Parenting with a Hangover...(Or: Accepting Defeat)...

It is so much harder parenting with a hangover.

Soooooooo much.

Especially when Team Parent (yay!) are dividing and conquering, and I am left to do stuff on my own. It was all my own fault obviously.

No one made me drink all that red wine...

Mrs. Amazing: 'Right! If you don't down all that glass right now, I'm gonna let BabyBoy3 play with all your Star Wars figures... UNSUPERVISED!'

You wouldn't? <Is scared>

Mrs. Amazing: 'I would... When you're at work'

EKKK! <Man wolf cry>

OK,OK. I'll drink it. <Downs glass>

... <Urps>...More please...

(One bottle or two?

Mrs. Amazing: ‘One is probably enough…

but let’s take another for luck!’

Good plan <Packs three>)

Team Parent (yay!) had managed to go out.

Amazing I know. Together. On a Friday night!!!

Wine, curry and board games at friends house. And what was particular good was that they live nearby so we could walk there.

However as it can take two smegging hours to put the three terrors to bed. We wanted to maximise our 'out' time. So we drove. Planning to leave the car there, and walk and get it in the morning. Brilliant!

I love when a plan comes together.

<Rolls huge cigar around in mouth and grins>

<Coughs on the nasty smoke>

Granny Amazing had agreed to babysit.

So Team Parent (yay!) had thrown as many children into bed as possible before she got there about 7:30.

BabyBoy3 was a good little boy and was fast asleep. Knackered out from the day. We had had haddy had fun reading a story and I sang him his bedtime song as normal. I went with swing-style this time. Out like a light. Bless him.

Miss7 had got out of bed again for the billionth time with some tiny problem or concern, much to Team Parent's (yay!) frowny faces.

And then once Granny Amazing arrived, Miss7 left her bed once to say hi. Sigh.

Boy10 however doesn't go to bed until 8, which is when we were due.

And although we had managed to convince him to shower and get some jammies on. Boy10 wasn't showing much signs of being ready for bed.

So he was allowed to put on a Harry Potter movie which he promptly slumped in front of, and vegged.

Phew. Good luck Granny.

Obviously we were late.

That's what we do <Grumbles>. But who cares. Team Parent (yay!) were out, there were board games to be played, curry to eat and laughs and grown up speaking with swears to be done.

We had a bloody lovely time.

I may have had to much wine.

Definitely did. June. May. As when Team Parent (yay!) stumbled home to release Granny Amazing at the staggeringly late 11pm. I suddenly realised that laying down in bed going to sleep wasn't really to work well in my stomach.

So I stayed up later, and consumed as much water as possible.

Mrs. Amazing wisely went straight to sleep.

I finally crashed and awoke late the next morning...

Where am I? <Staggers>

What planet is this? What time of mannnnn is this? <Dons asking the heavens pose>

Mrs. Amazing: 'I've made you a tea'

Ta chuck

Mrs. Amazing: 'Now get up, I wanna take Boy10 and Miss7 out for a jog before 10:30, which is when I'm going to go get my Grandma for lunch at ours'

Huh? Right... Was I drunk when I agreed to having your Grandma over?

Mrs. Amazing: 'Nope. Sober. And it was your idea!'

REALLY? <Is shocked> That was nice of me... Surprisingly nice of me... Were you naked?

Mrs. Amazing: 'Nope'

WOW... <Is really quite shocked, but hides it badly>...

In that case I totally recall all that stuff you just said there... <points>... with your lips thingy... mouth...

Mrs. Amazing: <Is suspicious> 'It's 8:30 get up'

Have I got time to take BabyBoy3 swimming?

Mrs. Amazing: 'Yes, if leave soon'

BONZA!...

And despite my head.

Acting like it was a drum being flattened by elephants. Taking BabyBoy3 swimming was going to be totally worth any pain.

Whilst handovers do hurt I find that if I just get on with stuff it's better. Sure I make more mistakes those days. I may not be the most tolerant. Weirdly I am better at just sitting and playing, as I think I just like resting those days. And with a head full of pain playing with kids is probably all I can manage.

So I did get out of bed and fell straight back down.

Me and BabyBoy3 needed to leave soon.

If we wanted to make the most of being in the pool. BabyBoy3 would only cope for an hour in the pool before he got cold. And I wanted to max that.

I just needed to slap myself in the face a bit, blowtorch my teeth clean, throw some clothes on, pack a bag with our swimming stuff, and down two maybe three cups of tea.

And get BabyBoy3 dressed!

Easy!

(Dudes!!! Back up… I wanna clean my teeth…

Now where’s my lighter?...

[KABOOM])

It wasn't easy.

I couldn't concentrate and my normal skills at managing to distract BabyBoy3 whilst dressing him were failing me badly. So that every time I sat down next to him to get him dressed.

He would simply run off.

And I was too slow to catch him.

You maybe wondering where Mrs. Amazing was, a fella Team Parent (yay!) member. Why was she not helping?

Well Mrs. Amazing was already doing what I was doing.
But for Boy10 and Miss7. So twice what I had.

It felt wrong to ask for help.

What didn't help me was Boy10.

And Miss7. Both who were ready to go for their run, and quite excited about it.

So they bugged me instead. Everytime I managed to corner BabyBoy3 with the right clothes in my hands. One of them would appear, talk to him, and then they would run off to do something.

Time after time. Until with BabyBoy3 only half dressed.

I gave up. And went and packed our bag.

Swimming kit for me. Swimming kit for BabyBoy3. Two towels.
Post swimming chocolate for BabyBoy3 and water.

And flippin' armbands as BabyBoy3 has been talking to Miss7 who told him he needed them. Which was annoying as my plan was just to have him in my arms and get him used to being loose in the water.

Then he'd learn to swim quickly my way...

Right I'm going to let go... ready

BabyBoy3: 'YES!'

Go!

BabyBoy3: <Dives in from my shoulder>

<Watches through the water>

Dude... dude... your not using... anything...

<Scoops him out> OK?

BabyBoy3: <DEEP breath>'YEP!'

Let's try that again...

It just got worse and worse.

The more flustered I got at the time. The more I was stumbling running about the house not getting stuff done.

At times I found BabyBoy3 with socks on, other times he would throw them at me.

I pointed out that if he wanted to go swimming he should help me.

He cared not.
And just ran off shouting ‘SWIM-MING!SWIM-MING!SWIM-MING!’ punching the air.

(Love that loonie).

Eventually Mrs. Amazing took pity on me.

As my cool was definitely leaving me. I still hadn’t got cross and stompy. But I was definitely starting to crack at the seems.

Time was getting short and I was basically flapping about the place. Like a big fat hung over awesome chicken.

Mrs. Amazing grabbed BabyBoy3 and got him ready, with little fuss.

Which gave me time to have a paracetamol, some tummy pills, and gather my thoughts.

Which I needed.

With only myself to concentrate on.

I was ready quickly. And with Mrs. Amazing concentrating on BabyBoy3, not hungover me, he was ready pretty quickly too.

I grabbed the car keys, opened the front door. And without looking pointed the keys at the car pressing the unlock button. As I was rushing and simultaneously calling for BabyBoy3 at the same time.

BabyBoy3 came and with swimming bag in hand I turned and stepped out of the door.

Only to release something was missing.

I had expected to hear the beep beep of the car unlocking.

But there was nnoise. There was no flashing lights either.

There’s normally lights.

In fact there was nothing.

Not even the car.

Where’s the FU … BAR… <Resists>... car?

<Internal screams of frustrations and anger>

I took me a few moments.

Stood there. Keys in hand. But no car to match them. (Have you been paying attention> Have you worked it out yet?).

I was just about to go back in the house and ask Mrs. Amazing if she knew where the car was. Which may sound funny, but it happens more than you might think (if you might think twice).

We left the car at our friends house last night.

<Lots of really bad swears>

<Loses cool, head starts emitting high pitched buzzing sound>

[Bang]

<Looks down at BabyBoy3 stood next to me>

Change of plan… Get your scooter… We’ve a walk first…

BabyBoy3: ‘Yay!’

I checked the time.

The walk was a pretty long one. There was a slight chance that we could rush round. Rush back. Maybe get in the pool for a bit. Baring in mind rushing BabyBoy3 rarely works.

And despite my head hurting, and how everything had been going.
I made a good decision.

I accepted defeat.
The universe for some reason had decided that me and BabyBoy3 were not to swim that morning. And who was I too argue?

If I tried there was a chance we could make it. But everything would be rushed.

If I didn’t try, and made the most of what we were doing. We could have a really fun time scooting off to get the car.
And we could always go swimming this afternoon.

Which we did. Both counts.

X

(BabyBoy3: ‘DADDY! LOOK! It makes a really loud

bang noise when I do this! Look!

[BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG]

Great mate! <Is rolling about in agony on the floor>)

Epilogue:

It turned out the bag I packed that morning was missing BabyBoy3’s swimming stuff. Yay.

We found this out in changing rooms at the swimming pool.

I think I actually cried real tears at that point.

Luckily the swimming pool sold size BabyBoy3 shorts, at £15 (!!), which for hygiene reasons could not be refunded unless the world was ending…

Does it really say that?

SwimmingShortsSeller: <Points>

… Fancy that… in bold too…

The shorts fitted fine.
But BabyBoy3 needs a top when he goes swimming. Or he gets cold too quick.

They didn’t sell tops (which I was kind of happy about) nor did we have one.

So very quickly and in a ceremony attended by me and officiated by me. BabyBoy3’s t-shirt was promoted to ‘swimming t-shirt’ and was suddenly fine to go in the water. YAY!

We finally got in the pool.
And spent the next hour having the best fun we’ve had together in ages.
#WorthIt (#ButNotTheBuyingNewShortsBit #ThatWasAnnoying #HeAlreadyHasSixPairs #NoNotFromMeForgettingEverytimeThankYou #HandMeDowns).

X

Tinsillitis... Merry Christmas!

I was gonna name this tale ‘A Classic Christmas with kids’ as that's what it feels like.

The same kind of Christmas we've had ever since Boy10 rocked up all those years ago.

But I went with tinsillitis as it has loads more aptyness (real word).

There were clues on Christmas Eve.

Of what was to come. Now that we are looking back full of looky-back-wiseyness and cheese. Miss6 had told us that she was heading upstairs for a sleep. Bit weird at lunch time. And Team Parent (yay!) had just assumed Miss6 was still worn out from the school term, or was just going up to do some hardcore colouring in. As she does sometimes.

In all the excitement, cheese, and frantic last minute wrapping, ninjaing around trying not to make a sound, cheese, asking Boy10 what the smeg is he still doing up at 11pm when Santa's on his way. Well during all that... Team Parent (yay!) may have forgotten to stop to think through what was going on with Miss6.

And well those clues got missed.

(Diagnosis? Christmas nutter...)

Where's Miss6?

Boy10: <Is picking nose> ‘She went for a lie down’

Cool… <Gives frowny face>

Boy10: <Eats it and grins at me>

<Ignores Boy10’s grossness>

<Thinks about Miss6>

<Thinks more>

<Eats some cheese>

<Thinks even more>

Hang on! <Stands>

That's bad on Christmas Eve!!! Wake her, wake her immediately!!!
She'll never sleep tonight

<Runs>

Christmas Day

Our morning started at 4:30am. As BabyBoy3 randomly woke up and came to see us.

He was guided back to bed, sweetly not spotting the stockings full of presents outside everyone’s rooms, by Mrs. Amazing. And amazingly convinced back to sleep.

For a whole hour. Oooo-wee let the good times roll.

At 5:30am BabyBoy3 was up again and this time with Miss6 in tow. Who did spot all the stockings etc.

Whilst Team Parent do have a ‘We don’t want to see you until 6:30am’ rule. It is relaxed on Christmas Day. And by relaxed I mean utterly ignored and the day just started there and then. Despite the look on my face.

Boy10 was up in moments and we all climbed onto Team Parent’s (yay!) bed to open our stocking presents from Father Christmas. Not before Mrs. Amazing quickly ran off to make essential cups of tea, and chocolate milk for the troops.

My role whilst she was gone was stopping any early present opening occuring.

It was hella tough. Two slipped through.
<Hangs head>

Our Christmas breakfast wasn’t great.

Which is a shame as it’s important to Mrs. Amazing. It’s a special breakfast to her.

A bit of a fight with Boy10 over when the present opening should happen, and how dressed, and how full of breakfast they should be, happened. And ended when someone, no names, stormed off to Boy10’s room and had a bit of a sulk with thinking time, in Boy10’s bed, wearing Boy10’s clothes, smelling like Boy10. The rest of us had a very nice calm breakfast.

Whoever it was’s (??) problem is that they get too excited and don’t know how to channel all that energy. Yet. I am sure Boy10 an unnamed child of mine will get it one day.

Sometimes Team Parent (yay!) handle these situations brilliantly…. Other times we’ve had a little under five hours sleep so it’s a bit of relief when he, or she, (he) storms off.

Despite loving the calmness Mrs. Amazing deeply missed Boy10 though.

Unnamed person came back eventually. Made an excellent Christmas apology (like a normal apology, but very much coloured by the fact there are present very close).

All friends again.

We ate, we cleared, we packed.

Then we headed off to Grannie-Amazing’s for the rest of Christmas Day. Bonza!

At Grannie-Amazing’s Mrs. Amazing’s sister and family joined us. Taking the totals to six adults and five children. Which may sound good in the adults favour, but that’s four boys, BabyBoy3, Nephew4, Nephew6, Boy10 and a Miss6. A smorgasbord of ages to enjoy.

And of course those six adults sober and not full of cheese would be more up to the task. But it’s Christmas, sober and not full of cheese don’t really happen with my family, or Mrs. Amazing’s. More so with her’s.

Miss6 struggled.

And lasted about two hours before she complained of a headache. The boys were too noisy. They probably were if you were in a forty inch thick concrete bunker had a headache. Poor love.

So Miss6 went upstairs and chilled out for a bit. Put on headphones and sang along to the music on her MP3 player. Which is both hilarious and brilliant to watch / hear.

Christmas dinner arrived and Miss6 declined. Headache.

She wasn’t even there for presents under the tree opening. Shocking I know.

She guest-starred for a bit, and unwrapped one or two. But mainly she missed it and sat playing quietly with her Glimmies (oh don’t ask, they glow in the dark, I just go with these things now).  She was sorely missed as without her the family dynamics change drastically.

Nephew6 is her bestie, which normally leaves Nephew4 to play with BabyBoy3, and Boy10 to be kind of like a sweeper going around the children and adults.

Without Miss6, Nephew6 and Nephew4 played together. Boy10 was left alone.

And I was upgraded to BabyBoy3’s best bud for the day, a rather larger, and grumpier, Miss6 replacement.

It was awesome. But tiring.

BabyBoy3: ‘Daddy? Canyou’dis with me?’ <Cute eyes> <Tugging at me>

<Is eating cheese> Hang on… Yes mate… <Crumbs everywhere>

What are we doing?

BabyBoy3: <Points>

Right! General cars playing and stuff. Brilliant!

<Sits on floor>

<Face becomes track almost instantly>

Ow! EYE! EYE-EYE caramba!

Eventually it is bedtime.

For BabyBoy3 first. He is a bit teary to be going to bed. As clearly he hella loves Christmas. Because all day everyone has given him brilliant presents. I don’t blame him, I still love it, Christmas rocks! and this is only his third.

But BabyBoy3 still has to sleep, as we’ve Christmas V2 to do tomorrow at my Mum’s house.

And by now all the adults would like to switch to adult mode and really make some headway into the cheese, booze, swearing and watching tele.

The bedtime plan.

Was to have BabyBoy3 in with us on the floor on a mattress. Miss6 in with my two nephews. Yet plans are made of sugar-glass and easily break. No matter how shiny and sparkly and delicious they may be. The plan is changed as Miss6 is still poorly. She’s in with us.

BabyBoy3 is upgraded to sleeping on the mattress on the bedroom floor with me two nephews. Who will sneak in later, once he’s asleep, uber quietly, to sleep on the bunk beds.

Clear? Good. <Ignores your protests>

I then spend twenty of the most uncomfortable minutes.

Ever in my life getting BabyBoy3 to sleep. I am a bit drunk. Full of cheese. In a dark room, on the floor. And forced to sit at an awkward angle so BabyBoy3 can touch my arm, but still be on the mattress.

I stagger out.

Then the plan goes into action.

One by one the children are bedded, and slowly the adults switch to stretchy trousers.

And glasses are charged, a lot. Leaving just Boy10 up as he’s allowed to stay up a bit.

Does he use this time well? No. No he does not.

At one point he has twisted his loose tooth so much he cannot now twist it back. So it is sticking out at a funny angle on his face and can be seen as a lump on his cheek.

I offer to help deal with his teeth problem in a old fashioned way. Boy10 strangely declines.

He’s learning quick.

(Teeth adjustments… Ew...)

Boy10 is bundled into bed.

Not before his tooth comes out. Which he proudly shows us all, and reminds Team Parent (yay!) and the Tooth Fairy obv. That he will be expecting to find some cash under his pillow in the morning.

But finally. All the children are asleep. The adult all clear siren is sounded, quietly.

PHEW!

Until Miss6 arrives downstairs.

She has been sick and wet herself (Which I only add as that is what happened. And because people do have accidents. And it’s daft to pretend they don't. That just makes it all the more embarrassing when people do. OK? <Shakes fist>).

Team Parent (yay!) leap into gear. I find cleaning products and go clean the carpet. Which I am acutely aware is in the room I plan to sleep in later. So am in a bind over how much chemical smell I want Vs. puke smell. Lovely.

Mrs. Amazing looks after Miss6, warms her backup, and settles her.

Twenty mins later. A bit slurry and blurry. My job is done. I think I’ve done well.

Mrs. Amazing confirms I’ve done well. Which may sound funny, but Mrs. Amazing has been sobered by Miss6 being sick.

And I have not.

Miss6 is given Calpol.

Oh sweet children elixir. Miss6 is eventually put back in bed. Our bed. Not the floor.

And Mrs. Amazing heads to bed with her, to watch over her. But not before helping out the Tooth Fairy with the tooth-coin issue.

I finish watching the excellent Kingsman: The Secret Service film that is on.

And then head straight up to bed after eating more cheese, a quick bedtime drinky, more cheese, chocs, cheese, water.

Into bed I hop.

Mrs. Amazing: ‘OY STOP HOPPING!’

It's not comfy as Miss6 is in there too. But it is what is. Balanced on the edge of the bed, next to two people that sleep at the heat of a billion suns. One who’s got a temperature.

I somehow manage to sleep.

Until BabyBoy3 comes in at some ghastly hour. Four in the bed doesn’t work soooo badly. That Miss6 gives up her space and heads to mattress on the floor. Leaving BabyBoy3 between Team Parent (yay!).

Now as I had spent most of the day with BabyBoy3 he gravitates my way. Which is nice.

But also I have the most annoying nights sleep ever, as he kicks, scrapes, pokes, twitches, kicks in the giblets, OW OW OW OWWWW! All through the night.

Mrs. Amazing does her best to help.

But really it’s a night I would rather forget forever.

Boxing Day

We breakfast. And then a rapid meeting of Team Parent (yay!) is called.

Normal boxing day procedure is that I head home, feed the cat, shower, unload presents on my own. Get a few minutes to myself. Yay. Then come back from them all, and it's off to my Mum's.

But Mrs. Amazing delivers the illness bomb. Miss6 needs to rest. It is unlikely that Miss6 will make it to my Mum’s for boxing day. Nor will Mrs. Amazing.

I am unhappy with this. We chat for a while until it becomes clear what is most important, and what we need to focus on. Presents. Being all together at Christmas.

We change the plan, and if after Miss6 has a rest and she is up for it. Miss6 and Mrs. Amazing will join us at my Mum’s. As my family's Christmas runs very late. We are talking presents starting at 4pm late. Which I am used to. But it is still mind bending for Mrs. Amazing.
Mrs. Amazing: 'WHY???'

But we won’t stay at my Mum’s overnight, as Miss6 is too sick for that.

Which means no matter how we do it, I have to be sober.

<Weeps>

Me, Boy10 and BabyBoy3 sobery head off.

To my Mum’s for Christmas V2. We have a lovely day. Most of my brothers are there, and despite having to stay sober, we laugh a lot. Especially during the traditional ‘Play really loud music whilst the sons do all the washing up’ fun the brothers do. Mum interrupts at one point, and is moshed around for a bit.

Tears of laughter all round.

(Just leave the plate...

<Sneaks carrots onto my Dad’s plate>)

Then I get a message from Mrs. Amazing.

Now in the light of day she has noticed huge white spots at the back of Miss6’s throat.

It’s probably tonsillitis, but as it’s Christmas, it’s tinsillitis.

Miss6 apparently finds this very funny.

Mrs. Amazing and Miss6.

Never do make it over to my Mum’s. Instead they wait for a doctor to phone on Boxing Day.

Miss6 needs antibiotics quickly. They are heading out to a local hospital, just as me, Boy10 and BabyBoy3 arrive home.

At 8pm.

They come back thirty minutes later.

With Penicillin which tastes foul. Miss6 takes her dose and is bundled to bed.

(Thank you NHS as always you are utterly fantastic. I love you).

Mrs. Amazing is knackered out having spent all day with Miss6 and is in serious need of some adult company. The swearier the better. Fing’Ay!

But Team Parent (yay!) don’t last long and are soon heading to bed for sleep.

Christmas done for another year. Wonderful though it was. Both of them.

We are utterly, utterly pooped out and crawl into out bed together.

And just want to sleep.

A post shared by Tales from the... Dad Side! (@talesfromthedadside3) on Dec 28, 2017 at 2:02am PST

(Have I mentioned there's more tales on Instagram? No?)

(Well there is! Herey)

Except.

Except that Boy10 somehow managed to have another tooth come out today (??).

There is a quick vote and somehow I win by a landslide and have to help the Tooth Fairy out. Luckily I had grabbed a coin off my Dad earlier. So our normal no change panic was avoided.
However as I reluctantly get back out of my warm, lovely bed, into the cold, cold air. Just in pants.
I give Mrs. Amazing a frowny, grumpy look. She just snuggles deeper under the covers.
As I leave I want to say something witty and clever, as I'm a bit narked off about having to do the Tooth Fairy job. But in my sleep and Christmas addled state I only manage to say ‘Grumble grumble’. Which Mrs. Amazing doesn’t quite hear, so I have to repeat it.

Witty and clever, on the second telling, it flipping is not.

I helped the Tooth Fairy out recently.

She’s busy some nights. See ‘My Tooth Fairy Impression‘, because in that you can see that from me there is a kindness and desire to maintain the magic for Boy10 that can almost bring a tear to my own eye. <Sniffs>

But not this night. I wasn’t like that Boxing Day eve...

<Stumbles in>

<Reaches in forcefully for tooth knocking Boy10 asunder>

<Throws coin in in (!) exchange>

<Stumbles back to bed... and sleeps a lot>

Actually that way was quicker... hmmm…

<Makes note>

Merry Christmas all!

X

P.S. Miss6 is recovering very nicely and is full of beans again, and still thinks the medicine is foul. But finds extremely sugary tea helps.
X