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!).

22 June 2017

Big Brother to the Rescue...

I find myself packing for camp with Boy9 again.
But this time I am prepared.
Patience set to maximum. Tolerance turned up to eleven.
I am ready for Boy9...
Right, you need two pairs of socks
Boy9: 'What?'
Socks. Two pairs. No not those on your feet... Behind you in the draw
Boy9: <Rummages in socks and pants draw>
Boy9: <Shrugs> 'There's none in there'
There are at least five pairs as I put them there myself... <Gives look>
Boy9: <More rummaging>
[Single sock coming flying through the air]
[Another lands on my head]
[Two more in opposite corners of the room]
We need them here <Points at rucksack>
Boy9: 'Oh...' <Collects all four socks together>
They are all odd?
Boy9: 'That's fine!'
Yeah I don't care if you are wearing odd socks.. I just don't understand how they got separated? I know I put them in, in pairs
Boy9: <Looks suspicious>
Have you been depairing socks that I've put away? Do you actually do that?
Boy9: 'Come on! We need to pack...'
Fine. Two pairs of pants...
Boy9: <Shrugs> 'There's none...'
Try again...
[Two pairs of pants land on my head]
<Turns tolerance up to twelve>
(BabyBoy3’s current talking and walking volume settings)

Whilst me and Boy9 pack for his trip.
BabyBoy3 is giving Team Parent (yay!) the runaround over bed time.
Miss6 went to bed without fuss and was crashed out in minutes. Bless her littleness.
However I am million percent sure the last thing she said before falling asleep was 'I'm not tired'...
Miss6: 'I'm not tired'
Yeah you are
Mrs. Amazing: 'Yes you are'
Miss6: <Throws colouring on the floor>
Miss6: <Rages and sulks for ten minutes>
Miss6: <Falls asleep>
BabyBoy3 is also tired.
He keeps walking into things. A classic sign for tiredness and drunkenness. And there's no way he's drunk, on only two shots.
As I leave BabyBoy3's room and say good night, stay in your bed, go straight to sleep, do not pass go, it is bedtime, no running about, no charging up and down the hallway, sleep is what you want and what we want, goto sleep. In my best sleepy time voice obv.
I say it with confidence. Confident that my littlest boy, pooped out, will soon succumb to sleep.
I am a fool.
Mrs. Amazing meanwhile heads out into the night.
Mrs. Amazing: ‘Freedom!!!  Freedom!!!’
As she is off teaching her axe throwing class.
Leaving me Boy9 to help pack for camp and put to sleep.  And BabyBoy3 to convince to sleep. Again.
[Sounds of BabyBoy3 running about, not asleep]
Amazingly the packing goes well.
Boy9 is helpful. I send Boy9 off to find what he needs. Whilst I relax on Boy9's bed playing on my phone. Putting BabyBoy3 back to bed whenever he is running about.
Sometimes taking whatever toy he has found away. Sometimes not.
Putting him back under his sheets. Sometimes on top. I mix it up.
But my focus is on Boy9.
BabyBoy3 can wait. I cannot sit outside of this door and watch Boy9 pack.
There's no telling what Boy9 might pack without supervision.
My plan is simple.
Ignore BabyBoy3 and get Boy9 settled first.
As BabyBoy3 is finding bedtime a brilliant fun game at the moment. And it doesn't really matter what we do. He giggles and laughs about everything. Then gets back up and plays some more.
Take a toy away and he just gets another to play with. Or if you manage to find something that he really, really wants, and take it. Then BabyBoy3 cries a bit, then gets out of bed and goes looking for it. Giggling.
Nope. It's easier to ignore him and then pick him up where ever he has crashed out.
Boy9 is ready for bed.
I start reading him a chapter from The Sea of Monsters (An excellent Percy Jackson book). Whilst ignoring any sounds from BabyBoy3's room as he rearranges his toys and furniture.

I glance up and BabyBoy3 is stood at Boy9's door kicking it. Not hard. Just his little leg swinging back and forth.
I get up and BabyBoy3 hears me and runs back to his bed. Hides under his sheets. Giggling.
As he's in bed there's not much for me to do.
I return to Boy9 and continue reading.

Boy9 is giggling and waving back at BabyBoy3. I tell him to stop and not to encourage him.

[Ominous silence]
I glance up from the book expecting to see BabyBoy3 stood in front of me.
But instead all I can see is his little hand reaching into Boy9's room. Under his bookshelves. Then his hand is gone and BabyBoy3 thuds off back to his room...
Boy9: 'He took one of my toys!'
... Did he? Which one?
Boy9: 'Don't know. I want it back'
Do you need it right now? <Frowny face>
Boy9: '... Suppose not'
Right choice...
I continue reading.
Hoping that with stolen treasure BabyBoy3 will now play in his bed and then fall asleep.
I stop reading.
The noise is too much and will wake Miss6. And that would be terrible.
I find BabyBoy3 running a stolen toy car along the radiators. He sees me and legs it back to his room. Giggling.
I chase after him and take the toy out of his hands. And then throw it onto a high shelf.
I am quite chanked off by now. My tolerance all used up.
BabyBoy3 cries about the toy. But I ignore him and head back to Boy9.
Leaving BabyBoy3 to wail, ideally, himself to sleep.
It's at this point whilst I am reading to Boy9.
That Boy9 somehow manages to fall over, whilst laying down, on top of me. And elbow me in the face and knock the book out of my hands.
I am not best pleased.
What on earth are you doing???
Boy9: <Shrugs>
Are you listening to me read? Coz that seems to me to be bare minimum you should be doing whilst I read? To you! <Gives look>
Boy9: '...'
And… <Gives big eyes look>
Boy9: '... What?'
<Prompting voice> Sorry Daddy for falling on you, and elbowing you in the face...
Boy9: 'Yeah what you said'
<Gives look> <Is secretly proud>
[Door slamming noise from BabyBoy3]
<Anger escalates>
Then the doorbell rang.
I run downstairs. And it's our lovely neighbours come to baby sit. I hadn't told them we didn't need them this week. Crap.
I say a thousand sorries (??) and run back upstairs.
Where I find BabyBoy3 moving a speaker into his room...
BabyBoy3: 'Me music!'

(Things to do rather than going to sleep #678: Move speakers into room)

Very cute and sweet.
But also pretty annoying when he was put to bed an hour ago. I trot him back to bed.
And promise he can show me his music tomorrow.

I finally finish reading to Boy9.
And wish him good night, light off, see you in the morning.
Boy9 goes utterly silly and refuses to go to bed or turn his light off. He lays sideways in his bed with his bum in the air.
My temper is now dangerously close to exploding. I wish Boy9 a gritted good night and just leave and head downstairs.
And then sit on the sofa playing stupid games on my phone.

To calm down.
All my lovely tolerance and patience has been utterly eroded by those two rat bags. I can still hear BabyBoy3 bouncing about in his room. My room. The bathroom.
He's really not got this going to bed thing.

I hear Boy9 get up and go to the toilet.
Which is fine. Except I spent an hour putting him to bed! <Grumbles>
But I am not worried about Boy9. He will go to sleep eventually. He may nip down stairs to see me a few times beforehand. But if he is wise. He will not.
(He was wise).
BabyBoy3 however.
Is now in my room. I can hear his feet thudding about through the ceiling.
I go up and put him back to bed again. I shut his door and then wait five seconds.
I open his door and he has already got out of bed and is playing Lego on the floor.
He sees me and dives back into bed. Giggling.
I try to tell him how disappointed I am, that he hasn't gone to sleep. How it's bad behaviour. How my all of chank is very definitely offed.
I try my best to guilt him into staying in his bed. But it feels utterly wrong.
Ans I can't do it anyway. Because he's three and he doesn’t understand.
BabyBoy3 is still smiling and giggling away at me. His Dad, who he loves, and looks up to.
OMFB! What on earth am I trying to do?
<Is disgusted with self>
So I resort to my old desperate, badly thought out, ways.
I don't really know why. I'd just dodged one bullet. Anyway...
I start taking his toys away. He cries. I ignore him and hide all his toys in my room.
BabyBoy3 chases me back and forth as I take his toys. I put him back to bed.
I'm stressed right out and knowing I am being an idiot. But I can’t stop.
I stomp off downstairs and I can hear BabyBoy3 leave his bed and start moving his toys back to his room. Well into a line towards his room.
I explode (internally).

(Things to do rather than going to sleep #48973: Line up toys)
(Note the train string is in line, the nutter)
It is now nine o'clock in the evening.
I've been putting children to bed for two hours. And I started that the moment I got home from work. I haven't even had a cup of tea.
I sit downstairs and ignore BabyBoy3 for a bit longer. For both of our safety.
Until I crack and am just storming upstairs when the doorbell rings again.
What the [Obsenities] emu-smeg now!!!
I don't recognise the car through the window.
And I am ready to be quite annoyed at whoever is at the door. Should they not have a good reason to be knocking on my door. I rip the door open and it's my BiggestBrother (I have three).
With a smile and a present for me.
My anger dissipates.
It’s lovely to see his smiling face. With present. It's nice to see another adult. It's so see someone that doesn't need putting to bed. It's nice to see someone that needs nothing from me.
BiggestBrother asks how’s it's going.
I'm pretty sure my eye was twitching a lot as I said 'not great'...

A smidge of trouble getting BabyBoy3 to sleep, to be honest...
Hey? You don't fancy having a try do you?
BiggestBrother: ' Yeah alright...!' <Enters house>
And upstairs big brother stomped.
Shoes still on, thudding up the stairs. He's a fair bit bigger in frame than me too. He sounds like at least four or five of me on the stairs (Which reflects more on my size than his).
I hear his deep Dad voice deployed on BabyBoy3. I hear BabyBoy3 firmly being told to go to sleep and stay in bed. Then BiggestBrother thuds back down stairs. He's gotta go.
It's a flying visit.

I wasn't until BiggestBrother turned up.
That I realised just how much help I needed at that moment. I was pretty on the edge of sanity. He was like a big hairy angel to me. And in he swooped. Hairy like.
And BabyBoy3 does know BiggestBrother so he wouldn't have been too scared. But hopefully scared enough to stay in bed this time.
<Crosses fingers>
After BiggestBrother has left.
I head into the kitchen and start baking. I have a cake to make for Boy9.
I’m mentally all over the shop. And baking is good therapy for my stressed and grumpy mind. Some music and much cleaning of chocolate covered spoons later. I am feeling back to myself.
I sneak upstairs and check on BabyBoy3. I'd left it ages as I didn't want to undo any staying-in-bed-ness magic BiggestBrother has worked. I find BabyBoy3 totally asleep, tucked up in bed.
Sleeping like a little snorey angel.

(Things to do rather than going to sleep #52: Place all soft toys on duvet,
on floor, to make sleeping harder)
(... it’s hard to stay cross at such a cutie…
<Manages it>)

And thank you BiggestBrother. I needed that.