Rage Against the Swimming Costume...

Poor Miss6.

I do feel sorry for her.

It’s a hard life being a daughter to a Dad that takes her out and does stuff with her.

No. It’s not the embarrassment factor. Although I am sure that will kick in one day, but it is not this day.

It’s not that I am a little less tolerant of her endless talking as Mrs. Amazing...

Here… I'll give you this fiver to shush for a few five minutes... Deal?

Miss6: <Takes money>

... <Is confident I will get my money back> Five whole minutes...

Miss6: <Nods>

[Twenty, maybe thirty seconds pass]]

Miss6: <Looks like she is about to burst>

Miss6: <Starts pointing at stuff and miming>

I've no idea what you are saying? There's aliens on that tree and they are yodelling?

Miss6: <Explodes> <There's a lot of talking very quickly>

Miss6: <Passes money back>

Thank you... a P.B. by the way... twenty nine seconds...

Miss6: 'Well I think it would have gone better if...'

<Put brain into idle for a while> <Turns on auto-nod>

Miss6: '... then you started going on about yodellin...'

Nope.

Miss6’s main problem about being out with me is that I am not female.

As it means:

a) She has to go to toilet in the men's.

Right. Just keep your eyes on the floor and touch nothing

NOTHING. This is the men's. It's gross

Miss6: 'It's smells yukky'

Yep. Just stand there and don't move...

Actually put this blindfold on...

And these headphones…

In fact... <Casts stasis spell>

b) My practical knowledge of wearing women's clothing, and even more so little girls clothes, is low. Not none. But low.

(Awesome… But which would Barbara Gordon use?)

We were at the swimming pool.

Me and Miss6 go swimming once a week. It's one of my favourite things to do.

Teaching Miss6 to swim is a real honour. We've currently working on our 20m badge. She's doing great. I'm a very proud Dad.

And swimming is right fun anyway.

But it seems loads can go wrong (See BabyBoy2 and the nappy incident)...

We (I) pay.

We go in. Get changed. And head to the lockers...

[Me and Miss6, dry, putting stuff in locker]

[Locker jams my quid (a £1 coin) in it]

Stupid locker! <Quietly swears at locker and make comments about it's mother being a car compactor of poor compression quality>

<Tries to force coin with finger>

<Coin gets REALLY stuck>

SIGH <Sighs the sigh of a man that doesn't want to get dressed again and go to get another quid>

...

Miss6: 'What are we going to do?'

<Rifles through the bag with all our stuff in> <Shotguns Gets pocket knife out>

<Convinces quid to work> Tada!

Miss6: <Is unimpressed>

<Ignores Miss6 and smugly puts everything in and locks it>

<Worries I may never get my quid back>

Miss6: 'Er... The water bottle' <That is in Miss6's hands>

<Internal swearing>

<Unlocks the locker and repeats process>

<Is sure we won't get our quid back now>

<Is also a bit worried the locker may not open at all now>

Then it's wee time.

Miss6 needs to go. So do I. We both go into the men's.

This used to be simple. With Miss5 we would both go into a cubicle. I'd help Miss5 if she needed it. And ensure she had a clean enough environment. Then we'd swap places. Both jobs done.

But Miss6 is bigger and more grown up and independent. And as she doesn't need my help now. I feel a bit weird being in a cubicle with her.

As I’ve nothing to do.

So there are two choices.

a) Let Miss6 lock herself in and pray that she can open it later.

Very risky in men's toilets.  But does leave me free to go for a wee myself.

b) Stand outside the cubicle and wait.

Which doesn’t look great. Hanging about in men's toilets is best avoided.

Leaving me NOT free to go wee. As if I move then I’ve left a six year old girl. Alone.

In a unlocked male toilet.

Where anythingone could wander in. No no.

I'm standing guard.

(None shall pass…

<Gets hugged> BOOM!)

Miss6 is done.

She heads off to see if she can reach the shower button. I get to wee.

She still cannot reach the showers and when I start them for her.

Miss6 ducks out of the way and refuses to get even a little wet.

It seems her swimming costume is itchy when it's wet.

Unless she's in the water...

Miss6: '... and that's why I can't get wet before I get in the water'

Gotcha... <Has got nothing>

I thought it was strange.

Normally Miss6 likes to don her swimming costume before we leave for the pool.

And then takes great delight in thrashing me at the 'who can get changed for swimming first' race...

Miss6: 'Winner!' <Does dance>

Whateve's! Well done darling <Grinds teeth>

My poor little angry girl.

Show's me the itchy spaghetti straps she has on her swimming costume.

They annoy her so much balls up her hands in rage. She even lets out a small shout of frustration.

Poor thing.

Miss6 solution to the problem is simple.

Lower the straps until she is in the pool. Go nips out.

I consider letting Miss6 do this. She is only six. And my nips are well out on display anyway. What’s the difference really.

It can't hurt.

We finally get into the pool.

Miss6 can touch the bottom on tip toes. It's pretty much perfect for her.

She pulls her straps up, as promised. And... Well... There's something wrong with her costume. I know something is wrong.

I can see it.

I can still see her nips.

Which isn't the end of the world (it isn't). But the swimming costume is meant to cover them.

I'm sure it's on backwards. But now that I am looking and thinking about it. I'm not sure.

No experience you see. I don't wear many one pieces.

But it looks wrong enough that I drag her back out of the pool. Carefully not making eye contact with any other parents in the pool. Back to the shower area.

The men’s showers.

We're both shivering away.

It’s an English pool. There's cold air everywhere.

We whip her swimmers off, turn them around, and put them back on.

There's a lot of fighting...

Miss6: 'IT'S TOO TIGHT! ARGHGHG!'

Stick your foot in that hole… No that one, there... <Points>

Miss6: 'It's cold!!! EKKKK!'

etc...

I persevere.

Eventually Miss6 has rotated swimmers on.

And... No. No that's not right at all. Miss6 agrees. That's definitely backwards now.

We agree to turn them around again.

Miss6: 'It's cold!!! EKKKK!'

Foot in there...<Points>

etc...

It takes longer this time.

And Miss6 is stood naked in the men's showers for longer than I happy with. It's deserted at least.

We manage to get her wet swimming costume back on just as some grown up men walk back into showers. Phew.

But it's still not right.

Stupid swimming costume.

I realise we've been lucky so far.

No one has walked in on us whilst we struggle with her swimmers. But we both know.

We need to do this properly now.

We need to work out what the smeg is going on with these swimmers.

Safe in a cubicle.

Door locked. We removed the swimmers again. I look for some instructions. Anything really that would suggest what we are doing wrong.

It says wash at 30, don't iron, it's made from plastic. I know all that. Useless.

Where’s the ‘this end up’ label.

(Wisey)

We put the wet cold swimmers back on Miss6.

Miss6: 'Ekkk! Argghhghg! Grrr...'

Foot! HERE!

etc...

I am running out of ideas.

I ask her to spin so I can see the problem from all angles.

I don't want to have to go home. Not having swum. And admit a swimming costume beat me.

Despite being a Dad for nearly a decade (oh bacon), I still have some pride.

Somewhere. It maybe hidden though.

Come on brain! Think!

I ask Miss6 to spin again.

Which she loves doing anyway. And this time I notice there's a lot of fabric around her bum.

Well that could be it. Then without really thinking it through or anything that could be consider thoughtful. A guess.

I grab the top of the swimmers and lift Miss6 up by them. Maybe brute strength will magically work!

Her bottom slides deeper into the swimming costume. And suddenly it fits perfectly.

Nips covered too.

Me and Miss6 exchange looks.

Who knew! Neither of us. We have a little giggle about it. Then run off to swim.

And have a lovely time together.

X

Nearly the End of Term (Thank Bacon and Cake)...

The awesomeness that is the 'End of Term' is nearly here.

Actually it cannot get here quick enough.

Six long weeks of summer holidays are seriously needed.

Boy9

I'm pretty sure Boy9 is going to explode.

Bang. It's not going to take much. The wrong fork at breakfast. His favourite toy found millimetres in Miss5's room. Dad has eaten all the cake.

That boy is primed and ready to blow...

Mrs. Amazing: 'What are you doing?'

Shhhh <Continues to prod Boy9 with long stick>

Mrs. Amazing: 'ARE YOU DELIBERATELY ANNOYING HIM?'

<Nods>

Mrs. Amazing: 'WITHOUT ME?'

<Nods and loves her even more>

Mrs. Amazing: 'Come on, shove up! My go!'

[Bang]

(... I have never been bowled when using my lucky bat...)

As long as Boy9 is doing something he likes.

He's fine. But ask him to do anything? Ask him to help?

Ask him to push the switch that closes the very doors to hades, so their hoardes and demons won't come into the house and burn everything, and roast us in the eternal fires of oblivion. Ask him to do that?

It’s a long shot.

He's very much like a smeggern over wound toy car.

It kinda works…. But in spits and spots.

Sometimes it goes off like a rocket.

Other times it just makes this annoying noise and doesn't move at all.

But then sometimes you just need to nudge it... a teeny bit... and BROOOOOM off it goes and it scares the crap out of me you at night...

(I may have lost focus on this metaphor).

You know when you see a parent out with an annoying child.

A child being rude, abusive, mean, hitty, shouty, just urghhhhh!

And the seems to just be sitting there, calming talking, letting them behave like that.

And inwardly, you tut them.

Well you shouldn't. You should clap them.

Because any parent that is calm and still managing to reason with the child is doing it right.

I promise.

<Puts hand on R2-D2> Hope to be shot down by frugal laser turret gunners if I'm wrong...

I know.

Because it's what Team Parent (yay!) are currently trying to do with Boy9.

It's exhausting and annoying and we hate it.

But it works. When nothing else does.

School has utterly drained him this year.

Poor loon. Boy9 just needs to be left alone to do whatever he wants. For about a week.

Then he'll be back to himself in no time.

Miss5 however has been running on fumes for ages.

She has given her all to her first year at school.

And it's easy to say like that isn't it. Miss5's done one year at school.

There! Easy wasn't it?

One year. Doesn't seem much? One year.

Easy!!!

(Quick blow it out! That candles gotta last everyone’s teens...)

But that's one year of classes with a teacher for the first time.

One year of needing to be on time, and dressed sanely correctly.

One year being with lemons and fools others around you. Who you may not like.

One year of having to act big, and be on your own all day.

One year of filling your brain with more information than you've ever know. Probably twice over.

One year of having to concentrate for hours and hours.

<Runs off after a butterfly>

...

Missed it... Where was I?

One year of having other adults telling you off.

One year of having of swines other children being mean to you, just coz.

One year of having unfair stuff happening and that's it. It just happens.

One year of a million brilliant and lovely experiences.

One year of having no one pick you up if you cry and hugging you to little bits.

And really someone (me) should always be there doing that.

Can you imagine how hard that change is to adjust too?

Yeah. It's just one year for Miss5... But crikey!

What a year!

Luckily for us.

Miss5 has taken to school like chocolate does to cake (well). But. For every brilliant bit at school… There's been the flip side at home...

The screaming.

The hitting.

The kicking.

The meals at the table where Miss5 isn't at the table at all. Unless you count screaming and kicking the cupboards the other side of the room as being at the table (we do not).

The fights, two damn hours after bedtime, about her wanting to wear a fleece to bed. In an English heat wave (A whopping 30! It was so hot I even questioned whether or not having cups of tea all day was such a good idea) (It was Obv.).

The naked little girl screaming she's too cold to put on pyjamas.

The confused Dad struggling with Miss5's reasoning and grip of thermal dynamics...

Then... But... Then you'll be.... ARHGGHGHG!!! <Brain pain>

WHAT DO YOU WANT??? TELL ME!!! Pleases <Sobs>

<Runs>

Excellent first year of school Miss5.

Now hurry up and finish it so you can rest.

You deserve it, and Team Parent (yay!) need it.

Mrs. Amazing needs the holidays to start too.

Not for herself you understand. But for the inmates children. They are all acting a bit nuts.

Which is driving Mrs. Amazing a bit nuts as well.

She needs a good break, on a beach, in a swimming pool of sparkling white wine, surrounded by rugby players playing volley ball, and piped in Radio 4.

I understand I would be allowed to visit during pre-agreed visiting hours.

The children would not.

I got a message from Mrs. Amazing. A movie and this text…

I feel her pain. There's a lot of thirty seconds in a day.

BabyBoy2

Well there's no school yet for him. But holidays mean no more getting bundled into a hot car forty times a day. No waiting about in playgrounds for grumpy siblings. No dashing about with Mummy on errands all day.

Summer holidays will mean BabyBoy2 gets Miss5 and Boy9 to play with all day. And he loves playing with them so much. He’s gonna love the next six weeks.

And the pace of BabyBoy2's life will slow right down.

Which is what he needs.

BabyBoy2: 'One more?' <Cocks head to the side>

Er...

BabyBoy2: 'PwEEEEEase!' <Gorgeous smile>

Oh OK! One more Octonauts then... But then we better get dressed before it gets dark...

<Both watch Octonauts and love it>

And me?

Well at this time of year I end up working late, and early to make up time so I can go to their sport days. Their open days. Their Hand-Over-Your-Money-We-Want-To-Build-Stuff-At-School days. Their Fifty-Pounds-A-Burger days? And Very-Cheap-Cake days (my fav).

My work days are longer at the moment. But that's fine. And my choice.

I know I am lucky to be able to attend their school things.

Once the holidays start I'll go back to normal hours.

I'm going to miss dropping Miss5 off at school.

A lot. I'm going to be missing that for the next six weeks.

Nothing starts my day off better than a Miss5 chat...

Miss5: ‘... and that's how bees fly!’

You sure?

Miss5: ‘Oh yes. Yep’

But where do they get this ‘rainbow petrol’ from?

Miss5: ‘By flying round all rainbow-colour flowers. Obv.’

Oh… Makes sense… <Is Surprised>

Hang on… <Takes notes>

I’ve also got six weeks of listening to fun.

For the next six weeks I am going to have to hear about all fun the they are going to have.

All the plans the four of them will now make for the next six weeks. Without me.

All the places they will go, the fun they will have. Without me.

All the flobbing about, watching Star Wars, eating cake. Without me.

And I really love watching Star Wars and eating cake. I’m excellent at it.

Stupid male Dad life…

<Grumbles off to work>

<They have cake!>

X