HELLO BabyBoy2!!!

It was BabyBoy1’s second birthday the other day.

He had the best day. He really did.

Cake. Party with mates. Cake. Tractor rides. Cake. Presents. Cake.

<Weeps and Hums cats in the cradle and murders rocks it on the guitar>

I think being two is the best birthday.

The cake is huge. It’s the only time in your life when you can double your age in one day.

And the difference between one and two is huge....

I’m going to the bar, want anything?

BoozyMate: ‘Two pints twathead mate

No no. You get one. Like everyone else. None of this two rubbish!

BoozyMate: ‘But you drink so slow!… Don’t make me watch you drink slowly. It’s cruel’

One.

BoozyMate: ‘Two’

How about shots instead?

BoozyMate: ‘Yes! Great plan!… And the two pints’

<Rolls eyes> Fine… But I’m gonna take a glug out of one and then backwash it into the other

BoozyMate: ‘…OK. Gross but fair...’

Also you get used to birthdays the more you have.

You start to get the concept…

First birthday: What just happened there? That was a weird day. Was that a one off? Should I say anything or does that stop it happening again? What was with the food on fire? Can eat this? Yes.

Second birthday: Well this is becoming a habit. Awesome. These toys rock btw. If this is regular like, can I make some requests? I’ve some present ideas for next year if you are struggling. Burning food again? I’ll eat this.

Third birthday: I have a list <Pulls out large list> and I have already eaten this. I feel sick.

(TADA!)

I think BabyBoy1 knew it was a special day.

As Team Parents (yay!) have been tidying everything for the last twenty four hours solid. The good coasters are out (the Star Wars ones, not the faded Pink Floyd ones). The perpetual mess has been hidden tidied away better than normal.

The lawn has been mown. I’ve strimmed the crap out everything. that is allowed to be strimmed.

Team Parents (yay!) have voluntarily taken toys outside and put them on the lawn. To be played with. Voluntarily. Madness.

And there's a tablecloth on the garden table...

What's that for? <Points at the table cloth> Worried the table will get cold? Ah ha haaaa haha!

Mrs. Amazing: 'Heh meh'

Has the table just gone through puberty and doesn't like being naked in public anymore?

Is this your new get-rich-quick scam plan of fashion clothes for tables?

How drunk were you last night? You missed Miss5's bed with this sheet by miles?

Mrs. Amazing: <Glances at watch> <Is used to waiting whilst I am being 'funny'>

Crap! That steam-roller victim’s ghost is back!

Mrs. Amazing: <Sits and start reading a magazine>

Dumbo called! He wants his hanky back!

What Boy8 mess are we covering up, this time?

Mrs. Amazing: 'AH! Now then…' <Peels back table cloth>

Oooooh! <Looks at pen-marks caused by Miss5>

Mrs. Amazing: 'During your watch I believe'

Smeg...

<Runs>

BabyBoy1 was awoken to us all singing him Happy Birthday.

Which was his first clue. Sorry BabyBoy2!!! <TRUMPETS> <Weeps a little>

And yes he’s still a baby, despite what everyone else says.

<Sticks fingers in ears> LALALALALA..

BabyBoy2 joined in the singing, he loves a Hap-Birth-Ay singalong.

Then we all bundled into Team Parents (yay!) bed, a rare treat, and watched BabyBoy2 open his presents. The TRACK-TOR was a hit from Boy8. And although BabyBoy2 loved everything afterwards nearly as much.

Nothing trumps TRACK-TOR.

BabyBoy2’s day was awesome.

I wasn’t at work. Because he was surrounded by everyone that loves him most in the world.

His mates came to his party. Every meal had cake at the end. Often with candles on it to blow out or cover in spit.

Each new guest brought a present. So by the end of the day BabyBoy2 had his own ankle grinder (??), sand pit, digger Duplo (a clear winner), some balloons (which Miss5 hid) and some lovely new books. Happy days.

And everyone, all day, was happy and excited to see him and gave him their full attention. Which, if you’re third child, is smegging rare.

Seriously second birthday's are the best.

Now as per tradition.

I’m not going to write a big vomit inducing list of why BabyBoy2 is the most magical child ever to grace the earth, about how flowers appear under his feet when he runs, or his poo smells of custard, and angels sing when he enters the room. As that would be dullo.

Instead, just know BabyBoy2 is hella awesome and a right little dude, and Daddy’s boy.

More interesting I feel is stuff that only the inner council family know.

The weird personal stuff...

1. BabyBoy2 still thinks hiding is covering your eyes
OH CRAP! Where he’s GONE! <Panics>

BabyBoy2 has just vanished!!!

Phone the police! Phone the army! Phone Sherlock!

GET ME Liam Neeson!!!

BabyBoy2: <Removes hands from eyes>

Oh! He's back! Oh right… that’s very clever… <Sits>

(Timmy mallet as a child...)

2. We have a song

I've sang BabyBoy2 the same goodnight song to him, almost every night, since he was born.

Yes, it’s ‘Killing In the Name’. BabyBoy2 snuggles into my shoulder, and just listens as I sing.

Then he lays down calm and happy. He doesn’t always go to sleep after that. It’s not a magic song. But it’s our song.

And it’s a secret. I’m not telling you what it is.

<Sticks fingers up at you>

3. BabyBoy2 learnt to jump and I didn't notice

I know. I suck. <Hangs head> And he’s been working really hard on it too.

BabyBoy2 really wanted to join in with who-can-touch-the-ceiling-by-jumping competitions we have. And can I say, as eight-year-unbeaten-champion and tallest in the house, you are most welcome to the games.

It was a huge event when Boy8 mastered jumping. Miss5 we all watched as you leant to leap. BabyBoy2... er… sorry. It's the curse of being third (like me) you get a hairy chest have to work harder to get noticed.

Sorry dude.

(I believe you can fly just about take off from the ground, for a few milliseconds... )

[Boy8 is mid-loooong story]

Boy8: '... and then something that happened I can’t remember, oh wait… no.. yes...'

<Is struggling to to stay awake>

BabyBoy2: <Walks in with Cat balanced on head>

Miss5: '... but why do I have to go to get dressed?'

BabyBoy2: <Starts juggling with flaming Duplo whilst tap dancing>

Boy8: '... and then they all said taps, but I said no taps...'

<Is putting a brave face on it… twenty minutes and counting...>

BabyBoy2: <Builds for his big finale> <Juggles with Cat>

Miss5: '... but I'm scared of socks...'

BabyBoy2: <Trips and falls> <Accidentally knocks the remote on the floor>

[Bang]

<Gratefully tp escape the story black hole> BabyBoy2 what are you doing?

<Scoops him up and heads off to play>

Be more careful of that remote it's one of the family.

So... what have you been doing today?

4. BabyBoy2 cheers (woohoo, not clink) stuff I do

You are my little groupie. Here get yourself a beer cup of milk.

You cheers after every song I strangle play on the guitar.

You cheer when I get home from work.

You cheer when I wake you up in the morning.

You rock!

<Whispers to BabyBoy2> That why you're my favourite...

Boy8: 'What The Fish-Finger? WHO'S YOUR FAVOURITE? IT’S ME ISN'T!'

Boy8: 'YOUR MATE? BUDS FOREVER WE SWORE?' <Is outraged>

Boy8: <Storms off>

Miss5: 'It's me isn't it Daddy?' <Flicks hair innocently> 'Daddy?' <Flutters eyelids>

Mrs. Amazing: <Mouths 'It's really me isn't it?'> <Flicks hair not-innocently, pulls pie out of the oven, undresses a chocolate bar...>

Of course it’s you Mrs. Amazing! Obv.! <Takes pie>

<Burns hands>

BabyBoy2: <Is quietly hugging my leg and won't let go>

<Quietly high-fives BabyBoy2> Shhh...

5. Bye!

When BabyBoy2 is done with something. Or is going to get something. Or just needs a quick run about. He calls out 'BYE!' to signal he is done with that situation.

It's really handy. I don't know how many times I've waited like an idiot, under a chair, on the floor, inside a cupboard, in the pub, waiting for Boy8 or Miss5 to come back.

They never bloody do.

BabyBoy2 however is a gentleman and never wastes my time that way.

6. Octonauts.

Ah hell I love Octonauts. But to BabyBoy2 it’s something more. It’s become his cartoon.

He may still ask for Sarah and Duck (which he adopted from Miss5’s), but we all know, that really you want Octonauts. We know dude. We know.

You stare straight into our eyes, with your big blue eyes and ask, no plead, with a cute little head tilt…

BabyBoy2: ‘Noctnaughts? Noctnocts? NocNaughts?’

It never gets old. We could correct you. Anyone of us in the house could correct your pronounciation.

But… well... it’s funny.

7. You can hear chocolate

BabyBoy2 can hear chocolate being opened. He can hear it being eaten from a room away no matter how quiet I am. He manages to time it, everytime, to walk into a room when chocolate is being taken from the chocolate cupboard. Genius.

And how can I anyone resist when you ask so sweetly…

BabyBoy2: 'Choc-choc?' <Cute little head tilt>

Sigh. Fine... <Bites off a crumb>

BabyBoy2: ‘<Is very happy>’

BabyBoy2: 'Morrrrre?' <Head tilt>

Borry. Mall Mone... <Mouth is very full>

8. Boys in Cars

Letting BabyBoy2 into any part of the car, that isn't his seat, is always a huge mistake.

No matter whose car it is. BabyBoy2 scrabbles off like a rocket into any seat and refuses to leave. Try and pick him up, and he goes limp. Eventually, when you’ve finally got a grip on him he has to be ripped out of the car screaming and shouting.

I think it’s because he hates being in a baby chair. He wants to be like the rest of us. In a seat. Dream that dream boy. Dream it...

9. Certain textures give BabyBoy2 the heebie jeebies

Flour, sand, playdough, anything similar, give BabyBoy2 the heebie jeebies if it touches his hands.

He's improved a lot. Mrs. Amazing has worked hard on helping him adjust, as it were.

It used to be so bad it would make him retch a little. Luckily Team Parents (yay!) filmed it so you can see in the future. Good times.

For instance the sandpit we got you for your birthday. You love it. But after diving straight in, you then had to get straight back out again, have a heebie jeebies moment, then back in.

You beautiful little loon.

10. BabyBoy2 loves to dance

The dishwasher disco / dance-off is nothing until BabyBoy2 rocks into the middle of us all. Arm in the air, pumping it out to the beat.

Tiny feet moving faster than you cope. Heart and soul in the music and with us all.

It’s beautiful.

(... Not that surprised he’s knackered… We didn’t get back from the club until 5am…

Mrs. Amazing: ’WHAT?’

Er… I  mean he was still up when we got back at 5am…

Mrs. Amazing: ’WHO?’

Miss5 and Boy8.... <Gets sinking feeling> Boy8 wouldn't leave...)

11. All fruit is called bapple

Again, we could correct him. But do not.

It’s funny.

12. Bedtime is like the Waltons

Babyboy2 likes his goodnight routine,

There's leaving the downstairs area round of hugs and kisses.

Then there’s the we-all-meet-up-in-the-bathroom round of hugs and kisses.

Everyone gets a hug and a vague kiss, or a full on lip slobber.

It takes a while and not everyone (Miss5) is that keen on a second round each night.

Give your brother a kiss

Miss5: 'NO!'

Go on! He loves you

Miss5: <Holds out foot to be kissed>

<Foot gets hugged and then dragged in for a kiss>

Miss5: 'ARGHGHGGHGG' <Wipes off slobber>

BabyBoy2: <Totters off happy>

(Has just found the Sarah & Duck sticker at the back and was very happy about it.

The stickers hid the hand-me-down-ness…)

11. BabyBoy2 you are the happiest person I have ever met

Really. And I've met happy people. People that taste tea for a living, people that quality control chocolate, even people that own a Lego Death Star, the happiest people in the world.

BabyBoy2 tops them all.

Since he was born, and every day in between, and I bet for many years to come.

BabyBoy2 has faced the world and everything in it with a big smile on his face and a huge open heart.

Don’t get me wrong. Boy8 and Miss5 are happy children (when they are not whining or screaming) but BabyBoy2 is happier.

He's just delighted to be here.

I hope that never, ever, goes. Because people like that are truly magical in this world. People like that love life. Are just happy to be here. They enrich everyone around them and live their lives to the fullest. They are awesome. I think.

Anyhoo…

Bye bye BabyBoy1 <Weeps> <MAN HOWLS>

I can’t believe you’re two already, walking and talking, saying no to stuff, which we ignore, having opinions and nearly done with naps.
It has been an absolute pleasure, and honour, to be your Father so far. I've loved it. Thank you and I can’t wait for more. My baby boy. <Wipes away tear>

You are utterly scrummy.

You’re TWO!!!! TWO!!! <Both fist pump> OMFB!!!

BabyBoy2: 'Daddy!’ <Hugs my leg>

Ready for more?

BabyBoy2: <Nods> 'More Choc-choc?' <Tilts head>

Sure… Your Mum has some around here… <Searches> Oh yes here....

<Both eat illicit choc-choc>
X

Who Gets the Lie-In?

It's half term. (Was).

There's no school for a whole week.

The morning madness is on hiatus for seven whole days. Yay!

So, as there's no rush. Which of Team Parents (yay!) deserves the lie in?

Me.

I suggest we bare-knuckle street fight to resolve this...

Mrs. Amazing: ‘OK’

Queensbury rules obv. <Starts removing collar>

Mrs. Amazing: ANDGO!' <Sucker punches me in the nose>

BOWWWWW! By BASN'T BEADY! <Nose is bloody> (#NotABloodySwear)

Mrs. Amazing: 'OK... Sure...' <Circles behind me>

<Does scissor kick and trips me>

<Leaps on my back and goes to grab the back of my hair>

<Grasps at thin air>

Mrs. Amazing: 'Ha ha! I just went to grab the back of your hair so I could slam your face into the floor!

<Pauses> Yeah? And?

Mrs. Amazing: 'But what hair! Ha ha'

Literally kicking me when I'm down... <Is outraged>

<Throws Mrs. Amazing off>

Mrs. Amazing: <Does diving elbow strike to regain ground> 'Those lie-in's are mine!!!'

[All kids watching the bloody battle] (#NotABloodySwear)

Miss5: 'Who do you think is going to win?'

Boy8: 'Mummy. Daddy's bigger, stronger, a semi-trained ninja...'

Boy8: '... But Mummy wants it more'

Miss5: <Nods> 'That's true'

No! NO! Not the dishwasher!... ARGHHGGHGGHGHH BLUB BLUB!

[Kids get themselves breakfast whilst we chat]

<Sounds of kicking>

(Come on... top off… it’s definitely my rules not my rules <Whistles>)

Yeah... but no.

We don't fight like that anymore. I'd like to say Team Parent (yay!) sat down together, had a few biscuits, a entire tureen of tea and discussed, as the adults we claim to be are. How half term is going to change things and would anyone like a few minutes extra in bed.

But of course we didn't. Who has time for that crap.

Instead I just claimed the first day due to my incredible ability to not get up, and having crawled to bed the night before due to the bank holiday (I drink play very hard).

So this morning, again, I find myself still in bed, having a lie-in.

But this morning I’ve got the hummus guilt.

I know I have guilt because I am laid in bed trying very hard to justify to myself why I should get more lie-in's at half term.

And not Mrs. Amazing.

I present the case for me to get more lie-in's: <Adjusts Anna wig>

I'm involved in the morning madness.

I work close enough to home to be able share in the morning joys of dressing and cleaning children, leading the dishwasher dance, watching cartoons, quick book-read catch up, and the ever popular delights of breakfast, and its refusals...

You don't want the porridge I made?

BabyBoy1: <Shakes head>

Or the toast I toasted

BabyBoy1: <Shakes head>

Or this bowl of all the cereals mixed together, which you demanded, and pointed and shouted for?

BabyBoy1: <Pushes away plate, again> 'NOOOO'

What do you WANT then? Do you want MY breakfast?

BabyBoy1: 'DES!'

<Passes over fried egg>

BabyBoy1: <Throws food on floor, but is happy>

<Is not happy>

The main reason I get up in the morning is for love because the kids make me.

And by association, and prodding, and very noisy curtain opening, loud tuts, and being shove out of the bed, Mrs. Amazing.

Oh yeah... and work. (If my head wasn't screwed on... Oooo butterfly!)

In fact Mrs. Amazing will sometimes 'suggest' I get up with her.

She likes to 'Share the pain' when we both have hangovers are tired. And it's fair enough.

It's a good reason to get up together.

Also I'm a sucker for a hungover woman in need...

Mrs. Amazing: 'Help Obi-Wan, you're my only hope...'

<Knows is being manipulated> <Kind of likes it>

OK. I'll make the tea, and eat get the chocolate, you get pints of water and put on an awesome, manly, high octane, fighty-fighty, film!

Mrs. Amazing: 'Tangled? 300?'

HELLS YEAH!

Mrs. Amazing: 'Deal!' <Watches me race off...>

<... Goes back to sleep>

So in summary, my main arguments claims to the lie-ins are:

1. I'm still have to go to work.

2. I am a valuable member of the morning team during term.

3. You smeggers lot are all gonna have a lovely day watching movies, eating crisps, making dens, laughing and giggling and doing stuff I like.

4. My side of the duvet is 37% heavier and harder to escape.

5. Mrs. Amazing naturally wakes at that time anyway.

Pretty convincing huh?

Yeah, I know. How could I possibly lose? Those lie-in's are mine.

AH HAAAA HAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha.

Except...

Except on that first day of half term.

As I left Mrs. Amazing for work. She looked unsure. She looked not ready for the day.

She didn't look like a day of fun was waiting to be had.

And that’s because Mrs. Amazing had a problem.

Quite a problem. We discussed it and I had no ideas. Which is rare for me. Sure most are dumb, involve R2-D2 being real, cake and going to bed at any time of day.

But a lack of crap ideas them? That’s not normally a problem.

But I think it shows what a tricky-thorny-smegface-bugger of a problem Mrs. Amazing had as neither of us had any answers for it.

Somehow, incredibly, Mrs. Amazing had to look after three half-term broken children, at home for eight hours. Alone.

And they all had to have live fun.

Boy8 is frazzled. Fried. Burnt out.

Half term was utterly needed. He needs to chill the sandwich out.

Imagine your most stressful day at work ever, with odd socks, then imagine being eight again and you can't drink, can't watch what you want when you get home, can't go cow tipping.

You can't even have caffeine. OMFB! <Runs off screaming>

That's what is going on inside Boy8 at the moment.

Stress and pressures in his daily life building up and up... And few outlets.

Hence the need for half term.

Boy8 is currently like a powder cake of silver birch bark, covered in petrol, sprinkled in fire lighters and match heads. In the sun. Feeling all spontaneously-combustible as well.

Just one spark. Anything. Anything at all.

And he will explode and take half the street with him. He's NITRO!

(Cool hair Boy8… Here catch!)

Dude? Can you ...

Boy8: ‘WHY ME! WHY CAN'T MISS5 DO IT? IT'S NOT FAIR! I DO EVERYTHING! ARGGHHGHGHG’ <Storms off>

Boy8: <Door slams quietly>

Boy8: <Door quietly opens again>

Boy8: <Door is slammed proper hard this time>

... get yourself a plate for this chocolate cake, your favourite?

<Eats his cake>

Miss5 is also exhausted.

This is still her first year at school. Due to the madness of a floating Easter. This term was a special seven week long term! yay. What clever planning.

Miss5's condition is similar to Boy8's, except you can swap stress and anger for just general emotion. Teary, screamy, shouty, obstinate, clawy, heart breaking emotion.

Miss5 just needs to be given a big book of colouring-in, the odd biscuit pushed her way every ten minutes, and chocolate milk on tap. Oh and someone to listen patiently to her mad exhausted babble. And then someone to take over listening to her exhausted babble, when the first person (Mrs. Amazing) goes mad.

Miss5 just needs managing and she will be fine.

She also needs to be kept away from Boy8.

Which is surprisingly tricky in one house.

And BabyBoy1 is very needy.

And that's my fault totally. We didn't do much over the bank holiday weekend. Which means I relaxed and sat more than normal. Doing nothing. Good times.

However that means I am easier to find. Easier for BabyBoy1 to grab my arm, in his little hands, and softly direct me to where he wants to play.

I cannot, and neither want to, resist.

Three days of my attention BabyBoy1 got. Then I went back to work in tears.

Which leaves BabyBoy1 wanting Mrs. Amazing to do what I was doing. Which she cannot.

Mrs. Amazing is already in a pitch breakfast-battle busy with Boy8 and stopping plates and spoons being thrown about helping Miss5 to eat hers.

So BabyBoy1 is needy. Bless him.

#DadsFault.

It's also raining.

So they can’t go outside. Of course it is. It's nearly June in England. Summertime. Of course it's rainy and cloudy. It's cricket season. OF COURSE IT’S RAINING!

<Shakes fist at sky>

<Gets rain in eye>

And we've no money to go do anything.

Really. So Mrs. Amazing is wondering how to fill the next eight hours with Captain Sensitive (Boy8), Miss. Extreme-Emotions (Miss5), and the Baby-Limpet (BabyBoy1).

Yes they could visit family. But it would have to be VERY CLOSE, immediate family. The one's that can see past their current moods and tempers, and still love them, and let them into their homes.

Which is basically... me. I'm the only close family member the children could possibly be around, that will still love them afterwards.

And even I'm not that keen. But I am, alas, at work.

So that, essentially, is Mrs. Amazing's case for the lie-in's.

She needs the lie-ins because her work is trice as hard as normal, and the kids are pretty nuts at the moment. It's pretty good isn't it?

Bugger.

Share the pain. Team Parents (yay!).

<SIGHS> <Stomps about a bit> <SIGHS> FINE!

Stupid, damn guilt, damny making me damn well make the stupid-right damny choices and stuff.

Damn it!

[Later that second day]

So I thought... that... as I've had two line-in's already this week...

Mrs. Amazing: 'That you just took! And left me to get up with the children, and then spend all day with them? HUH?'

Yes <Maintains constant eye contact like you would a tiger> those ones

<Tries to look cute> <Fails>

<Is frowned at>

Well... I see now... that's not very fair... you lie-in for the rest of the week

Mrs. Amazing: 'Yes' <Gives me a look> 'I will!'

So that's why this morning...

I'm sat in my dressing gown, at ARGHGHGHG O'clock, on the cold floor of the kitchen, watching BabyBoy1 struggling to do two and three piece jigsaws. Wishing I had made my tea before I had sat. As my knees hurt and I don't want to have to get up again.

Plus I'm really regretting the mid-week pub outing that got very slightly out of hand.

(Obv. this isn’t mine! I prefer blue…)

It may sound horrible and un-fun.

But it's not. My head hurts, but that's my fault. It's actually lovely being up with them.

Brainzilla: 'WHAT THE SMEG ARE YOU DOING MAN?'

Huh?.... OH CRAP!!! I meant sometimes it's nice, SOMETIMES!!!

Brainzilla: 'MRS. AMAZING HE MEANT SOMETIMES! SOMETIMES!!!'

Brainzilla: 'Idiot'

<Nods>

I miss-out on this time with them otherwise.

I sat cuddled up with Miss5 watching her cartoons. Which was lovely.

I chatted with Boy8 about his plans for world domination the day.

And whilst watching someone (BabyBoy1) jigsaw badly is like having a spear poked through your nose quite, quite horrible, and brain destroying...

BabyBoy1 is hella cute, and very happy to be with me.

So am I (but with him, you see, not me with me, that would be weird.. I was trying to save some typing...).

BabyBoy1: 'ON NOOOO! NOOOOO! NOOOO' <Tries the same piece, in the exact same way, again, for the ber-millionth time>

Try this? <Turns the piece around a teeny bit>

BabyBoy1: <Bangs piece in easy> 'YAY! TADAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!'

<High fives all round>

X