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 cake. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cake. Show all posts

12 August 2018

Suddenly He's BabyBoy4...

I say suddenly, but it's taken me ages to write this tale.
(So Grandparents, you have not missed a birthday, panic not).
However BabyBoy3 turning four came as a bit of a shock.
Not so much that he was four. I can read a calendar. I was there at the birth (eating biscuits with the midwives and guzzling tea WHILST Mrs. Amazing was being amazing and an absolute legend, and actually doing real magic of creating a person from her body, for the third time, the hat trick!).
I knew BabyBoy3 was soon to be plus one, i.e. BabyBoy4.

(Despite being told not to jump on the bed...
The birthday excitement was too much for BabyBoy3/4
Ow.)

Still SHEESH!
It was quite a shock when it finally hit home that he was four.
To think that all my babies had grown up and the toddler years, the nappy years, all those joyous and weird and pooey wonderful days were done. It was quite a jolt to the noggin.
The tipping point in my wibbly wobbly mind was his birthday party.
We had been brave and done the party at home again...

Right, that's all the knives, guns, shotguns, nukes, missiles, swords, daggers, breakables, fragiles, hot things, cold things, poisonous things, toxic things, stuff that gets stuck to your clothes and is a right pain to wash off, secret things and tiny things that are really collectable so that they don't go '''missing'''
Mrs. Amazing: 'So you started with Boy11's room then?'
Uh huh <Takes off full nuclear suit>
Miss7's room next...
<Opens Miss7's door>
<Sparkles and glitter waft out>
<Enters cautiously, but is quickly hog-tied in devious trap>

We did think about hiring someone for the party.
Or booking a room and then hiring someone. But then I remembered that all costs crap loads of money. And actually a small gang of four old's, surrounded by their parents, probably weren't going to cause Team Parent (yay!) to much trouble.
We've done it twice before. We have two elder children. We've earned our stripes.
We can do this.

[Both lying broken and battered two hours later]
Mrs. Amazing: 'Urhghhh... Soooo tired...pass the wine...'
<Is slugging wine from bottle>
<Empties bottle, gets another>
Mrs. Amazing: 'When you're done... any chocolate?'
<Points as is slugging>
Mrs. Amazing: 'You've eaten five bars already???'
<Is slugging but manages to nod>

And we did.
We did it. The party was awesome fun! BabyBoy4 had a really good time, and it was lovely to watch him play with his friends. Who are all quite, quite, mad, but lovely and fun and happy. They were all so sweet.
BabyBoy4 loved every moment of it and we got to be involved with it all. Brilliant.
Boy10 helped out. Miss7 helped too. BabyBoy4 could not have felt more loved.
Good.

There was an issue.
A confusion over the theme of the party. Which was a bit of a problem.
When I spoke to BabyBoy3 he clearly wanted a pirate themed party. But when Team Parent (yay!) met to discuss the party, Mrs. Amazing revealed BabyBoy3 had requested a Frog themed party. Obvs. We arm wrestled for it.
Frog party it was.
And the Cake as by Mrs. Amazing was awesome.

(When we were out and Grandma was over babysitting…
She gave BabyBoy4 a whole frog to eat…
They are solid icing…
<Gives you a look>)

BabyBoy3's 4th birthday.
Was the most eagerly awaited birthday I have ever know (except the Queens as we all got a day off). BabyBoy3 asked for ages about when his birthday was. Months and months we were asked about his birthday and when it was...

BabyBoy3: 'Is it tomorrow?'
No mate, months away...
BabyBoy3: 'Is it tomorrow tomorrow?'
No. Mooooooonths away...
BabyBoy3: 'No, no. Is it lots of tomorrow tomorrows?'
Kind of... Look you see how it's cold and dark out?
BabyBoy3: <Smiles as very lost>
Well when the sun comes out, it's close to your birthday
[Next day sun denying all seasonal expectations, comes out]
BabyBoy3: 'YAY! It's my birthday!!!' <Does in your face dance, which he learnt from me Boy11>
Right... No... When I said it was when the sun comes out...
[There are tears]

The other two.
Looked forward to their birthdays, sure. Every year, as is the tradition.
But BabyBoy3 was really excited about it. Months and months before it was going happen.
I blame Miss7 for constantly reminding him his birthday was soon, but not too soon.
But hey that's the fun of having siblings in your life.
<Coughs> fun.

Anyhoo...
Here's my amusing list of things about BabyBoy3 that in future I'll look back on and blackmail him about with a smile and a tear in my heart as my little dude has grown into a big boy.
<Vomits>
As normal I shall avoiding all the obvious stuff, like he's awesome, he's nice and just give you juicy Matt and Luke goss...

1. BabyBoy3 blocks the toilet up the most.
No he isn't a bear. He doesn't block it like that.
Instead BabyBoy3 is extremely generous with the toilet paper he uses. Every time.
We no longer watch him as he does it on his own. And as this is the third child Team Parent (yay!) have taught to wipe.
Just the fact he does it fills up with happiness and joy. So nice NOT to be involved in all the business anymore.
Yet the mornings I've dragged myself out of bed, stomped to my throne, only to find a basin full of water.
Well there's been a lot.
Twice I have found a whole roll wedge down there.
Brilliant.

2. BabyBoy3 is the master of apologies
Or I am the biggest sucker to that little boy...


BabyBoy3: 'Sorwe Daddy. Sorwe Daddy' <Saddest little cute 'I've learnt my lesson totes' face>
That's OK dude... Just try to avoid it next time...
BabyBoy3: <Biggest eyes you ever seen>
Have a cuddle
BabyBoy3: <Cuddles me>
You want a present?
BabyBoy3: <Nods>

3. BabyBoy3 can't play Mario Kart
Oh sure this isn't a world breaker. It's not the end of the world.
Really it's not going to stop him in life in anyway.
And yet... As I watch him play. He really can't do it. The brain connections that say wall-avoid just are not there. Bash bash bash into the wall he goes. I'd like him to be better. Ah well, give him time.
Still it doesn't stop him demanding to play every now and then...


So dude what ya wanna do?
BabyBoy3: 'Car racing game!!!' <Bounces about>
But you suck? You sure? It always makes you cross and bored?
BabyBoy3: 'BRRRRRMMMMM' <Gets gaming cushions>
Fine...

4. Our song has changed.
If you read this blog enough you may well have noticed that me and BabyBoy3, have a song.
(Which I still ain't telling you what it is). That I sing to him as I put him to bed every night.
Recently he declared that our song is no longer wanted. -I wept for hours.-
Not wanting to let go of this special bond I had very carefully set up. I changed tack and asked him what song he would like to sing instead.
And then I had the genius idea that I could teach him the words of a song, and how to sing it at the same. A three year old that could sing in tune, what a blessing that would be!
A Disney favourite was chosen (I still ain't saying) and that's what we sing together, slowly so he can learn it, every night.
He loves it almost as much as I do.

5. You can call him Spider-Boy now.
And Buzz Lightyear. And BatBoy. And Robin. And <Giggles> Woody. Basically whatever he is wearing you can now call him.
Which may not sound like much. But for the past three and a lot years you would be told off by BabyBoy3 for that kind of outrageous comment...

<Is looking at BabyBoy3 dressed as Batman> Hey Batman!
BabyBoy3: 'THAT'S NOT MY NAME. I'M BABYBOY3!'
OK mate... <Runs>

My fierce, bonkers, little spider-boy.



6. It's Daddy! YAY!
No one is happier to see me arrive home than BabyBoy3. No one.
If I could bottle this bit of BabyBoy3 I would, and keep it forever. He actually says yay too.
Outloud. Yay.
When BabyBoy3 hears me come home, he leaps up from whatever he is doing, and runs to the door to see me. Even if it's just to shout 'Come see Daddy' and then he legs it off again.
It's possibly the best feeling to have someone so excited you're home. And I shall revel in it whilst it lasts. As the others? … Not so much anymore...

I'm home!
Boy11: <Eyelids flicker in recognition, barely>
Miss7: 'Hey Daddy' <Doesn't move>
Mrs. Amazing: 'Hi. Bye. They're all yours' <Runs out of the house>
BabyBoy3: 'DADDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDY!' <Runs at me and hugs me>
<Has high voice> Dude! A bit more carefully next time. Lovely to see you!
<Walks off John Wayne style, eyes watering>

Wouldn't trade it.

7. BabyBoy3 is our most hitty child.
It's fine as he's got tiny little hands and no damage can be done. Still.
His kicks can pack a wallop though. Wincey wallop if you're not careful.
It's a mixture of him being very excited about everything in life, and him having very little spacial awareness.
It's also totally my fault.
As the Ninja training I do comes up a fair bit at home. I go once a week.
Sometimes I show him. We all watch Dragon Ball Z (which I am sure doesn't help). And although I did the exact same with Boy11 and showed him everything Ninja-ey I did.
I also had a lot more time back then. And I've kind of skipped over the part where I said to Boy11 a lot: you don't do any of this to your friends and family.
My bad! (I think BabyBoy4 rocks).

8. BabyBoy3 moves furniture.
The other two didn't do this.
Some mornings we try and go into BabyBoy3's room and well you can't.
As he's moved the bed in front of the door. Or the bed is sideways. His lamp is knocked on the floor. There's normally toys strewn everywhere and walking anywhere in the room is totes unsafe for any of Team Parent (yay!).
It's normally a morning thing he does whilst he waits for us to all wake up, and then wakes us all up at 6am anyway.
As for what time he gets up to do his furniture rearranging...
I shudder to think.
<Shudders>
See.

9. BabyBoy3 disagrees with Team Parents (yay!) bedtimes for him.
He doesn't wail. He shout. He doesn't cry.
Sometimes he lays there singing to himself, or playing with toys in his bed.
Other times runs about and steals stuff from Boy11's room. Or Miss7's. Or our room.
It's like living with a magpie.
And it's not as though he’s quiet about it, THUD THUD go his little feet across the ceiling as Team Parent (yay!) turn the tele up and pretend he's fast asleep....

You go
Mrs. Amazing: 'I don't want to'
He just hides under his covers when I go up, and giggles
Mrs. Amazing: 'He just hugs and kisses me and tells me lots of things'
Arm wrestle? Oh no... wait... Mario Kart contest instead!
[After]
Damn it! <Trudges upstairs to find BabyBoy3 moving all my clothes into his room>

10. BabyBoy3 is still the happiest little fella ever.
OK probably not ever. But compared to the other two. He's well ahead.
I am really, really, really, glad that BabyBoy3 still has this about him. I wrote about it on his third birthday. At the time wondering if it was just because he was young and little and hella cute. A bit of me worried that as he grew up his wonderful attitude to life would slowly be stripped away. BUT IT HASN'T!
He's still the happy go-lucky dude he's always been. He just seems to be happy to be here, existing. Which is something I shall always aspire to.
BabyBoy3 you were utterly brilliant. Thank you.

I can’t wait for more matey.
X

(BabyBoy3: ‘Can I eat my lunch in my den?’
… Hmmm… Yeah!
I see no problem with that!
[Later, whilst cleaning sofa]
... I see problems with that...


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.
X