Done With Nappies...

I've been scared to write this post.

I didn't want to jinx it.

But now I think it is time.

Four months ago, the last of the nappies left our house.

BabyBoy3 switched to toilets...

[Weird handle noises]

What the smeg is that noise? <Sits up in bed>

What is the time <Bashes Stormtrooper clock on the head> ... It's...

I can't read it... my eyes aren't working yet...

Mrs. Amazing: <Leans over me> 'It says five am'

<Groans> Ow... Who's going to check...

<Mrs. Amazing has magically rolled over and is snoring away in a very deep sleep, surprisingly suddenly>

... I'll go check shall I…

Mrs. Amazing: <Snoring sounds>

<Grumbles>

<Finds BabyBoy3 trying to flush the loo>

BabyBoy3: 'Hallo Daddy!'

Dude! Well done. Did you wash your hands?

BabyBoy3: <Runs>

...

<Just goes back to bed>

(He’s getting better with the toilet paper!

Mrs. Amazing: ‘In what way?’

… er… er... he’s not is he…

Mrs. Amazing: ‘Nope’)

It’s a bit weird to be honest.

Over the last ten and a half years. Team Parent (yay!) have been buying and attaching nappies to at least one of our children. Sometimes many times a day. Over and over. Day out, day in. For ten damn years.

We both got pretty darn good at it. It became like making a cup of tea. Something you can do on autopilot. In the dark. In a car. Singing.

Even whilst on the phone to Mum (not sorry Mum).

Each Team Parent (yay!) member had their own nappy approach.

Both had our own ways of keeping the child still. Mrs. Amazing spoke of exciting and engaging things, keeping the child's attention on her through the magic of audible words.

I tried that.

Didn’t work so well. Singing worked for me better (for reals) or failing that I went very cerebral and pulled a torch out of my pocket, and shined it up my nose. It's well cool try it.

I still remember my first nappy.

It was a magical moment when the honour and responsibility of being a father really hit home.

There I was. Young. Had hair. Thought I knew what tired was.

Boy0 very tiny in front of me. Black tar like poo all over his butt.

Me asking if poo like black tar was normal (it is).

To help me clean the young lad.

I had some truly awesome cleaning materials to help me in my task:

1. A tiny tub of warm water.
2. Extra soft cotton wool.

As you cannot use anything rougher than a fairy's butt on a newborn's skin.

Mrs. Amazing lay next to us. Awake but shattered, having given birth the night before.

I had had no training on nappies ever. Let alone newborns. I am one of four boys. We didn’t play dolls. We played bundles.

I literally had no frame of reference of what to do.

I knew the end result though. Clean Boy0 bum. Nappy vaguely attached.

I at least had a goal to aim for.

(That tiny… Now which one was this again?

Smelly? Screamy? Or Nutter?)

And just in case that wasn’t hard enough.

In case I hadn’t put myself on the spot enough.

My Mum, her Mum, and Mrs. Amazing were all watching me work.

Brain surgeons, bomb disposal-ers (??) have no idea what pressure is.

Anyhoo…

Ten years is 3650 days.

I think a fair average would be two nappies a day. Obviously newborn babies can get through ten+ a day, whereas BabyBoy3 in his last dregs of nappies, was once a morning. So two a day seems fair.

Making 7300 nappies Team Parent (yay!) have attached to bottoms.

That's a lot of clean bottoms.

And then suddenly it stopped.

BabyBoy3 stopped needing nappies. And I feel like I've a great skill, nappy changing, that has suddenly become utterly redundant in my life. No one down the pub cares about my nappy skills. No one. Gutted.

Surely there must something similar I could use these skills for. There's a lot muscle memory there that is going to go to waste.

Maybe wrapping potatoes in newspaper... But no. That's crap.

It just seems a shame.

By the end BabyBoy3 was giving us clear signs.

His morning nappy would be empty, aside from a bit of wee.

He wasn’t having any accidents.

He would sometimes remove his happy on his own, wee in the potty, and then bring us the nappy.

Subtle, well hidden, signs that only well experienced parents could pick up on.

It hasn't all been plain sailing.

It fact there have been times when the poo hit the fan. As it were.

I learnt my lesson early about diving in for a change too early. And then having to spend the next thirty minutes holding someone's legs in the air... Whilst they finished.

And whilst Mrs. Amazing died of laughing.

The joy of changing a nappy. Cleaning up, putting everything in the bin. And then watching as the child suddenly dons their poo face.

That swimming incident: ‘Me Swimmin’?

And the legendary horror of a child taking their own, very full up, nappy off, in a cot.

Luckily for me I didn't go in first. My little brother (their Uncle) was over and as a treat for him, I suggested he would get a kick out of waking up our little one after their lunch time nap...

It was be really sweet. Trust me, he'll be happy to see you!!!

Uncle: 'OK'

[Goes into room]

Uncle: 'OH MY DAVE GROHL! It's EVERYWHERE!’

Uncle: 'MY EYES!!!! ARGHH!!! THE SMELL!!!’

Uncle: 'I'm melting, mellltinngggg...'

He may have overreacted a bit.

But then I went in myself and it was pretty horrible. It’s hard to know what happened in there. Or why. Or how it had got so bad. It took ages to clean up.

Poor, poor brother. Ahhhaaaahaaahaaaahaaaaaa!

But the nappies are done.

Gone. The last of them were bagged up and given to nursery. Mrs. Amazing did it. She was very nonchalant about it.

(Some people say it with flowers, we say it with poo holders…)

Glad to see the back of them I suppose.

For me if feels like my babies are all growed up (growed is how it's said in my house).

And using the toilet and stuff. It’s cool. The end of era. A real mark in the sand saying your days with babies are past you old man.

<One eye starts leaking>

I’m fine about it really. All zen and stuff. Just going with the flow.

Circle of life and all that stuff.

<Other eye starts up, faster than the other>

It’s not as though it was some the greatest moment of my life or anything.

... Excuse me... <Runs>

[HOWLING AND A BIT SOBBY NOISES]

<Returns red faced, red eyes, running nose>

Frankly. I think babies are amazing.

I’ll miss having my own.

However, worry ye not!

Off we head onto new adventures! Toilet related adventures. Boooooo!

I’ve had to unblock the toilet at least five times this year already. yay.

Due to BabyBoy3 and his generous toilet paper approach to butt wiping.

And then there’s these golden moments, which I wouldn’t miss for the world…

BabyBoy3: ‘Daddy?’

<Wakes> yeah mate… what’s up? <Bangs clock, ARGH-O’Clock>

BabyBoy3: <Clambers on to me for a hug>

Hey? … Er… Where are your pyjama bottoms?

BabyBoy3: ‘I had a poo!’

Oh bacon I hope you wiped well…

BabyBoy3: ‘No paper…’

#Blessed

X

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