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!).

7 October 2018

The Milk for Pancakes Morning Mission...

And there we were.
6:50am outside of Tesco Express (our nearest shop). Waiting for it to open.
So we could buy milk.
To make pancakes for BabyBoy4.
Me dressed, but with unclean teeth, BabyBoy4 dressed in Spider-Man onesie (teeth also unclean).
It's moments like this that make me reevaluate my life...

(Why don’t we have milk taps in our houses?
It’d save a lot on plastics and rushing to the shops?)

<Knackered, sits on sofa>
<To world in general> What's it all about? Why am I here?
MysticalVoice: 'To love and spoil your children'
<Craps self> Who said that?
MysticalVoice: 'I am your spirit guide, love your children, take them on brilliant day trips'
Really? Is that the meaning of life? Time with loved ones?
MysticalVoice: 'Yes, and buy Boy11 more V-Bucks for Fortnite...'
GirlsMysticalVoice: 'And lots of cakes and pom-poms for Miss7'
<Is very suspicious>
Should I not, show Boy11 that life is hard work and graft?
MysticalVoice: 'NO! That's not fair! Miss7 hasn't worked hard and she never grafts!!!'
GirlsMysticalVoice: 'YES I HAVE! DADDY! BOY11 IS LYING!!!'
BothMysticalVoices: <Fight breaks out and both fall out from the back of the sofa>
Nice try you two… <Grins at them>

The morning had started early.
5am in trotted BabyBoy4 ready for the day. Knowing full well where he was going to get the most response, BabyBoy4 went to Mrs. Amazing's side of the bed.
And I assumed my normal position of being very, very, probably dead, asleep, silence.
Mrs. Amazing told BabyBoy4 to go back to bed whilst giving him kisses and cuddles and snuggling him under covers (??).
BabyBoy4 was sworn to silence and stillness and allowed to stay in our bed.
BabyBoy4 did his best.
Well I think he did. I was drifting in and out sleep, waking every now and then to hear Mrs. Amazing warn BabyBoy4 that if he didn't lie down and go to sleep silently, then she would take him back to his own bed.
<Whispers> Do it, do it...
Instead however all three of us played a game I like to call 'No-one gets any sleep'.
Crap game.
But it does have the final bonus round of 'Jump on parts of Daddy that don't like being hit'.

The thing is.
I could get up and march the little devil back to his room. So could Mrs. Amazing.
And normally we would, over and over, until he got the message (and then just played in his room anyway).
But Team Parent (yay!) can't. When it's mentioned he starts wailing and crying.
And it's too much for us.
Yes he is probably manipulating us better than his four years warrant. But BabyBoy4 has just started school and his little world has been turned upside down like a bomb has gone off.
He has gone from la-la-la play with Mummy most of the time, some nursery, run about a lot, have a laugh, play play play. Happy times.
To school five days in a row, behaving, some play, thinking about stuff, making friends, playground politics, lunch time decisions, homework, reading books (not eating books).
Crikey. When you put it that way. He is coping brilliantly.
He is also very highly strung and tired out.

Which means he needs love.
Love and support, and as much normalness as possible. They all do.
Which I hope shows why when BabyBoy4 asked for pancakes we initially said no.
No milk left. But then...

BabyBoy4: <Heartfelt sobs and tears>
<Grumbles from me>
BabyBoy4: <More heartfelt sobs and tears>
<More grumbles from me>
FINE! Let's go to the shops!
BabyBoy4: 'Yay!'
You're coming with me though...
BabyBoy4: 'Yay!'
Go get a onsie on and some shoes...
<Tries to get dressed but falls about a lot, as not bendy yet>

At 6:30am.
In pain and with eyes wincing, I wrestled BabyBoy4 off me and decided I had had enough sleep. (I had not).
Now was the time to get up though. All totally altruistic you understand, nothing to do with anger and groin pain thoroughly waking me.
As I lean over to tell Mrs. Amazing the good news, she can stay in bed, she reminds me that Miss7 needs as much sleep as possible.
And Boy11, if possible, needs even more sleep than Miss7.
The start of term, and new schools has taken its toll on them both...

HeadTeacher: 'Morning!'
HeadTeacher: 'Toll please'
What? School is free in this country. I ain't paying anything. <Shows fists>
HeadTeacher: 'No not money, if your daughter could stand here please'
Miss7: <Stands where told>
HeadTeacher: <Presses button on energy sapping, stress injecting machine>
HeadTeacher: 'All done! Have a good day'
<Gives Head teacher a look>... <Moves on>

I tell BabyBoy4 we have to sneak downstairs...
BabyBoy4: 'OK DADDY' <Thud thud thud>
BabyBoy4: 'OK Daddy' <Thud thud thud of bum on stairs>
<Gives up<

Me and Babyboy4 then.
Go through a charade I like call ‘Simon says, but no one does what they are told’. Which we seem to play most school mornings. I tell BabyBoy4 to put some shoes and his onesie. Whilst I get myself ready.
He runs off to his room. Making the same amount of noise as an elephant herd at tap dancing classes.
I whisper / shout up the stairs after him ‘Shhhhh’.
His little head appears and shouts back ‘WHAT’. I repeat ‘Shhh’.
He shouts back ‘OK’. I am pretty sure I hear Miss7 stir and start getting out of her bed.
I call BabyBoy4 down to me.

He has not got changed at all.
Apparently he cannot find his onesie. I hold up the one I wanted him to put on. The one I held up to him before ran off to find the onsie I am holding.
He giggles.
Which is good as it reminds me that I am talking to someone that is only four years old. And whilst it feels very natural to get cross with him for not listening. It is also dumb.
You can catch more flies with honey than barking orders at them, well something like that anyway.
You get my point.

We bundle into the car.
BabyBoy4 asks if he can sit in the front. Which I um and ah about. He is nearly big enough. However I check and ask if Mrs. Amazing has allowed him to do so yet?
No he honestly says. So that’s a no from me too.
BabyBoy4 takes it well and happily gets in his seat on his own.
I put on his favourite song at the moment, ‘I’m still standing’ which is from the Sing soundtrack (its a cover version of the Elton John classic).
No idea why this song means so much to him. But I like it too so we sing along together and head off to get milk so we can make pancakes.
Ideally very quickly as we have to get home, cook them, eat them, and then still get everyone to school and work. And that’s no mean feat normally.
Let alone when we have to do a milk rumn.

(Look what I got!!!
Mrs. Amazing: ‘That’s not milk!’
No… It’s better! <Pours everyone a pint>)

We arrive at the shop.
It’s empty so I park easy and we bundle out of the car. BabyBoy4 insisting on climbing out my door, rather than just coming out his own door. Sigh.
We’re in such a rush that I leave my phone in the car and we walk up to the door.
I am pretty sure they will be open. I sure they will be.
People like me want milk first thing.
They should be open.

They are not open.
You gotta remember I am barely awake and this news does not go down well in my camp.
I look to the sky and mutter stuff under my breath. Being very careful not to accidentally say the sweary words outloud and the OK words quiet (unlike a certain Mrs. Amazing did yesterday) (although to be fair I dropped an F bomb in front Boy11 the day, when I wasn’t concentrating).
I look to the sky and wonder what on earth the time is.
And how long will we have to wait.

BabyBoy4 however.
Is more proactive than me and without me seeing, puts both his little hands into the double doors or the store and somehow manages to prise them open.
And into the store he goes calling me.
It was quite a shock when I look down from the sky and see BabyBoy4 in the store beckoning to me, big smile on his face.
The store manager that comes over and shoos BabyBoy4 back out of the shop is less impressed with my little lad.
She’s pretty cross to be honest. I guess she thought I did it.

So we have to wait.
We go back to the car and grab my phone, which is my clock, and it seems we have ten minutes to wait.
BabyBoy4 suggests we go to the play park and wait. But it’s soaking wet and I know, because I was involved in his dressing, that under that onesie there is nothing else.
Him getting damp isn’t the best plan I decide. No instead we walk back to the doors, and wait.
Him dressed in his Spider-Man onesie.
Me still barely awake.

Then he asks me to take his hand whilst we wait.
And it’s then as we wait. I stop and look down at this tiny little boy.
He’s very happy. He’s got his Dad holding his hand doing something just for him.
The promise of pancakes coming (assuming they have milk, they did).
BabyBoy4 turns and looks up at me and smiles.
It's then I realise there’s not much I wouldn’t do for this little boy. For any of them.
Even if does mean finding myself in these weird situations.

Other people arrive and start queuing behind us.
Which just makes it weirder as we are blocking the entire entrance, hands held, looking as though we are here for something incredibly important, like bread or eggs, booze.
Nope, just milk.

Finally the doors open.
In we go, get milk. I mention to the person serving us we’re only here for milk for pancakes.
They really do not care. I mean really don’t care. Fair enough. Not sure why I said it really.
Then we head home. Me worrying about the time. So we get into the car hella quick, and drive off in a rush.

Halfway home.
A little voice (BabyBoy4’s obv.) says ‘Look Daddy’. I explain I cannot really look as I am driving. But a glance in my mirror and I can see his belt isn’t on. ARGHGHGGGH!
With a bit of coaching BabyBoy4 quickly manages to put it on himself and click it into place.
Whilst I managed not to crash the car. Good work both of us.
But oh my word. I hadn’t checked. What on earth was so important that I forgot to check he was in the car safe.
Nothing. I am a Muppet. Gonzo in fact.

(It’s hard to take you seriously…
...With that shirt on...)

Still, he is safe.
We get home. Pancakes are had. BabyBoy4 barely eats them. I find my favourite swearing pillow and have a good moment with it.
We all rush about to get ready for school and work.
And it’s just as I am making everyone's lunches Mrs. Amazing asks if I got any bread.
… Was I flimming flamming meant to?
<Goes back to pillow>

The kids go to school with jam smeared on a playing card with sandwich substitutes, wraps.
And I promise to get bread on my way back from work.
What a stupid morning!