The Wrong Trousers!!!... Or... Running at Birds With Miss5...

Oh how life farts in your face sometimes.

Not very often to be fair. Just sometimes.

Sometimes life gives you a chocolate. Yum yum. Other times it's a fly in the gob.

It's pretty mixed. Other times though. It’s a fart in the face...

Not literally of course.

In this instance. But that does happen too.

I recall it happening a lot growing up with three brothers. And now in my life with three children…

<Is tickling Miss5>

Miss5: <Giggles>

<Throws Miss5 into the air>

Miss5: <Does double twist, pike, ‘Use the Force’ pose>

Miss5: <Lands tummy down>

<Is smug about the awesome throw> <Goes to pick her up again>

[Sound similar to QE2 coming into dock occurs]

<Gets fart in face> <Passes out>

Miss5: <Lays a blanket on my foot>

[Later…]

<Awakes in hospital and is being treated for gassing / chemical warfare>

(‘Does that help?’

Well... it filters out the smell at least…

'So no?'

<Nods>)

The night before.

Despite the heaviest of weekends. I dragged myself out to Stretching and Falling class. I turn up, I stretch, I fall over a lot. It's a good class. I heard there's other names for it, but whatevs.

For a change. I travelled light. No credit cards. No knife. No torch. No coat. No Jumper (which was dumb in the UK mid-November). Just me in trackie-bottoms. A stretchy top (not that kind). My keys and my phone.

And a bottle of water as falling over stretching is thirsty work

<Does stretching in class>

<Feels good about stretching> <Feels a bit like a warrior>

<Falls over>

<Feels less warriory>

The next morning.

Miss5 and Boy9 troop in first thing. It's not quite 6:30am but it's not worth the 6:28am argument. Besides any talking and angry clock showing is done on Mrs. Amazing's side of the bed. My side is reserved solely for those pretending to be fast asleep that need extra sleep.

6:30am finally happens. Mrs. Amazing rises and officially starts the morning.

Internally I celebrate the start of a new day, it's possibilities and all I might achieve and strive for today. Externally I pretend to dead, moreso.

Then Mrs. Amazing drops a bombshell…

[THUD]

Mrs. Amazing: 'I’ve started reading DC comics and I’m starting to think the Green Lantern is a well thought out and insightful character’

Mrs. Amazing: 'I've gotta catch a train at 8am'

<Is far away, dreaming happily>

Mrs. Amazing: 'So I'll be leaving early'

<Sits up> Shiiiiiiiit!!! Craaaap!!!!

Which means I've got to get…

BabyBoy2 and Miss5 filled with breakfast. Ready for school. And then walk / fly / glide / beam them to school. Then get myself to work.

Which is all fine. I can do that easy. But I've thirty minutes less help from Mrs. Amazing to do it.

Even I know I have to get up, instantly, and get cracking!

Miss5 convinces me to make pancakes.

Which is dumb on my part. Pancakes take longer. They just do.

I'm still in bed and my first decision of the day. Is to make breakfast take longer. Than it needed to...

Brainzilla: <Claps> ‘Bra-vo’

<Giggles> Bra!

Brainzilla: ‘He he... <Whispers>... Idiot...’

What?

Brainzilla: ‘Gridiot…. An old friend… Just popped into my head...”

Called Gridiot?

Brainzilla: ‘Yep’ <Whistles off>

(What do you mean you’ve changed your mind?

<Sits> <Starts eatin’> My Mam Moutragged! <Shakes fork>

Mass the Molden Myrup mill ma? <Eats more>...)

BabyBoy2 and Miss5 happily bounce downstairs.

Delighted to be having pancakes. Mainly due to the amount of Golden Syrup those both have. But hey! They eat the pancakes. It's win-win.

I put high energy music on. Rock obv. And prepare to cook pancakes faster than the speed of sound.

We three have to leave at 8am. It is now 7am. Somehow it's taken me thirty minutes to get downstairs.

Mrs. Amazing says goodbye through modern dance and smoke signals and Boy9 is dragged along behind her. Leaving just me in charge...

[The house explodes]

Miss5 asks to help make pancakes.

Whilst making batter I explain that we are in a rush and if she could not help that would be great and faster all round. Miss5 ignores me and gets a chair so she can reach.

Quickly I get her to stir stuff. It doesn't actually take too long and then she’s off to do something else.

Phew!

Babyboy2’s chair arrives at the counter top. And he bounds up ready to help.

Sigh… Here. BabyBoy2 stirs stuff too. And then runs off leaving a batter trail behind him.

I am so glad they both helped.

I put Fireman Sam on tut tele and plonk them both down. So I can cook in peace whilst dancing to Taylor Swift AC/DC. YEAH!

Which is hard enough in itself without watching for small people under my feet.

Pancakes are served.

And eaten. Well and quickly. Then they are whizzed up to clean teeth and then whizzed back down for more Fireman Sam. Miss5 is handed the remote and instructed to put on lots of Fireman Sam's.

BabyBoy2: 'YAYYYYY! <Sings> Fireman Sam'

Whilst I run about and do everything.

The kitchen is cleared. Laundry is moved along its windy long path to the draws. Dishwasher contents replaced with dirtier versions. Counter top clearer. Bags collected.

I opt for dressing BabyBoy2 and Miss5 in front of the tele. Because it's quicker.

I swear there were moments whilst I dressed them both. When they actually looked away from the screen and saw me.

Maybe I was imaging it.

(The original… Back when Sam was still Welsh… (AND AWESOME))

Then it’s coats.

Shoes. Me doing everything for speed purposes. And we’re out of the door.

Then I run back in and check the cooky-jobby-thingy stove is all off. Again.

Then we are out of the door and off. Only running ten minutes late.

And I am running. Miss5 is scooting. BabyBoy2 happily sat in the buggy shouting and cheering at everything he sees as I pelt him along at break neck speed.

We look like loonies escaped from a film. Moreso.

I've never been prouder.

BabyBoy2 is delivered to Nursery.

He cries when he realises me and Miss5 are leaving him there. His tears rip at my heart and I can't stand it for a moment. We had all been having such fun together and BabyBoy2 just doesn't understand why it has to end. I'm not entirely sure either.

Still. The best thing I can do for him. As Dad. Is pretend I'm fine. Not torn in half.

So I just leave, in that Daddish way, that Dads do so Dad well. Dad.

I sob a little once out of sight...

Miss5: 'Dad? What you doing?'

Solving really hard maths in head. It's making my eyes leak...

Miss5: <Totally buys it> 'Oh. What maths?'

Er... (crap)... er... nineteen plus fifteen?

Miss5: 'That is hard'

Yeah I know... <Does shifty eyes> Look. We literally have to run now...

We run.

Well Miss5 scoots. I run. We still have to get back to the house. Grab Miss5's things.

As we left them at home so we don't have to carry them with us. Then run Miss5 to school. And me to work. There is still a chance we can do all that on time.

Not a big chance. True. But a chance. You gotta believe!

<Runs>

We get home and I run to the door.

In full fluid-motion. Hand in pocket reaching for keys. Hand ready to push keys into little slot. Then step through door. It's all running automatically. I'm not really thinking about what I'm doing. I'm a few steps ahead. Trusting my body will let know if something is wrong.

There's a problem.

Whoop whoop. Hands have set an alarm ringing in my head.

And I stop my face mere millimeters from the door. Narrowly avoiding a good face whack. Hands. Me. I can’t find my house keys.

Where the crap are my house keys?

The keys that I always have on me.

In these jeans. These trousers. The one's I am wearing.

Everyone relies on me having my keys. It's my job. I've always got my keys. It's what I do.

I check my pockets again four, maybe five thousands times and they are definitely not there. Crap!

And then the fart hits my face... And I work it out.

Stretching and Falling class last night. Trackie-bottoms. Travelling light. Keys in trackie-bottoms. In the house.

My smegging keys are in the house.

(<Regrets the home security upgrade...>)

Miss5: 'What's wrong Dad? Can't we get in?'

No! We can't. It's the wrong trousers Gromit Miss5!!! <Does hand thingy>

Miss5: 'But I need my school bag'

Yes <Panic building> And your lunch! CRAPOLLA!

Miss5: <Giggles>

I run through options in my head.

Send her in, but no bag. OK. But no lunch. Bad. Miss5's probably needs to eat.

Maybe I can break in? No. I can't. I don't really either. It's my house.

Has anyone else got a key? I run and ask the neighbours if I gave them a key? No's all round.

Damn it. Damn it.

Who else has a key? Granny! I phone granny.

But she's already walking other grandchildren to school and can't help. Smeg.

But she mentions Grandad may not have left with Boy9 yet? I call.

The phone takes the piss out of me. And rings very slowly at me.

I need to hear a click-pick up from Grandad. Else…

Else I've right stuffed up and I'll be very annoyed with myself...

GitPhone: 'R.... I..... N.............. G'

COMEON!COMEON!COMEON!

GitPhone: 'R.... I..... N.............. G'

ARGHHH! <Explodes>

SituationSaviour: 'Hello?'

The cavalry is on it's way.

With key. Stupid incredibly helpful little metal device that nearly thwarted me in the school run. And eventually we make it too school. Somehow with five minutes to spare.

And I'm not late for work.

Happy days.

But between the phone call and the cavalry arriving.

Me and Miss5 had ten minutes to wait. And nothing to do. Really nothing to do. No toys hanging about. No tele. Nothing to jab or draw with. We couldn't even sit.

Stuck as we were outside the house. Waiting.

It should have been boring. But it wasn't.

Life with Miss5 is never boring...

<Gets off phone>

Miss5: 'So what do we do?'

We just gotta wait...

Miss5: 'Huh....'

Miss5: '...'

...

Miss5: 'See that bird...' <Points at bird on phone line>

Yeah...

Miss5: <Runs, arms outstretched at bird, shouting very loud.. > 'BARGHHHHH!'

What now?

Oh my bacon.

What did she just do? She’s nuts! To my surprise the bird is scared off. I never thought that would work. Miss5 just isn’t big enough to be scary.

Miss5 sees more birds and is already running at them. They are far off. It'll never work.

They fly off too.

Miss5 is shouting and yodelling a little now. Arms right out, kind of flapping.

I don't really know what I am seeing and can't help but start laughing from delight. Miss5 starts laughing too.

I join in with the birds scaring and fail. And I just can't do it as well as her. I am just not free enough. I'm too self concious.

I did think being bigger would make it easier for me. But I am totally wrong. It isn't size that does it.

It's heart. It's passin. It’s commitment to moment. It’s being a loony. It’s beliving you can do it, even wehn you can’t.

This all occurs to me as I watch Miss5 roar past me in another direction after more birds way up high, houses away.

And still managing to scare them off.

I am starkly reminded of how wonderful she is.

Had everything gone to plan this morning.

And it had been fart free. We wouldn’t be running at birds together. Having one of those moments that will make me feel all happy and squishy about Miss5 when I think about it later on. The best moments.

We would have just been on time and that would’ve been lame.

Coz I frikkin’ love that loon girl.

X

All Change! Back to School You Go (Not Me, You)...

First day back at school.

And the parents gather in the playground to compare notes.

It's quite strange.

There's those you see regularly.

So it's a word up, ya dizzle ma fizzle, how's your wang to the teachers.

Then there's those you like but somehow you didn't see them at all for the entire six weeks of holidays. The nearly mates.

Still. That's just life. Having three kids and big families doesn't really help you spend lots of time making mates. It's still lovely to see them.

I compare notes with a fella Dad. OtherDad.

We discuss the children's feelings and their highs and lows of the holidays, what they achieved, what their worries and aspirations were, and what we would do better next time.

Good summer?

OtherDad: 'Yup, you?'

Yup... <Long pause> <Thinking going on>

Get up to much?

OtherDad: 'Yup. Knakcered, I need a holiday to recover...'

Hahaha yeah... me too...

... <Long pause>

<Really long pause>

I jest.

A bit. OtherDad mentions they had been potty training. And it hadn't gone great.
I see... <Gulps> No wonder you had to move...
OtherDad: <Nods>

I mention that we have been doing the same with BabyBoy2. (I say we, but I mean Mrs. Amazing, I was essentially the work-sub).

Some successes, some failures. It's a bit yukky and tiring. But we're marching on and getting through this difficult time. He reminds me he has twins. Double potty training.

He has my sympathies.

I imagine having twins is like being attacked by a 400ft lizard monster, with claws that can slice through concrete. And you've twisted your ankle. And your Monster-Get-Away gattling gun has just run out of C size batteries.

And there are never, NEVER, any sodding size C batteries spare when want some.

OtherDad's got two 400ft lizard monsters to deal with. #PerfectMetafour.

He has my double sympathies and I may stand down wind of him.

(The dude on the left is called Michael (Jellyfish Warrior), the lass on the right, who helps during the week at the primary school is called Sandra (Goo Fish). Both enjoy cribbage)

Boy9 is in a new class.

Again the school has mixed all the kids in the year up. And scattered friendships asunder (great word).

Boy9: 'What was that noise?'

Looks like a storm brewing... Possibly it was some asunder...

Boy9: '... Oh... HANG ON! MUM! MUM!'
Boy9: 'Dad's miss-teaching me English again'
<Runs>

Boy9 is pleased with some of his new classmates.

As they are old friends. Some friends are coming with him into his class. So happy days.

He's not just being showed into a new room on his own.

However there are quite a few friends that are not moving with him.

And that's hard on my little, but actually quite big, dude. He had a great little group of mates. There were boys and girls. It was a good gang. He was happy.

But no. MIX THEM ALL UP TIME from the school.

School: 'WE ARE THE PUPPET MASTERS HAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAA! HA!'
School: 'No talking'

I'm not cross about it. Really it's fine.

I understand what the school are doing and why. So the kids get better at making friends and less cliques grow (I assume).

But still.

It doesn't make it easier.

More excitingly though (as if that wasn't enough).

Boy9 gets his first male teacher. This will be the first time Boy9 is going to be taught by someone that knows and understands the mysterious and frankly quite daft (sometimes) world and language of men (as in males, not the species, but then that was obv... I'll shut up...).

I am purposely going to avoid saying anything sexist about how this man will teach, as I've not met him.

Which leaves me little to say.
... <Whistles> <Kicks stone> <Scratches car> <Runs>

There is one thing.
That I think I can say one thing without too much fear of being sexist. And it's based on the physical differences between the male and female voice. As men tend to have deeper voices than women (Obv. not all, the lady behind the bar at my local could give James Earl Jones a run for his money...).
So I imagine that when the first child gets told off in Boy9's new class. All eyes will be wide and watching as a voice a few octaves lower than they were expecting growls sounds out in the deep classroom.

Probably.

(‘YOU GORDON BOY! STAND STILL LADDIE!!!’)

(Weirdly he really looks a lot like my primary school head master...)

And it's good that Boy9 now has another male authority figure in his life.

I may come off as a bit nicer!

Probably.

Miss5.

That girl is ready for school like cake wants a knife in it, and cream on the side, and ice cream.

And more cake, come on! are you scared you're gonna run out!
<Takes cake>

And fair play to Miss5. All her mates are at school.

And there's other adults that haven't heard her stories a billion times.

And there's sticking and cutting and drawing. Her favourites.

And most important. Miss5 gets to be Miss5 all on her own again.

Home and family are very important to her. She loves us dearly. Mainly Mrs. Amazing to be honest. I probably feature just above her third favourite teddy, but hey, that's still my P.B.

But at school. It's just Miss5 Miss5-ing about the place.

She gets to be independant, make her own choices. With no siblings, or parents, getting all up in her grill.

Happy on your own school times.

Miss5's school have new drop off rules (Year 1 and all that).

I wasn't a fan. Parents are not allowed into the classroom to nose.

Parents are not allowed to drop off at the door.

No hanging about and wailing fussing.

So whilst I was hoping to hug her to bits and then sit in class with her until lunch and then wave her goodbye for at least five minutes. Instead Miss5 showed me her new playground and where her new classroom was.

Then she was gone. Swallowed into her new classroom for the day.

I felt a bit cheated.

I would have liked a receipt at least.

I definitely could have done with at least another ten hugs.

BabyBoy2

My lovely little boy went to nursery for the first time.
<HOWLS>
He was dressed in his very smart (about 90th handme down) nursery uniform and off he toddled with Mrs. Amazing to nursery.

FOR A WHOLE MORNING! <HOWLS>

He was fine and had a lovely morning.
There was potty successes and sadly (but we didn't have to handle it, HAHA!) an expected poo mistake.

But that's pretty damn good considering he's only been potty training for a week or so (messy, messy weeks).

But most importantly enjoyed his day.

BabyBoy2 met Team Parent (yay!) with a mixture of tears and joy. So happy to see us. But overwhelmed with emotion and relief that we came back. Hella cute.

He was pretty brave about everything I thought.

I on the other had something in both of my eyes and something sticking in my throat (welding fumes probably) when we picked BabyBoy2 up at lunch.

And Mrs. Amazing?

Well Mrs. Amazing had four hours to herself this morning.

Four whole hours of no kids all up in her grill. Poking and prodding her.

In our house. At home. Oooooo...

I've never seen someone so drunk.

She spent her valuable time drawing up a plan for how on earth we are going to get each child to each school/nursery and back again each day.

It's flipping complex.

(Tada!

Mrs. Amazing: ‘Er… It’s lovely. But how does that help with the school runs?’

Oh it helps… It helps… <Nods Bay leafly>

Mrs. Amazing: ‘... But how?’

<Runs>)

I was consulted as a sanity tester...

You've come to me for sanity?

Mrs. Amazing: <Nods>

Are you mad?

Mrs. Amazing: 'Probably. Now put that light sabre down, put the chocolate back and come help me'

<Keeps the chocolate>

Mrs. Amazing: <Shows me the plans> 'What do you think?'

I'm not sure... <Munches> Take me back to section Tuesday, Child 2, morning through to evening… Where am I in that?

Mrs. Amazing: 'You do this drop off. Then work. Then home'

I see. And you?

Mrs. Amazing: 'Here. Here. Rush to here. Defy the laws of physics here, and materialise here, with fourteen thousand children in tow...'

Gotcha. And good luck with that.

Mrs. Amazing: 'Thanks'

And... Er... May I ask what the Cat is doing whilst all this is going on?

Mrs. Amazing: '... er... Nothing!' <To rhyme with durh>

Nothing? <Outraged> Then what day is he doing stuff then?

Mrs. Amazing: 'NONE! HE IS A CAT! SHEESH!'
Mrs. Amazing: 'Every year! The same stupid argument!' <Arms up>

Mrs. Amazing: 'HE IS A TOY CAT!' <Leaves shaking head>

<Whispers> Yeah... A bloody lazy Cat...

<Cat grins, farts, goes back to sleep>

X