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!).

13 September 2018

Twas the Night Before Secondary School...

It twas the night before Boy11 started Secondary school.
And all through the house, not a creature was stirring.
Not one of the terrors children, were out of bed.
They were all asleep.

I had been to Ninja training class.
Which is my weekly nod to being healthy. It kinda of works.
I do tend to come home super proud of myself. And then eat thousands of crisps. And chocolate. And cheese. And chocolate. Thus undoing all my good and exhausting work.
Normally my class is an hour and a half of pain. But fearing that it may harder to get Boy11 to sleep than Mrs. Amazing me on Xmas eve.
I came home early from class.

(Mrs. Amazing: ‘What you having for tea?’
<Whispers> Chocolate <Normal voice> salad!
Mrs. Amazing: ‘I heard that!’
<Runs Waddles>)

Mrs. Amazing: 'You're back early!' <Pushes all the chocolate wrappers off the table>
Yeah... I'm shattered. I think my knees hate me now.
Mrs. Amazing: 'Hard class?'
Yeah.... <Pulls self in using only lips>
<From floor> How was Boy11 getting to sleep tonight?
Mrs. Amazing: 'Fine'
That bad huh? Well it's no surp.... HANG ON? What did you say?
Mrs. Amazing: 'Fine!'
<Is shocked>

I was shocked.
Normally anything exciting happening and Boy11 struggles to sleep. Which is totes fair enough. Excitement affects us all in different ways. Some talk incessantly about it <Looks at Miss7>, some go all quiet and just want to be busy (me), some jump on furniture and shout in joy <Looks at BabyBoy4>, and some like winding everyone up by making weird noises, bugging siblings, and refusing to sleep <Looks at Boy11>.
I was happy for Mrs. Amazing and the calm bedtime she had had haddy had had. But a little puzzled why she was looking quite so eye-twitchy, I asked how the others were.
BabyBoy4 was fine. Yay!
Miss7 however...
Mrs. Amazing: <Mimes throttling>

And therein lies the rub of parenting with more than one child.
When the one behaves. The others seem to take it as a personal challenge to hold up the parental-irritation levels for the kids team. yay-love them.
However there was a reason. It had been Miss7's first day at her Junior school. She was pretty wired.
I'm not sure why, but I feel Miss7 has not got the attention she should have got for her first day. Don't get me wrong, Team Parent (yay!) were there in full force. All both of us (and BabyBoy4) dropped her off at the school in the morning.
It's just that it was overshadowed by Boy11's huge school change from Primary to Secondary. Miss7, in comparison, was just going from Infant to Junior.
And what can you say about that. Poor middle child.
<Feels her pain>

(<Dyes hair purple>
<Is called into a meeting at work>
<Is told hair is awesome>)

I am still amazed about Boy11.
So much was changing for him. New bag, new uniform, new school, new teachers, new kids at school, he got a COMPASS!
And there he was fast asleep. At a reasonable time. A-maze-bloody-ing.
Obvs. being the Boy11 that he is, he had packed and unpacked his rucksack a few times that night, and most nights that week. Which is fine. He was well prepared.
We had also practised his walk in, so he knew where he was going and stuff. We timed it.
How he was actually going in wasn't fully decided until that morning. Either a lift with Mrs. Amazing, or walk with mates. Boy11 choose a lift.
I wasn't there when this decision was made. But I am pretty sure that had Mrs. Amazing been free to express her feelings about his decision. Mrs. Amazing would have been cartwheeling and back-flipping around the house letting of fireworks.
I suspect she was happy to be involved.

I was not (involved).
My path and destiny that day lay elsewhere, I was starting my journey to the windy mountains.
Miss7 had her second day at Junior school and BabyBoy4 needed to be looked after.
As he didn't start school until the day after (oh flipping yes, what a week).
So me and Miss7 and BabyBoy4 waved Boy11 goodbye calmly and cooly to Boy11.
Oh who am I kidding. I hugged the crap out of Boy11.
As Boy11 climbed into the car. The excitement got to me. So I started to poke him, friendly style. Slapping his cheeks softly, friendly like. Basically using his little body as a drum. Boy11 laughed a lot. And it really eased my nerves. So that was good.
Not sure how healthy that is really.
But then I also think that is how boys communicate sometimes...

Yo bruv! <Gives bruv dead arm>
Bruv1: 'Yo back' <Punches me back>
You good? <Gives knee strike dead leg>
Bruv1: 'Yeah mate! Really good' <Thwacks me over the head>
Sorry can't stop <Flicks bruvs ear as leaving>
Bruv1: 'No worries, see ya soon <Leg sweeps me, missing, pretends to be stretching>
<Both leave and out of sight of each other, rub all injured parts>

(Didn't hurt! <Is lying>
Tis but a scratch)

Then with Boy11 gone.
Me and Miss7 and BabyBoy4 headed off. Fifteen minutes walk, BabyBoy4 on scooter, and I had left plenty of time. +10 Dad points.
Obvs. despite doing the walk the day before. We go the wrong way.
Miss7 insists the turning we want is the next. I swear it isn't and BabyBoy4 sides with Miss7.
Democratically out-voted we pass the turning I am sure is right: a) because I remember it from yesterday, and b) because lots of people with matching school uniform to Miss7 are heading that way.
We walk on to the next turning and it's a dead end.
I say nothing and graciously walk on totally not rubbing it in Miss7's face.

Me and BabyBoy4 drop off Miss7.
Who is fine. Probably a bit tired. But that what happens when you are a terror going to bed.
I imagine tonight will be better as she has lost her tele access tonight. And Miss7 hates that.
A normal and reasonable bedtime is highly expected for Miss7 tonight (it was <Team Parent (yay!) high five>).
And as me and BabyBoy4 walk / scoot away from the school. I notice I have enough time to get to work. And I am feeling good. Proud of me.
Emotionally, this morning, and the previous one, have been hard going. But I've kept my dignity and at no point have I been a howling weeping father fool. #Winning.

A few minutes up the road.
Mrs. Amazing comes into view. Which is a bit surprising, but she quickly explains nothing is wrong. Just fancied joining us. Lovely.
Then another Mum joins our little group, and there's a lot of excited adult chatting going on.
And I am engaged and enjoying a natter, watching BabyBoy4 near the roads, and chatting on and off with him about mad stuff. Hearing about Boy11 and how he met up with at least eight mates before going in.
And he was fine and happy. Which is a relief.
And all is good with the world. Team Parent seem to have nailed it, and nothing has gone wrong.
Then somethings makes my foot slips a little on the floor.

I look down.
Dog smegging poo. On my shoes. BabyBoy4 missed it. I had not.
I try cleaning it off on grass. Obvs. grass is not really clearing it off. The wrong sort of trainer grips. I think BR made the trainers or something.
The thought of being able to smell poo on my trainers all day at work doesn't really appeal.
So I leg it back home, change shoes. And am late to work.
Finally I sit down at my desk and look at my screen.
And wonder how on earth, considering all that happened this morning, all the emotions and stuff that had been flying through, how in the name of Bacon sandwiches, was I supposed to concentrate on work all day.
<Watches clock until home time to hear about Boy11's day>