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

A Week? A Whole Week?...

As we stand there waving Boy9 off on his trip.

Mrs. Amazing is fighting back some tears. It's hard letting go.

And Boy9 will be gone a whole week.

BabyBoy2 is waving too.

Shouting Boy9's name in his little voice. Cute. Miss6 is waving too.

She's a bit grumpy, which Team Parent (yay!) secretly think is because she is going to miss Boy9, but we say nothing. And just ignore her grumps. Even when she hid, badly, in a bush.

BabyBoy2 and Miss6 are dressed in their pajamas as it's 7am. BabyBoy2 in very cool Spider-man hoodie. Wish I had one.

Miss6 in bright pink. Hence the poor hiding in greenness.

The school coach finally pulls off and Boy9 is gone.

For a week.

<Runs about cheering>

Which I am totally fine with.

I've no tears to pretend are not really there (I've some grammar to look at, but tears no). It's far too early in the morning for what you humans would call emotions.

But I do mention to Mrs. Amazing what will get me later. It will be this evening as we tame the little lions into bed. Again convincing them to sleep. As I walk past Boy9's room and he's not in there. Picking his nose or something equally gross.

It will be those moments I'll think most of him and miss him.

Each night this week.

It was an early start to the morning.

More so. The coach left at 7am. So we had to be at the school at 6:30am. Which meant setting an alarm for the first time in years.

If you've young kids than alarm clocks just seem silly.

Our actual alarm is covered in dust in the loft and has been there for years. For a while it sat optimistically near my side of the bed. Waiting to be plugged in again.

But it never happened. As we have three alarm clocks that still refuse to accept 6:30am is wake up time.

Even the incredible cot-escaping BabyBoy2 has joined in on the 'let's wake the exhausted parents' act. yay. Boy9 still being the main morning-too-early culprit.

He had even set his own alarm. In case he slept in.

No chance.

We set the alarm for 5:45am...

You're setting it for when?

Mrs. Amazing: '5:45am'

But that's still night time... and I've nine years of sleep to catch on...

Mrs. Amazing: 'Me too...' <Looks sad>

Mrs. Amazing: 'We'll be able to have two cuppas before we leave'

<Grumbles> Suppose... mines a very large one...

(What the hell is that in the sky??? <Is panicking>

And where’s the <yawns> sun gone?

<Just goes back to sleep>)

Boy9 was really excited.

And nervous. And looking forward to it. And worried about the unknown.

There was a huge mix of emotions rattling through that little boy. Good stuff I suppose.

He's suddenly so grown up and off doing stuff on his own. But then he's really small and not even ten yet. It's a funny time. Weird funny.

He's being pulled in lots of directions at once. Be good. Be bad. Fit in with the lads. Don't do what those lads are doing. Do what Team Parent (yay!) say. Really. What we say. Oh right... Fair point. Now, with that new information, do what we say. Oh go on! Please?

<Offers chocolate>

Boy9's internal conflict doesn't always seep out in the most constructive ways either (it never, ever, ever, does). (With the possible exception of light sabre battles).

Like the morning before...

[Finds Boy9 watching tele, NOT sitting down for breakfast, hasn't even said morning]

Dude! It's breakfast. I've made you breakfast? Big breakfast for big boy going away tomorrow?

You want breakfast? Breakfast?

Breakfast?

Boy9: 'Shut your face'

Hey hey... Don't be rude <Holds it together>

Now please turn the tele off and come in and have some breakfast...

I've asked twice al...

Boy9: 'Shut UP!'

<Eye twitches> ... please... for breakfast and your own safety ... come sit down...

<Turns off tele for him> <Is internally ablaze with fury> <But hides it well>

Come on, what track shall we list...

Boy9: 'OH! Shut your face'

<Cracks> GO TO YOUR ROOM!

Boy9: 'Good!' <Stomps off>

<Spends some time air decking certain people>

Not my best moment.

Especially as the night before Team Parent (yay!) had discussed this very situation.

About how Boy9 would be full of nervous / excited energy. And how we both needed to be super-tolerant and understanding with Boy9.

Especially me.

Why especially me?

Brainzilla: 'You know...'

I don't… <Lies>

Brainzilla: <Shows ream after of ream of utterly convincing footage of why 'I' should especially keep my cool>

...

You suck Fair enough, all good points suck-face...

As Boy9 would spoiling for a fight.

Pretty much he would be looking for any release he could find. Either through laughing and love. Ahhhhh.

Or as a big old angry fight with me any of Team Parent (yay!).

In my defence it was early morning. I was only one cuppa down. And the two little ones had already bugged quite a fair bit, by not making sense. And my favourite song was playing, which I was missing.

At least that was my only slip. And no matter the provocation til Boy9 left on the trip.

I kept my cool.

<Gives self gold star>

Boy9: 'Dad! Watch... Your Millennium Falcon, a hammer, smashy smashy!'

...

<Buries head in sofa>

Boy9: 'Bongo time!'

<Muffled> Mot? OW!

(NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! <Weeps>)

It's going to be different without Boy9.

Very different. Bed times will be nearly an hour shorter.

Team Parent (yay!) won't be out numbered and that really, really, really, makes a difference.

I won't have to make his boring, always, ham, no matter what I sneak into his sandwiches, he just picks it out, lunch for a week.

The effect on the laundry will minimal however as Boy9 insists on being very economic with clothes. Except his football stuff. That Boy9 likes to wear as quickly and as often as possible. And then get muddy. Really muddy.

My stress levels I imagine will be lower as I'll spend less time arguing with a tiny version of myself.

Meal times will be less of a verbal, and attritional, battle. We can have rice and pasta.

We could even have sauces on the food! #LivingTheDream

There'll be less rushing Boy9 back and forth to clubs morning and night.

It will be a nice break for Team Parent (yay!) to be honest.

But don't get me wrong.

If I'm looking kind of dazzled. I see neon lights...

We're gonna miss the little smegger Boy9 a lot.

All of us....

Miss6: <Shakes head>

You will...

Miss6: <Goes into Boy9's room and starts playing with his toys>

Miss6: <Has great fun>

...

<Joins Miss6>

<Has great fun>

I'm sure I will miss him.

In a few days. Once the novelty of not being ninja attacked from behind every door has worn off. Once the quiet gets boring. And there's no one to physically drag away from the computers. He is my little dude. We are buds.

Most of the time.

Boy9 has a huge presence in the house and whatever effect that has on us all, there is going to be a big presence missing whilst he is away.

<Wipes away tear Cleans up after lacrimation>

The night before Boy9 left.

I found something that really hammered home to me just how big Boy9 actually is.

That despite how big Boy9 acts, and of course is trying to be, like his Dad.

Underneath all the shouty and posturing, and swaggering, and rudeness, and fun (there's loads of fun), and funny. There's just a nine year old boy.

Hell the cats older than him (and he's an idiot) (the cat that is).

Nine isn't much at all, really.

And he's off on his own, without any of Team Parent (yay!), for seven whole days.

What on earth were we thinking???

I know he'll be fine.

There's teachers I trust with him there. Lots of safety, and health. The lot.

I’m not worried. I am happy he is going.

Honest.

(You have my complete trust…

See you at the gig…

<Does rock hand>)

On the radiator the night before he left.

(Yes I’m still talking about that bit). I noticed something drying. Waiting to be packed.

Boy9's teddy. Freshly washed and stitched up by Mrs. Amazing.

Bless. (for reference there's nothing wrong with having a teddy. I've four hundred one. And I’m utterly normalatoning).

But it reminded me of just how little he still was. Is.

I imagine when he eventually falls asleep each night. Boy9 might hugging his teddy tight.

And he might, might even think of us. At home. Waiting for him.

<Shakes fist> He better!

It's gonna be a long week.

<Grumbles> Stupid awesome-school-trip-for-a-week...

X