full of nervous / excited energy. And how we both needed to be super-tolerant and understanding with Boy9.
Especially me.

Why especially me?
Brainzilla: 'You know...'
I don't… <Lies>
Brainzilla: <Shows ream after of ream of utterly convincing footage of why 'I' should especially keep my cool>
...
You suck Fair enough, all good points suck-face...

As Boy9 would spoiling for a fight.
Pretty much he would be looking for any release he could find. Either through laughing and love. Ahhhhh.
Or as a big old angry fight with me any of Team Parent (yay!).
In my defence it was early morning. I was only one cuppa down. And the two little ones had already bugged quite a fair bit, by not making sense. And my favourite song was playing, which I was missing.
At least that was my only slip. And no matter the provocation til Boy9 left on the trip.
I kept my cool.
<Gives self gold star>

Boy9: 'Dad! Watch... Your Millennium Falcon, a hammer, smashy smashy!'
...
<Buries head in sofa>
Boy9: 'Bongo time!'
<Muffled> Mot? OW!

(NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! <Weeps>)

It's going to be different without Boy9.
Very different. Bed times will be nearly an hour shorter.
Team Parent (yay!) won't be out numbered and that really, really, really, makes a difference.
I won't have to make his boring, always, ham, no matter what I sneak into his sandwiches, he just picks it out, lunch for a week.
The effect on the laundry will minimal however as Boy9 insists on being very economic with clothes. Except his football stuff. That Boy9 likes to wear as quickly and as often as possible. And then get muddy. Really muddy.
My stress levels I imagine will be lower as I'll spend less time arguing with a tiny version of myself.
Meal times will be less of a verbal, and attritional, battle. We can have rice and pasta.
We could even have sauces on the food! #LivingTheDream
There'll be less rushing Boy9 back and forth to clubs morning and night.
It will be a nice break for Team Parent (yay!) to be honest.

But don't get me wrong.
If I'm looking kind of dazzled. I see neon lights...
We're gonna miss the little smegger Boy9 a lot.
All of us....

Miss6: <Shakes head>
You will...
Miss6: <Goes into Boy9's room and starts playing with his toys>
Miss6: <Has great fun>
...
<Joins Miss6>
<Has great fun>

I'm sure I will miss him.
In a few days. Once the novelty of not being ninja attacked from behind every door has worn off. Once the quiet gets boring. And there's no one to physically drag away from the computers. He is my little dude. We are buds.
Most of the time.
Boy9 has a huge presence in the house and whatever effect that has on us all, there is going to be a big presence missing whilst he is away.
<Wipes away tear Cleans up after lacrimation>

The night before Boy9 left.
I found something that really hammered home to me just how big Boy9 actually is.
That despite how big Boy9 acts, and of course is trying to be, like his Dad.
Underneath all the shouty and posturing, and swaggering, and rudeness, and fun (there's loads of fun), and funny. There's just a nine year old boy.
Hell the cats older than him (and he's an idiot) (the cat that is).
Nine isn't much at all, really.
And he's off on his own, without any of Team Parent (yay!), for seven whole days.
What on earth were we thinking???

I know he'll be fine.
There's teachers I trust with him there. Lots of safety, and health. The lot.
I’m not worried. I am happy he is going.
Honest.

(You have my complete trust…
See you at the gig…
<Does rock hand>)

On the radiator the night before he left.
(Yes I’m still talking about that bit). I noticed something drying. Waiting to be packed.
Boy9's teddy. Freshly washed and stitched up by Mrs. Amazing.
Bless. (for reference there's nothing wrong with having a teddy. I've four hundred one. And I’m utterly normalatoning).
But it reminded me of just how little he still was. Is.
I imagine when he eventually falls asleep each night. Boy9 might hugging his teddy tight.
And he might, might even think of us. At home. Waiting for him.
<Shakes fist> He better!

It's gonna be a long week.
<Grumbles> Stupid awesome-school-trip-for-a-week...
X


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