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!).
X
Showing posts with label son. Show all posts
Showing posts with label son. Show all posts

15 July 2016

The Immovable Object (me) and the Unstoppable Emotional Force (Boy9)...

Mornings.
They're fun aren't they?
Oh what fun we have some mornings. Giggles, laughs, golden family moments.
Yeah sometimes... not this morning though <Rolls eyes>

This morning.
I find myself hitting the coats in the porch. Ten minutes before I leave for work.
It's my new exercise routine, I call it coatercieFURY. I was wound up.
I am prone to getting wound up. I know.
Which is why I was de-stressing on the coats.
Don't worry. I wasn't flailing my arms about going nuts. It wasn't that bad.
But bad enough that I took, a slightly comical, moment to myself to show a few coats who's boss.

Take that winter coat! <Hits coat> Ha ha!
<Bobs and weaves> And this summer jacket! <Hits coat>
Zing! YEAH! <Hits different coat>
And take THIS favourite hat! Wallop!!! <Flattens own hat>
Shiiiit Oh... Smeg...
<Coat rack falls off wall and lands on me>
Ow...
<Mrs. Amazing's scarf box falls on me and I am never found again>

The cause of my woundedupness stress was Boy9.
Boy9 was being an utter, utter smegger tired out. He had competed in an athletic thingy at school the day before and was exhausted (not sports day, something else).
I gather there was a lot of hanging about in the sun (yes UK sun. It's real), twenty minutes of actual competing. Then more hanging about in the sun.
All perfect exhausting ingredients for a nine year old.
Still he had fun.

He came home exhausted.
Team Parents (yay!) differed on how best to tackle the tired out Boy9 before he went to bed.
Mrs. Amazing's plan: was to sit him in front of some cartoons, feed him, administer hot chocolate, and generally pamper and look after him like only a mother can.
My plan: was to go to the park and kick an enormous ball about with him for ten minutes. Because that’s a laugh.

I am Not sure my plan which wasn't the most sensible.
Knowing how a Team Parents (yay!) vote was likely to go. Me and Boy9 snuck headed out.
Enormous football ready. BOINGGGGG!
A right laugh and it helped us bond a bit. Which is always handy as that helps me and Boy9 communicate better.
We fight less.
#FamouseLastWords #FamouseRatherThenFamous #NotATpyo #ThatWasATypo

(Oy! You bloody giant kids!!! I just re-turreted that!!!)

Boy9 was given a nice hot bath.
I read him some How to Train Your Dragon (book 11). It's seriously awesome.
And then encouraged him to sleep. <Shakes fist> He even said how tired he felt.
Poor love.

Throughout the night he only appeared twice.
First time he claimed he ‘needed’ to speak to Mrs. Amazing. As he instantly realised my reaction to him being up wasn’t a happy one. So Mrs. Amazing trotted him back to bed and he told her whatever it was that he needed to tell her. I am pretty sure was 'I am annoying Daddy by talking to you'.
Second time he appeared looking lost and mostly asleep. Easily hugged and put back to bed.
Nice.

Then the next morning something miraculous happened.
Boy9 slept in.
<Faints> <Is really just sleeping on the floor>

The first little face we see next morning.
Peering at Team Parents (yay!) is Miss5’s. And whilst I say Team Parents (yay!). Miss5 was at Mrs. Amazing's side of the bed. As Miss5 isn't always silly.
One side of the bed can be woken by breathing softly. Or by a slight fluctuation in your aura. Or a butterfly fart.
The other side of the bed requires cake a firm diving on, shouting at, eyelid lifting, lots of tea, and there's always a chance you may hear words you've never heard before and be growled at.

All of Team Parent (yay!) would rather not get up.
Mrs. Amazing lays out her cards regarding who should interact with Miss5 this morning.
Mrs. Amazing: 'A Royal flush and two spare aces'
Mrs. Amazing: <To me> ‘I got up with BOTH of them last night. I'm knackered’
Urghhhh (* 'Oh my poor love. I feel and acknowledge your pain and knackeredness. Cuppa?')
Mrs. Amazing: <To me, but at Miss5> ‘Go see Daddy this morning’
Miss5: <Tiny feet sounds>
Oooof <Gets jumped on>

I collect BabyBoy2 from his room too.
He’s very cute. He’s dead happy it's morning. Yet another brilliant day in his life.
What a happy little fella he is…
<Enters BabyBoy2's room>
BabyBoy2: 'DADDY!'
Dude!
BabyBoy2: <Bounces around cot for a bit> ‘Poo!’ <Points at nappy>
Uh-huh. Yep. On it

We three sneak downstairs and watch cartoons.
Well I sneak. Miss5 seems to make more noise when trying to be quiet.
And BabyBoy2 shouts for Boy9 a few times. Next to his bedroom door.
But luckily Boy9 doesn’t wake.
Phew.

Mrs. Amazing joins us a bit later after checking her Batmessages.
And a lovely breakfast is had by all. In fact we are nearly finished when in slowly floats Boy9.
Still looking knackered. But happy.
Boy9 has managed to slept in for one whole hour.
A P.B..

If only it wasn't a school day.
<Lets that one just sink in…>

Boy9 floats and then sits.
Away from the table with his breakfast on, but hey! That's fine.
The table with his breakfast on would be a better choice in my opinion.
We're a bit behind time now for school. But hey! Boy9 seems in a good mood. He's talking without spitting fire. Winner.
So I head upstairs to do...  well... early morning man stuff.
<Plays on phone>

I come back lighter and am passed by Miss5 and Mrs. Amazing leaving for upstairs.
Mrs. Amazing: 'We're leaving... He's turned...'
Mrs. Amazing: <Passes me the baton>
I don't want it

(Ok pass me the baton… <Bzmmmm> My hand!!!.... Cool baton btw...)

I walk into the kitchen to find Boy9 has been replaced with the Anti-Nice.
A sort of demonic entity that cannot be nice not matter what is going on.
So rather than engage the Anti-Nice. I do what I do best. I put on excellent music.
Loud. And dance like I've got wings on my feet enjoy it.
Boy9 is plonked in front of his cereal. I tidy the kitchen. He eats. Everyone does their jobs. No communication is needed.
I get to rock out. Lovely.

Boy9 grumps his way through the rest of his morning jobs.
It takes a lot of coaching, persuading and nagging.
Get dressed = Grump
Use bathroom = Grump. Grump
ACTUALLY use the facilities in the bathroom to become cleaner = BIG Grump. You're so mean. Argghgh! Grump
Get your bag = Grump
Stop annoying, looking or being too close to your sister = Grump
Stop annoying your mother = Grump

It’s after this round of Anti-Nice behviour.
That Mrs. Amazing turns to me and elects me Chief ‘Suntan Lotion Putter Onner’.
The speech that goes with it is beautiful....
Mrs. Amazing: 'He needs suntan lotion. You do it'
Mrs. Amazing: 'I can't face arguing with him anymore this morning'
I would like to resign my post immediately and leave for work
OK... Boy9 where are you?
Boy9: <Does far-off grump>

Boy9 doesn’t like applying suntan lotion.
So he reacts badly when I ask him nicely to put it on. We discuss what has to happen.
Boy9 storms off to his room and slams his door. I give him five minutes to calm down.
It does not work, he needed a year.

Boy9 is furious and in tears.
He is exhausted and has decided he RE-EALL-Y doesn't want to put on suntan lotion.
My heart goes out to the little ball of anger and emotion. If I could, I would whisk this little boy up in my arms and nothing would ever hurt him again. And he wouldn’t have to go outside and need suntan lotion. But that’s stupid thinking. He has to.
My heart comes back from the little ball of anger and emotion and it hardens and calms.
As it’s bored of his wailing and whining.

I try for the next ten minutes to talk him round.
It is very un-fun and he is rude, mean and quite urghh to me.
I do nearly manage to convince him at one point. But it backfires only makes him crosser.
However...
+1000 Dad points: I did manage to remain calm. YAY!
+10 Dad points: I did not shout. yay!

I was using my FIRM voice though.
The one that can stop all children in hearing range in their tracks.
Firm. Slightly loud. In control.
But defo not shouty.

Time was getting very short.
We would all be late for school and work. Boy9 REALLY needed to get on with this.
I change from Captain Discussion and Reasoning into Thor's hammer THE IMMOVABLE OBJECT and lay down the law. Boy9 adopts the role of UNSTOPPABLE emotional FORCE.
I use all my years of... er… stuff… and give him just one choice.
My choice.

(Don't judge... I'm still carrying a little Easter, post-Easter, general life, weight...)

<Soft voice> I am going to count to five <Shows fingers on hand>
Then I am going shove the bottle up your nose put the suntan lotion on for you
Boy9: 'But!'
No. <Interrupts> No more negotiations, no more discussion, no more whining
When I get to five… <Gives Boy9 a 'I bloody mean it' look>
Boy9: 'WAHHHHHHH! You're so MEAN!!!'
One...
Boy9: 'ARRHHGGHGHGG! I DON'T WANT TOOO!!! NOOO'
Two...
Boy9: 'I DON'T WANT IT NO NO NO!'
Thr...

Boy9 put the suntan lotion on.
Thank bacon. He was now ready to face the merciless British sun.

Obviously Boy9 was now furious with me.
Pride and all that. How very dare I care about his skin health and well being. No eye contact, doesn’t really talk to me. It's about this time that I go into the porch and have my moment with the coats.
I do feel better after.

Me and Miss5 say our goodbyes and are just walking off to Miss5's school.
When Boy9 runs after us. Shouting Daddy…

‘Sup?
He rushes up to me and gives me a big hug and kiss.
And says he's sorry.
Not for anything particular, but we both know what he is talking about.
I really felt he meant it too or he's playing me like a kipper. And I checked it wasn't due to a Mrs. Amazing prompt either.
My wound up heart melts. And he becomes my big-little dude again.
Immovable object? Ha! More like moon putty.
X

Epilogue:
Look! <Is excited> I got a sticker at work!
Mrs. Amazing: 'What's it say?'
I worked hard today!
Mrs. Amazing: 'Did you steal it?'
HOW VERY DARE YOU! <Huffs about>
I am so outraged I am going to take this chocolate... <Raids chocolate cupboard>
And this... <Raids chocolate cupboard again>
And this cake <Takes cake> and go into the other room and watch cartoons...
<Leaves with dignity>
<Sneaks back into to get my cuppa>

(<Is wistful> One day I'll get one... One day...
Mrs. Amazing: 'I'm sure you will... I just know it' <Is lying>)


7 July 2016

Nine? When the smeg did that happen? NINE?!...

Oh my rubber ducky!
Boy8 has transmogrified into Boy9
It was utterly disgusting. I can't believe it.
That's taken ages flown by.

So... how’s it feel being nine? <Gives Boy9 a friendly arm tap>
Boy9: 'Cool' <Punches me back>
ARGGHHHHHH that's my funny body! That hurt... <Runs>
Mrs. Amazing! He hit me!
Is there anything special, that you've learnt along the way, that you want to share?
Boy9: 'No... Why? Why do I have to share?'
You don't have to... <Powerlessly watches the situation escalate>
Boy9: 'Miss5 isn't sharing anything. Why should I share!!!'
Boy9: 'Argghhh!!!' <Storms off>
Boy9: <Slams door but sound is muffled by the door stop>
Boy9: <Hand reaches back in and moves door stop>
Boy9: <Slams door>
[BANG]

(That’s an upside down pancake 9... Only took three goes…)

As it's your birthday Boy9.
And as everyone should hear nice things on their birthday. I want to say want a brilliant big brother Boy9 is.
What a brilliant big brother Boy9 is.
There, nice. Done that <Dusts off hands>

One of Boy9’s most treasured possessions.
After his rubbers (erasers), a sticker from school, his minecraft books, some lint, his Nerf guns and bullets, and his illicit bluetack collection... Is a picture of himself holding Miss5 on the day she was born. That's hella sweet.
I love him dearly for that. Because it's made our life so much easier.
Oh! Don't think that Boy9 and Miss5 don't fight every chance they get.
Because they do. With vengeance*…
(* actually amount of vengeance varies)

Miss5: 'Stop looking at me!'
Boy9: <Is looking at Miss5> 'I'm not... You're looking at me!'
Miss5: 'Stop looking at MEEEE!'
<Sighs and carries on making sandwiches and ignoring those sods lumps of mud>
Miss5: 'ARHGHGHHHHSTOPITSPOTIT!
Boy9: <Is really looking at Miss5>
Miss5: 'ARHGHGHHH!!!'
<Sighs and weeps a little internally>
<Prepares self to resolve this conflict>
<Eats some of Boy9's sandwich>
<Turns and sees Boy9 and Miss5 locked in mutual staring-contest attack>
Boy9 stop being mean to your sister...
Boy9: 'I'm not' <Carries on staring> 'She started it'
... And Miss5 ignore him and stop staring back
Miss5: '... He's still staring!'
S-IIIIIII-GH <Tries not to explode in ball of anger and stress> <Pop>
That’s it… I’m getting the blindfolds...

Boy9 is just as kind with BabyBoy2 as well.
There is an element of Boy9 using BabyBoy2 as an excuse not to help with jobs, or as a distraction, or as a way to ignore me when I am talking, which drives me mad and makes me want to shove a pillow in his ear.
But only an element.
Well done Boy9 and thank you.
Team Parents (yay!) do not give you enough praise and credit for what you do for your siblings. Bad luck.
But know we love you 1.4% more for it.

<Removes pro-Boy9 hat, puts on quite-middling-about-Boy9 hat>
As per my own made up tradition. Rather than basically puke out a list of everything showy offy about about Boy9. Which I could do.
But won’t.

Here's a list of all the stuff you probably don't know about Boy9.
The stuff that really makes him special...

1. Boy9 still gets up early
OH DEAR BACON! What the smeg is wrong with him?
Seriously. Can't he see how tired I am? We are? Isn't he supposed to copy what I do?
Take his lead from his Dad?
I sleep as much as possible, especially in the mornings. Why can't Boy9 copy that?
Everyday, just as the mean ol' sun has jumped into the sky and those rotten birds start screaming ‘Sex! You want sex? Come get sex!’ or whatever they are singing about (it’s sex trust me, and the Cat’s exact location), there's Boy9 wide awake stood next to our bed.
Full of grump energy, bouncing about, happy to start yet another day.
Happy to be alive and ready to embrace the day.
Who on earth has he inherited that from?

[10 years B.C. (Before children)]
Mrs. Amazing: 'MORNING WORLD!' <Leaps out of bed>
Mrs. Amazing: 'What a beautiful day! Tra-la-la-la-laaa' <Skips off happy>
<Pulls duvet over head tighter> <Whispers> Nutter...

For your birthday we let you get up five minutes early.
You were very pleased about it.
You nutter.

2. Boy9's music taste is excellent
It's very similar to mine and that's no accident <Is smug>.
However.
I know what you're thinking. I know. I know. It's not my fault, I was born like this.
One day Boy9 will develop his own music tastes and likes. It will be horrible.
But honestly I want him to. I want to hear what he loves.
Because one day when he will play me something I don't know. Something I haven't heard before, with a smile on his face, the beat bouncing his feet, the lyrics soaring in his mind, one day he'll look at me and say...

BoyTeen: '*What ya fink old man Dad? Rikkin beats snaz?' (* a guess at TeenTalk)
I have no idea what you just said?
BoyTeen: 'It's from Bieber's seventh Greatest Hits album, ya snaz?'
7th? <Falls to knees>
You Maniacs! You  blew it up brought his albums!
Ah, damn you! God damn you all to hell!
<Weeps>

And I'll listen to what he has to play me.
He'll know how important this moment is. I'll know too.
He'll know that it will be his first big chance to stake his claim in my estimation as someone with music taste.
He'll want my approval. He'll want to know that his Dad likes what he is listening to. Even if his Dad doesn't quite get it.
He'll want my thumbs up. It will be a big moment.
I'll let you know how it goes...

You're joking right? This is shiiiiiit isn't good...
BoyTeen: 'Oh wait... Wrong track!'
Oh thank bacon butties! <Wipes brow> Phew!
What was that rubbish? It was terrible!!! Utter urghghhh!!! Was it Westlife?
BoyTeen: 'It says it was a band called Thunderpants?'
<Starts leaving> Never, EVER, EVER, heard of them... <Starts whistling>
BoyTeen: 'Hey... Weren't you in a band called that?
No <Runs>

3. Boy9 can beat most of the family at Draughts (chequers)
Not me, Obv(!).
Boy9 played my Mum at draughts. Over and over it was hilarious.
Having raised four boys herself, Mums competitive edge took over and it became quite the battle. They both fought hard and a clear victor emerged.
However I am too much of gentleman to tell or reveal to all and sundry a ladies losses like that. No no.
I will never tell.

4. Boy9 still sits with the remote in his mouth as he watches tele
I have told him to stop thirteen trillion times.

5. Boy9 has become big
The manure worked.
Sometime in the last five months a giant snuck into our house, at night, and pulled on Boy9's arms and legs. Pulled and pulled until they stretched. As Boy9 now seems to be part-spider part-boy. SpiderBoy!

Also Boy9 has become too heavy to carry upstairs by his ankles.
Which Mrs. Amazing never approved of anyway (wise woman). But Boy9 loved it for some mad reason. If I tried it now it would break me. That's a hard angle to carry a person.
And I doubt your ankles could take your own weight now. You big old sack of potatoes, you.
I can still carry you like a sack of potatoes.

(Mrs. Amazing: ‘Go on… Hit it with a paper…’
Sure
Boy9: ‘OW’
Mrs. Amazing: ‘Huh? A talking spider… Hit again...’
… Sure…
Boy9: ‘OW!’)

6. Boy9 is the house King of scooting
Sigh. This has probably been true for a bit. Maybe years.
Sigh.
Before I would have made loads of arguments of how I can do this, that, and ker-that better than Boy9. So I would still be the fool master.
But it's not true anymore. I have only one skill I do better on the scooter now.
I have better stamina.
And that's a lame claim to fame on a train.
Fastest? Not anymore, he goes off like a bullet.
Best tricks? No chance, I don't bounce.
Most gnarly? Naa...
But stamina! Oo. Yeah. Lame.

Only one thing comes to mind as being a real benefit for having high stamina, and it's definitely not scooting. <Giggles>

Boy9 you are the King of scooters now. Well done.

<Hands over the Silver Scooting crown>
Boy9: 'This crown smells of choc?'
Shhh... <Shakes hands> Well done <Squeezes hand hard>
Boy9: <Walks off happy, but with slightly hurty hand>
Is he gone? <Checks he's gone>
OH CRAP IT! WHY WHY! CRAP IT!
Must practice more! That's it I'm practicing now! YEAH! Check this... woooahhh Ahhh... ARHGGHGGH!
<Crashes badly>
<Limps off>

7. Boy9 is a bit smelly and eww
Shocker I know.
It does seem that boys his age are all the same. A bit gross and disgusting.
Even by my low, low, low standards.
But his yukness reflects well on me. It's nice to not be the most gross in the house anymore. It's like a promotion.
For years, most scummy and smelly, has been my role and I've excelled in it. It's an unseen, and unspoken challenge of living with the opposite sex for the modern man.
Constantly getting looks of 'you're gross' and 'ewww... you're going to eat that?' isn't as easy as it looks.
I feel like the smelly and a bit eww man-torch is being passed on, from father to son...

(Queue the mood music... Press the button... No! Not that one!...)


My son, go forth and be smelly and eww!
Boy9: <Looks proud>
Pick your nose whenever you can.
Boy9: <Is already picking it>
Fart and laugh about it because it's funny and the man-way...
<Miss5 runs in and farts brilliantly>
<We all laugh>
Sorry! Good point Miss5. Fart and laugh about it because it is our family’s-way!
<High fives Miss5>
<Mrs. Amazing shakes her head in despair>

8. The emotion fairy has been and he (oh yes, he) delivered smeg loads
EmotionFairy: 'Where'd you want it?'
You mean where do you want it? We don't want it. Thank you, not today!
EmotionFairy: 'No mate. I've anger, rage, sadness, guilt, jealousy, apathy, greed, rudeness and super-argumentative for a Boy9’
EmotionFairy: 'It’s the summer special!'
<Picks up fairy by collar> We. Don't. Want. It!
[Beep Beep Beep...]
EmotionFairyTruckDriver: 'Mind your backs' <Dumps all emotions from truck on floor>
EmotionFairy: <Grins> 'Too late... Sign here!'
Boy9: 'Oh brilliant!!! Thanks Dad' <Dives into emotions>
[A millisecond passes]
Boy9: 'IHATEYOU!' <Storms off>
EmotionFairy: 'See you next week'
What? NO! We don't want any more! Fur cough!!!

I hear the emotion fairy keeps on delivering.
Weekly. For the next nine years. yay.
Good luck Boy9. Just remember we love you even when Mrs. Amazing is holding me back, and then changes her mind, and then I have to hold her back.

9. Boy9 still scares the crap out of me
I am getting older. At some point healthwise. This has to stop.
Especially as Boy9 is now nine. Nine means his hiding is good. He now has stealth and planning to use. Gone are the days of seeing feet hiding sticking out from under a curtain. Unless it's a decoy.
Now you lie in wait for me… Armed (with a Nerf gun)...


(Photo taken a long time ago in a galaxy far, far our first house)
(N.B. Boy9 isn’t called Bjorn, he’s called Wombat Fury! YEAH!)

I can hardly remember life before Boy9 rocked up.
I think I slept more. Drank more. Ate less chocolate (lie). You were so cute and tiny, and sweet, and lovable, you completely changed Team Parents (yay!) lives. Thank you.
We've had SO much fun with you already.
We can't wait for more.

Sadly though I think, at present, we are the furthest apart we have ever been.
I don't like it and I am trying to fix it. But I think it's a bit you growing up.
A bit I've other monkeys children to train help grow.
I love you Boy9, my big-little boy, more than R2-D2 Optimus Prime. You rock.
Best buds forever despite how flipping annoying you can be at the moment!

X
(P.S. Boy9 don't mention the best buds thing in front of Miss5 or BabyBoy2 or Mrs. Amazing or the Cat I will deny it. Especially the Cat Mrs. Amazing).