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!).
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Showing posts with label Big Brother. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Big Brother. Show all posts

25 July 2017

Ten! Crikey...

Crikey.
Boy9 has metaphorized into Boy10. The mess was terrible.
It feels like a big milestone.
I say again crikey. When did all that fly by?

Of course it's great for Boy10.
He's ten now. Happy double figure days.
The world is his oyster, all that kind of thing...

Boy10: 'Can I drive the car now?'
Nope.
Boy10: 'Can I stay up later?'
Hmmm.... Nope.
Boy10: 'Can I light the fire now'
You already do...
Boy10: 'Oh yeah... Can I come to the pub with you now?'
I think you know the answer I go there to avoid you lot...
Boy10: 'Well then, what can I do now I am ten? '
<Hands Boy10 some laundry and a map to the washing machine>
Enjoy!
Boy10: <Gives me a look>

It also means that I've been Dadding (real word) for a decade.
Crikey! (yes again, I must calm down).
Who'd thought I'd make it this far? Last this long. Manage not to lose them.
<Gets look from Mrs. Amazing>
And I've learnt loads as gone along too. I can change a nappy at a hundred paces in a fair wind. Doesn't matter how awkward the child, how kicky they are (Miss6). I can change it with minimal mess on me and around me.
I also offer two hair styles for long hair. Pig or pony.
And my pancake drawing is going from strength to strength.
Great skills.

(Third attempt lucky and the transfer went well…
They don’t always <Grumbles>)

If I look back at photos of myself.
Before Boy10 rocked into our world and changed us from Team Young and No ties (woohoo!) to Team Parents (yay!).
I don't really recognise the handsome young devil staring back at me. Oh wait that isn't me...
Oh right... that's me... I'm young at least.
I didn't look tired out either. My now constant panda eyes aren't there.
I'm pretty trim too. Where did that young man, with hair to spare, go?
<Looks in mirror>
<Weeps>
<Pulls a face and then licks the mirror>
<Giggles>

It has been amazing though.
Sure there's loads I have had to give up. Lots of sleepless nights. Frustration like you wouldn't believe.
But really if it's out on the scales it's not even close. I’d do it again.
It's been amazing...

Mrs. Amazing: 'Yes?'
No not you... I was saying how amazing it's been watching Boy10 grow up...
Hang on...
Is that my chocolate you're eating?
Mrs. Amazing: <Runs>

Right enough about me.
Here's where I could write a lovely list of all of Boy10's greatest and best features. But that would the vomit police would arrive, rough everyone up and it would be a nightmare.
And no one wants that.
Instead let’s (yes let us) go with the stuff you probably couldn’t guess...

1. Boy10 now sleeps in (Wooohoo!)
Except obv. on his birthday. That day still is a 6:30er, which is fine as the other two herbert's have been up for ages by then.
But mostly Team Parents (yay!) no longer have to fight Boy10 back to bed because he is up too early.
No. Now we have to wake the little sleeping bear. A grumpy bear to boot. That doesn't want to get up, and definitely doesn't want to start getting ready for school.
We have mixed success.
For my part I opt for bouncing him on his bed as hard as I can until he starts giggling.
I doubt I'll be able to get away with this for much longer, but whilst I can...

Here here hold this...
<Puts cup of water in Boy10's hands>
<Bounces the bed a lot>
<Boy10 gets wet>
<Nearly dies laughing>
<Gets a look from Boy10>
<Runs>

2. Boy10 has lost BabyBoy3's trust
Which is a bit sad. But it's true and the only person Boy10 can blame is himself.
He's tricked, stolen, poked, prodded, pinched or ridden off with something of BabyBoy3's too many times.
And BabyBoy3 has gotten wise to him...

BabyBoy3: 'NO! Boy10! Go WAY!'
Boy10: 'I just want to see...'
BabyBoy3: 'NO! GOWAY!'

I know Boy10 doesn't like it either, so hopefully he'll turn it around pretty quick.
<Crosses fingers>

3. If there was a speed Lego construction challenge
Boy10 would win it. He's very good a building Lego models now. He gets out pots to put the bits in, just like his Dad showed him, and then he's off. Nothing can interrupt until he has finished. Well not without a big fight.
Team Parent (yay!) obv. are very proud, but do wish that sometimes he wouldn't go quite so quick with the more pricey Lego we rarely get him.

4. Will argue for twenty minutes for the sake of two minutes more
It's funny and annoying all at the same time. The principal matters to him. Matters a lot.
If Boy10 feels he is getting short changed, even by a few minutes, you better settle in for a good long 'discussion' full of drama and wildly baffling counter arguments.

5. Boy10 is getting better with his emotions
That truck load of emotions that bastard the EmotionFairy delivered last year.
Well to Boy10's credit he is definitely starting to master then all. He breathes when he is cross. He understands what he has done and why it hurt others (Miss6) and he genuinely seems sorry.
Let’s hope no more emotions turn up...

EmotionFairy: 'Hello again!'
NO! GOWAY! GOWAY!
EmotionFairy: 'Hey hey, just doing my job. I've a year-ten delivery here, guile, flattery, sneaking, wet-yourself-funny... Where do you want them?'
<Describes a place>
EmotionFairy: 'There's no need to be rude... Hank! Just drop 'em now...' <Grumbles off>
NOOOOOO!!! <Gets covered in emotions>
<Weep and laughs and feels serene about it>

(Found this in his room the other day…
That’s hella cool!!!
(Despite the fire risk))


6. Boy10 has started beating me at a few games
And I am not letting him win. He is winning.
And proper games too. Grown up games. And old ones, from my childhood, which he loves.
Even with those he is <Gulps> beating me through his own cunning and guile.
I am so proud and furious.
Boy10 isn’t the kindest winner though...

Boy10: ‘I won!’
wooo… <Waves little flag> That’s great mate, well done…
Boy10: ‘Again!’
Uh-huh… Well done…
Boy10: ‘I must be the best at this game, coz you never win!’
Have I ever told you about being a gracious winner?
Boy10: ‘YEP! Everytime I win!’
Boy10: <Does winning dance, which has at least ten dabs in it>
<Smiles but internalises anger>
I’ve no idea where he gets behaviour from.
<Whistles off>

7. Boy10 still picks his nose and eats it
I have no problem with nose picking. I would rather not watch it to be honest.
But fingers are exactly the right size for digging into nostrils. And well it’s kind of fun at the same time.
But eating it after? <Vomits onto keyboard>
It really makes cringe, and want to run away, or shove that finger even further up that nose.
Urghghgh…
I’m pretty sure Boy10 knows this.
I’m pretty sure Boy10 does it just to bug me.
I’m pretty sure Boy10 does it as much as possible, to bug me.
Bless ‘im.

8. Boy10 can be the greatest big brother
It was true last year, and it’s still true.
Yes he does wind BabyBoy3 and Miss6 right up sometimes, until there is tears, and screaming and kicking.
And yes that drive me a little mad, as I have to do my ‘Judgment of Solomon’ act, and then smash the sofa in half. Which is costly.
But mostly.
Boy10 is the sweetest big brother both BabyBoy3 and Miss6 could ever want for.
He shares his toys, his time, and he loves them fiercely.
Thank you Boy10 for that. Team Parent (yay!) love that about you.


It’s funny.
Because Boy10 was the start of my Dadding (still real word) and there is a real chance he may end it (me) one day. Probably with me asking to use his knife and fork to eat. Or not pick his nose.
But it is funny to think all that fun and life shifting madness came from one little person.
That just keeps on growing.

(Look at him all grown up and stuff…
Learning stuff in a museum…
We didn’t even have to offer him stickers!
...
<Hands out stickers to Miss6 and BabyBoy3>)

Last year I wrote.
That me and Boy9 were the furthest apart I thought we had ever been.
Emotionally Obv. He lives in my house.
I’m really glad to say (I think) I’ve managed to turn that around and feel our Dad and son bond is alive and kicking once again.
We’ve had a million more laughs this year already.
It was me. I know.
<Will long have regrets about it>
<And will punish self far greater than anyone else can>

Back to being best buds.
(which is lucky as Mrs. Amazing just isn’t into scooting, playing Crick-Ball, watching cartoons, eating sweets until we barf, throwing stuff as high as possible, dead arms fights, flicking for fun, seeing how crashy we can crash cars, rocking out to very loud sensibly volumned music, laughing about farts, bundling, and Minecraft Obv.)

(I never stood a chance
<Is pulled in and consumed by cuteness>)
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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: 'I AM NOT!!! ARHGGHHGGHHGH'
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.
Simples.
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.

[Thud-thud-thud]
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.

[Thud-thud-thud]
Boy9 is giggling and waving back at BabyBoy3. I tell him to stop and not to encourage him.

[Thud-thud-thud]
[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.
[SCRAPE-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD]
[SCRAPE-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD]
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>)

Bless.
And thank you BiggestBrother. I needed that.
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