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

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Parenting with a Hangover...(Or: Accepting Defeat)...

It is so much harder parenting with a hangover.

Soooooooo much.

Especially when Team Parent (yay!) are dividing and conquering, and I am left to do stuff on my own. It was all my own fault obviously.

No one made me drink all that red wine...

Mrs. Amazing: 'Right! If you don't down all that glass right now, I'm gonna let BabyBoy3 play with all your Star Wars figures... UNSUPERVISED!'

You wouldn't? <Is scared>

Mrs. Amazing: 'I would... When you're at work'

EKKK! <Man wolf cry>

OK,OK. I'll drink it. <Downs glass>

... <Urps>...More please...

(One bottle or two?

Mrs. Amazing: ‘One is probably enough…

but let’s take another for luck!’

Good plan <Packs three>)

Team Parent (yay!) had managed to go out.

Amazing I know. Together. On a Friday night!!!

Wine, curry and board games at friends house. And what was particular good was that they live nearby so we could walk there.

However as it can take two smegging hours to put the three terrors to bed. We wanted to maximise our 'out' time. So we drove. Planning to leave the car there, and walk and get it in the morning. Brilliant!

I love when a plan comes together.

<Rolls huge cigar around in mouth and grins>

<Coughs on the nasty smoke>

Granny Amazing had agreed to babysit.

So Team Parent (yay!) had thrown as many children into bed as possible before she got there about 7:30.

BabyBoy3 was a good little boy and was fast asleep. Knackered out from the day. We had had haddy had fun reading a story and I sang him his bedtime song as normal. I went with swing-style this time. Out like a light. Bless him.

Miss7 had got out of bed again for the billionth time with some tiny problem or concern, much to Team Parent's (yay!) frowny faces.

And then once Granny Amazing arrived, Miss7 left her bed once to say hi. Sigh.

Boy10 however doesn't go to bed until 8, which is when we were due.

And although we had managed to convince him to shower and get some jammies on. Boy10 wasn't showing much signs of being ready for bed.

So he was allowed to put on a Harry Potter movie which he promptly slumped in front of, and vegged.

Phew. Good luck Granny.

Obviously we were late.

That's what we do <Grumbles>. But who cares. Team Parent (yay!) were out, there were board games to be played, curry to eat and laughs and grown up speaking with swears to be done.

We had a bloody lovely time.

I may have had to much wine.

Definitely did. June. May. As when Team Parent (yay!) stumbled home to release Granny Amazing at the staggeringly late 11pm. I suddenly realised that laying down in bed going to sleep wasn't really to work well in my stomach.

So I stayed up later, and consumed as much water as possible.

Mrs. Amazing wisely went straight to sleep.

I finally crashed and awoke late the next morning...

Where am I? <Staggers>

What planet is this? What time of mannnnn is this? <Dons asking the heavens pose>

Mrs. Amazing: 'I've made you a tea'

Ta chuck

Mrs. Amazing: 'Now get up, I wanna take Boy10 and Miss7 out for a jog before 10:30, which is when I'm going to go get my Grandma for lunch at ours'

Huh? Right... Was I drunk when I agreed to having your Grandma over?

Mrs. Amazing: 'Nope. Sober. And it was your idea!'

REALLY? <Is shocked> That was nice of me... Surprisingly nice of me... Were you naked?

Mrs. Amazing: 'Nope'

WOW... <Is really quite shocked, but hides it badly>...

In that case I totally recall all that stuff you just said there... <points>... with your lips thingy... mouth...

Mrs. Amazing: <Is suspicious> 'It's 8:30 get up'

Have I got time to take BabyBoy3 swimming?

Mrs. Amazing: 'Yes, if leave soon'

BONZA!...

And despite my head.

Acting like it was a drum being flattened by elephants. Taking BabyBoy3 swimming was going to be totally worth any pain.

Whilst handovers do hurt I find that if I just get on with stuff it's better. Sure I make more mistakes those days. I may not be the most tolerant. Weirdly I am better at just sitting and playing, as I think I just like resting those days. And with a head full of pain playing with kids is probably all I can manage.

So I did get out of bed and fell straight back down.

Me and BabyBoy3 needed to leave soon.

If we wanted to make the most of being in the pool. BabyBoy3 would only cope for an hour in the pool before he got cold. And I wanted to max that.

I just needed to slap myself in the face a bit, blowtorch my teeth clean, throw some clothes on, pack a bag with our swimming stuff, and down two maybe three cups of tea.

And get BabyBoy3 dressed!

Easy!

(Dudes!!! Back up… I wanna clean my teeth…

Now where’s my lighter?...

[KABOOM])

It wasn't easy.

I couldn't concentrate and my normal skills at managing to distract BabyBoy3 whilst dressing him were failing me badly. So that every time I sat down next to him to get him dressed.

He would simply run off.

And I was too slow to catch him.

You maybe wondering where Mrs. Amazing was, a fella Team Parent (yay!) member. Why was she not helping?

Well Mrs. Amazing was already doing what I was doing.
But for Boy10 and Miss7. So twice what I had.

It felt wrong to ask for help.

What didn't help me was Boy10.

And Miss7. Both who were ready to go for their run, and quite excited about it.

So they bugged me instead. Everytime I managed to corner BabyBoy3 with the right clothes in my hands. One of them would appear, talk to him, and then they would run off to do something.

Time after time. Until with BabyBoy3 only half dressed.

I gave up. And went and packed our bag.

Swimming kit for me. Swimming kit for BabyBoy3. Two towels.
Post swimming chocolate for BabyBoy3 and water.

And flippin' armbands as BabyBoy3 has been talking to Miss7 who told him he needed them. Which was annoying as my plan was just to have him in my arms and get him used to being loose in the water.

Then he'd learn to swim quickly my way...

Right I'm going to let go... ready

BabyBoy3: 'YES!'

Go!

BabyBoy3: <Dives in from my shoulder>

<Watches through the water>

Dude... dude... your not using... anything...

<Scoops him out> OK?

BabyBoy3: <DEEP breath>'YEP!'

Let's try that again...

It just got worse and worse.

The more flustered I got at the time. The more I was stumbling running about the house not getting stuff done.

At times I found BabyBoy3 with socks on, other times he would throw them at me.

I pointed out that if he wanted to go swimming he should help me.

He cared not.
And just ran off shouting ‘SWIM-MING!SWIM-MING!SWIM-MING!’ punching the air.

(Love that loonie).

Eventually Mrs. Amazing took pity on me.

As my cool was definitely leaving me. I still hadn’t got cross and stompy. But I was definitely starting to crack at the seems.

Time was getting short and I was basically flapping about the place. Like a big fat hung over awesome chicken.

Mrs. Amazing grabbed BabyBoy3 and got him ready, with little fuss.

Which gave me time to have a paracetamol, some tummy pills, and gather my thoughts.

Which I needed.

With only myself to concentrate on.

I was ready quickly. And with Mrs. Amazing concentrating on BabyBoy3, not hungover me, he was ready pretty quickly too.

I grabbed the car keys, opened the front door. And without looking pointed the keys at the car pressing the unlock button. As I was rushing and simultaneously calling for BabyBoy3 at the same time.

BabyBoy3 came and with swimming bag in hand I turned and stepped out of the door.

Only to release something was missing.

I had expected to hear the beep beep of the car unlocking.

But there was nnoise. There was no flashing lights either.

There’s normally lights.

In fact there was nothing.

Not even the car.

Where’s the FU … BAR… <Resists>... car?

<Internal screams of frustrations and anger>

I took me a few moments.

Stood there. Keys in hand. But no car to match them. (Have you been paying attention> Have you worked it out yet?).

I was just about to go back in the house and ask Mrs. Amazing if she knew where the car was. Which may sound funny, but it happens more than you might think (if you might think twice).

We left the car at our friends house last night.

<Lots of really bad swears>

<Loses cool, head starts emitting high pitched buzzing sound>

[Bang]

<Looks down at BabyBoy3 stood next to me>

Change of plan… Get your scooter… We’ve a walk first…

BabyBoy3: ‘Yay!’

I checked the time.

The walk was a pretty long one. There was a slight chance that we could rush round. Rush back. Maybe get in the pool for a bit. Baring in mind rushing BabyBoy3 rarely works.

And despite my head hurting, and how everything had been going.
I made a good decision.

I accepted defeat.
The universe for some reason had decided that me and BabyBoy3 were not to swim that morning. And who was I too argue?

If I tried there was a chance we could make it. But everything would be rushed.

If I didn’t try, and made the most of what we were doing. We could have a really fun time scooting off to get the car.
And we could always go swimming this afternoon.

Which we did. Both counts.

X

(BabyBoy3: ‘DADDY! LOOK! It makes a really loud

bang noise when I do this! Look!

[BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG]

Great mate! <Is rolling about in agony on the floor>)

Epilogue:

It turned out the bag I packed that morning was missing BabyBoy3’s swimming stuff. Yay.

We found this out in changing rooms at the swimming pool.

I think I actually cried real tears at that point.

Luckily the swimming pool sold size BabyBoy3 shorts, at £15 (!!), which for hygiene reasons could not be refunded unless the world was ending…

Does it really say that?

SwimmingShortsSeller: <Points>

… Fancy that… in bold too…

The shorts fitted fine.
But BabyBoy3 needs a top when he goes swimming. Or he gets cold too quick.

They didn’t sell tops (which I was kind of happy about) nor did we have one.

So very quickly and in a ceremony attended by me and officiated by me. BabyBoy3’s t-shirt was promoted to ‘swimming t-shirt’ and was suddenly fine to go in the water. YAY!

We finally got in the pool.
And spent the next hour having the best fun we’ve had together in ages.
#WorthIt (#ButNotTheBuyingNewShortsBit #ThatWasAnnoying #HeAlreadyHasSixPairs #NoNotFromMeForgettingEverytimeThankYou #HandMeDowns).

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